Immortal Heat (The Guardians of Dacia Book 1) (19 page)

Marilyn.

The situation just went from bad to worse. What the hell was she doing here?

"Let her go," the blonde squealed.

"You don't have any room to be making demands, Tina," the man addressed as Max commented.

This must be the district manager, Maxwell Struthers. So he was in on it with Gerlich. This didn't follow protocol. Vamier never used humans. Something didn't taste right about any of this. He would add that to his report to Rick—after they got these women out of danger.

Figuring how to proceed with humans involved, and without having the girls get hurt in the process, frustrated him. The man holding Marilyn had her dangling from his arm so she couldn't even get any leverage in her legs. His protective instincts kicked in, and he had to hold them in check before he added more chaos to the situation.

Draylon didn't need to worry.

A throaty growl erupted. At first he didn't know from where. It sounded as if Therron and Kurren were about to attack an unsuspecting trespasser. But it wasn't them. The growl turned into a rabid snarl. Holy Fuck!

Before everyone's eyes, Marilyn thrashed and convulsed in the man's arms. Her body looked as if it were turning inside out until she manifested as an auburn haired wolf and sank her jaws into the man's arm, tearing into flesh and bone.

The whole scene and the shock of seeing the woman turn into an animal set the pace for getting the fucking job done. Draylon and Mike went into action at the same time. Maxwell had taken his eyes off of his blonde captive for a few brief seconds to give her the leverage she needed. Tina took out his knee with a sharp kick. The sound of Maxwell's femur snapping in two had Draylon's senses spasming. With the man down, screaming in pain, the petite, angel faced woman continued to use her killer, denim-short clad legs, to perform the same maneuver on his face. Blood gushed from the man's severely busted nose.

"…and yes, there are still people who cross-stitch," she yelled down at the withering body as she stepped over him and retrieved her sewing bag beneath the desk.

Motionless Draylon stood, waiting for her to notice him. He wasn't about to approach with her adrenaline still rushing. When she turned around with a gasp of shock, he held up his hands in surrender.

She
was
too cute. She reminded him of Shirley Temple who never grew out of her blonde curls. But the look spoke volumes. "Don't piss me off" or the Good Ship Lollypop would be up his ass.

The sound of barking and snarling alerted them to the other issue at hand. Marilyn.

"Draylon," Mike called out from his side of the partitioned wall. "A little help here before this bitch decides to have my balls for her own playthings."

Running to his friend's aid, he found Marilyn standing her ground, teeth bared and hackles up. She wouldn't let Mike move any further.

Tina held her breath.

Draylon focused on her, trying to get into her mind.

She turned towards him and attacked. Instantly transforming, Draylon matched his mate.

Wolf to wolf they stood. He had to show her who was alpha. The wolf attacked, biting him in the throat. A twist of his head and he was able to grab onto her, wherever he could reach, shaking her before tossing her to the side. The skitter of claws trying to find purchase on the slippery tile echoed off the sterile walls. Draylon yelped as she leapt, biting him in the hindquarters. This game was on, she wanted to tangle, he'd tangle.

Rolling and tussling, he tried to get into her head and calm her down. He was used to rough housing with Therron and Kurren but never a female pack member. There weren't any.
Shit.
Fierce and ferocious, she tore at him. He could smell and taste his blood from the various bites and scratches she lavished on his canine form.

Finally he regained the upper hand, tumbling her beneath him. Growling down at her, he bit into the furry underneath of her neck and held on with just enough pressure to let her know he was in command of this situation. He could hear her cursing him to hell and back.

It's okay, Marilyn. I've got you. You'll be fine in a moment. Relax. You are safe.

But was he feeding her a line of crap? Was she safe? He wasn't sure. Draylon realized something troubling. If he'd wiped her memory, how could she be cursing his name and rallying about their time together in Eskardel? The situation just became dicey.

Chapter Twelve

Marilyn relaxed and her body shifted back into normal human conditions—but she was naked, lying beneath a huge black hound. The beast backed up and sat on its haunches staring at her, his head cocked to the side.

Moving away she settled against a cold metal desk, tucking her arms and legs into herself to secure her nudity as much as she could. But her focus was on the dog. Draylon. Whining, it made cautious, non-threatening paces towards her.

Fisting her hand, she reached to him. The furry, black beast sniffed. She unfurled her fingers, and her body relaxed until she noticed the sting of cuts and scrapes on her fingertips. Blood smeared her palm. Small cuts and bite marks dotted her arms and legs. A tiny wound above her navel slowly healed itself before her eyes.

She gasped. "What the hell!"

Panic raced back through her system, sending her blood to churn like a simmering pot of stew. Her facial muscles spasmed with involuntarily tics as her lip curled upward exposing teeth and gum line. Her nose twitched as various scents of hot male, fear, blood and animal musk violated her olfactory senses. She snarled and dropped to all fours, fighting an internal physical demand to morph into something else…but her mind, her body, her soul couldn't sort out the images.

Adrenaline coursed through her as her body contorted while she cried out. Various animalistic sounds echoed in her head, all coming from her.

Arms surrounded her like bands of steel, holding her, forcing her to relax. Marilyn fought to do just that as the rest of her internal images fought for freedom.

Marilyn, relax…breathe…you're fighting the turning and only hurting yourself.

A familiar voice echoed in her head, but she couldn't fathom from where. She tried to focus, only to see her world through a blood red haze of Hell with a dark etching of solid forms interspersed, or worse, watery
grays and blacks like a swimmer drowning in a turbulent ocean.

Close your eyes. Slow your breathing. Let your blood slow. Just listen to my voice…it will be over soon. I've got you.

