Scarlet Heat (Born to Darkness) (4 page)

Just listen to
yourself,
the little voice scoffed.
Getting all fucking protective and possessive of a vamp. Get over it
and let the Change take you…let it take you before it’s too late.

I felt the brand on my lower back burning again and knew the voice was
right. I couldn’t delay any longer. If I did, I risked bringing down the curse.
It hadn’t happened to me in months, not since I’d moved to Tampa, but that was
no guarantee of anything. It was one thing to get stuck in my animal form—that
didn’t bother me except for missed work. Since I owned my own company, it was
more of an inconvenience than anything else. But if I got trapped in my other
form, the one the curse made me take…

I shivered all over and began shedding my clothes. Far off to my left in
the dense woods I could hear the long, liquid cry of another of my kind. The
local pack sometimes ran on the land abutting mine—something I wished I would
have known before buying. But so far, except for a few brief meetings on full
moon nights and one or two overly friendly gestures by some of the single
females of the pack, they left me alone and I left them alone. That was exactly
the way I liked it—as a lone wolf, I had no interest in joining them.

Not that they would have me if they knew about the curse.

The brand burned again, aching, throbbing. It was invisible except on a
full moon night or when the curse was about to become active. Then it glowed,
outlined in a dull reddish light like someone had tattooed me with fire. In
fact, that was sort of what had happened. It was glowing now as I stripped off
my shirt. I was glad I had privacy as I undressed.

At last I stood naked in the woods, feeling the moonlight caress my skin.
People talk about the “man in the moon” but we weres know the moon is female—a
great, round goddess riding the night sky, always calling to those that can
hear her. Sometimes her call is soft, sometimes, like tonight when she’s full,
it’s almost deafening.

The call was strong this evening—riding me, urging me onward. Thinking past
it was almost impossible. Still, I made a conscious decision to stay far from
the house tonight. If I did get stuck in my animal form—which happened often—I
wanted to have plenty of distance between myself and Taylor. She reminded me of
a wounded creature—a bird with a broken wing. Easy prey for my wolf if I let
myself get too close, especially when the animal inside me would see her as an
enemy—something to be hurt and destroyed.

Come,
whispered the
silver voice of the moon.
Come…run…hunt…be free…

Putting both the little vampire and the local pack out of my mind, I closed
my eyes and answered the call. I felt my body shift and change, the joints
bending in different, inhuman directions, my skin flowing with fur. My wolf was
coming forward and I let him, reached for him and his mindless instinct eagerly
with all that was in me.

My senses were suddenly sharper, the moonlight was brighter, the woods were
filled with smells and sounds. Small creatures scratched in the underbrush.
Owls floated almost noiselessly from branch to branch. Far off in the distance
I thought I heard a panther scream.

Again there was a long, lonesome howl from deep in the trees. This time I
threw back my head and answered it, a full throated howl coming from my muzzle.
I might not want to run with the pack but a wolf always answers another.

And then the wolf came forward completely and instinct took over, erasing
all rational thought, doing away with any kind of human reason. I was a beast—a
mindless beast—and happy to be one.

I howled again and loped into the woods.

Chapter Three—Taylor

I listened to the mournful howling outside the window and shivered. God,
was that Victor out there? It must be. I listened again, and this time, I
thought I heard more than one wolf. They seemed to be calling and answering
each other. Was there a whole pack out there? But I’d thought Victor was a lone
wolf. What if Corbin had been wrong? What if they found out about me—about
Victor being blood-bonded to a vampire—and wanted to kill me?

It’s all right,
I told myself
uneasily.
It’s going to be all right as
long as you don’t advertise your presence.
Well, that was easy enough. I
planned to stay right here, in the house, and not step one foot outside. In the
mean time, I decided to go around and lock all the windows and doors just to be
safe. Victor had acted like he might be gone for days—I might as well take the
opportunity to explore my temporary home.

The cabin was as gorgeous on the inside as it was on the outside, though
some parts were clearly still under construction. The kitchen was finished and
the fridge was well stocked with lots of red meat and bacon and cheese—no
surprise there, Victor was clearly a carnivore—but also a head of lettuce and
some tomatoes. Hmm, so maybe he ate a salad from time to time? There was a six
pack of Sam Adams and a box with a slice of cold pizza in it, which I stared at
with longing. I had always been kind of a foodie back before I was turned but
vamps can’t eat. The most we can do is sip a little liquid from time to time
and not too much of that.

I closed the fridge with a sigh. Well, Victor had been gracious enough to give
me his blood, maybe I could make him a meal when he got back. It had been a
while since I had cooked anything but I used to grill a mean steak. And anyway,
wasn’t I the little woman now? Shouldn’t I be meeting him at the door in a
frilly apron with a dry martini saying, “How was your day, dear?”

I couldn’t help laughing at the ridiculous mental image. I could almost see
myself standing there, dressed in a naughty little apron and not much else
while Victor walked through the door. Could almost see his eyes flash gold as
he looked at me and hear the low growl in his voice as he took me in his arms
and kissed me…kissed me tenderly but so urgently. As if he couldn’t wait to
take me to bed. To…

God, where did that
come from!
I shook my head, trying to get rid of the weird fantasy.
I didn’t want the big were to kiss me, I told myself firmly. I didn’t want him
anywhere
near
me. And yet, the mental
image persisted. I couldn’t help imagining those big, warm hands caressing my
skin, stroking up and down my sides, cupping my breasts.

“Stop it!” I said out loud. What was wrong with me? Why was I imagining
these things—feeling like this? But it wouldn’t stop. I licked my lips, still
tasting the faint trace of his delicious blood. My breasts felt heavy and
tender and my nipples were tight. The area between my legs was swollen and
throbbing. What was going on?

