From the Shadows (A Shadow Chronicles Novel) (8 page)

Blinking, I forced myself to roll onto my back. “I should really get going,” I said then.

“But why? We just reconnected, Juliette. You said we have this imprint thing going on—I want to talk about that some more,” Race pleaded. “I want to know more about what I am, if you can tell me. I want to know more about what you are, and about Mark and your family and what you guys have been up to all these years.”

I looked back at him. “And I’m all for that,” I said. “But I left
my clothes in that alley were we met, with my wallet, cell phone, and hotel room key in the pockets of my pants, and I’d like to get back there and get them before someone finds them.”

His expression became chagrined and he laughed. “Oh, of course,” he said. “I was
just… I was afraid you were gonna leave and not come back or something. I can’t believe I’m saying this given I haven’t laid eyes on you on nearly twenty years, but I don’t want to lose you. Not again. The reason we left town when I was fourteen was because of what I am. I’m sure you remember that my mom never married my dad. They split up before I was even born and since she is definitely completely human, I got this condition from him. He’d never told her he was werekind or a chimaera or whatever he was, and she freaked out when I first shifted. Can’t say I blame her—I was pretty freaked out too. Then, being the pubescent male that I was, I thought it was freakin’ sweet and I wanted so bad to tell Mark, to tell all my friends. But Mom wouldn’t let me. After she calmed down she said it wasn’t safe to tell anyone. That one of my friends would tell their parents and the parents would call the cops or the CDC or someone and we’d be split up, that I’d never see her again. She didn’t want me to end up as some government lab rat, so she swore me to secrecy and thought the best way to ensure I didn’t slip up was to move. We moved around a lot before I was eighteen, by which time I’d become adept at keeping my mouth shut.”

Race propped himself up on his arm and looked down at me. “Last night, when you told me who you were, I suddenly felt like I had a chance to have a life a
gain. I haven’t had much of one ‘cause I never let myself get close to anybody. I thought it would be unfair of me to hide something as important as the fact that I’m a shapeshifter. I mean, that’s a pretty damn big secret to have to keep. So I’ve mostly gone it alone, except for occasional visits to my mom.”

I nodded as I rose into a sitting position and turned to face him. “I know how you feel, at least a little bit. Admittedly most of my friends are members of our pack, but I’ve a few human friends too. It sucks to have to tell them lies to cover up certain behaviors and I guess that’s why I don’t have that many.
I wish you could have stayed, that your mom had known there were people in town that could have helped you guys. My mother told me all kinds of stories about werekind and chimaera when I was little, I guess as a sort of preparatory course. I thought they were so fascinating and that she should be making money on them. Had no idea any of it was real until I was fourteen—that’s the age when werekind phase for the first time. I wanted to tell Mark too, but Mom didn’t want him to know about what we were, or that vampires were real, because she was afraid if he did he’d get it in his head to go looking for them on some insane quest for revenge.”

Sighing then, I glanced toward the bathroom. “Say, you wouldn’t mind if I took a shower before we left, would you? This probably sounds stupid but I feel like if I
do that, I’ll be washing away some of the pain I’ve been living with, now that I’ve shared what happened with someone.”

Race sat up as well and took my hand in his. He leaned forward, hesitating only a moment before brushing a light kiss on my lips. “Not stupid at all. You go right ahead
—I’ll get us something to eat while you’re cleaning up.”

We climbed off the bed on opposite sides and I headed for the bathroom. Race pointed out where the towels were and I grabbed a fluffy white one and its matching washcloth. Closing myself in the bathroom, I first relieved my bladder and the
n reached behind the curtain to turn the shower on, holding my hand under the spray a few moments to make sure it wasn’t cold. The setting I chose probably would have scalded a normal person, but I’d gotten used to high temperatures. After putting the towel on the edge of the sink, I paused a moment to study my reflection in the mirror on the medicine cabinet door. My waist-length brown curls were a messy case of bed-head and my pale blue eyes slightly bloodshot from the crying, but it was nothing a good, hot shower wouldn’t cure.

