Taken by Moonlight (49 page)

The growl
grew fiercer, louder. The circling resumed once more.

“Er—right,”
Vivienne replied, sending a quick glance to Conall. She took a few steps in his
direction, wondering why he was reacting like this to Rafael, and why Rafael
was even here. The man seemed to have some type of death wish. Shaking her
head, she concentrated on Conall.

Conall,
I’m tired. I really want to lie down.

A
particularly vicious snarl left his lips and he came to a stop directly before
Rafael. She was thinking of throwing in a “Conall, I feel sick” when the
familiar bright light erupted and Conall, in human form, appeared where the
wolf was, his body in a crouch. He rose quickly, and stormed over to Rafael.

“What the hell
are you doing here?”

Vivienne
took it upon herself to move even closer to the two. Now that Conall the wolf
was safely tucked somewhere inside Conall the man, it seemed less likely there
would be an all-out brawl. And then she remembered Conall and Max lugging each
other all over the place in the lobby of that apartment building, and decided
the best way to prevent the fight was to get them away from each other—but how?

“My
family’s here, and so is my pack,” Rafael responded, a trace of anger in his voice.
At that moment, his gaze left Conall and landed on her. She saw something burn
in his green eyes moments before Conall released a warning growl. It caught
Rafael’s attention because he looked warily back to Conall.

“
My
pack, not yours.” Conall took a step closer, and Vivienne did the same, trying
to get close to the two men without getting in their way. She was trying to
prevent a fight, but at the same time, she wasn’t trying to get caught between
Conall and the person pissing him off. “Leave!”

Rafael
scoffed and shook his head. “I just got here. Last night, as a matter of fact.
I’ve been hearing all sorts of things about this pack, and I just had to see
for myself that they’re true.”

“Hearing
things from whom?” Conall demanded. “Your father or your sister?”

At that
moment, something clicked in Vivienne’s mind and she gasped. That was who he
reminded her of: Samia. Rafael looked like Samia. Well, not exactly, but if
Samia were a man, she’d look like Rafael.

Green eyes
narrowed. “What does it matter, if it’s all true?”

“The only
reason you’re not dead right now is because it would offend my mate to see your
entrails laid out on the ground.”

She’d
always assumed people who said things like that were joking, because who would
be strong enough to pull someone’s entrails out and scatter them about on the
ground? But when Conall spoke, it was a finality that attested to his violent
capabilities, and a confidence that said he would see it through.

“That’s
assuming that you can kill me,” Rafael retorted with a vicious little smile.

Conall’s
reply was immediate. “I can, and if you don’t leave now, I will.”

“Well,
you’ll get a chance to prove that all over again, won’t you?” Rafael replied
before taking three steps back. “Only reason I’m here is because some of the
Elders think its time for a change in leadership. You’ve been alpha for a long
time without challenge, and some are thinking your judgment’s been off of
late.”

Vivienne
gasped.
What
? A feeling of foreboding settled in on her. Why did she
have the distinct feeling this was all because of her?

“Are you
challenging me, Rafael?” Conall asked quietly, so quietly shewas certain she
wouldn’t have heard it without her new druid senses.

“That’s the
only reason I’m here,” Rafael replied, and then he seemed to think about that
as he looked past Conall to Vivienne. A grin touched his lips. “Well, that’s
one of the reasons I’m here. I’ve just found another.”

A feeling
of rage reared inside Vivienne and she gasped, forcing herself to breathe
through it. She wasn’t angry, but Conall was. She could feel his emotion,
almost as if it were her own. Closing her eyes, she savored it. And then she
blinked. Why was she savoring his rage? She was supposed to be talking him
down!

“What’s the
other?” Conall asked in a voice that was deceptively soft. “Just so we’re
clear.”

Rafael’s
eyes left her and he threw Conall a mocking glare. “After meeting Vivienne,
I’ve decided that I want your title, and I want her as well.”

“Excuse
me?” Vivienne began, outraged at this obviously crazed man. She wasn’t a bone
they could fight over, and there was no way Rafe was getting her.

“So you’re
challenging me for my position and my mate?” Conall asked, and Vivienne found
it surprising his voice was so calm when his rage was hitting new levels in his
body and sending her into overdrive.

Rafael
nodded. “I want everything that once belonged to you. Everything.”

A large
wolf suddenly broke through the clearing. His pelt was a multitude of dark
colors, mostly gray and black, but the fur around his muzzle and neck was a
pristine white.

He stopped
a few feet from Conall, and turned to growl at Rafael. Moments later, another
wolf, this one blond and just as big as the other, skidded to a halt on the
other side of the gray wolf, and mimicked him.

“Call off
your mutts, Conall.” Rafael’s eyes flashed yellow as he stared at the new
arrivals.

“Leave
him,” Conall barked, and the two wolves stopped their growling, but made no
move to retreat.

“Saturday,”
Conall groused.

“So soon?”
Rafael lifted a brow. It was Friday.

“You win,
you can have my title.”

“And
Vivienne,” Rafael added, only to have Conall snarl and take a few steps in his
direction.

“Conall….”
Vivienne’s voice trailed off, but it was enough to bring the angry alpha under
control. “No.”

Rafael
shrugged, a quick movement of his shoulders under his leather jacket.
“Whatever. When you’re dead, she’ll come to me willingly.”

Vivienne
almost wished Conall would attack him now. She wasn’t even going to hold him
back. Rafael was ridiculous, and deserved to have some sense and manners
knocked into him.

To prove
his stupidity, he smiled at her, biting his bottom lip. In less than a second,
Conall charged him, flinging him easily into a tree and waiting as he righted
himself. Rafael seemed ready to retaliate, but he dusted off his leather jacket
and shook his head. “No use fighting you out here when the pack’s not watching.
Tomorrow.”