It was the same problem I’d had ever since our wedding. The strange
feelings that wouldn’t leave me alone. I should be incapable of getting
aroused. After what Roderick had done to me, I should never want to be within
fifty feet of any man ever again.

So why was I feeling like this? And why couldn’t I stop thinking of Victor?
Remembering his smell, his taste…

I went to the kitchen sink and splashed ice cold water on my face until I
was gasping. It helped—a little.

“There,” I said out loud. “That’s better.”

It occurred to me that I was getting into the habit of talking to myself,
which was sort of bordering on crazy. I needed to get a grip. I remembered that
I had seen a box of chamomile tea in one of Victor’s cabinets and made a plan
on the spot. I would explore the rest of the house and then make myself a
soothing cup of tea to sip while I watched something mindless on TV. And I
would
not
entertain any more
fantasies about the big were who was now my husband.

“Temporary
husband,” I
reminded myself as I retreated from the kitchen and went to look at the rest of
the house.

The upstairs rooms were still clearly under construction. They looked like
they were going to be some guest bedrooms and maybe a study. Downstairs was
almost completely finished. Besides the kitchen there was a breakfast nook and
a vast living area filled with a big brown leather sectional and a large flat
screen TV.

Probably where he
watches the game,
I thought, imagining Victor sprawled on the couch, his
long, muscular form taking up most of the sectional. He would have the remote
in one hand, clicking idly. I would come up behind him and kiss the back of his
neck.

“Who’s winning?”
I would ask.

He wouldn’t answer—instead he would reach up and pull me into his lap. I
would snuggle close and breathe in his rich, masculine scent. The heat of his
big body would warm me all the way through. One large hand would slip into my
blouse and cup my breast, his thumb sliding gently over my nipple until a
sweet, lazy lust filled me, making me hot, making me want him…

God, I was doing it
again!
I
shook myself and took a deep breath, trying to clear my head. What was going on
with all the weird fantasies? The
feelings
I’d been having for ages, but these strange little flashes of what my life
would be like with Victor if we were really a couple…not to mention the way
they kept getting sexual—well, it was too much.

Keep going,
I told myself
sternly.
Look at the rest of the house.
Concentrate on that and stop fantasizing.

Except the next step on my self-guided tour led me straight to the master
bedroom.

I stared in dismay at the king sized bed, realizing suddenly that it was
the only bed in the house. Was this where I was supposed to sleep? I went to
the windows on the far side of the room, noting that they were far enough from
the bed not to cast any light on it when the sun was up. But when I got closer,
I saw that it wouldn’t have been a problem, even if they had been closer.
Victor had covered the glass panes completely in heavy duty aluminum foil and
there were thick, navy blue blackout drapes hanging across them that matched
the dark blue spread on the bed.

Wow, he really had been preparing the house for me. That was…actually, it
was kind of nice. Maybe he was a more thoughtful guy than I’d given him credit
for.

I went back and sat on the bed for a minute, testing its firmness. It would
be the first time I had slept—really slept—in a real bed in years. I’d had a
creaky little cot at Corbin’s club,
Under
the Fang.
And in Celeste’s house I had been given a dark, cobwebby
crawlspace beneath the floorboards to sleep in. It had been horrible but I
still liked it much better than any of her palatial bedrooms. That was because
spending time in bed always meant torture of some kind. Celeste enjoyed hurting
others as much as most people enjoy sex—more, actually. And she especially
loved to act out her kinky fantasies on me…

I pushed the memory away with a real effort and buried my face in one of
the plump, king sized pillows at the head of the bed instead. I breathed deeply,
filling my senses with Victor’s scent.
Dark
spice. Fur and leather and sunlight in the forest…
I don’t know why but it
calmed me down.

It’s over now,
I reminded
myself.
Roderick is dead and Celeste
can’t touch me. I’m safe. I’m safe here.

I only wished I could believe it. Even more, I wished I could exorcise the
memories of my personal season in hell. I had told Addison most of it—I would
have gone insane if I couldn’t talk to someone. But some things were too awful
to express in words. Too horrible to remember yet too dreadful to forget…

I became aware that I was crying and sat up hastily. Since vamps cry blood
for tears, it’s important to watch it when you have a breakdown. I looked down
anxiously—I didn’t want to stain Victor’s sheets.

There was a small drop of blood on the pillowcase I’d been lying on but it
was so tiny as to be unnoticeable, especially against the dark blue pillowcase.
I flipped the pillow over just to be sure and went to the bathroom to get some
tissue.

After blotting my red-rimmed eyes, I looked around the master bath. It was
very nice—all done in dark gray marble with a walk-in shower and a garden tub. There
was only one window, high up in the shower stall. Which meant I wouldn’t be
taking any showers during the day but then, I would probably be sleeping
anyway. Most people think vamps are dead—all the way dead—while the sun is up,
but that’s not true. We just sleep very deeply—so deeply we’re almost
impossible to wake—which is why it’s so important to be someplace safe and
light tight before you finally let yourself collapse.

There was a vast walk-in closet at the far end of the room, which appeared
to be sparsely filled with mostly jeans and t-shirts. (Yes, I looked through
his clothes. I know—I’m nosey.) There were several pairs of work boots too as
well as a laundry basket of what appeared to be clean towels, another basket
filled with dirty clothes, and a first aid kit, but nothing else of much interest.

I came back out into the master bathroom and my eyes were once again draw
to the tub. I liked it a lot. So much that I decided to modify my plans and
have my mug of tea while I took a soothing bubble bath. I got the water running
and looked around for something to use for bubbles but there was nothing but a
bright green cake of Irish Spring in the shower. No big surprise there—Victor
was a man’s man if I had ever seen one. There was no way I was going to run
across a bottle of Bath and Body Works Sweet Pea bubble bath in here.