Under His Skin (37 page)

“Master, this is Gia.”

Grigore’s voice startled him, dragging him back to reality. The period of time between catching the first hint of her scent and this moment looking down at her, all seemed a blur. He frowned. He was so tired all the
time,
it wasn’t unusual to “check out” mentally for stretches of time.
Still, this felt . . . different.

The hair on the back of his neck stood up as he continued to watch Gia. The urge to go to her remained strong, something inside him straining to get closer. The intensity of the desire disturbed him and he struggled to concentrate past it enough to speak.

 
“What do you want?”

The coarseness of his voice and the rude manner in which he’d spoken bothered him, but he didn’t try to apologize. She was a werewolf, half beast. Though he’d always tried to maintain a civil relationship with the local pack, he’d always kept a professional distance. Werewolves were a barbaric species and he’d had no interest in becoming entangled in their hedonistic ways. Now all of a sudden he found himself drawn on a very primal level to one of their females. He wrinkled his nose. How could he be attracted to one of her kind? What had possessed him to nearly vault over the balcony to get to her? Something strange was going on, and he was starting to doubt his sanity.

Gia shifted her weight from foot to foot and scowled at him. “Are you going to come down here, or do I have to speak staring up at you like some sort of peasant appealing to her king?”

Sorin’s eyebrows shot up. She seemed so . . . angry. It vibrated the air around her, charging it with the force of her ire. Between her obvious agitation and his . . . disturbing reaction to her, he found himself needing more information.

“As you wish,” he murmured. He turned his body to descend the stairs, but kept his gaze on Gia. His body moved more easily, as if he’d taken a huge pull of energy. He wanted to glance behind him at Grigore to see if he was all right, but he couldn’t pry his eyes away from Gia.

The longer he looked at her, the more the world seemed to fade around him, leaving only her body, her face. Her lush auburn locks curled around her shoulders, brushing her back as she tilted her head. Sorin’s fingers twitched, itching to lose themselves in the soft tresses. He could feel the cool silk in his palms now, threading through his fingers as he tightened his fist in their depths and dragged her mouth to his . . .

He continued to advance, his heart beating harder the closer he got to her. Her scent was intoxicating, beckoning to him like a lover whispering in a dark bedroom. She stared him down, her pulse pounding like a drum in her body. The sound of her blood rushing through her veins roared like an ocean in his ears. He wanted to press his lips to that quivering skin, to feel her
lifeforce
sliding under the surface as he kissed his way from her jaw to her collarbone. Pleasure thrilled down his spine. He could almost taste her now.

He stopped when he reached the floor, standing a mere ten feet away from her. A tempting aroma wafted off of her, caressing his senses and making his mouth water. Desire mixed with . . . fear. A dark pleasure filled his mind as her scent and her heartbeat gave her away. Part of him wanted to feed that fear. Feed it until she ran. He would chase her, catch her . . .

 
He swallowed twice before he could speak. “You are afraid of me.”

She narrowed her eyes and stuck out her chin. His observation seemed to anger her and he couldn’t resist the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. She was a fighter. They could have such a wonderful game of cat and mouse before he caught her.

That thought startled him.
Game of cat and mouse?
Since when did such bestial imagery hold appeal for him?

“You’re different than I remember you. The man I remembered wouldn’t be staring at me like I’m a walking steak.”

Her observation wilted the last of the smile from his face. “We’ve met before?” Her scent reached deep inside him, stirring his hormones until he had to clench his hands to keep from reaching for her. Surely, he would remember someone who affected him so.

“Yes.
When I came here about the rogue werewolf.”
She frowned. “The one your friend killed.”

A memory reached for him like a hand erupting from a grave, grabbing his ankles and sending fear skittering over his nerves. A man’s pale face glared daggers at him over the dead body of a woman, her mouth and arms covered in drying blood. He remembered the sound of his doorbell, the sight of Gia’s face when he showed her the body, proving to her that the rogue werewolf responsible for the deaths of four men and one woman had been taken care of.

“I am sorry for taking the matter into my own hands,” he whispered, subconsciously repeating the words he’d said seven years ago. “I was concerned for the safety of all involved. One murderous wolf—”

“Can bring the entire village after us all,” Gia finished. “Yes, so you said.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “You’re right, of course. She had to be stopped. But I still think you should have turned her over to us. I may have been able to help her.”

Sorin’s brain stuttered and clicked as he nodded mechanically. The pleasant feelings she had inspired in him weakened under the dismal memory. The sight of the woman’s dead body hung in his mind, dredging up emotions he’d thought had been exorcised years ago.
Cossette
.

Like a drunk stumbling in a morning after fog, he shook his head and tried to form coherent words. “Forgive my memory for its insult. Of course I remember you now. What is it that has brought you here?”

Gia’s eyes darted around the room. He followed her gaze from the grandfather clock on his left, to the tapestry on the wall above the stairs behind him, and on to the hallway that trailed off to his right. She looked everywhere but at his face.

He took the opportunity her avoidance afforded him to pull himself back together. His emotions rose and fell like waves on the ocean, alternately drawing him toward her with the force of a deadly undertow and dragging him away with fear of repeating the past. He barely remembered her and yet her scent, her voice, called to him.

