He rasped, “Mine!” He bucked within her and howled, like a victorious wolf gaining territory.
Just thinking of the kinky wolf sex while fingering the raised hickey made her shiver in a light orgasm.
Jeeze, this is weird, but I’m definitely not complaining
. She sensed the mark was not going to fade like most hickeys. It would be a reminder of the best sex she would ever have. Or, was it a brand that she was his? She’d been tempted to enter his mind, but promised not to invade his privacy. There was also her trepidation that if she did read his inner thoughts, she might find out more about his duty to marry a werewolf. Marla was not the only female shifter. Hmm. Would she be happy as a practicing doctor and mistress of the alpha werewolf? Exhausted, she grabbed another pillow and covered her face from the morning light.
Dirk pulled the sheets off and spanked her bottom. “Hey, babe, we should get going.”
She winced from the stinging slap and pulled the sheets over her. “Check out isn’t ‘til noon.” After being underground in a mad scientist’s secret lab, escaping from flesh eating zombies and flying out of control in the middle of the desert, she had earned some rest. Not to mention, a night with a skilled werewolf lover. After Dirk, could she ever go back to being with normal men?
He sat at the edge of the bed, his weight making it sink. “I actually don’t mind hanging out here for another couple days but room service sucks.”
She groaned. How could she enjoy a stay at the zombie-free spa when Josh and Mel needed her? She sat and covered her body with the sheets as if her modesty would lessen the guilt of having a good time while her family was in danger. “No, we need to go before it’s too late.” About to start on a litany of worries, her tongue got tangled and she gaped. “You…shaved.” She reached to touch his handsome jaw line.
He drew her in and kissed her hard. The temptation to stay and do more of the same was overwhelming. He released her mouth and gently kissed her bite mark, then smiled. “While you were catching up on beauty sleep I found a shaving kit. You like it?” He smoothed his hand over his chin.
“Do I ever!”
His blue eyes’ tawny specks sparkled as he smiled. “After you brought back life to the bamboo plants I was inspired to freshen up a bit more.”
Every room in the spa had a tall wilted bamboo, a result from lack of care and watering. She glanced at the six-foot tall bamboo plant at the corner, noticing it for the first time since waking up. Its leaves were green and it stood erect. Impossible. “Holy lucky bamboo, did I do that with my witchmacallit?”
He laughed. “Looks like your green thumb is connected to your g-spot.”
She gave him a pointed glance. “I’ll have to remember that next time I work in a community garden.”
He leaned in and kissed her wolf hickey. “Makes me want to give up hunting and take up farming.”
She moaned at the feel of his canines against her. Okay, this is going to end up in crazy werewolf sex. “Dirk, we need to get going.”
He stood, his lucky bamboo, evident in his crotch. “Sure, babe. By the way, I found some maps at the front desk. Before the zombies apocalypse we could easily have taken the coastal route but who knows if anything is open or passable. Worse, we’ll need to cross the Golden Gate Bridge.”
“Maybe it was cleared?” She couldn’t imagine napalming San Francisco’s most famous landmark.
“No. The raven shifters reported zombies had moved toward the city side in search of flesh. The only problem is the abandoned cars stuck on the bridge. I hope we’ll be able to squeeze through with my bike.”
“The raven shifters told you…when?”
“During the last Consortium meeting.”
“Hmm. The last time I talked to Josh, he said ferry service stopped after many on board turned zombie. My brother in-law, Victor, was trapped on the city side of the bridge.” She glanced down at her fingers. “I know he’s left the earthly plane.”
He took her hand and brushed his warm lips over it. “I promise we’ll find Josh and Melanie.”
She sighed in contentment; she didn’t need to read his mind to know he was sincere. “Maybe we should travel on the central highways.”
“I’m not sure that would be any safer. And would require backtracking. At least the ocean gives us an escape since zombies can’t swim and die from drowning.”
She smiled. “You’re a good swimmer but I’m not sure I can handle the cold treacherous surf.”
He brushed her cheek with his calloused hand. “Going in the water would be our last resort. I’m not giving up the Harley.”
She laughed. “I promise if we need to ditch it, I’ll locate another one.”