When he
disappeared into the trees, the two wolves, who Vivienne guessed were Sloan and
Raoul, followed him. She approached Conall quickly. “What was that about?”

Conall spun
around and caught her shoulder with one hand. He buried his nose against the
side of her neck, inhaling deeply, before moving to her clavicle, then lower
still. Vivienne blinked rapidly before shaking her head and trying to push him
away.

“What are
you doing?” she managed, catching his head as he sniffed at her arm.

“Why didn’t
you tell me about him?” he demanded.

Vivienne
shrugged her shoulders. “I didn’t think it was important.”

“Did he
touch you?” Conall continued, blue eyes boring into hers.

“No,”
Vivienne replied, before remembering the kiss Raoul had placed against her
hand.

“He kissed
your hand?” Conall snapped, and she cursed the mating connection that allowed
him into her mind. His rage tripled, and Vivienne felt her body break out in
almost anticipatory gooseflesh. What the hell was wrong with her?

“It wasn’t
like that, Conall. He was being a gentl—”

“Rafael
Mathias is no gentleman, Vivienne,” Conall snarled. “And I don’t want any other
male touching you but me. Ever.”

Eyes
narrowing, she pushed out of his grasp. “What?”

He repeated
it slowly, as if she were an invalid who wouldn’t understand, which made
Vivienne angrier. After a lot of blinking, and huffing, she finally found her
voice.

“So, I’m
not allowed to be around any men, but you can be around whoever you please? Did
your pack miss the century where females protested for rights and actually got
them? Seriously. And what did Rafe mean that he was challenging you for me as
well? Even if you lost, he’ll never have me. What the hell is wrong with all of
you?”

Conall
grabbed her hand and turned, pulling her with him. Vivienne had to run to keep
up with him. “Conall, you’re leaving your clothes.”

He didn’t
answer, just kept up that pace until they were in the house. Vivienne was
briefly reminded of a similar encounter with Sloan, and her anger was no less
fierce simply because it was Conall.

“I know
you’re angry about Rafe, Conall—”

“Rafael!”
he corrected, obviously taking affront to the intimacy of a nickname.

Vivienne
didn’t protest much as he dragged her up to the bedroom, but once there, she
launched into him. “What is wrong with you?” She paused and drew her arm away
from him. He didn’t let go on the first tug, but when she tugged again, he did.
His eyes narrowed to little slits. Crossing her arms before her chest, she
stared him down. His gaze was no less hostile. Taking a deep breath, she
decided to try a different approach, a calm one. “I said I was sorry.”

Vivienne
gasped and blinked when he rapidly began pulling her clothing off. Her jacket
was unzipped and tossed somewhere, her shirt was pulled over her head before
she could so much as breathe. His face was a mask of concentration, his eyes
that feral yellow.

“Conall,”
she began in a placating manner, only to groan when a hand squeezed at her
already sensitive breast through the thin material of her bra. He easily tossed
that as well. He went to his knees before her, and rapidly tugged her pants and
underwear off. An alarm went off in Vivienne’s head. He couldn’t—not today—

Mine.

Remaining
where he was, he parted her legs and began a series of long, wicked licks that
simply drove her wild. Vivienne stared down at his dark head between her
thighs, alternating between groaning and shaking her head, between shock and
impossible pleasure.

What is
he doing—?
That
thought was cut off completely by a flick of his tongue directly over her bud.
She would have fallen numerous times if not for his hands cupping her buttocks
as his tongue lapped.

By the time
he’d lowered her to the dark carpet, she could barely think of anything except
his body, and the pungent spicy odor emanating from his skin. A strong hand
gripped her waist, and then he was inside her. His thrusts were merciless, hard
thrusts that had her digging her nails into his back, drawing blood. Still, she
lifted her hips to receive him, holding him close as he marked her. That was
what he was doing. Joined to him mentally and physically, she knew it.

His mouth
caught hers and Vivienne moaned at the wild taste of herself on him. Her tongue
lifted to caress his, and she felt the prick of his elongated canines. Blood
filled their mouths, and they both moaned.

Conall
lifted his head, locking his gaze on hers. They were still yellow, shining down
on her.

“Conall,”
she whispered, barely getting in enough air to form that word, and feeling a
tremor rock through her body. He growled and lowered his head to her neck,
sucking and biting against a tender spot. She cried out and felt a powerful
orgasm wrack her body. It seemed to sneak up on her, leaving tremors that
literally shook her.

His thrusts
grew harder—Vivienne hadn’t thought it possible—and she closed her eyes,
surprised and slightly terrified at the intensity. Without breaking pace, the
hand at her waist moved lower until it was wrapped around her knee, pulling her
leg forward, so that her calf lay horizontal to his body. She felt herself
stretch to take him and whimpered, nails digging even deeper into his back.
Leaning down, he nipped at her shoulder and continued his quick, hard thrusts.
Vivienne felt another orgasm approaching, and the bite he placed at her
shoulder sent her over the edge. In the distance, she heard the equivalence of
a snarl, a growl, as she sobbed out his name. That was the last thing she
remembered until she woke up on the bed with Conall’s arms around her.

Conall
stared down at her, a sheepish, concerned expression on his handsome face. His
hair was damp and his eyes had returned to their usual blue.

“I’m sorry,
alainn
,” he began, only to have her lift her arms above her head and
stretch cautiously.

Her muscles
were tense, there was a slight soreness between her legs, and she could still
feel the imprint of his hands against her waist. “Why are you sorry?” she
asked, almost as an afterthought.

“I lost
control and I frightened you,” he said, moving away from her as if he expected
an outburst. Yes, he’d lost control, more than the previous times, and yes,
he’d scared her with it. Without lifting her arm to her nose, she knew his
scent was inside of her, that anyone passing would catch it.