A Muse for Mishka (Wiccan-Were-Bear #12) (3 page)

Mishka roared in alarm and raced to the
stage, hauling himself up onto the platform and pushing his way
past her bandmates. From offstage someone yelled to close the
curtain as recorded music played over the speakers.

“Who the fuck are you?” the drummer
asked.

“I’m master of the city, and she’s mine,” he
snarled, unable to stop the ferocity that poured through him. He
didn’t like the males so close to her. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Shit, really?” the bass guitarist asked.
“How do you know she’s yours?”

“I dreamed about her,” he said, clasping her
hand with his to connect with her. Her back arched off the floor,
and she screamed, even though she seemed to still be unconscious.
Her body twitched and writhed, and Mishka looked up at the males,
feeling entirely helpless.

“You have a place for privacy here?” the
drummer asked. “You need to feed her. It’s part of the bonding
process.”

Mishka stared at his beloved as her skin
paled and her body shook. He lifted her into his arms and hurried
from the stage, barking orders at his people to open the doors. He
moved as fast as he was able, her body cooling as she shivered
harder in his arms. When he unlocked the door to his chamber, he
rushed her inside and set her on the bed, grabbing furs from the
foot of the bed and pulling them over her.

“What does she need to eat?” he demanded,
looking at the three males who stood just outside his chamber.

“You,” the lead guitarist said.

“What?”

“She’s a muse. When she meets her truemate,
her nature demands an immediate blood bond. You need to open a vein
and feed her. She’ll wake up and then you can talk about how
different your lives are going to be,” he said with a chuckle.

“I’m a vampire. My blood isn’t good for
anything unless she wants to become one.” He swallowed hard, and
the idea of feeding her his blood filled his mind with erotic
images.

“She’s immortal. You can’t change her into
what she already is. Just feed her, and then she can tell you
everything. We’ll go perform without her,” the drummer said.

“I’m Bridge, and these guys are Tamar and
Wyst. We’re her bandmates and friends.”

“I’ll take good care of her,” Mishka
promised.

“Of course you will. You’re beloveds,” Wyst
said as he closed the door.

Looking down at his beloved, he stroked his
fingers over her pale cheek and wrapped a lock of her
blue-streaked, chocolate hair around his finger. He’d never seen
anything so beautiful. As her body shuddered again, he settled next
to her on the bed and raked his fangs along his wrist, opening his
vein. He opened her mouth and worked his wrist between her teeth,
closing his eyes and thinking over how fast his life had changed.
One moment he’d been contemplating his dreams, and the next he was
feeding his blood to his beloved.

Her shudders eased nearly immediately, her
skin flushing as her heart beat steadily. She made a soft sound of
contentment, and he extracted his wrist from her mouth and wiped
the blood from his quickly healing skin with the hem of his jacket.
She sighed but made no other sound, seeming to be asleep. He could
feel a connection to her that was unlike any other he’d ever
encountered. Even without truly mating her, he felt connected to
her. She was his and he was hers, and nothing would ever be the
same.

But that was just fine with him.

Chapter 4

Harmony’s whole body felt warm, and there was
a strange metallic taste in her mouth. She couldn’t remember going
to bed, so she wasn’t sure why she was lying down. She opened her
eyes slowly and found herself looking up at a ceiling carved out of
rock. Lights flickered and bounced off the ceiling, and she
frowned, wondering where the hell she was.

“There you are,” a masculine voice whispered
in her ear, warm breath fanning over her cheek.

Under any other circumstances, she might have
completely flipped out and screamed for help, but as she turned her
head toward the source of the voice, she wasn’t afraid in the
least. She had no clue how she knew the voice, but she did. It
belonged to her truemate.

He was gorgeous. Golden eyes and dark-blond
hair that had come partially undone from a ponytail. High
cheekbones and pale skin that looked luminous in the
candlelight.

She touched his cheek and then curled a lock
of hair around her finger. “I hope to hell I’m not dreaming,” she
said.

He smiled and fangs peeked from his parted
lips. “You’re not. I’m Mishka.”

“Harmony.”

“Do you remember what happened?”

“I remember taking the stage and
then…everything went dark.”

“Sounds about right. I was on my way to the
stage when our eyes locked. You passed out cold. I brought you to
my chamber and fed you my blood.”

