I Kissed a Dog (14 page)

Chapter
16
9

The applause was already deafening, but I joined the enthusiastic crowd, my claps
lost in the mix. I even added my trademark piercing whistle to the avalanche of noise.

Following a few stray hoots and hollers, the band resumed their set of popular cover
songs. The music brought back memories, most of them positive for a change. A majority
of the diverse crowd had been lured onto the dance floor by the familiar songs. I
was an exception, lounging in a shadowy corner booth, my feet keeping time to the
beat.

“Can I get you another?” the flashy server asked through ruby lips.

“Why not?’ I couldn’t remember ever drinking this much. Men had been buying me drinks
all evening, and I’d won a whopping three-hundred dollars playing the slot machines.

“You got it, sweetie. This one’s from tall, dark, and handsome at the end of the long
bar.” She sauntered away.

A pang of hope made it impossible not to investigate my latest suitor. Maybe Zane
had come to claim me. A girl could hope. Because I’d figured out that no matter how
much liquor I consumed, I couldn’t get his image out of my mind.

He’d been right about one thing. Anytime I seemed the least bit uncomfortable with
an admirer, a security werewolf, in human-form, of course, rushed to my side, removing
the
cause
of my discomfort with discretion. How convenient. I would have welcomed their protective
services in high school.

Before I was able to check out my latest cocktail-contributor, he glided into my booth,
making himself comfortable at my side rather than taking the traditional place across
the table.

“Thanks for the drink,” I said, awed by his alluring presence and striking appearance.

His hair was darker than Zane’s. It was hard to describe the style, but there was
something surreal about him that caused me to envision castles and armored warriors
wielding gleaming swords.

His eyes were hypnotic, mesmerizing ¯ a dazzling shade of icy blue, framed with thick,
inky lashes; they drew me in, soothing me, and complimenting the alcohol’s effects.

“You are very welcome. May I ask your name?” He leaned closer, his mouth brushing
my throat.

His intimate actions and dramatic demeanor reminded me of someone whose identity remained
just out of reach, hidden behind a haze of booze inspired bliss.

“I’m Chloe Carpenter,” I whispered, allowing my eyes to travel over his lean form.
His skin appeared almost translucent in the club’s special lighting. He was breathtaking,
different from Zane, more elegant, more refined.

An unfamiliar predatory urge to sink my teeth into him should have warned me away.
Instead, I examined his attire, which served to intensify his appeal. He was exceedingly
masculine in a black leather coat, matching pants, and deep burgundy shirt. An ancient-looking
insignia hung from a chain around his neck. Both of his ears were pierced. Like Zane,
danger clung to him tighter than his leather pants, which appeared to be poured on,
accentuating his manliness.

The waitress delivered our drinks, giving me a sly look before slipping into the crowd.
For some unfathomable reason, my werewolf guards had yet to interfere. I was grateful
for their current lack of attention. This was one suitor I wanted by my side.

“Chloe, what a lovely name for a very delectable woman,” his voice caressed my mind,
pulling me into a trancelike state.

He was irresistible.

Even so, I understood on some level that something was wrong.

This was no ordinary man. Everything about him screamed supernatural. I was blinded
by the booze and his special, mind-swaying talent. I felt powerless to fight. I wasn’t
sure I wanted to.

“My name is Valamir.” Taking my hand he kissed it, his eyes locked on my mine as he
looked up through dark lashes. I melted, wanting nothing more than his mouth on mine.

Suddenly unsure of myself, I reached for my cocktail and drank it in two long gulps.
Valamir seemed amused by my actions. “I think you may want to slow down,” he chuckled.

Slowing down my drinking, not a problem. What I wanted to taste was this man with
the foreign name.

Discerning my desire, he pushed me deeper into the booth. Dropping his head, he kissed
me, savoring my mouth like an exquisite dessert. Forgetting where we were, I slid
my hands under his jacket, digging into his hard back with my nails. Unlike Zane,
who was hot like fire, Valamir’s touch was wintry, yet at the same time scorching.

“You are luscious, Chloe. You are mine.” He gazed at me with hooded eyes, before his
mouth claimed me in a most unexpected way.

Sharp pain followed by blissful warmth, tortured, and teased my neck. I pressed closer,
purposefully rubbing my breasts against his chest. Compelling and erotic images
flooded my mind as he continued to suckle my neck.