Sighing,
I pulled off the sweatshirt and pants and laid them next to the towel. They were still clean and I could wear them again until I got back to my hotel and my own clothes.

When I had stepped under the falling water with the washcloth in my hands, I stood still for a moment just letting the hot spray wash over me. I then scrubbed myself down with the still partially dry cloth to help exfoliate my skin before setting it aside and grabbing the shampoo bottle on the rack hanging from the shower head. Suave for Men, I noted with amusement, though I had no qualms about smelling like R
ace. He smelled good, and clean…and yes, like an animal. But it was not an unpleasant smell, as I was quite used to the scent of the members of my pack and the scents of a few other breeds. I made quick work of wetting my hair and lathering it up, then rinsing it out and reaching for the Irish Spring soap.

As I worked the washcloth around the bar, I thought of smelling like Race again. I
suddenly wondered what he smelled like when making love, if his scent changed at all, and felt heat flash through me. I remembered that this had happened last night when I’d focused on his mouth, and I turned into the spray suddenly wishing it was cold. I had to get a hold of my suddenly wakened libido before it got me into trouble.

Too late
, I thought a moment later as I heard the bathroom door open. I froze as I heard Race pulling the curtain aside and stepping into the tub behind me.

“I’m sorry, Jules,” he said hoarsely, and I felt a rush of pleasure that he remembered my nickname. “I can’t…I can’t concentrate on food thinking of you in here all wet and naked. I keep getting these flashes of desire and I…”

I turned slowly to look at him, blindly setting the soap and washcloth in the soap dish as I did so. For a long, intense moment we simply stood there, staring into one another’s eyes as if afraid to look any further down.
Finally I gathered my courage and began to slowly trail my eyes southward, noting once again that he was lean, not nearly as bulky as my brother or even Lochlan, but that he was still toned and muscular. I traced the lines of his well-defined pectorals and his abs, felt the beat of my heart increase its pace as I found the line of curls beneath his belly button. I followed them down even further to find that his cock was already standing hard and ready.

As I studied Race, I could feel his eyes roaming over every inch of me that he could see. Being a shapeshifter (I still thought of myself that way even though I had now met a true shifter) meant I was hyper-metabolic, my body burning fat and calories almost constantly. It was why my kind either ate several times a day or they ate a lot at each meal
—we needed a near-constant intake of calories to keep our energy up. I was a slight five feet, five inches tall and because of my phasing I had a trim, lithe figure (my size and shape were deceptive of my true strength, as I was several times stronger than a human female of the same build). I had no blemishes on my body, not even scars from the burns inflicted by Martin’s cigar. There were some freckles along my arms and I had a couple of small moles on the back of my neck, and one on my back over my right buttock, but I didn’t think Race would find them worth complaining about. My breasts were sort of on the small side—I wore a B-cup bra—but they were firm and perky. I could feel my nipples jutting out, hardening and tingling in anticipation of his touch.

“You’ll have to tell me to get out,” Race said when he found his voice again. “I don’t think I can do it on my own, not now that I’ve seen you like this. But I also don’t want to do anything you’re not ready for me to do.”

I was touched that he was thinking of my comfort, given what I had revealed to him. Race was probably of the mind that most rape victims wouldn’t even think of having sex for months after the attack. I’d had much the same thoughts myself, that I had no interest in men whatsoever, and I had even told myself that I didn’t care if the psychic was wrong about how long it would be until I met my own mate. But right that moment the only thing on my mind was how much I wanted Race to kiss me. To touch my body with his hands and to show me how a man should treat a woman. I instinctively knew, perhaps because of our bond, that he would be gentle if I wished it, taking me slowly, or that he would walk right out of the shower if I told him to go, no matter how difficult it would be for him to do.

