Scarlet Heat (Born to Darkness) (28 page)

“Son of a bitch!” he snarled, holding his cheek
and looking at LeeAnn balefully. “That fucking
hurts.
What the hell is on that thing, anyway? Feels like—”

But before he could go on, I heard a rising shout
from among the assembled weres around the large flat rock. I looked at them
uncertainly but they were all looking back at us—or at Victor, rather. They
were pointing and backing away, naked fear on their faces.

“The curse! He’s got the fucking
curse!”
one of them shouted and then the
others took up the cry.

“The curse! A cursed one among us!”

I whipped my head back to look at Victor and saw
that the weres holding him had done as LeeAnn demanded and ripped away his
shirt entirely. There was a circle of light about the size of a baseball
stamped on his lower back and it was glowing the same scarlet red as his eyes.
There was some kind of writing in it—something in a cursive, foreign script I
couldn’t read, though when I closed my eyes for a moment, the strange letters
seemed stamped on my brain.

Pack Master Wainright saw the circle of light at
the same time I did. His eyes got wide and he took two steps forward, grabbed
LeeAnn by the arm and yanked her away.

“No!” she protested, trying to get back to Victor.
“I’m not done yet, Daddy! I haven’t punished him enough.”

“He’s cursed, LeeAnn! Step away, for God’s sake.
Come on!” He dragged his daughter—who seemed to be the only one in the pack who
didn’t understand the situation—away from Victor.

“Pack Master…” Victor’s voice was a low, inhuman
growl. It didn’t sound like him—not at all. Not even his wolf form sounded like
that. What the hell was going on?

“We’re sorry.” Wainright was backing away with
his struggling daughter firmly in tow. “We didn’t know, Victor. We’ll leave you
alone from now on, I swear.” He looked at the weres still holding him. “Let him
go. All of you, let him go and get out of here.”

The weres holding Victor didn’t have to be told
twice. They backed away from him warily, obviously trying to gauge the minimum
safe distance they could reach before turning and running.

The weres holding me melted away too, as did the
watching crowd. They faded into the surrounding trees and underbrush, leaving
only the stink of wet dog behind to show they had ever been there.

At last Victor and I were the only ones left. We
stood alone on the large, flat rock, not speaking. I couldn’t take my eyes off
him, couldn’t stop wondering what was happening—what he was becoming.

But whatever it was, I didn’t care. The blood
streaming down his back and shoulders looked black in the moonlight. When trickles
of it reached the glowing circle at his lower back, they hissed and steamed, as
though the blood had touched a hot frying pan or griddle. The sight made me
tremble but he had been wounded for my sake and I knew I had to heal him.

“Victor,” I said, going to him.

His hand shot out, as though to fend me off.

“No. Stay away.” His voice still had that rough,
unearthly quality to it, the grating, gravelly tone that wasn’t animal or human
but something strangely in between. His face had broadened, the cheekbones and
forehead spreading and by the flash of moonlight on his teeth, I saw that his
fangs had grown longer too—almost as long as mine. Something was definitely
wrong with him—he looked frightening, almost like something out of a nightmare.
But I refused to let myself be scared off.

“I
can’t
stay away,” I told him, hoping my voice didn’t shake too much. “You…you’re
hurt—I need to heal you.”

“Don’t, Taylor.” He looked at me, his eyes still
burning scarlet. “Don’t touch me. The whip…think it had something on it. I’m
dangerous right now. I’ll hurt you.”

“No, you won’t,” I said with absolute certainty. No
matter what form he took, he would never harm me—I was sure of that. I just
needed to get over his frightening appearance and remember what a sweet,
wonderful guy was underneath. “Just let me look at your back,” I told him,
trying to sound professional.

“No,” he protested but didn’t move when I went around
behind him. His big hands were clenched into fists at his sides and every
muscle in his large frame was tensed. It was almost as though he was braced for
flight, like he wanted to run away from me but couldn’t quite bring himself to
do it. As though something about me was holding him in place against his will.
“No,” he almost groaned again and I heard him inhale deeply as the wind gusted
around us. Was he scenting me?

