The Dark-Hunters (332 page)

Maggie sat up slowly on the bed. “Why not give it to Wren?”

His father gave an odd half laugh. “His powers are enough that he can hold his own against virtually anyone. But you … you would always be a weakness for him. Now you’re not. In a few days, you will grow accustomed to your new life and you will master those powers.”

“But we’re not mates,” Wren said, still unable to believe this was happening.

“You will be. I know it.”

Wren shook his head. “Maggie is the daughter of a U.S. senator, Dad. How is she supposed to go back to her life now?” He watched as the horror of that sank in.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” his father asked.

“Had I known you were going to foist our world on her, I would have. But I never dreamed in my wildest imagination that you could do this.”

Maggie touched Wren’s arm as she joined them. “It’s okay, Wren. Although to be honest, a choice in this would have been nice. Your father’s heart was in the right place. You can’t be angry at someone who did something because they loved you.”

Wren ground his teeth. “Sure I can.”

His father looked stricken.

“But I won’t.”

His father pulled Wren into his arms and hugged him.

She smiled at them. “So before I shift into a tiger again, did you learn anything about your father’s murder?”

Wren nodded as he pulled away and moved to Marguerite’s side. “My mother’s brilliant plan is that she kills Dad and me, and then she and Grayson split the estate. He’s to wire a million dollars into her account in advance of the murders.”

“But she doesn’t kill you,” Marguerite reminded him. “After your father dies—”

“You know,” his father said between clenched teeth, “it really disturbs me to be talking about my death like this.”

“I’m sorry,” Maggie said. She looked at Wren. “Are you sure we can’t save him?”

“No,” Wren said. “It would alter things and the Fates would punish us for it.”

His father concurred. “And I’d most likely end up dead in some other fashion within a few hours of his saving me. The Fates have an eerie way of keeping things in balance.”

Marguerite felt for Aristotle. “So how do we prove their involvement?”

“I don’t know,” Wren said. “The deposit doesn’t mean anything. I suppose I could get a copy of it, but Grayson could lie and say that he put the money there for another reason. His argument will be based on the fact that both of my parents are dead. He’ll say I killed them both.”

“So you’ll need to find out who killed your mother and provide proof of it.”

Wren nodded. “Could Grayson have been in the house when she died?”

Aristotle shook his head. “It’s not possible.”

“Are you sure?” Wren asked.

“Positive. I banned Grayson from here a long time ago.” Aristotle turned thoughtful. “What all do you remember about the night of my death? I need every detail.”

Wren passed an uncomfortable look to Marguerite. “It happened around ten. I remember because I heard the clock chime just as something crashed. I sensed that something was wrong, so I left my room to go to yours. I found you there and I held you.”

She saw the pain on Wren’s father’s face.

“Then I heard them laughing and I went to kill them. Mom’s lover attacked me and knocked me out. When I woke up, the house was on fire and I escaped when the floor burned out from underneath me. A fireman took me outside and I escaped into the woods. There was a man there who called out to me. He said he would take me to Sanctuary.”

His father frowned. “What man?”

“I don’t know. He never told me his name and I don’t even know why I trusted him, in retrospect. He just seemed to be honest.”

Marguerite considered that. “What did he look like?”

Wren shrugged. “He looked and smelled human. He was really tall, with black eyes and long, dark brown hair.”

Aristotle shook his head. “I don’t know a human who looks like that.”

“Are you sure?” Wren asked.

“Positive.”

“How weird,” Marguerite said as she considered that. “Who could he have been then?”

Wren shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Aristotle let out a long, tired breath. “Very well then. It doesn’t sound like there’s much we can do until the night they kill me. I’ll have the bank keep me posted about your mother’s account. You stay here and teach your girlfriend how to use her powers.”

Wren’s frown increased. “Where are you going?”

His father gave Wren a meaningful stare. “I want to go spend a little time with my son so that he won’t hate me entirely when he finds me dead.”

