Feral Passion (12 page)

His shoulders took up the entire door space,
not that she minded though. The black shirt hugged him nicely in
all the right places, relaxed and professional. Big hands lay at
his sides, hands that she could imagine around her waist, touching
her in hot places, making her feel the most pleasure she had ever
felt. . .

“Aright.” She cleared her throat. “Same for
you, if you need help or something.

He gave a smile, showing with that one action
he knew exactly what she was thinking and he would be more than
happy to help.

Chapter 19

Ulrich left the site early, chest tight
with anger and eyes venomously searching for the black Bentley he
just
knew
had to be the
bastard’s car that was chasing after his sister. He drove past her
house, and parked a couple feet away.

It might have been creepy to an onlooker, but
as Mary’s protector and older brother, he was inclined to do
whatever he had to do to keep her safe.

The door opened, revealing his graceful
sister and the dark stranger. His hands clenched white on the wheel
when he saw the faint blush come over her face. While he was far
away enough to barely be able to see what was happening, he could
tell by his connection with her that it was a blush of arousal.

“I’ll kill him,” Ulrich muttered, glaring a
hole through the bastards head. “If you touch her, I swear you’ll
be dead within the hour. . .”

Talking to air always helped him calm down,
as if he were actually talking to the man himself. Ulrich wanted to
strangle the bastard as much as he wanted to lock Mary up in a cell
to keep her safe.

Jacques bent down slightly, Ulrich about to
jump out of the car and beat the pulp out of the fucker. Accept
that he straightened, flashing his piercing eyes to where Ulrich
was at. Shock held him immobile for only a second before Jacques
turned back to his sister, giving her a grin that Ulrich used on
woman when he wanted a good lay.

A growl built up in his chest. He could just
imagine snapping his neck in half, dragging the corpse back to his
father, and wagging his tail proudly at the catch he had made with
a demand for a treat. Of course, then Mary would be upset with him.
. .

But she would forget. He could kill the man
and be done with this, and his sister could stay a virgin—at least,
he prayed she was—and Ulrich wouldn’t have to worry about horny
bastards trying to do gross things with his sister.

Jaques strode down the driveway, past the
people walking around, and into his car. The door closed and Ulrich
got the smarmiest, most self-satisfied sneer of his life through
the window when the Italian man drove past him.

Ulrich almost exploded with rage.

He got out of his car and stomped up to the
now closed door, men backing away warily as they heard the inhuman
sound rumbling through him.

“Mary!” he roared, shoving the door open.

He heard a faint squeak from the other room,
stomped to where she was at. “The fuck was that?” he demanded,
stabbing an angry finger towards the door.

Her eyes widened. “What was what?”

“Don’t play stupid on me, Mary,” he warned,
eyes flashing with molten anger as he came close to her.

Her nose wrinkled, completely oblivious to
the rage he was feeling. “You mean Jacques?”

“No, I mean the man that
clearly
wants to be balls deep inside
my sister!” he shouted, disgusted, horrified, and furious over the
thought.

Her cheeks tinted red, embarrassed. “You
don’t have to be so blunt. . .”

“Mary, I
told
you. I fucking
told
you to stay away from him
! Instead? You bring him over
for a ‘spot of tea’,” he growled with potent fury, close to kicking
something.

“Actually, it was a cup of water. . .”

“Oh,
I don’t
want to hear it
!” he snarled, the dumbfounded look on
her face making the situation worse.

“Ulrich, please calm down? Just take a
breath. . .” she coaxed, standing to guide him slowly to the
couch.

He ripped himself away from her, body
shuddering. The change was so close upon him, but at this point he
didn’t even care. If he changed, then maybe he could be numb enough
to rip the bastard open and tear him to shreds.

“Stop it,” he growled, voice taking on an
animal quality. Mary frowned, paled.

Even though she was
pacchetto
leader, the change could kill anyone if
you were to close when it happened. It was more monumental for
Archaeos than it was for Acutos. Archaeos changers were at their
worst when they were in the process of changing, unlike the Acutos,
who had a tendency to be barely conscious for a few
seconds.

