Maikoda: Power of the Moon (Blue Moon Trilogy Book 2) (13 page)

              Ray ordered another beer and Layla didn’t argue. He looked as if he needed it and the mood at the table had definitely taken a downturn, no longer the light hearted atmosphere of a few minutes ago. Their food arrived and they ate in awkward silence, looking everywhere but at each other. 

              The clock seemed to move abnormally slow as they waited for the check. Neither had much of an appetite, but Layla had tried to choke down as much food as possible to offset the three glasses of wine she had with dinner. She had lost track of how many beers Ray had swallowed. 

              As they exited the restaurant and moved toward the parking lot, she chewed her lip. Should Ray be on his bike? As a Were, she was able to metabolize alcohol really well, but Ray was a different story and based on what she knew of college guys, she wasn’t sure how well Ray would be able to handle beer and a bike. They walked to the bike and to her surprise he pulled a chain out of the seat compartment and locked the bike into place.

              “What are you doing?” she asked, confused. 

              He looked back at her and grinned wickedly. “Not riding my bike drunk.”

              Her face flamed. Damn. He was going to get a hotel room. It would be the two of them, alone in the dark with a bed. No good was going to come from this. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

              “I think it’s an excellent idea.”  His slow perusal of her spoke volumes and he spread his arms wide. “I am simply looking out for your safety and well-being.” He smiled and she swore he looked almost feral in the dim light. 

              “Okay,” she said, surprising herself. “Hotel it is.”

*

              Layla grabbed a piece of cheese from the plate and popped it into her mouth. “Okay, my turn.” She looked at the checkerboard displayed on her phone as she contemplated her next move, finally moving one piece and Ray groaned as she jumped over one of his. 

              “I think you’re cheating.”

              “You wish.” She laughed as she turned the phone towards him and he took his time as he tried to strategize his next move. He sat across from her, his faux hawk flattened and losing steam. He had tossed his T-shirt and sat on the bed clad only his jeans. She was far from modest herself, having long since discarded her skinny jeans and wearing only her overly long shirt. 

              Technically, it was longer than some of the dresses in her closet and much looser, but she was still sitting in a hotel room with Ray. In her T-shirt and panties. She demurely crossed her legs. So what if he made her so hot and bothered that she hadn’t thought twice when he had tossed his shirt and suggested she get comfortable? All it meant was relief from the restricting denim.  It had nothing to do with any thoughts of sex.

              She shoved the plate with the cheese and fruit back at Ray. “I swear you are just trying to fatten me up for the kill.”

              He smiled at her and popped a piece into his mouth as his eyes roved her appreciatively. “There is no fattening up needed.”

              “Hey!” She tossed a pillow at him and he laughed as he batted it away with one hand. 

              “What was that for?”

              “You called me fat, you bastard.” She laughed, trying to hit him again. “I am not fat.”

              He snagged her leg with one hand, his skin hot on hers. “No, you are not fat. You are damn near perfect.” His lips trailed along her calf. 

              Layla shivered at the contact of his lips against her. Her breath escaped in a little gasp as Ray flicked her skin with his tongue. He continued pressing little kisses up her leg and she squirmed as he moved up her body. His breath tickled her inner thigh and she grabbed his head moving him to her mouth. 

              “Stop being bad,” she chided playfully. 

              He touched his lips to hers. “Who’s being bad?” He nibbled at her lips as her hands fluttered, finally settling on his chest. 

              His muscles moved beneath her hands and she groaned. Dear God, the man was beautifully shaped. She leaned into his mouth as he continued to tease her with little kisses over her face, then reached up to capture his face between her hands. 

              “Stay still.”

              “As you wish, milady.” Ray laughed and settled his lips firmly against hers.             

              At the first touch of his tongue against her lips, she subconsciously opened her mouth to allow him better access. He moved deeper, his mouth more hurried, less refined and Layla felt a twinge of unease. She pushed at his chest, the heat of the kiss turning into something less than what she had wanted. Now she wanted him to slow down. 

              Almost panicked, she turned her head and he moved with her, slanting his mouth across hers almost forcefully. He wrapped arms around her that, moments ago seemed so strong, now seemed like steel traps. The churning in her stomach was back full force and she tried to think of how to stop him gently. He was so caught up in this fantasy and she did not want to hurt him, but if push came to shove, she would take it to the next level to free herself from him.               

              The euphoria she had felt earlier that night was gone, replaced by something that felt more and more like alarm. The kiss was no longer romantic; it was bruising, punishing and she was not into that kind of intimacy. One arm wrapped tightly around her as the other moved up and down her body. She grabbed at him, trying to stop his hand as it reached for her breast and cried out as he grabbed it roughly. 

              He pinched her nipple hard and she resisted the urge to clamp down on his tongue. His breathing became harsh and he continued his groping, his movements gaining speed almost as if he was reaching his climax. A twisted part of her hoped he would climax soon so she leave this place and him, without having to hurt him even though her anger grew by the second.

              As if sensing her discomfort, he finally eased up and pulled back to look at her, his face flushed with desire. “What’s wrong, baby?”

              “Are you serious?” she slapped his hand away from her breast as she glared at him, anger getting the best of her. “You just groped me like a damn perve and then have the balls to ask me what’s wrong?”

              He looked embarrassed and then his face clouded. “I thought you wanted this.” 

              “This was not what I wanted. Did I want to have sex with you? Maybe. Did I want to get groped? Hell no.”  She stood up quickly and wiggled into her jeans. “That was some juvenile bullshit.” She sat back on the bed and crossed her arms over her chest, annoyed that he had been such an ass and that she had even let it progress that far.

