Blood Lust (A Paranormal Romance: Preternaturals Book 1) Page 5

  Her aura had turned dark when he’d asked her about the dream. She was holding something back. He could make her tell him, but then he was back to being classed as a monster. He didn’t like the way it made him feel when he was the source of her fear.

  He liked even less that he cared so much what this particular therian thought, period. It would be best if she slept in her own room. If he didn’t get attached, neither Greta nor Jaden could lure him into another trap.

  Chapter Seven

  Greta perched on a kitchen barstool with a plate of bacon and scrambled eggs covered in maple syrup. Her long, tanned legs were crossed, flip-flops dangling off her feet. Mink stood on the counter eating off the side of her plate.

  “That’s disgusting,” Dayne said. She wasn’t sure if he was referring to her habit of eating maple syrup on her eggs, or sharing food with the cat. Mink hopped off the counter and fled to the other side of the room.

  He poured a glass of juice and took a packet of instant muffin mix from the cabinet. Greta tensed as he brushed past her to retrieve a bowl, muffin tin, milk, and a measuring cup. He took a chocolate cookie out of the cookie jar and chomped on it as he worked. A stubborn crumb stayed on the corner of his mouth, and she wanted to lick it off.

  She was slowly losing her mind. He was dangerous. Probably. He was part of the ritual. Maybe. She wasn’t sure anymore. In the daylight it didn’t seem possible he’d do that to her. Two nights before she’d dreamed purple clowns were chasing her down an alley made of Swiss cheese. Some dreams were just dreams.

  “Is something wrong?” He preheated the oven and was engaged in pouring the batter into the muffin tin.

  “Why are you doing that?”

  “Doing what?”

  She gestured to the batter. “Can’t you just zap them?”

  “Only an amateur magic user uses a spell for such a petty thing.” He sounded like he was reciting from a textbook.

  Greta spun on the bar stool, first one way, then the other. Something she hadn’t done since she was a kid at Simon’s house. It was getting close to the full moon and she was still hungry. But Dayne made her skin itch, and the kitchen was suddenly too hot and confining.

  Her eyes cut to the doorway to see Mink slipping out of the room. In a minute, the cat would be back, whining to be let out. Greta left her plate on the counter and, without a word, followed after her.

  ***

  Dayne took the blueberry muffins from the oven and dropped the tray. Dammit. Was he developing some type of mental retardation? She’d deflected his question about what was wrong by asking why he didn’t use magic to make muffins. She had a point there.

  And since when did he start eating instant blueberry muffins and chocolate cookies? Her poor eating habits were beginning to rub off on him. He never should have sprung for the cookie jar. All those simple carbs.

  He was going to have to resort to magic to stay in shape if he kept eating like this. Only two more days, then she was on her own and he was back to the regimented diet. He plucked one of the muffins from the tray and ate it anyway, then went to look for her. Whatever was causing her anxiety needed to be resolved, at least reduced. Otherwise, it could affect the ritual.

  He found her in the garden.

  “Greta?”

  She shrieked and covered herself with one of his bright fluffy beach towels. Dayne looked away, his hand over his eyes.

  “Sorry,” he muttered.

  “Give me a second. Okay. I’m decent.”

  She hadn’t been kidding about a second. She could put clothing on as fast as most people could take it off. He wondered if she was holding out on him about her magical abilities.

  As to her decency, that was a matter of perspective. “You avoided my question earlier in the kitchen.”

  “Oh?” She sat on the ground and picked a daisy, tearing the petals off one by one. Her eyes followed each petal as it fell onto her shorts, and the warm breeze carried it away.

  “I asked you if something was wrong.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes guileless. “Wrong? No. Why would something be wrong?”

  Dayne felt his face darken at the same time Greta’s aura did. “You’re lying.”

  She shrugged and picked another daisy. He felt the tension roll over her as her eyes flashed to gold and then back to brown so fast it could have been a trick of the light.