That explained the metallic taste. “Thanks,”
she said. “I didn’t know what would happen when I found you.”

His brow rose. “You were looking for me?”

She sat up and turned to face him. “I’ve been
dreaming about a blond vampire for two years.”

He sat up and rested his hand on her
shoulder, his thumb rubbing circles on her skin. “I had dreams too,
but only for the last month.”

“I didn’t know that dreaming wasn’t normal
for vampires.”

He shook his head. “It seems to be only
prophetic dreams. Sometimes I would relive something from the past,
but that’s not necessarily a dream, just a memory. I’ve heard that
newly turned vampires will dream more frequently, but eventually
the humanity is entirely forgotten.” His golden gaze raked over her
appreciatively. “You’re even more beautiful than the dreams
portrayed.”

Her cheeks heated in blush. Mishka was so
handsome; she imagined he’d been on the receiving end of attention
from truly beautiful women over the years. Jealousy flickered to
life within her, but she squashed it. There was no room for a third
party in their relationship, and jealousy was
not
wanted.

She wrapped her hand around his wrist and
rubbed her thumb along the underside. “They told you I’m a
muse?”

He nodded. “I’ve never met a muse before. I
didn’t know that your kind were actually real. I thought that you
were an abstract sort of ideal for creative people.”

She’d heard that many times over the years.
“There are many different kinds of muses, but I’ve actually never
met any other muses aside from my mother.”

“Where is she?”

“She’s in Europe. We Skype once a month to
keep in touch. I was born in the states, and when I finished high
school, she was ready to move on to somewhere else, but I didn’t
want to follow.”

“And your father?”

“He died when I was eight from an illness.
He’d been to many healers but no one could help him. What about
your parents?”

“They were never turned. My mother died of
illness when I was a teenager, and my father drank himself to death
a few years later.”

“I’m sorry you lost them,” she said.

“I thought I might have to change you.” His
brows drew down.

She rubbed her thumb along the corner of his
frown. “What? Are you disappointed I’m not mortal?”

He snarled softly, his lip curling in
displeasure. “Nothing could be further from the truth. It’s a
relief not to have to take your humanity. To turn someone is…it’s
traumatic for both parties. That you’re naturally immortal is
wonderful.”

She reached for his hand where she could see
a smear of dried blood. Turning his wrist up, she ran her thumb
along a very faint, nearly healed scar. “We’re partially bonded
right now. You’re my beloved, but I’m not yours.”

His golden gaze darkened, and a shiver ran
down her spine. He looked so hungry, so filled with desire as if he
was a tiger caged and desperate for freedom. He tugged on the ties
of her corset. She was dressed like a pirate wench, with a full,
layered skirt, a shoulder-baring blouse, and a black leather
corset. “I want you more than I want my fangs, Harmony. I want you
to be mine in every way, but we don’t have to rush.”

She pushed him back to the bed, lifting her
skirts and straddling him. “I don’t want to wait.” She ran her
fingertip down the gold buttons of the pale blue uniform top. “Are
you Prince Charming?”

“I’m usually a sinner. I wanted to be a
saint,” he said, smiling rakishly and flashing his fangs at
her.

“The pirate wench and Prince Charming. Sounds
like the title of a romance novel.”

He grasped her waist and rolled them until he
was overtop of her. Lowering his head, he grasped the corset’s tie
with one fang and cut it. He gazed up at her and then frowned.
“There’s something we need to do first.”

She shivered at his hungry gaze. “What?”

“Kiss.”

Chapter
5

Mishka gazed down at her. Her skin was
flushed, her blue eyes were dark like sapphires, and the faint
scent of her arousal was in the air. Part of him wanted to simply
ravage her. Make her scream his name in pleasure a hundred times
while he rutted on her like a beast. But this first time they were
together, when they would bond for all eternity as beloveds, was
more important to him than anything. He wanted to show Harmony that
he would always,
always
put her first. He’d been the master
of the city for decades. He had dozens of vampires under his
authority. But he’d never really had anyone to take care of. Here
was his beloved. The one woman in the world who was perfect for
him, and he was going to prove that he was perfect for her,
too.