Groaning, he released his mouth; his tongue lapped my tender skin.

Something — an inner knowing — told me that stopping had not been easy for him.

Any pain I thought I’d felt subsided beneath the soft stroke of his tongue. When his
mouth returned to mine, I tasted something coppery like pennies with a dash of fine
wine.

It was in that moment when I realized who Valamir reminded me of — Alciun — a vampire.

“Enough …!” a familiar voice roared, pulling me away from Valamir.

“No!” I protested, flailing my arms against the man who dared interrupt the most sensuous
experience of my life. “Valamir!” I cried, returning to my senses just enough to see
Zane snarling at the vampire, whose lips were now curled back revealing his own fangs.
He crouched, arms extended, ready to strike Zane, who’d pushed me behind him.

Zane started to vibrate. The atmosphere around him shimmered.

Responding to the escalating crisis, a group of security guards surrounded our table
like a wall, blocking us from the curious crowd.

“Both of you! Stop!” Logan stepped into the circle, grabbing Zane. “Control yourself,
friend. This is not the place.”

“You!” Logan turned to the vampire. “Leave this place. Now!” His eyes glowed crimson.

“I will return for you, Chloe,” Valamir promised, before dissolving into a cascade
of silver stardust. No one else in our little group appeared surprised by his vanishing
act.

I half heard Logan instruct Zane to get me upstairs. Zane was disagreeing about
something I didn’t understand. Their voices sounded like they were coming from underwater.

“She’s mine! The mark, it’s been revealed,” Zane argued.

I was baffled as to why these men continued to refer to me as their possession. The
whole “she’s mine” thing was annoying. Last time I checked, I wasn’t a belonging.

Logan sounded equally agitated. “How can that be?”

“I don’t know, but it’s there. Do you want to see?”

“I believe you. Find a way to make her understand,” Logan commanded.

“There’s one thing I can think of to keep her safe,” Zane replied with certainty.

Logan nodded. “You have my blessing.”

In an alcohol-induced haze, I let Zane support me against his side. He led me from
the hotel into the breezy Vegas night. He motioned for a nearby taxi.

Careful not to jostle me, he lifted me into the cab, joining me in the backseat.

“Charity Chapel,” he instructed.

“How nice,” I slurred, “we’re going to church.” I was surprised that werewolves attended
church, especially in Vegas. Since Monday, my life had been full of unexpected surprises.

Feeling seasick, I leaned my head against Zane and watched the blinking lights speed
by. “Where are the lights going?” I heard myself ask in a faraway voice, certain we
were now riding in a boat.

“Goodness, Chloe; I can’t leave you for a minute,” he grumbled. “We’re the ones moving,
not the lights.”

That made sense, sort of.

Uncertain how long we’d traveled, I found myself struggling to see through a misty
veil that cloaked my vision. No longer moving, I was standing at the front of what
appeared to be a chapel. Zane gripped my hand. A moment later we were facing an elaborate
altar overflowing with floral arrangements. The room smelled sickly sweet like stale
perfume which made the inside of my nose tickle.

I suspected now that I’d passed out and was dreaming.

“Is this an evangelical church?” I asked, trying not to sneeze. The Baptist church
back home was nothing like this colorful place.

A man, I assumed was the pastor, approached and stood in front of us on a little platform.
I couldn’t quite hear what he was saying — something about in sickness and health
and for better or worse.

“I do,” Zane said.

Next, the man asked me a question and Zane nudged me. “Say
I do
, Princess.”

“I do, Princess,” I repeated, too disorientated to question his strange demand.

The pastor-man’s mouth continued to move in a rapid blur; I still had no idea what
he was saying. I didn’t care. Another wave of nausea threatened to drown me. Zane
held firm. At last, the man stopped talking and smiled.

Zane bent down and kissed me tenderly on the lips.

* * *

“My head,” I moaned, not used to the pounding of drums between my ears. “O-h-h-h …
I hurt.”

I forced one eyelid up. The brightness spilling through the windows was more than
I could tolerate. I pulled the blankets over my head.

Where was I? The hospital seemed likely considering how ill I felt.

“Good morning, Mrs. Marshall,” Zane whispered in my ear. “You celebrated a little
too hard last night,” he chuckled.

“What are you talking about?” I gasped, very aware of his warm skin against mine.

“How soon you forget something as important as our wedding.”