“Ulrich,” she pleaded silently, hands
reaching for him.

“I can’t lose my baby sister to a man like
that,” he said, voice breaking mid-snarl with the anger he was
feeling.

“Lose? Brother, who said anything about
losing.” Her brow knotted, confused.

“He will take you and hurt you. Can’t you see
that? He isn’t right for you, he’ll use you like a whore till he
leaves, and you. . .”

Her eyes closed. “I won’t get involved like
that with him, brother. I’m not his ‘spot of tea’ as you like to
call it.”

The changed deflated out of him, although the
anger didn’t.

“I have things to do,” he said with quiet
fury before walking out of the house.

He felt her eyes on his back as he made his
way to the car. Ulrich wanted to go back, grab her, wrap her in
bubble wrap, and stick her somewhere where no one could get her.
Sure, he loved his sister. But lately, the threat to her life had
been haunting him endlessly.

There was a killer out there, and now an
Italian playboy was chasing her tail.

Not exactly a great feeling to the
situation.

Jacques was likely at the site with Romero,
but Ulrich figured that going to where his current could-be punch
buddy was at, he doubted that it would be very wise to go
there.

He rubbed a hand over his eyes, growling low
in his throat with weariness and pent up anger. Even in high school
he had hated males around his sister. Apparently, things hadn’t
changed.

One thing was for sure, though.

You could bet Jacques’s manhood that if he
laid one inappropriate hand on Mary, he wasn’t going to be sexually
active for a very long time.

Chapter 20

Later that night, after hours of
interrogations and papers and angry frustrated voices, Raffaele
knocked on the door to Chase’s room. It only took a couple seconds
for the man to open the door, eyes tired and a shadow spreading
over his face.

Raff’s eye brows rose as Chase stepped back
to let him in. “You look like hell.”

“Thank you, honey. Love you, too,” he said,
voice scratched from what Raff assumed was lack of sleep.

“I’m guessing you were a little busy,” he
hedged, slipping off his shoes and moving to the bar to grab a beer
from the fridge.

“If you’re wondering if I found anything,
you’re in luck.”

“What did you find? And you want one?” he
asked, gesturing towards the beer.

“God, yes please. Grab two more and pop a
squat,” Chase said, sitting on the long couch where his laptop was
resting.

Raff grabbed the beers and walked over,
kicking his feet up on the table across from the couch. “So what’s
doing?” he asked, taking a sip.

“I didn’t find much on the symbols, only a
brief meaning about them. You have no idea how hard google is
hating on me right now,” he said with dry humor, both of them
knowing that he wasn’t using google.

Raff nodded silently, waiting for the blonde
man to continue. “Do you believe in the underworld?” he asked.

Blue eyes latched onto Chase, confused. “Of
course, our gods are a part of it. Anti-gods and all.”

Chase nodded. “Did you know that. . .things
can rise? Become ethereal?”

He shook his head. “I’ve never heard of
anything like it in my life,” he said slowly, knowing that as soon
as he saw Stuart he was going to start asking questions.

“The symbol on the girls chest, it’s like a
pathway. Except, instead of letting things enter it, it lets takes
them out. Down to. . .where ever it goes in hell. I can’t really
describe it because I’m not sure what we’re dealing with right now,
but you can guarantee that by tomorrow, I’ll have more.”

“What does it let out?” Raff asked, sitting
up straighter, forgetting about his beer.

“Basically saying, the soul of the woman. I
called the man who did the autopsy, Rick. Asked him if he could
maybe identify what the stuff was drawn with. He called back a
couple hours ago and said that it was a mix between charcoal and
lavender.”

“Lavender? The color?” His brow
scrunched.

“No, the herb. It relaxes a person, like
body, mind and soul shit. You know what I’m talking about? Well,
the Lavender, after I looked some more, is also a transfer agent,
if used the right way.”