“I didn’t hate you, Dad.”

He smiled sadly. “Thanks, Wren. I’m glad to know it before I die.”

Marguerite was amazed by the man’s strength, at the fact that he could face his death so bravely. It was unbelievable. “You’re being incredibly understanding about all this.”

He scoffed at that. “Only on the outside. I assure you, inside I’m screaming right now. There’s nothing worse than knowing you’re going to die and not being able to stop it.”

She cringed at the very thought. “No, I guess not.”

Aristotle opened the door. “I’ll be back in a few hours. In the meantime if either of you need anything, have Maggie buzz me on the intercom.”

“Okay.”

As his father started to leave, Wren stopped him. “Thanks, Dad.”

He patted Wren on the arm before he left them alone.

Wren sighed heavily. “This has been one seriously fucked-up day, huh?”

“You might say that. This morning it was 2005 in New Orleans, I was staring at you wondering what it would be like to have the ability to change into a tiger. Now it’s the day before I enter the world in 1981 and I
can
turn into a tiger. Yeah, just your average day … if you’re in a Ted Raimi production.”

Wren snorted at her sarcasm.

Marguerite rubbed her arms as the real horror of all this settled deep inside her heart. “What’s going to become of us, Wren?”

“I don’t know. But whatever it is, it should be interesting.”

“And that is what really, really scares me.”

Chapter 13

Marguerite quickly learned that life as a Were-Tiger wasn’t easy. For one thing, her appetite quadrupled almost instantaneously. And as she was searching the deserted kitchen for chocolate to consume, since her new metabolism would burn through gross amounts of calories, Wren warned her that it was eternally off her menu. Apparently too much of it could kill her.

So could Tylenol.

The Tylenol she could take or leave, but the chocolate … that was a cruel blow. No more Easter bunnies for her.

But the good news was that her body quickly acclimated to the changes and within hours she was able to maintain a human form again with ease.

Wren explained that during the daytime being human wouldn’t be a problem for her since that was her “base” form. His was technically that of the tigard, which was why whenever he slept or passed out he reverted to tigard form.

She also learned that it would be easier for her to change into a tiger at night. Being a tiger in the daytime would be a little tricky for her until she grew more accustomed to her powers.

Until she mastered them, during a full moon her human form would most likely change even against her will. The magnetic pull of the full moon would play havoc with her powers—this was where the human myth of the werewolf came from.

Under the light of a full moon, all young Were-Hunters were at the mercy of their powers. They were also much more likely to attack an unwary human, since the animal in them tended to take over their human rationale.

“All human myth is rooted somewhere in reality,” Wren said as he showed her how to control her ability to change.

The change from one form to the other wasn’t painful. It was the struggle to hold on to the form that caused mental and physical stress.

But as her body settled down, Marguerite began to feel ferocious. Intense. Everything was more vivid now.

Her sight. Her hearing. Smells—another thing she could have done with less of.

At least for certain things. For others, such as the way Wren smelled when he was near, it wasn’t so bad.

She leaned her head against Wren’s neck so that she could inhale the unique scent of him. It was more intoxicating than a fine wine.

And it made her salivate.

Always timid in life, she was now possessed of something else. Something feral and wild. She was still the same Marguerite, only now she was much more confident about her place in the world.

Wren smiled as she gently nuzzled his neck. “You’re feeling the tiger’s pull, aren’t you?”

“The what?”

“The beast that shares your body. It’s different from being human. It sizzles inside you like another person. Calling to you.”

She nodded as she crawled into his lap, then pushed him down on the bed. She rubbed her face against his, delighting in the sensation of his roughened cheeks scraping the smoothness of hers. Her body was on fire.

And the animal inside her craved him with a need born of madness.

She stared at his shirt, then wished it away.

It vanished instantly.

It was good to be a magical tiger. Marguerite smiled in satisfaction.

At least until her own top and bra vanished. “Hey!”