He gripped her arms, fiercely furrowed his brow and held her gaze. “The hell with the bike, the only thing that matters is your safety. Just promise me you won’t fly away on your broomstick. We’re in this together.”
Hmm.
No, cuz I love ya, babe?
Yet his pleading eyes conveyed more than a passing fancy. His bite mark tingled, reminding her that they had a schism of differences. She lifted her chin and braved a smile. “Feeling’s mutual.”
He released his talon-like grip and slowly exhaled. “Good. I’ll let you decide, coast or central?”
She furrowed her brow. Both routes would have zombies. The coastline was wild and windy, a difficult environment for the un-coordinated zombie. The central freeway was a major artery for people moving up and down from LA to Sacramento and on to the north. “Okay, let’s do the coast.”
He stood. “Coast it is.”
“If it’s possible, I’d love to get medical supplies. Surgical and examination tools. Maybe antibiotics and anesthetics. I’m sure there’ll be a hospital or clinic along the way?”
Dirk scratched his head. “Hospitals are zombie zones. Don’t worry. I’m sure our pack gathered a supply with Ethan’s help. In fact, he has a nice clinic.”
“A veterinarian clinic?”
“Was. It’s now a clinic for animals and shifters. You two would get along.”
“Hmm. Shifter medicine? Sounds intriguing.”
“He saved my sister by coming up with a che-something to draw out the silver poison from her blood.”
“Chelation therapy, interesting. Has he or any of your shifters come up with something to combat the effects of wolfsbane?”
He donned his boots. “Nothing against wolfsbane. But maybe you can tap into your ancestral witch memory?”
She scoffed. “Really, why would a witch know?”
He laughed. “Because my little flying beauty, a witch invented wolfsbane.”
“Well no wonder werewolves are resentful.” She stood and dressed.
“At one time witches used wolfsbane in high doses to kill our kind, at least against the Benandanti who hunted them.”
“I should have kept some samples.” Back in the underground lab, she thought she’d disposed of all the wolfsbane, unaware Mansfield had hidden a syringe in his lab coat.
“No, packs aren’t allowed to keep it.”
“That’s crazy. If you haven’t studied it, no wonder you still fall under its spell.”
“Spell is right.” He pulled a blue men’s yoga tee on. Rather than hide his bunched muscles, the tee enhanced their ripped tone. God, he was sexy.
Her breathing shallowed and her eyes brightened, enjoying his physique. An intelligent woman’s wet dream. A man macho enough to kick ass and drive a Harley, combined with the sensitivity and discipline to practice yoga. Or at least wear yoga clothing so well. “Yes, spell.” She shook her head. “I see why a witch would not be a welcome addition to a pack.”
“It’s like breaking an arms treaty between packs.”
“Funny, I don’t feel like a weapon of mass destruction.”
He laughed. “You, babe, happen to be the ‘H-Bomb.’”
“Flight and having a green thumb is not exactly a nuclear weapon. Or is there more?”
“You forget, babe. You can communicate with the dearly departed. It makes you even more valuable.” He took out the bear claw and lovingly stared at it before putting it back in his jean pocket.
His loving gesture warmed her heart. “I want your pack to think of me more as Glenda the Good Witch and not the Wicked Witch of the West.”
He walked to the window and stared into the dense mixed woodland. His large frame blocked most of the light. “There’s more to it than the witch’s magic that packs worry about.” He made a fist as if stopping a shift. “The son of a witch and an alpha werewolf would be born with the power of a wizard and werewolf.”
Ooh, it almost sounded like he said, ‘son of a bitch’. “What type of powers?”
Stiffening, he drew in a slow breath and talked to the window not her, his voice distant. “He would have telekinetic powers and the ability to shift into a werewolf and a second form. A fire breathing dragon.”
“Oh that sounds far worse than being a son of a bitch/witch.”
He chuckled. “More than you think.”
No wonder he wouldn’t commit to her. A world destroyed by zombies, later to add dragons to the mixture was definitely a bad thing. Every story she thought a myth was turning into reality. “Dragon? Wow, unbelievable.” She shrugged. “Trust me, that won’t happen. I can see why you made sure I wasn’t ovulating.” She reached for her boots. “From now on, only safe sex.”
He turned to her and met her gaze with his feral dominant eyes. “Dora, you’re more than a fuck buddy.”