              “Juvenile? Juvenile?!” Ray grabbed her leg and dragged her back into the center of the bed. “I will show you juvenile.” 

              He slapped her hands away as she attempted to push him off. “I know your type. You think your shit smells like roses. You think you are better than everyone else.” For a moment, she thought his brown eyes shone green as he glared at her. “You think you can do whatever you want and get away with it.” 

              “What the hell are you talking about?” She tugged at her clothes as he tried to rip them off, her hands fighting his. 

              “I am talking about you and your friends. You think you can do whatever you want to whoever you want and not get punished, but you are not getting away again so easily.”

              The sick feeling was back. She was not going to get away easily. He was definitely delusional and she was trapped. Unless she transformed, she would be stuck in this room with a man who could probably bench press her for breakfast. Her mind registered his words. 

              Get away again so easily? What the hell was he talking about? The only thing she had gotten away with was not going to jail for theft at her workplace and her case against Kuruk in regards to Wattan’s death. But that was a Were case. Ray would have no idea about that. 

              His eyes. She’d seen his eyes. They were brown but had flashed green for a second. Was it her imagination? Didn’t the dream say the eyes lie? She held her breath. Could Wattan be Ray’s brother? The one who was killed in his cousin’s house?

              They didn’t have similar features, but that didn’t mean anything. She looked nothing like her own mother. Could one brother be a Were and the other human? It did not make sense. How in the world could he know about her? Was he talking about her family when he said the people who killed his brother would pay?

              Her shirt started to rip and she mustered up her strength to push Ray off her. “I said no!” 

              He fell against the wall, tripping over the air conditioning unit. “Do you really think I care what you want? I am going to show you how others can do what they want and get away with it. Just like you.” The words were ominous as he walked towards the door, deliberately locking and chaining it.

              Layla quickly assessed the situation. She had pushed him towards the only exit, now escape meant going through all 250 pounds of angry muscled male. “Hey, Ray. Look. Let’s just forget this happened, okay? We can go back to Gulfport and part ways as friends.”

              A sardonic smile covered his lips. “Yeah right. Friends. What a joke.”  He kept his back to the door and started unbuckling his belt. The rasp of his zipper reverberated throughout the room as he slid it down. “I’ll show you friends.”  He pushed his pants slowly to the floor and stepped out of them, standing before her completely naked. 

              Where once she had been impressed, she was now repulsed.

              “You know, I was going to make you fall for me.” He smiled. “I was going to make you fall in love and then I was going to play with your emotions until I pushed you over the edge. Until you committed suicide, but this is so much better.”

              She held out a restraining hand; her thoughts on what he was planning to do as he stalked towards her. 

              “That’s my gift.” He smiled at her wide-eyed look. “My gift is to charm. I can be whatever you want me to be. Whoever you want me to be. I can see what you desire and can become that.” He smiled again, this time the feral look was back. “She told me not to hurt you, but you know what? Taking orders allowed my brother to be killed, so I am done taking orders. Unless you want to direct this pay-per-view.”

              Layla closed her eyes. He was a Were. He was a Were who was sent to use her. Damn it! Why had she not listened to her instinct? Even though he had charmed her, she knew something was wrong and still allowed him to get to her.

              “Who sent you?”

              He smiled and lunged for her. She scooted across the bed. Before she could reach the door, he had lunged again sending her scurrying back to the other side of the room. “Who do you think?”
              “Suzette.”

              “See, you aren’t as dumb as you look.” 

              The bitch was back. Suzette. And she was playing hardball. This time, however, Layla was ready for her. She was not going to let this sack of rocks outwit her. “So how does your gift, your charming, work?” She hoped to distract him long enough to figure out a way out by having him talk about himself. Didn’t all villains love to monologue?

              He laughed. “Trying to get me to talk about myself in hopes that you could find a way out of here?”

              Shit, she thought. He was smarter than he looked.

              “But since you are trapped, I guess I could tell you. It’s all about the eyes. Once I look you in the eyes, I can…trap you, I guess. I can make you see whatever you want. It wears off after a while, but all I have to do is stare into your eyes again.” He laughed.  “It was fun getting you all worked up. What do you think your boyfriend will say when he sees the video of you fucking me?”

              Layla ignored him. If she could get him to the window again, she could transform and push him outside. It would put her in direct contact with him, but hopefully it would be a surprise attack and he would not anticipate such a straight maneuver. Besides, they would be out in the open. And being out in the open meant she could fight—or run, if need be. Either way suited her just fine.

              “How are you going to show Brett? I don’t see a damn camera.” She taunted. “And I damn sure won’t give you the opportunity to set one up.”

              Ray laughed again. “Baby, I don’t need the opportunity.  I just need to stare into those hazel eyes and you’ll let me do anything. That would make it even better. You can do all the work. I bet he would love to see video of you riding my dick. That would be the ultimate.”

              Layla backed away as he lunged for her again. “Will never happen.”

              “We’ll see.”  He crouched low. “I am sick and tired of this game.” He leaped over the bed at her and Layla twisted out of the way, thanking the old neighborhood kids for teaching her to play tag. 

              He was right where she wanted him; right in front of the picture window. Without warning she rushed at him, waiting until she was flying through the air before she transformed.  His hands and head flew backwards as he crashed through the window, her large Were body adding weight as they soared through. She leaped away as she landed; only to be stopped short as his hand encircled her ankle.