Chains of Frost: The Bellum Sisters 1 (7 page)

Only twice in her life had she
felt the urge to turn and run. Once was yesterday in the cemetery when she and
her sisters summoned a zombie, and the other was right this very second. Sweat
beaded on her brow and neck and had nothing to do with the warm temperature.

The man watched her with a
predatory awareness that made the hairs on her arms stand on end. His hair
bordered on being a few inches too long; as if he just hadn’t bothered having
it cut in a while. His eyes were dark brown, framed by a set of dark lashes and
a curved slash of brows. His cheeks were high, hollowed enough to make the butt
of his chin and jaw hard; his lips were the perfect thickness. He was the
sexiest man she’d ever seen. And she couldn’t wait to get away from him.

“What do you want?” she said. A
smile tugged at one side of that sexy mouth, his eyes never leaving hers.

“You asked for me to come out. I
am merely answering your request.”

Oh God, his voice was sin. The
perfect tenor mixed with a dark sensuality that reminded her of flushed faces
and straining bodies.

“Who are you?”

The other corner of his mouth
curled up. The smile was almost mocking. She wanted to slap it off.

“I think you know who I am.”
Impossible.

“How did you get here so fast?”

She had just turned twenty-nine.
She was in an entirely different country for goodness’ sake. His boot hit the
ground and then he was walking toward her. His gait tightened something inside
her. Something dark and sensual, something she’d never quite untapped. She’d
never seen anyone walk like that. Like he had animal grace inside him that made
his movements more fluid, faster, sharper than anyone else’s. She’d seen men
try to mimic this movement, but it wasn’t real. This man was all real. And he
stopped a foot away from her.

“I am an Alpha shapeshifter.
Alpha over all my kind.” He said the words with pride and confidence that told
her how dangerous this man was. And completely cocky. “I can take many forms,
Willow.” She closed her eyes, suppressing a shiver at the sound of her name. It
was as if with that one word he’d caressed her breasts with a warm hand. He’s
dangerous, her mind warned.

“Lyonis Keelan,” she said.

He nodded in agreement. The
motion sent locks of his short hair falling over his face in an array that made
her want to push it back, not because it was messy but because she wanted to
feel it. He seemed so…pettable.

Don’t forget who and what he is,
idiot! A control freak, a dominating man who wanted his woman to sleep at his
feet. He could have any woman. Just not me.

“That still doesn’t tell me how
you found me so fast.”

He lifted a shoulder—a very big
shoulder—in a way that almost made it look like she’d just complimented him. He
smiled at her, but his eyes were sharper, assessing. Watchful.

“I flew here.”

“Try again. The next flight to
London wasn’t until later today.” She tried not to notice how well-built he
was, as if she even could. Like a barbarian from the days of old, fighting with
bare hands and simple weapons just for food. He would have had his pick of
women. Hell, even today he would.

Now his eyes were laughing. At
her. Willow clamped her mouth shut and wished she had something to throw at
him.

“I flew as a bird. I don’t take
planes. That’s an unnatural way for me to travel. I tracked you by this,” he
said and reached into his pocket to take out a crumpled, folded T-shirt.
Willow’s jaw fell open as she recognized the pink shirt with white glittered
letters that read ‘Bite Me.’

“What are you doing with my
shirt?” She reached to snatch her precious shirt but he kept it away. The
action brought her close enough to smell him—wood, mud, earth. She used to like
the smell of cologne, but whatever this man had could easily be bottled and
sold. He took advantage of her single step and stepped into her. The action put
them mere inches apart. He looked down at her with warm, chocolate eyes. Her
nipples hardened and her core dampened, readying.

“Your father sent me this shirt.
He made sure it was not laundered so it still smells of you. I’ve become quite
intimate with your scent. It’s very…strong, feminine. I like it very much.” The
compliment staggered her heart like a tremor and should not have made her feel
so heart-racingly good. She had to remind herself of what kind of man he was.
Most shapeshifters were bad enough, but the dominant ones were the worst. And
to be the Alpha, the strongest of them all? He dominated the dominant ones. He
was going to be the worst.

“Fine, keep the shirt.” She spun
around and headed in the opposite direction. She felt his fingers curl around
the bare skin of her arm a second before she was spun around and pulled into a
hot, hard chest. “Let me go, Lyonis.” He smiled at her—the way a predator does
to a prey before it leaps.

“Not yet, little one. You’re even
more beautiful than I’d imagined. You are mine now. At first, I was not happy
at the news, but now I can see why Francis left you to me. A fine gift I must
say, for the debt I owed him. I think I may be getting the better end of the
bargain.” His hand reached up to touch her hair, but she quickly ducked and
spun out of his arms. She was breathing hard and she didn’t know what from.

“I am not yours. I will never be
yours. I am not a possession.”

A perfect masculine brow cocked
high. “But you are mine according to law. I can do with you as I wish. I will
protect you, and you will get to be my queen. Most of all, you will care for my
needs day or night, as I will yours.” Willow’s jaw fell open and then her hand
shot out, caught his hard jaw with a resounding smack. His eyes flared before
narrowing on her. “You should be warned that if you run, I will not be able to
help myself. I will come for you and I will never stop. And after seeing that
flare of passion in you, I am even more determined than ever to have you.”

“No, you will not! Do you hear
me, beast man? Go find someone who actually wants you, because I don’t.” She
tried to pull away, but strong hands latched onto her arms and brought her back
into his body. She bared her teeth at him and struggled to free herself.
Suddenly he was bending his head down toward hers.

She froze, her blood pounding in
her ears. His mouth came closer and closer to her lips. God, he smelled so good;
would he taste as good? But then he changed direction and nuzzled her ear.