“Yeah, but what will your pack think?” She suppressed the need to ask what the future Mrs. Werewolf would think. She scoffed defensively. “Anyway, I’m not looking for a commitment.” The apocalypse reminded her any marriage for better or for worse
would be for worse. “For now, I want to find Josh and Mel, and then practice medicine. That is, if there are any humans left to practice medicine on.”
Hurt flashed in his eyes and his voice hardened. “It might be best if we didn’t tell them you’re a witch.”
“Won’t they know like the Navajo shifter knew?”
“He was a shaman. The average shifter will not.”
“Just the Benandanti.”
He paced like a trapped tiger, each booted step pounding as hard as her heart. “They won’t dare get near you.”
His protective nature was his most charming quality. Poor Dirk. He fought his fondness for her but that might change when he returned to his pack. She thought back to Lab Zero. “Good thing Mansfield didn’t have a chance to produce embryos from our union.”
He sighed. “They probably wouldn’t have survived. Our history tells us that most witch and alpha werewolf couples were infertile. The birth of a male dragon-wolf was statistically rare. Even so, witches and werewolves agreed to never mate. Battles between dragon-wolf lords nearly destroyed the earth.”
“I must have skipped that history lesson.” Maybe that’s why the Benandanti really wanted witches dead. Blaming witches for being in league with the devil had become more acceptable within human society.
“This happened thousands of years ago.” With a pained look on his face, he sat on the armchair. He gripped the chair with curved long claws and ripped into the leather.
Something had changed. Dirk probably wanted an entire pack of bad-assed werewolf cubs, a missed opportunity if he married her. The thought that they could never really be more than bedmates caused her heart to sink in anguish. “I better wash up.”
She went into the luxurious bathroom and eyed her bite in the mirror. No pain and no bruising. Maybe she could lighten his mood. She raised her voice, “The hickey you gave me is silvery and so light I can barely see it. Very cool.”
He snapped, “Hurry, I’ll meet you downstairs.”
She peeked out the door as he strode out of the room. “Why is he so pissed off?” She pursed her lips. Just one peek to see what he’s thinking.
No. I can’t.
Most likely, he felt guilt about sleeping with a witch. Well, he had better take a chill pill.
****
Dirk regretted his fierce tone with her. It was only out of frustration. How wonderful it would have been if he and Dora, his mate, could live here unencumbered by family and duty. Her words of not wanting a commitment hurt him, though he sensed from her pulse it was a lie. Was she afraid of his kind or the consequences of their union? He was. Banishment meant never seeing his sister and the pack. They would be free game for the Benandanti or even the Vircolac who might decide mating a witch would add power to their smaller numbers. His body tensed and his pulse drummed. Had he placed her in greater danger?
There was no going back. His claiming mark was permanent. Every shifter would know once they set their gazes on the mark that she was his mate. He was an ass. Why hadn’t he told her he loved her? Good grief, he’d certainly shown her. Sierra mentioned humans couldn’t understand the wolf’s passionate tie that need not mention love. The mate bond was love tenfold. Dora would learn that since she was his mate, she was pretty much stuck with him. Because of their bond, any trouble they encountered, they’d stand united and fight for their love.
Dora walked in with a duffle bag. “I included some yoga clothes.”
He chuckled. “I’d love to see you show me down dog position again.”
“I bet you would.” She corrected, “It’s actually called
downward facing dog
.” She pressed her hands together and bowed. “Namaste.”
He cocked a brow. “What does that mean anyway?”
“It’s an honorable greeting, originally from India. I suppose werewolves don’t take yoga classes.”
“I’m sure some shifters did but I kept fit hunting the Kindred.” He couldn’t imagine leaving Dora to continue hunting Jaeger and the other werewolf hunters. Her needs now came first.
“Not as calming as yoga.”
“Not as calming as last night,” Dirk winked. “At least after our
Kama Sutra
positions.” He smiled and grabbed her bag. “Namaste.” He bowed and straightened. “Let’s get going.”
An hour after leaving the spa, they found an abandoned car with fuel and siphoned off enough for the bike container. She stretched her legs, enjoying the crisp morning air as he enjoyed watching her. He capped the gas tank. “That should do it.”