“Turnabout is fair play,” Wren said an instant before all of her clothes disappeared.

For the first time in her life, she wasn’t self-conscious. The beast inside her knew nothing of modesty. It only knew desire. Hunger.

Wren.

And it wanted a taste of him.

Wren leaned back and watched the fire that burned bright in her dark brown eyes. He was already hard and aching for her as she lashed his chest with her hair. Grinding his teeth, he had to force himself not to take control of this.

But it was part of her coming into her own. She needed to experience the new aspect of herself. Needed to come to terms with the hunger of a tiger’s soul.

Lying there while she explored him was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. Her soft body brushed torturously against his. As she nibbled his ear, the crisp hairs at the juncture of her thighs brushed against his hip, reminding him of his own hunger for her.

Her desire set fire to his own.

Wren hissed as she teased his ear with her tongue. Her breath on his neck blistered him and caused chills to run the whole length of his body. There was something inside him that calmed to her touch, and yet she excited him more than anything else ever had.

He ran his hands over her smooth back to cup her bottom in his hands. She moaned in his ear before she moved so that she was straddling his body. Wren reached up to cup her face as he deepened their kiss.

All he’d ever wanted in his life was to belong, and with her he found that special place. It was why she meant so much to him. Why he never wanted to lose her. She was everything to him.

And he couldn’t keep her.

It was so unfair and yet he refused to let himself think of that. For the moment, they were together and that was all that was important to him. Sighing in satisfaction, he gently nuzzled her cheek.

Marguerite growled at the sight of Wren’s defined muscles straining as he held himself in check and allowed her to have her way with him. What was it about this beast that made her entire being burn?

Really, no one should be so irresistible. Her heart pounding, she pulled back from his lips and growled ferociously. His scent and taste ran through her, making her drunk with need. She had to have him.…

Unable to stand it anymore, she impaled herself on him.

They growled in unison.

Wren lifted his hips, driving himself even deeper into her. Marguerite bit her lip in satisfaction as she reveled in the hard thickness of him inside her body. There was nothing better than the feeling of him buried there as they made love furiously.

Her body shook and burned, demanding more and more of him. Biting her lip, she watched as her pleasure was mirrored in his eyes. Oh yeah, this was what she’d craved from him and she had no doubt that no man would ever be able to make her feel this way again.

He was everything to her.

And both she and the tiger within intended to keep him. Unable to stand it anymore, she quickened her strokes until she found the release she needed.

Wren watched as Maggie came calling out his name. Smiling, he rolled over with her so that he could finally take control of their play. He moved faster against her supple hips, heightening her pleasure as her nails bit into his back.

And when he found his own orgasm, he could swear he saw stars from it.

He collapsed on top of her, his heart pounding as he felt the most incredible bliss of his life. There was nothing on earth that could match the warmth of her lying beneath him. Of the sensation of her hot hand against his cool skin.

The beast inside him could devour her. It was already growling and straining for another taste of her body.

Marguerite played in his hair as Wren’s breath tickled across her skin. She loved the feel of his weight on her. Of his body still joined to hers. It was warm and wicked.

And she never wanted to move again.

She ran her feet over the backs of his legs, delighting in the feel of all his lean muscle. She could feel her hunger for him starting to build again deep down inside. Now she finally understood how Wren could make love to her for hours.

It was intrinsic.

She laughed deep in her throat as she felt him growing hard again inside her. Biting her lip, she moved against him, slow and easy, savoring the whole length and breadth of him.

Wren lifted himself up by his arms to stare down at her as she continued to control their play. “I think my little tigress is still hungry.”

She moaned as he thrust himself into her deep and hard.

And she still wanted more. Cupping his bottom, she urged him faster and lifted her hips to draw him in even deeper. It still wasn’t enough.

As if he could sense it, Wren pulled away. Marguerite whimpered until he rolled her over onto her knees. He took her hands and braced them on the headboard as he separated her thighs with his.