Lowering his head, he pressed his lips gently
to hers. Their lips parted at the same time, and she moaned softly
as their tongues touched. Awareness jolted through him as he sucked
on her tongue, careful not to nick her with his fangs. She tasted
sweet, reminding him of a honey cake he’d enjoyed when he was
mortal. He tilted his head and deepened the kiss, stroking his
tongue along hers as need spiked within him.

She undid the buttons of the uniform top of
his costume, shoving it off his shoulders as their tongues dueled.
Her nails scraped along his shoulders as she pushed off the top and
he broke the kiss long enough to wrestle his arms from the sleeves
and throw it aside. Catching the broken string of her corset, he
undid the binding, loosing the tight leather swiftly. She lifted
her head and pressed her lips to his with a hungry groan as her
hands swept up his shoulders and sank into his hair, tugging the
tie free and releasing his hair.

Pushing open the corset, he kissed down her
throat, sucking on her neck in the place where he would soon sink
his fangs. She canted her hips against him when he pulled down her
blouse to expose her breast. Lifting from her throat, he gazed down
at her, her pale skin tipped with a dark pink nipple. He kissed her
nipple and then licked it, swirling his tongue over the bud as it
tightened. Baring her other breast, he paid the same attention to
the nipple, licking and sucking it until she writhed under him. He
rose over her once more, straightening his arms so he could take in
the sight of her – tight, dark nipples, chest heaving, lips swollen
from kissing. Her eyes were bright with passion.

“I want to see you like this all the time,”
he said roughly. “You’re beautiful.”

“Careful. A girl could get used to so many
compliments.”

“You should. I plan to shower you with them
constantly.”

She smiled and bit her lower lip, her eyes
dancing. He kissed her lips just once and moved to kneel beside
her. He wiggled the corset from underneath her as she lifted the
blouse over her head. He noticed that her hair had a blue hue in
places, like someone had streaked it with color. Rubbing a lock
between his finger and thumb, he said, “Did you do this
yourself?”

“It’s my power,” she said as she stretched
out on the bed, her thumbs hooking in the waistband of her full
skirt. “As I sing and alter people’s emotional state with my power,
it feeds my nature. My hair turns blue as my power flares. When I’m
fully satisfied, I’ll have bright blue streaks. As my power fades,
my hair goes back to plain brown.”

“Are you hungry?” he asked, noting the blue
was barely visible. He worried they were rushing into becoming
beloveds when she needed to feed her nature.

She cupped his face and lifted her head,
pressing her lips to his. “Just for you. Please, Mishka, make me
yours.”

Releasing her hair, he kissed her and then
joined her hands on her skirt, helping her to push it over her
hips. As her hips lifted, he pulled the material down her thighs,
revealing her scandalously tiny panties and thigh-high stockings.
The skirt went airborne, and she laughed at his eagerness. He felt
like he’d been waiting his entire life for her, even though he
hadn’t known she existed.

She pushed him to his back suddenly with a
soft growl and pressed a kiss to his navel. “You don’t get to have
all the fun, my Mishka,” she said, her breath skirting over his
skin. She undid his trousers, kissing his exposed flesh as she
tugged them down his legs. When his cock was freed, hard and ready,
she grinned at him before kissing the crown.

“Can I just say that I love that you went
commando?”

“You can feel free to anytime, too,” he said.
He touched the string of her panties and tugged, tearing the seam
easily. When he’d torn the other side, he ran his palm over her
bared bottom, as she pushed his pants down his legs. When he was
free of his pants, she swung her thigh over him, moving back until
her pussy hovered over his face. Her flesh was bare and glistening
with arousal, and the sweet scent of her was enough to drive him
insane.

She didn’t say anything as she kissed the top
of his dick again, and he wasn’t sure he would be able to
articulate how happy he was that she was his. He might not be able
to speak the words right now, but he could show her. Grasping her
hips, he pulled her down to his mouth, and stroked his tongue along
her pussy. He wiggled her clit and then pushed his tongue into her,
finding her taste even more addictive than her scent. She took him
into her mouth, rubbing her tongue along the underside of his
length, bobbing her head up and down as she played with his balls
and drove him wild. He pushed away the climax that tingled at the
base of his spine, wanting her to come first before they made love
and then bonded together.