Authors: Candice Gilmer

Unholy Night (7 page)

She accepted the cards as the two men headed for the door.

Then Liam stopped and spun around, his hands resting on the back of her chair, his strength making her shift as he leaned over it to speak.

“Neil Drigan is a good wolf. He’s strong and competent. And he will always protect you. All wolves will fight to the death for their mates.”

“I’m not his mate,” she said.

Liam touched her shoulder. Everything went hazy for a second, but then he let go. “Are you sure?”

The Starbuck’s coffee house was dead when Neil walked in. Of course, it was about dinner time, and he would have figured on a Saturday night the place would have been hopping, but it wasn’t.

He was also fifteen minutes early, so he ordered a
grande
coffee and took a seat near the back, away from the door and other prying eyes.

Marissa’s message had been cryptic. Only instructing him to be here at six.

He hated himself.

He’d never lost control of the beast the way he had that morning. He could blame it on the full moon, but it didn’t have anything to do with the moon anymore than it did with the shade of her blue bedspread.

He’d shown her. He’d shown her the monster. No matter how many times that side of himself had been a benefit in life, at that moment, he’d never been more ashamed of what he was.

The fear in her eyes had scarred him deep within his soul. If Marissa never wanted to talk to him again, he’d understand. She’d had no warning, no preparation for what was about to come.

He’d just flashed.

It made his stomach roll.

He’d been beside himself all week, barely able to focus on anything at work, and unable to eat properly. He’d only managed to stay awake because of coffee.

Several in his pack had figured out at once what had happened to him, and they didn’t sympathize, simply because he hadn’t bothered to give them a chance. At the compound, instead of playing the typical poker tournament they had, he’d hidden away in his cell, refusing to speak to anyone.

He could still smell her on him, even now, though he kept trying to smell the coffee, trying to get rid of the aroma that was Marissa. It seemed like wherever he went, he could smell something floral, and it would send a shock of pain through him.

She stained his mind like a window pane he couldn’t touch; an image of beauty and clarity that was not his. He finally knew he had a mate that was made for him, and she was frightened of him.

Him! He’d saved her twice.

Vague images came back to him about that night when he’d been the animal, but he remembered one thing for certain. She’d touched him, stroking his nose, like she wanted to know her savior, and say thank you, but didn’t know how.

Neil pinched the bridge of his nose, yet nothing, even other kinds of pain, seemed capable of easing his anguish.

The door opened, a soft chirping sound alerting the employees, and they spread on their work faces, saying hello to the newcomer. One whiff and Neil knew who it was.

Marissa looked around, her long hair pulled up into a severe ponytail. Her tee-shirt and jeans looked like they’d been pulled off the dirty clothes pile, and she glanced around, seeing Neil in the corner. She hadn’t made herself all pretty for this.

Couldn’t be a good sign.

Marissa smiled at the men behind the counter, ordered a drink, and came over to join Neil.

“Hello,” she said as she sat down.

“Hi.” He clenched his hands around his coffee cup to keep from reaching across the table and grabbing her hand. Waves of desire burst over him, and he knew he wasn’t going to last long. Just sitting across from her, his pulse quickened, and he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anyone before ever.

If only his brothers could see him now—all wound up for a woman. He made fun of them constantly when it came to their mates. Yet here he was, as bad, if not worse, than they were.

Two months ago, he would have called himself pathetic.

One of the clerks brought her a cup of something with whipped cream on top, and she accepted it with a smile, and didn’t speak until he was out of ear shot.

“I have been busy today,” she said.

“Oh?”

“I went to see Kristy,” she said, stirring her drink and letting the whipped cream mix into the drink. “And I had a visit from the Knights.”

Neil blinked. Hell. He knew they’d go see her, they’d said so at the party. And he hadn’t thought about it at the time—he’d figured he’d be with her when she had to deal with them. Instead, she’d had to face them by herself.

It’s a miracle she was here at all now. The Knights could frighten someone just by looking at them.

“And how was that?” he asked, praying they hadn’t tormented her too much

“Enlightening,” Marissa said. She sipped on her drink, wincing at the heat of it, and he grabbed the edges of the chair to keep from running up on the man who’d made her coffee and belting him for making it too hot.

“Is that good?” he asked her.

“I know I’m not crazy, anyway.”

He smirked. “You’re not crazy.” His heart started to pound. Was she possibly considering that he wasn’t a freak of nature? That she might actually…

No, it was too soon to think such a thing.

Too soon to imagine she might actually not be frightened of him.

“I was starting to think I was. Werewolves? And after talking with Kristy, I see they’re not the only creatures of the night that exist.” She stirred her drink some more before taking another sip.

“No, pretty much any mythical creature you can think of are around, in some form or another.” He sipped on his coffee. He didn’t come in contact with too many, just the occasional vampire and other wolf packs, but he knew they existed.

“I can’t say that I understand this, and I don’t know if I want to,” Marissa said, her hands trembling. “Just answer me two questions.”

“Okay.”

“You saved me that night in the parking lot, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he whispered.

She stared off to a spot just over his shoulder. “I petted your nose,” she whispered.

“Yes.” His heart ached in his chest at the faraway look in her eyes. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice barely audible, even for him. Then her eyes flashed at him. “Will you never leave me?”

“Never,” Neil said. “Until I die, I shall be at your side.”

Marissa nodded, and reached across the table. She touched his hand, and he felt his body ignite as she squeezed his fingers.

Chapter 8

December 1st

Marissa sat on Kristy’s deck, the winter a rather warm one. Kristy’s chimanaya was lit, and the two of them stared up at the full moon.

“You know, I never really believed in psychics before, but that one gal, what was her name… The one at the party?” Marissa asked.

“Charlie,” Kristy said. “She’d said she read for you.”

“It took some time to figure out what she was talking about, but she was right,” she said. She’d spent almost every night with Neil since their meeting at Starbucks. They talked about many things, including how the werewolves lived, how their packs were structured, and how the Knights of Templar fit into everything.

“She usually is.”

“I didn’t realize until after your party that Neil was the one that saved me that night in the parking lot. All I could remember was a big dog.”

“And how many times did he have to save you?”

“Three times,” she said. “And he did.”

“Well, what was the last one?”

“He saved me from myself,” she said. And he had. Before Neil came into her life, she hadn’t been able to accept and deal with the loss of her family. Knowing that she now had an extended family of close to one-hundred in his pack brought a way for her to release the demons inside her, the ones that reminded her she was alone.

She sipped on her margarita, the ice sliding down her throat feeling incredibly good, even on the chilly night. “What do you think they’re doing right now?”

“Baying at the moon.”

She smiled.

Off in the distance, a howl could be heard, the sound of an animal, a dog or a wolf, crying out to the moon in the distance.

Marissa glanced at Kristy.

Both women smiled.

It was a good moon.

About Candice Gilmer

http://www.lyricalpress.com/candice_gilmer

Writing is a natural evolution for Candice Gilmer, since she’s been telling stories since she was old enough to speak. What started out as merely reciting the words of Cinderella when she was three developed into a love for stories and story telling that to this day rules Candice’s life.

And like any storyteller, Candice’s stories get bigger with every telling. Lyrical Press is reprinting Unholy Night, originally featured in an anthology, but only after Candice reworked and added quite a bit.

So if you think you’ve seen this story before, you haven’t. At least not like this—the “director’s cut” if you will, of
Unholy Night
.

Read and enjoy.

Candice’s website:

http://candicegilmer.blogspot.com

Reader email:

[email protected]