Dark Desire (7 page)

“It’s over now,
only pleasure I promise you.”

His voice came
out strained, his face rigid with tension, lips a tight line as he seemed to
struggle with some inner conflict. The pain eased slowly leaving in its wake a
pleasant throb of awareness as she finally wiggled beneath him. The movement
felt … good. No, not just good, fantastic, and she moved her hips again
relishing the pleasure that throbbed in her core.

He cursed under
his breath. “You’re killing me here.”

“Then move,
dammit. I need more.” She panted, almost desperate as the pleasure built.

“You’re so tight
I’m not going to last long.”

“Just move,
now
!”

He complied with
a hoarse groan moving slowly at first, but she didn’t want
slow
,
not with the fiery tension building below, driving her out of her mind.

“Keep your eyes
on me. I want to watch you come,” Zeke gritted out.

She kept her
eyes locked onto his as he picked up speed, rocking his hips as she rose to
meet him thrust for thrust. The pleasure built to an agonizing pitch, her
muscles gripping tight around him as she reached for climax. It came on a wild
rush of heat, scorching her nerve endings to ash as it lit her up.

She felt his
body shudder with his release, and his deep groan echoed in her ears. Never had
she experienced anything like this, and for the first time in her life she
looked forward to a future, which was not as bleak as she’d feared after all.

It was the last
thought she had before a red haze of rage engulfed her, stripping her of sanity
as a burning surge of bloodlust overwhelmed her, swallowing her whole.

Chapter Six

October in Las
Vegas

Lori applied the
last touch to her makeup and with a critical eye studied the image staring back
at her in the mirror. Her eyes lightened to polished silver against the heavy
black eyeliner, lashes, naturally long and full, took only a minimum of
mascara, much to the envy of the other girls here. Full red lips matched the
color of her sequined bra and shorts, which barely covered her assets. Thigh
high stiletto black boots finished a look that would make a hooker proud.

She fluffed her
long ebony hair, letting it cascade about her shoulders and down her back in
loose curls.

The door opened,
carrying in the sour smell of spilt booze and stale cigarettes. Hoots and
whistles vibrated in the air until the door closed dropping the noise to
tolerable decibels. Sounded like another full house.

 
“You look perfect as always, child. Now get
that well-toned ass out there and get to work on those guys.”
Cici’s
husky voice held a note of amusement as she
sauntered up to her with a huge grin and a sparkle in her dark brown eyes.

Lori made a face
in the mirror. “Yeah, the only thing those guys out there are interested in is
my T&A.”

“Don’t knock it,
girl. It’s what keeps a roof over your head.”

With a
frustrated sigh Lori turned to face the only friend she had in the world, or
the only friend she knew she had. Her life was a big fat blank slate. Her first
memory was waking up in the alley behind the stripper club she currently worked
at.
Cici
had found her huddled against the dumpster,
shivering in shock, covered in blood—which turned out not to be her own—and no
memory of who she was or how the blood got all over her.

Not that she
wanted to remember. Her nightmares were plagued with a sense of rage, blood,
and a pain, which never went away, even when awake. As if she grieved a loss of
someone she loved, but try as she might she came up with nothing but violent
headaches for her trouble. After a while, she’d stopped trying. It was easier
that way. Whatever happened could stay forgotten, and she resigned herself to a
half-life, finding a small portion of peace with the decision not to try to
remember.

Ever.

Cici
pursed her
lips. “Don’t know why you want to dance in a dump like this. You are meant for
a better life, even if you don’t remember who you are. Breeding tells, and you
got enough breeding to make the queen of England look like regular folk.”

“I’m nothing
special. If I was I think I would know, don’t you? Besides I haven’t seen any
missing person alerts, so no one is looking for me.”

Cici
gave a very
unladylike snort. “That don’t mean someone isn’t looking for you. There could
be hundreds of reasons why you haven’t heard anything. As for you thinking you
would know anything about yourself? Hon, we had to make up a name for you. All
you could remember was it started with an L. You wouldn’t know if you were heir
to a fortune even if it bit you in the ass.”

“But wouldn’t I
feel it?” Lori argued placing a hand to her heart. “Right here, would tell me
something if I were someone of any consequence.”

Cici’s
brown gaze lit
with triumph. “And that’s why you’re special. Who the hell uses words like
consequence around here? It’s not just how you talk either. You hold yourself
proud, like there’s a confidence in you that shines through. Even the men see
it. I’ve never seen the like, and they treat you with more respect I’ve ever
seen any man give to a woman. Every one of those guys out there would go to
jail to protect you.”

“That’s a bit
exaggerated,
Cici
. I treat them like I want to be
treated, that’s all.”

“Think what you
will, stubborn child, I know better.”
Cici
sniffed
indignantly.

Unable to help
herself, Lori wrapped her arms around the small black woman who never ceased to
amaze her, hugging her tightly. She loved her fiery spirit. Her lined face and
salt and pepper hair did nothing to dim the vitality that practically vibrated
from the woman. Lori owed her so much.
Cici
put her
up in the apartments above the stripper club, encouraged her when she lost all
hope of remembering her past, and got her this job stripping. She didn’t know
how she would repay her for all her kindnesses, but she would do whatever it
took to help the woman any way she could.

Cici
broke the hug,
her voice gruff as she nodded. “Don’t get all your makeup smeared. Now, get to
work. They’re waiting for you.”

With one last
look at her friend Lori turned and headed for the door.