Then I got a closer look at his injuries and all
other questions and worries slipped from my mind. He was a patient—someone in
pain I needed to treat.

“God, your poor back,” I whispered. The silver
whip had really shredded his skin. A surge of anger washed over me and I knew
if LeeAnn had been standing in front of me I would have done my level best to
rip her face off.

“Just leave it,” Victor grated. “Not safe. Let it
heal…on its own.”

“Why?” I said. “What haven’t you told me? What is
this
all about?” I brushed my
fingertips lightly over the glowing red circle at the small of his back. It was
like touching live coals—the heat burned my fingers.

Victor hissed and rounded on me suddenly. He
caught my offending hand in his grip and held me by the wrist, hard enough to
make the bones ache.

“Don’t,”
he snarled, his eyes flashing.
“Don’t ever fucking touch me there—understand?”

“No,” I snapped back. “No, I
don’t
understand. What’s going on with you, Victor—and don’t say
it’s moon sickness. What the hell is this
curse
they were all talking about?”

“You don’t need to know.” He dropped my hand and
took a deep breath. “Just…just stay away from me.”

“No, I won’t!” I stepped toward him again and
managed to get behind him before he could stop me. “Not until I heal your
back—this will cause a permanent scar if I don’t.”

“You can’t do that,” he protested, trying to turn
around. But I had my hands planted firmly on his broad, bare shoulders and I
turned with him, as graceful, for once, as a dancer.

“I won’t let you be scarred for my sake,” I told
him. Leaning forward, I dragged the flat of my tongue over his wounded back.

“No!” Victor jerked away from me but the damage
was already done.

I tasted his blood and the bright, metallic
flavor of the metal lash that had wounded him but there was something else in
it as well. Something strange and insidious—a kind of poison that started to
work on me at once.

“Oh,” I gasped, letting go of his shoulders and
stumbling back a step. “Oh God, what…?”

“Taylor? Baby?” Victor turned and caught me
before I fell, his scarlet eyes filled with worry. “You shouldn’t have done
that—I shouldn’t have let you get close enough to do it.”

“It’s…I don’t…I can’t…” I couldn’t think what I
wanted to say. All I could think about was how good Victor smelled—his warm,
masculine scent like fur and leather and musk was so strong, so enticing. And the
male desire I smelled under it seemed to match my own.

The heat hit me like a freight train, knocking me
off balance, blazing through me like a comet, setting everything inside me on
fire. My nipples went tight and achy and my pussy was abruptly drenched, my
clit throbbing with need. I was empty…so empty…I needed to be filled.

Suddenly, my mind was full of images—images of
the two of us fucking. No, not fucking—
breeding.
I could see Victor ripping off my dress and shredding my panties, pushing
me down to the bare, cold rock and kicking my thighs apart, baring my pussy for
his assault. I could see him shoving the huge club of his cock inside me, inch
by thick inch, invading me, owning me, claiming me for his own completely and
forever. And then thrusting into me over and over, taking me, shooting his cum
inside me, making me his…

Victor’s eyes widened and I knew somehow that the
vision had jumped from me to him—maybe because we both had the whip’s poison in
our systems.

“No,” he gasped, holding me at arms length. “No,
I would never—you know I wouldn’t, baby. I
swore
to never hurt you.”

“You won’t be hurting me,” I protested, grabbing
his forearms and trying to pull him closer. Gone were the bad memories of
Celeste and Roderick and every awful thing that had happened to me. My past
abuse was burned to ashes, consumed in the powerful blast furnace of lust. “Please,
Victor,” I begged. “I want…I need…”

“No.” He picked me up abruptly and slung me over
his shoulder. “No, I won’t. We’re going to get you home to bed where you’ll be
safe. And then…then I’m going back out to finish the change. I can’t hold it
off much longer.”