Raffaele absorbed the information slowly,
head starting to hurt. Remembering his beer, he picked it up and
practically chugged it. “And how, do I ask, do we sell this off to
the humans?”

“Talk to Mary,” he cooed sarcastically.

He growled low.

Chase held up his hands. “I was kidding. Ask
her about switching the officers. I hear that her brother is the
chief, have him do something about it.”

Raff nodded. “Good idea. Did you find
anything else?”

“Besides some lovely nude pictures of our Ms.
Mary, no—”

His hand shot out, latching onto Chase’s
throat. His eyes bugged, but he managed to laugh through the hold
even though it cost him dearly.

“Shut. The fuck.
Up
.” The words were short, snarled, sounding more
animal than human. The mere thought of Chase seeing Mary like that
set his blood on fire.

“God damn, man,” he wheezed. “Drop your
hands and I won’t say another word about her—Holy
fuck
you have a good
grip.”

Raffaele slowly released the choking man,
confused. Not about the choking—he had enjoyed that a lot,
actually. But about the reason he had gotten like that with the
man—Mary. Mary was precious, pure. No one should see such pictures
of her like that, his animal screamed at him.

“I think I’m going to go to bed. You might
want to too, no one wants to die with no sleep,” he said slowly,
rubbing his forehead.

Chase nodded slowly, hand circling his throat
protectively. “Exactly. . .”

“I’m taking these with me,” he mumbled
tiredly, holding up the open beer and one of the un-opened
ones.

“Just get the hell out of here, Raff,” Chase
said, chuckling warily.

He opened the door, nodding his head at
Chase. “When you have the rest of information, at the end of the
week I’ll set up a meeting with Mary about it.”

“‘
Meeting’ meaning. . .?” Chase asked,
before the door got slammed in his face.

Raff heard a yelp from the other side, but
ignored it and unlocked his, ready to sleep after such a grueling
day.

*** DK ***

Raffaele moaned deep in his throat, hands
circling the petite waist of the woman who sat above him. Her lips
were at his ear, hand tangling in his hair. The other hand was
slowly making its merry way to the zipper of his jeans, and he
could only agree with what was going to happen next.

Fire surrounded them, heat consuming them
both with a passion that felt all to right. Mary’s hair slid
against his shoulders, his back, causing shivers to run along his
sensitized skin.

“Mary. . .” he moaned gruffly, hands tugging
at her shirt. The thin material gave away under his hands,
tearing.

He felt the smile on her lips, pressed
against his neck now. Sharp teeth bit down, deep enough to leave
marks that he was sure they were both going to admire with pride.
She was claiming him, and he had no objections.

Cool hands slid against his skin, causing
tingles to race up his stomach. His heart thudded in his chest,
excitement and anticipation coursing through him as he realized she
was so close to freeing his swollen arousal, so close to completely
undoing him.

“Raffaele,” she whispered against his skin,
eyes meeting his with entrancing seduction in their depths.

His hands tangled in her hair, drawing her
close to his body once again. The feel of her mouth on him was
almost too much, but it was a destruction he was willing to take.
Her tongue flicked at his collar bone, eliciting a sharp groan and
a thrust of his hips. He could only imagine how good she would feel
against him, bare and hot.

“God, you feel so good. . . So warm. . . I
swear, you warm my very soul, Mary,” he moaned, eyes closing in
acute pleasure as her hands slipped inside his jeans to the bare
skin underneath. He didn’t bother to wear boxers, only took too
long to get them off when he wanted something—that something being
Mary.

The moment her slim fingers wrapped around
him, he growled and flipped her over, hands pushing at the black
lace bra that covered her skin. She let out a whimper, so soft that
he barely heard it. His fingers found the small reddened skin of
her nipple, and he pinched it softly, ready to take it into his
mouth with gentle suction.

That is, until he looked up and saw her
face.

Boney, dripping claws now dug into his
shoulders as black sockets stared down at him. The face wasn’t
Mary’s. No, it was a monsters, something he had thought only
existed in childhood nightmares.