  He sat on the grass a few feet away and uprooted a daisy, starting on the same mindless ritual Greta was focused on. When she looked up at him, her shoulders relaxed.

  He sighed. “What are you afraid of? You know they can’t get to you, not even in the garden. You’ve been safe here the entire time, and the clock is running out. You’re useless to them after tomorrow night.”

  He reached out and settled a hand on her knee. “Are you afraid of me?”

  Her wide eyes rose to his. “No.”

  “Is it because of the way I behaved when you first got here? Or anything we’ve done since then?”

  “No. I’m not afraid of you.”

  He watched as her eyes drifted to his hand, then away, then back again, but she didn’t ask him to remove it. He laid his other hand against her cheek.

  “You really are safe with me.”

  She rubbed her cheek against his palm and scooted to close the distance between them. Her mouth latched onto his. He returned the kiss; his hand settled on the back of her neck holding her firmly in place while his tongue explored.

  In the next moment, she’d scrambled off him.

  “Greta, what?” He touched a finger to his lips.

  “I don’t need to be starting something up with someone who may or may not be evil.”

  “Who said we were starting anything up?”

  Her face flushed. “I’m sorry, I forgot.”

  “Forgot what?” He didn’t know what she was apologizing for until he saw the signs of the heat.

  “I was supposed to take it after breakfast. And then you came in and distracted me.”

  “It’s all right. I understand this. I don’t think badly of you. Let me help you.”

  She held a warning finger out to him as she struggled to her feet. “You stay the hell away from me.”

  He edged nearer. “You are afraid of me.”

  She didn’t trust herself to speak. She needed him now. Her body sought his. After the first day, he’d been nothing but kind to her. Never raising his voice, never grabbing or threatening her. He’d gone shopping for her; he’d done everything right. Dreams were often a jumbled mixture of all the things people experience, desire, and fear. It made sense Dayne would get jumbled in too.

  She had no illusions he wanted to keep her around, and she didn’t want to sleep with him again if it was going to be just another meaningless ritual biology had set up as a physical act with no feeling. If she was going to be physical with someone, she wanted the feelings that came with it. She wanted him to care.

  “I’m not afraid of you.”

  He cocked his head to the side looking past her, and she wondered what had caused the confused expression to come to his face.

  “You’re conflicted,” he said after a moment.

  “I’m not conflicted. I just want control of my own damn body.” Her voice quivered more than she liked. She darted behind a row of hedges and passed through the gate before detouring to her room. She shut and locked the door.

  Moments later, there was a quiet knock.

  Her need flowed through her. It thrashed about like a live wire demanding satisfaction. The arousal was so strong it was becoming painful. A rumbling purr started in her chest, trying to soothe it away. She needed him inside her now.

  “Greta, let me help you. You can’t make it until tomorrow,” he said reasonably from the other side of the door.

  She sat on the edge of the bed, her nails digging into the sheets, rending long tears in them. Dayne didn’t seem conflicted at all. She was glad at least one of them wasn’t suffering from that problem.

&
nbsp; “I don’t want to frighten you. I don’t want to open the door with magic. But I’m not sure I can stay out here and listen to you howl like that.”

  She hadn’t realized she’d been making vocalizations. Sounds that could be either pleasure or pain. At this point, even she couldn’t decipher the tangled web of sensations running through her. She left the bed without conscious thought and crawled to the door. Her fingernails dug into the wood as she pressed her ear to the flat panel listening to him while he spoke soft words of reassurance. She panted as she breathed in his scent.

  She ripped the clothes from her body. The room was becoming too hot. She couldn’t think. A horrible sound tore from her throat.

  “I’m coming through the door if you don’t open it.”

  She wanted him to. Anything so she wouldn’t have to make the choice to throw herself at him. Let him be the one on a conquest, not her.

  “Greta.”