I struggled in his arms, needing him so badly I
could hardly stand it. I
had
to have
him inside me—had to feel him fucking me, breeding me
now!

“Victor,” I moaned, swaying in time to his
relentless gait as he strode through the underbrush.

He was ominously silent but since I was slung
face down over his shoulder, I could see his broad, bloody back clearly. Though
my conscious mind knew I shouldn’t do it, I couldn’t help wanting another
mouthful of his tainted blood. The sting of silver in it made my mouth hurt and
my tongue go numb but the poison had an intensely delicious, addictive
aftertaste. It left a warm glow in the pit of my belly and made me feel even
hotter.

Go on,
whispered a voice—the voice of
the heat in my head.
Do it—you know you
want to. He probably won’t even notice.

I shouldn’t—it will only make things worse…
But even as I thought it, I was lapping him, tracing the lash marks with
my tongue, healing him even as I poisoned myself further with the delicious,
toxic blood that burned like liquid fire going down my throat.

By the time we got back to his house, I was
beyond reason and past the point of no return. I felt like I had to be bred…or
I would die.

Chapter Twenty-one—Victor

She struggled like a wildcat when I first slung
her over my shoulder, begging and pleading, but I forced myself to ignore her.
There was something on the lash—a lust potion maybe—that was affecting both of
us. I didn’t know why LeeAnn would have done such a thing—maybe she intended to
be the one in front of me once the potion kicked in. But for whatever reason, I
could tell the whip had been treated by the way the stress was trying to bring
on my curse—not to mention the way it made Taylor’s heat kick into overdrive.

Speaking of her heat, with each kick of her legs
I could smell her scent getting stronger. It made me ache to shove myself balls
deep inside her and pump until she was full of my cum, covered in my scent so
no male within a hundred mile radius would dare come near her ever again.

I fought the urge with all that was in me, just
as I fought the curse.
I am calm, I am
centered, I am one,
I chanted to myself as I strode along, walking as
quickly as I could with Taylor over my shoulder.
I am calm, I am centered, I am one.

I couldn’t let myself change into the beast
around her—it was too fucking dangerous. I was even more mindless in my
in-between form than I was as the wolf. And I was much,
much
stronger. I could rip her limb from limb and only discover it
the next day when I woke up in a puddle of her blood.

If you’re not going to change then you have to fuck…have to breed,
whispered the unholy voice of lust in my head. It was the voice of the
poisoned lash talking—the toxin coursing through my bloodstream, urging me to
fight or fuck. To change or breed.
She
wants it,
that dirty little voice whispered.
She’s fucking
begging
for it—why don’t you give it to her?

I can’t! I won’t do that to her! She’s not in her right mind now. If I do
that she’ll wake up tomorrow hating me—I’ll lose her forever.

I knew it was true. All I had to do was remember
the way she’d broken down and cried that first night—the night I’d told her
what going into heat meant for her. The image of her begging me not to hurt her
and sobbing against my fur was fresh in my memory. After everything she’d been
through with that bitch Celeste, she might
never
want to make love again. Much less get herself fucked by a horny, cursed
were who couldn’t control his own urges.

So I ignored the ache in my balls and continued
stoically, getting back to the house before ten. I glanced at the clock in
disbelief as I walked in the door. How had so much damage happened in such a
short period of time? The night wasn’t even old yet—the moon wasn’t even at her
highest arc.

Just then I became aware of something I probably
would have noticed before if I hadn’t been so preoccupied with my own thoughts
and urges.

Taylor was licking me.

I could feel her warm, ticklish little tongue
tracing a sensuous pattern over the torn skin of my back. Except, now that I
stopped to realize it, the pain in my back wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been.
In fact, aside from the burning of the brand, which still throbbed and glowed,
the lashes I had taken from the cursed whip hardly hurt at all anymore.