Fighting the throbbing pain, I opened my eyes to see if what I suspected was true.
“You’re naked!” I screeched.

So was I.

“You’re my wife. Of course, I’m naked. Our honeymoon night was fantastic.” He moved
to kiss my cheek. “Don’t worry; we’ll have an extended honeymoon soon, maybe a trip
to Europe.”

Throwing off the covers, I dashed for the bathroom. This was impossible! There was
no way in hell that I would have married a werewolf. I had to get a grip and think.

What happened last night?

I’d put on my little black dress after an argument with Zane and had gone to one of
the hotel’s in-house clubs for some live music.

Drinks. Lots and lots of drinks. Men had kept buying them for me, and I’d kept drinking.

Valamir — the vampire — he’d dazzled my mind with some form of vamp magic and kissed
me. After that, everything got fuzzy.

My reflection caught my attention, reminding me of my horrible predicament. Dear Lord.
The mirror revealed an exhausted-looking woman with dark half-moons under both eyes.
I shook my head. The reflection shook hers. No doubt about it — I was the bedraggled
woman in the mirror.

One thing was clear; I didn’t look anything like a blissful newlywed.

I was miserable inside and out. Besides the blistering headache, my stomach was churning,
and I felt all wobbly. Even worse, if what Zane said was true, I was no longer a virgin,
and
I didn’t even remember my wedding night.

“Babe, come on. Let’s talk. Don’t get all shy now,” Zane called. “I had the maid come
and change the bedding. Please, I promise; it was incredible.”

Inhaling, and then blowing air out my nose like a raging bull, I slid into the hotel-provided
bathrobe and cinched the waist with its tie. Flinging open the door so hard it battered
the wall, I stormed into the room, ignoring the drumbeat in my head.

In the short time that I’d been secluded in the bathroom, the bed had been remade
and Zane was lounging across it with his arms behind his head. His long hair spilled
over his shoulders. He’d put on a pair of athletic shorts. They didn’t begin to hide
his muscular form. My breath caught in my throat. Had I made love with this man and
forgotten?

I got it now that drinking, for me, was no longer an option, at least not in public,
and not without a very sober chaperone.

“How could you?
Why
would you?” I pleaded, letting my revulsion rise to the surface.

“That’s two questions, Princess.” He smirked, still looking delicious.

“I’m going to sit down,” I announced, afraid I would vomit should I continue standing.
He patted the bed, imploring me with his eyes.

I ignored the gesture and chose a chair by the window. “Why would you take advantage
of me? Why?” I tried to keep the tears behind my eyes where they belonged. It didn’t
work. I could feel the liquid trails winding down my cheeks, increasing my humiliation.

“Babe, please, don’t cry. I thought you wanted this. You agreed to the marriage. You
were so happy last night.”

“I was so drunk,” I sobbed, no longer able to control my emotions.

“You’d had a few too many, but I had no idea you wouldn’t remember. I would never
…”

“Yes, you would have! You know my religious upbringing. Thanks to you, I can’t even
get an annulment and feel right about it. Couldn’t you wait until I was sober before
we, we did
that
.” I cried harder, choking down sobs. I couldn’t remember anything about what was
supposed to be the most memorable night in a woman’s life. I deserved to cry.

Did he even consider how his actions might be regarded as rape?

He moved with stealth, like always, and was kneeling beside me before I could begin
to protest. Wrapping his arms around me, he held me while I wept. “Hey, hey, I promise;
it’ll be all right. I’ll make it okay.”

The realization that I was clinging to the cause of my anguish, startled me into action.
Pushing him away, I leapt to my feet; I pummeled his bare chest with my fists.

“You can’t make it okay. Don’t you understand? I will never experience that experience
again. Ever. You stole something precious from me, married or not,” I cried.

“I’m sorry, Chloe. So sorry.” From the depth of pain evident in his eyes, I almost
believed him. Sadly, his regret couldn’t repair my grief or return my virginity.

Yet, on some level, I felt just a smidgen of relief. His emotional responses and my
woman’s intuition assured me that he’d, without doubt, believed me to be a willing
participant last night, and I knew enough about Zane to know he wasn’t the type to
resort to rape. Still, I felt violated, and he would have to pay somehow, someway,
for his indiscretion.

He’d soon discover that being married to me wasn’t going to be a walk in the park.

I’d make sure of that.