In a voice that sent shivers down
her spine he said, “You are mine, Willow Bellum. Mine, now and forever. I warn
you not to run from the beast, for the beast will only chase you, thrilled by
the hunt of such a perfect prey. Come with me now and save yourself because you
will never be able to outrun me.” The lulling, deep tones of his voice had her eyes
closing, and the kneading way he held her arms was almost nice. But the
challenge he presented brought her back to reality.

Using all her strength, she
shoved him away from her. She had a feeling he only moved at his own volition
and not because of her, but her ego ignored that.

“I will never be yours. I am not
a possession.” She gave him one last look then sprinted off down the street,
the power of her body guiding her.

The chase was on.

Chapter Seven

Chloe wished she could say she’d
spent the night MacGyvering the room up with gadgets and weapons to help her escape
or, at the very least, had already escaped, but instead she’d spent the night
passed out naked in the fluffiest bed she’d ever slept in.

Really, what was this thing made
out of—angel feathers?

In her defense which, okay, maybe
wasn’t much of one, she’d been dead tired from the flight to London, the
craziness at the cemetery, and the, like, thirty minutes of sleep she’d gotten
hadn’t been enough.

Climbing off the bed, she found a
stack of clothes sitting on the side table. She vaguely remembered seeing the
table last night when she’d been busy climbing into bed, but she knew there
hadn’t been clothes on it then. Had Tyrian come in here while she was asleep?
Did he find her even a hint as sexy as she did him? Because she was almost
tempted to stave off her escape until after her new moon.

The man confused her. On one
hand, her instincts told her to move away far and fast from him. On the other
hand, her mind told her that her father would not have sent her to live with a
dangerous man. The man was so cold he was practically ice. It must be the
curious side of her that wondered what it would take to see him thawed.

The thought of her new moon sent
a flutter of nerves through her. The history of the succubi was mostly
misconstrued by everyday humans and even by some supernaturals. The truth was
that succubi’s history has always been male dominated. To this day when
daughters reach the age of 29, they are given to a special man of the family’s choosing—usually
the father’s choosing. This special man was called the Protector. He was the
succubus’ chosen male, to have and to hold, forever and ever. For males of her
species, or incubi, the same occurs. Except as men, they are allowed to choose
their own Protector. It made her sick just thinking about how unfair it was.

Chloe shivered and went to the
adjourning bathroom. At least this castle of death had modern day plumbing. She
turned on the shower and waited until it got hot before getting in. There was
only a single, white bar of soap in the shower and she used it for everything.

The fact that her father never
abided by the same rules as other succubi families only made what he did even
more strange. Tyrian had mentioned a debt. Is this what her father was about?
He’d always been a protective man, an even more protective father, but to give
each of his daughters away to a man just like every other succubi family? It
made no sense. What kind of debt did Tyrian owe her Papa to receive
her
in
return?

The new moon was soon. Two, maybe
three days, tops. A shiver that had nothing to do with cold rushed over her.
Succubi and incubi were always given to their Protectors after their 29th
birthday because the following new moon sent them into full sexual maturity.

Chloe ran a soapy hand between
her legs and wondered if Tyrian was one of those men who had hundreds—if not
thousands—of lovers. She honestly couldn’t see him being the type, though she
wasn’t sure why. What kind of women did he like? Tall, petite, curvy, blonde,
dark, shaven? She touched her own mound and felt the spring of short, dark
curls there.

A wave of self-consciousness
sprung from her with its nasty head. She wasn’t incredibly slender, nor was she
too short or tall. She’d always been a somewhat plain woman. She knew she
didn’t turn heads and for once, she wished that maybe she did. What would it be
like to have a man like Tyrian under her power?

She might just learn that sooner
than later. The presence of the new moon beat against her skin, tightening it
like a cord being cranked tighter and tighter around her. Her virgin body had
never held a man. Most succubi saved their bodies for their Protector, though
that wasn’t why she was a virgin. She never cared to wait until her new moon.
The truth was that she’d just never found a man she wanted badly enough. She’d
experimented in other ways, yes, but never sex. She’d never felt a man surge
inside her, but had wondered about it for long hours.

The new moon sparked a drastic
change in her body. She would no longer require food for sustenance, but sex.

Chloe relaxed her head back
against the shower wall and didn’t stop her fingers from circling quickly over
her bud. Her free hand found a breast and palmed the weight of it. She saw
Tyrian’s dark head behind her closed eyes, saw him feasting on her breasts like
she was some irresistible maiden he couldn’t get enough of, and saw his cock
breaching her unused entrance.

She wanted that, she realized.
Wanted to feel what it was like to have him inside her. Would it ease the dull,
empty ache she always felt so deep inside her like she did right now? Would he
hold her close and come hard inside her just as she came apart? Her breath
hitched and her orgasm peaked, pulsing waves of heat throughout her body. She
jerked against the wall, then instantly her hand went limp.

It was hard and short and left
her wondering what more there could be. The possibility of seducing the vampire
was tempting, though Tyrian already told her that he wouldn’t be using her for
her new moon. Maybe she could use him.

She was scared honestly, had no
clue what her new moon was going to be like. Maybe it was a subtle arousal that
made her wet and ready for sex. Or maybe it was something greater…

Chloe shut off the shower and
wrapped a fresh towel around herself as she tiptoed her way across the cold
stone floor to the clothes on the table. She dressed quickly, ready to be warm
from the frigid temperature.

She had to get out of this place,
because if she couldn’t have the single, albeit scariest, man she’d ever met
for her new moon, then she didn’t want anyone. Her emotions had always been
lopsided like that. One minute she wanted vanilla, then after a bite she wanted
chocolate. But Tyrian wasn’t an ice cream flavor. Lushalicious. That’s what
he’d be called. Or maybe Icey Fudge. Mmm… She’d lick that any day.