“I’m here to trade services.”

Her voice jerked him from his musings. He blinked at her, trying to make sense of what he thought she’d said. “I beg your pardon?”

She shifted her weight again. “I’m here to trade services. I want your protection.”

“Protection?”
She nodded. An instinct surged inside him with a disorienting intensity.
Mine
. A growling voice drew his attention inside himself. Something almost tangible seemed to be materializing within his body.
Something with teeth.
Gia stepped back and only then did he realize he’d taken another step toward her.

Like a predator catching movement out of the corner of its eyes, his gaze was torn away from his internal inspection and riveted on the female retreating from him. His gaze met hers as the urge to claim her rolled like a tidal wave through his body.

“Protection from whom?”
He said the words louder than he’d meant to, as if he could drown out the silent urgings coming from the dark side of his soul. His skin pinched as if it had shrunk and was somehow too tight to fit over his muscles. He scratched his arm, trying to rid himself of the sensation.

“Other wolves.
Only until the three nights of the full moon pass,” she added quickly.

He inhaled, drawing her scent deeper inside him. She carried the smell of the forest. It was as though he could bury his face in her neck and breathe in the rich earth and vibrant green leaves that surrounded his home.

The thought of nestling his face in her neck aroused him, drawing his gaze down her body so he was forced to notice how nicely she filled out the denim and soft wool. His fingers flexed at his sides. It would take nothing for him to rip the clothes from her body, tear them to shreds until they fell to reveal her feminine form.

The blood in his veins relinquished its sluggish pace as it raced to fill his cock, preparing for the carnal delights playing out in his head. Images of her shapely legs wrapped around his waist filled his mind. He could almost feel her taut skin under his fingertips as he dragged her body closer, filling her with the flesh hanging thick and heavy between his legs.

Apparently oblivious to the direction his thoughts had taken, Gia continued talking.

“I’ll make it worth your while. As long as I’m here under your protection, you can feed on my blood.”

A strangled sound escaped his throat as his fantasy took on an even more erotic tone. Now he pictured his body plunging in and out of hers as his fangs pierced her neck. He could feel the thick liquid of her passion laden blood sliding down his throat, flowing faster and faster as her orgasm pumped it into his mouth. Desperation gripped him as he tried to regain control of his faculties. His knees trembled, weakened by the strength of the fantasy.

“Are you all right?”

Her words barely registered. In the fantasy playing out in his head, he had already accepted her offer, already tasted the blood she bartered with so willingly. He could feel the ambrosia sliding down his throat, infusing his body with life.

He ran his tongue over his fangs, losing his battle with self-control. She would enjoy it. When his fangs slid into her flesh, she would gasp with
pleasure,
moan as his mouth worked the wound, giving bliss as he took sustenance.

His fingers closed around her biceps, feeling every stitch of her soft sweater and every pulse of blood under her skin. Anticipation made his mouth water. He jerked her body to him, and she inhaled sharply.
 
Her lower body collided with his and the feel of her rubbing against his trapped erection nearly undid him. His head spun as he stared at her soft unpainted red lips and leaned forward.

“What the fuck?” Gia tore her arms out of his grasp, her eyes blazing with fury. Shocked out of his daze by her outburst, Sorin let her go. “Keep your hands to yourself unless you want to lose them,” she growled. “I’m offering blood, nothing more.”

Blood
, a voice in his head hissed.
Remember what happened last time you allowed yourself to feed. Remember why you’ve spent the last seven years wasting away in the prison of your study.
A parade of macabre images paraded through his mind. Gia disappeared, replaced by the memory of another woman standing before him, screaming with tears carving paths through the drying blood on her face.

“You did this to me!” she screamed.

Sorin stared, horrified at the sight before his eyes.

“Cossette, let me help you,” he begged.

He reached for her, his hands aching to draw her closer to him, to envelope her in his embrace and make it all better. She recoiled with a snarl.

“Don’t touch me!”

“Do we have a deal?”

Gia’s voice ripped him out of the past and threw him into the frozen water of the present. His heart pounded in his chest, pushing adrenaline through his system to scald his muscles. A desperate need to rid himself of the bitter taste of the past filled him, blinding him to everything else. Hunger roared inside him as he focused on Gia, concentrated on the heavenly aroma wafting from her body. He was ready to leap at her, to claim her like a beast claiming its mate.

His brain balked at the images his urge conjured up. Tension corded the muscles in his neck and shoulders as he fought to remain still. A gentleman ceased his pursuit when the lady said “no.” Gia was clear, he had to stop. His body jerked as he tried to shake off the carnal desire.

His sudden movement must have startled her, because a soft gasp split the air. Before he could apologize, her arousal hammered into his senses like Excalibur biting into cold stone. He stared at her, helpless desperation burning in his soul. She wanted him. She’d ordered him back, threatened him with violence, but her body sang a different song. He could taste it in the air, the musky flavor of her wolfish desire. He stared into her eyes, searching for the truth. Something flickered within the golden orbs as she stared back at him. She blinked.

“Please,
Sorin
. This is what I want.”

Cossette’s
voice threaded the air around him, taunting him with another plea. He’d told her “no” so many times, but eventually she’d worn him down. He’d given in—given her what she wanted . . .