****

Temple Fox
lightly brushed his lips against the softness of his lover’s dark hair. Leola
murmured sleepily snuggling closer against him. A small smile pulled at the
corners of his lips, and for the first time he felt … content. Leola turned out
to be the perfect woman for him in almost all ways a man could want. Yet, he
was not a man, and the one thing she lacked made a permanent, binding
relationship impossible. He almost wished he was only a man instead of a
pure-blooded
Lycan
. Leola was a human bitten and
turned. True, she held amazing aptitude for controlling the beast living inside
her, but she still could only be one thing. A Were. Her limitations were
glaringly apparent at the time of the full moon when her animal rose. Unable to
shift into the pure wolf form, she transformed into the humanoid cross between
human and wolf.

He knew he
should let her go, let her find a mate up in Washington state where he had
thousands of acres for his
Weres
to roam, a city with
which to live and be productive between full moons. He was a selfish bastard,
not yet ready to relinquish her to another. The very idea of another man’s
hands on her made him growl with possessiveness. If only he didn’t have the
weight of his race’s fate resting on his shoulders. Never before had he wished
he could turn his back, live his life in peaceful bliss with this woman who fit
him so well.

If, if, if…
There was no room in his life for ifs.
As the leader of the Pure Bloods it fell to him to mate with only another Pure
Blood and save his dying race. He let his hand wander down the smooth, warm
skin of her back. No, he couldn’t let go of her yet, but he could try to
distance himself from her, prepare for the painful separation, which would come
far too soon.

His cell buzzed
on the small end table, intruding on the small haven he enjoyed for a few
precious hours.
Reality checking in on him with the force of
a jackhammer to the skull.
He rolled from the bed, grabbing his cell and
growling into it.

“I wouldn’t have
interrupted if it wasn’t important.” Lucien’s deep voice rumbled over the
receiver sounding like boulders grinding against each other.

Temple struggled
to get his temper back under control. His second in command never called him
without good reason. He let out a heavy breath. “What is it?”

“The
Preservation Society is stepping up their game, and it looks like they have a
new player hitting for their side. A woman, from what I could dig up. And the
kicker is she’s
Lemurian
.”

Temple’s
irritation faded as his attention sharpened. He’d been waiting for Amari to
make her move. With hindsight he should never have agreed to give her the
artifact. At the time, filled with bitter desperation over the plight of his
dying Pure Blood
Lycans
, he’d wanted only to cause
Marcus as much suffering as he could. If his Enforcers got in the way, then
they would suffer as well. Even though Temple was no closer to solving his
breeds crisis, bloodshed was not the way to help his kind. Since he refused to
give Amari Oman’s Seal he knew it would only be a matter of time before she
retaliated.

“Watch them
closely, especially the woman. Consider her dangerous, so don’t take any risks.
If that female so much as sneezes I want to know when and where, got it?”

“Loud
and clear.”
The sound of traffic filled the space for a brief moment before he continued,
uneasiness thickening his voice. “What is going on here, Temple?”

“I wish I knew,
my friend.”

“Things on the
streets are … tense. It’s like a powder keg ready to blow between us and
humans, and the added kink with this
Lemurian
may tip
the scales toward war.”

“Knowing Amari,
it’s exactly what she’s building to.”

“What about the
Enforcers? We can come
clean,
let them know what we
know.”

“No.” Temple cut
him off with a harsh growl. “I don’t need Marcus up my ass. Besides, he’s
plenty busy with putting together his first summit between us and the human
rulers. And then there is the whole business that happened at Atlantis with you
and Tegan’s mate.”

“Ah,
yeah.
If there had been another way.”

“I know, friend.
If it could have been avoided you would have. Unfortunately, we needed Oman’s
Seal at any cost. I’m just sorry you were forced to do something so against
your nature.”

“Lately, we all
are called to do things we would never dream ourselves capable of.” The regret
in his voice hung like a heavy pall in the silence between them a moment before
Lucien cleared his throat. “You think this
Lemurian
had something to do with what happened to Zeke in Atlantis?”

Temple gave a
humorless laugh. “You can bet on it.”

“From what I’ve
been told things were touch and go with him for a while.”

“Getting stabbed
in the heart can do that to a person,” Temple remarked drily. “Look, be
careful, Lucien. Whatever Amari has planned it’s going to be deadly, and I
would hate to have you in the crossfire.”

“You know me,
I’m always expecting trouble, and when you put a female in the mix it’s always
guaranteed.” Lucien barked out a humorless laugh. “I’ll try to keep upwind of
the woman.”

“I wish I could
order you out of the city, but I need you too much at the moment.” As Temple
disconnected the call, a heavy dread settled in his stomach like dead weight.
He knew something bad was brewing. He wondered for the first time in his long
two hundred years of living, if he would be around when the debris settled.

Chapter Seven

The clang of
steel echoed in the deserted parking lot as two men fought within a pale circle
of light from the streetlight above them. A chain-link fence surrounded the two
combatants as they circled each other looking for any weakness they could
exploit. The hum of humanity underscored the sound of battle adding a surreal
quality to the war raging within the small circle of light. Fremont Experience
may still be in full swing several blocks away, but at that moment it was a
world away from the deserted streets and derelict buildings on this part of old
town. Even the homeless stayed far away from the area when darkness fell,
leaving it to the monsters that stalked the night.

Cody lunged at
the feral vampire, his body a blur as he twisted, angling his sword in a deadly
arc aiming for its throat.
“Time to die,
asswipe
.”