The vice grip around her gentled. Tender hands guided her head to rest against the steady, calming beat of a heart. Marilyn closed her eyes and focused on the sound of the soothing male voice laced with rich European undertones, channeling her fears, drowning out the inner vision terrors.

Within moments she shook but for a different reason. The air conditioning system kicked in. Sitting naked in front of one of the vents, she shivered from the blast of cold touching her heated skin.

"Get me a blanket from the hospitality room." The voice spoke aloud to someone standing behind her. Marilyn didn't want to move from the warm, safe, manly cocoon cradling her. But she did raise her head and open her eyes.

A firm wall of furred chest met her gaze. She pushed away as the dark hairs curling along muscled pecs intrigued her feminine instincts. She needed to see more. A silvery gash of scarred skin ran from his breastbone to his hip. Tracing it lightly with her finger, she noticed gooseflesh emerge on the surface of his skin, too. He shivered.

A blanket's warmth surrounded them and she looked up further to the dark shadow of raspy growth on the man's jaw and chin. His Adam's apple bobbed as the low rumble of "thanks" echoed across her flesh. He lowered his head and their eyes locked. She knew those eyes, that mouth, those lips…

"Draylon," she whispered in reverent awe.

#

She remembered him. Oh, this did not bode well at all. How did she remember his name? He'd wiped her memory of all contact. He'd gone to the extreme, like he always did with the women he had set free over the centuries, wiping their memories, taking care to put them back at the same time and place he'd found them. Well, he had to admit he had taken further steps this time so she wasn't in Romania where he'd found her. She would've been right back in the danger zone.

Draylon glanced over to Mike. He wished he could knock the smug look off of his face. "Shut up, Linder and go get me another blanket," he growled.

"It is you…Draylon? Draylon…" Marilyn appeared to be struggling to remember the rest of his name. He wasn't going to feed it to her.

Staring down into her pale-faced features, he found her more beautiful than he recalled in his dreams. Her hair glowed with the color of the fires that burned in his family's village at night, her lips the color of iron rich blood. But it was her eyes that held him. The elongated pupils were stamped with flames. Those flames turned hotter with her dangerous arousal. A major reason he shouldn't reveal their previous connection.

"Here." Mike tossed another blanket to him. "Cover yourself."

Scowling at his friend, he put the blanket to the side and adjusted Marilyn's blanket around her in her confused state of shock. Gently he moved her off of his lap and grabbed the blanket before standing to his full height.

Tucking the blanket around his hips, Draylon decided covering the lower half of his body would be better than trying and failing to cover everything. He sensed the heated gaze and twitched at the feminine pheromones seeping into his soul, radiating from the auburn haired creature standing so close to him. He had to get away from her, yet find a way to protect her at the same time.

"Come on. We need to get out of here and some place safe." Draylon held out his hand to help Marilyn gain her footing. She'd swaddled herself in the blanket but sat staring at him. He tried to reassure her telepathically but she'd blocked him. Damn. "It's okay. I'm not going to bite you…again." Okay, so he had bitten her a few moments ago.

She took his hand and stood with regal grace. Her head tilted up as if trying to prove that everything that just happened to her was fine. Or maybe she tried to reassure her friend who remained in a quiet stance of uncertainty.

"My house is far enough away and secluded. Security is optimal," Mike offered.

"Lead us there. I'll drive their car." Mike turned to the stunned blonde, asking for her keys.

"We're not going anywhere with you." Tina backed away. "We're going home."

"It's not safe, Christina," Mike said. "Gerlich might very well know where you live and come hunting for you and Marilyn." He shook his head. "We can't let that happen. We need to protect you."

"Who are you two? And what happened to Marilyn?" She sat down from the shock weaning itself out of her system. "I don't understand. I just came for my cross-stitch." She looked up. "Am I having a nightmare?"

"We'll explain everything when we get you two to safety."

"It's okay, Tina." Marilyn stepped forward. There was an air of reassurance about her stance and her gestures. "I know Draylon. They're right. We need to move to safety."

She knew him? Oh hell, he hoped to the gods she didn't. Just how much did she remember?

"What do we do with the bodies lying about?" Tina looked around at the littered floor where their attackers lay unconscious.

"They'll wake up sooner or later—I would prefer later—after we've left," Draylon replied. "When they do, they won't remember anything."

At least he hoped so. If Marilyn was any indication, his average of wiping memories was kind of shitty lately.

#

Winding around the tunneled trees into the Catoctin Mountain range, it would take a keen sense of direction to ever follow Mike Linder to his lair. Marilyn Reddlin hadn't uttered a word since they'd left Frederick. Glancing over at her profile occasionally, Draylon checked to see if she was still awake. She was. It was late. The clock on the dash glared a teal blue twelve forty-five.

He sighed. He couldn't get inside her head. She'd blocked him…just like she had weeks ago when they first met. He smiled, internally remembering her sass when he'd tried to command her to leave Romania.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing. Why?" Draylon looked at her briefly before turning his sight back on Mike's taillights guiding him through the forest drive.

"What's so funny?"

Funny? Nothing was funny. He'd been reminiscing about their first meeting…aww shit!

"Oh so turn-about is not fair game?" She turned in her seat, as much as the safety belt would allow and laid into him verbally. "You mean to tell me it's okay for you to try to mess with my head, but I'm not supposed to be able to read yours? That's some bullshit, mister."

"Let's just say it isn't normal. It's unnerving," he replied.

"Yeah, ya think?" she snorted in displeasure.

Okay. Touchè. He would have to be careful what he thought now. Especially since…

"Especially since, what? You're not going to finish the thought? Does it have something to do with me? If it does I need to know. I need to know what the hell's wrong with me, with you, with everything that's starting to flood into my head now. I remember having gone to Romania. It wasn't a dream…none of it…it was real, wasn't it?"