“Kiss me, Race,” I said softly, and without further hesitation he stepped forward, taking the nape of my neck in one hand and planting the other on
my ass as he crushed my lips beneath his own. I wrapped my arms around his waist as I opened my mouth to admit his tongue, feeling the hard, taut muscles of his back before reaching down to grab a glute in each hand. I pulled him closer, closing off any more distance between us, and could feel his erection against my belly. Race turned us around so that the spray from the shower was now at his back instead of mine, pushing me back a few steps so that my back was against the wall. He took his mouth from mine and trailed kisses along my jaw line, stopping to nibble on my earlobe. I whimpered with pleasure, heat flashing through me again, and Race moved further down, his lips and tongue touching me along my throat and down to between my breasts.

He
then turned his head and took my left nipple into his mouth, sucking on it and lightly biting down on the hardened nub. I moaned as the sensation of his mouth on me further heated my already blazing skin. Deciding then that I couldn’t wait any longer, I pulled my hand from his right butt cheek and reached in between us, wrapping my hand around the length of him. He groaned as he switched to my right breast, and so I took my left hand and cupped it around his balls, massaging them gently as my right hand began a lazy stroke up and down his shaft. Race began to move his hips in tandem with my strokes, the hand that had held my bottom reaching up to my free breast, taking the nipple between his thumb and forefinger as he continued to lave the right with his tongue. I moaned again, and Race moved his hand once more, rubbing down along my ribcage, my abdomen, the soft flare of my hip.

He stopped when his hand came around to the mound if pubic curls above my se
x, lifting his head to look at me though heavy-lidded eyes. “Are you sure?” he rasped, and I answered by closing the distance between our mouths. Race then reached into the short bush under his hand, expertly finding the already swollen nub of my clitoris. He stroked it with his thumb and I cried out as a wave of ecstasy washed through me, turning the fire in my veins into an inferno. He stroked me again and again, and I thrust my hips forward to meet him, wanting more. Needing more. Race reached further still and stroked my labia with two fingers, and I opened my legs wider to encourage him. He gently pushed the two fingers inside of me, still stroking my clit as he began to move them in and out.

I had never experienced sensations like I was feeling in that moment. Thankfully I hadn’t been a virgin when Martin and Peter had forced themselves on me, but the casual sex I’d experimented in with a
shifter boy at my high school when I was seventeen had been
nothing
compared to the euphoria I was feeling under Race’s touch. Every nerve ending in my body was alive and flaring, my breath was coming in short, shallow gasps, and I could feel tension in my core building to what I knew would be a powerful orgasm.

Race’s thrusting fingers became more insistent, his teasing of my extra-sensitive nub faster and faster. I could feel myself on the edge of climaxing, just about ready to fall. “Come for me, baby,” he rasped against my lips, and knowing it was close
—oh, so close—I released his manhood to grip his shoulders. Race looked into my eyes and my nails dug into his skin as I felt the first tremors. I was light-headed and gasping for breath when the explosion hit me; I threw my head back, crying out as my insides convulsed, as wave after wave of indescribable pleasure crashed through me. His hand kept up its frenzied rhythm and I heard him say, “That’s it, darlin.’ Come for me.”

I rode the waves of my orgasm one after the other, moaning loudly, and just when
it seemed they were abating, Race grabbed my derriere in his hands and lifted me into the air, bringing me back down and impaling me on his rock-hard shaft in one swift motion. I leaned my shoulders into the wall behind me for support and wrapped my legs around his waist, locking my ankles together as he began to thrust into me. He was, as I predicted, slow and gentle at first, but soon his tempo increased. I had never had multiple orgasms before, so I was surprised when I realized another was coiling in my belly. Race seemed to know it too, for he grinned and kissed me deeply.

“Come for me
,” he said again.

“I have
a better idea,” I rasped breathlessly. “How about we come together?”

Race
grinned again, crushing my mouth with his as this time, we both took the plunge.