  She couldn’t form a thought that would translate itself into a sentence. The only words that wanted to work their way through her brain were, “Please fuck me now.” She knew he was more than willing to oblige. All she had to do was move a few inches, and unlock the door. One tiny little turn.

  Her hand reached out, and she pulled it away, biting her bottom lip.

  “I’m counting down, and then I’m opening the door. Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . . seven . . . six . . . five . . . ”

  She unlocked the door.

  “ . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . ”

  She opened the door.

  Dayne’s clothes had already been stripped off. She wanted to say he’d been presumptuous, but large words like presumptuous couldn’t be processed in her near feral state. She pounced on him and wrapped her legs around his waist.

  He walked them backward to the bed. “I’m never buying Egyptian cotton sheets again.”

  “Please,” she breathed. They both knew she wasn’t asking for sheets.

  Chapter Eight

  Greta’s eyes shot open. Her heart palpitated wildly, thrumming through her chest. Blood pounded in her ears. Dayne’s arm was slung over her hip, hugging her naked body loosely against him. Why hadn’t she shifted? She’d had the dream again, this time more vivid than before. Yet, despite her fear, she’d held onto her human form.

  She wanted to stay wrapped in his warmth forever, but she forced herself to move. He was the face of her death; there were no doubts now. Getting the same dream twice wasn’t something she could ignore. It was prophetic.

  Dayne was the one holding the ritual knife that spilled her blood. She twisted and shimmied out from under him. His arm fell with a sharp oomph much louder than it should have been. Was her hearing getting better?

  He rolled to his other side with a grunt, and Greta eased out of the bed. She grabbed her duffel bag from the corner, and made her way to the kitchen for her pills.

  She didn’t need crazy lust while trying to survive. It had already inconvenienced her twice. Now her heart hurt to leave the man she kept finding herself in bed with. Stupid heat cycle. Her body and heart were convinced he was the guy for her, but her brain knew better

  She felt a pang of regret at breaking her agreement, then her brain kicked back in as she remembered his plan had been to get her blood at the full moon. And to kill her doing it. No, she didn’t feel bad leaving. Besides, she’d slept with him. To men of Dayne’s reputation that was probably considered payment in full.

  She wondered how he’d struck the deal with her tribe. Jaden wouldn’t send her to a sorcerer if she cared about her. Duh, Greta. And the story he’d concocted about Jaden betraying him? Way to shine the light away. Gullible. It wasn’t a lesson she’d be forgetting anytime soon. Assuming she survived her birth moon.

  She crept to the kitchen, wincing when the hardwood floor creaked beneath her feet. She stopped and held her breath as she waited to see if it would wake him. The house remained silent with only the ticking of the clock over the fireplace mantle breaking the stillness.

  “Mrarrr.”

  She jumped as Mink padded in, weaving her body between Greta’s legs. “Shhh! Do you want him to wake up and come in here?”

  “Mrarrr?”

  Greta smiled sadly down at the orange tabby. She’d have to leave Mink behind. Covert ops were clearly lost on the talkative cat.

  She rummaged in the fridge until she found a slice of ham and dropped it on the floor, hoping it would shut the cat up. She poured herself a glass of water, gulped down a pill, then slipped the bottle into her pocket and took one last look around.

  Tears teased the corners of her eyes. She wished Dayne hadn’t turned out to be evil. She could have imagined living here with him in his quiet cottage in the woods. It felt comfortable, like home.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  Her hand had been on the knob. So close. “Nowhere. Outside for some air.”

  “The garden is protected; the front stoop is not. You know it’s not safe out there.”

  She turned toward him, and her mouth went dry. He was dressed in navy silk lounging pants and no shirt. He had the kind of body college students sketched in art classes everywhere. So warm and beautiful. And he and Greta fit together perfectly, in the carnal way. She wanted to run into his arms. Her knowledge of his betrayal wasn’t enough for a body that still trusted him.

  “It’s not safe in here either,” she said after a beat.

  Dayne incanted something in Latin, and Greta felt the magic swirl up as the deadbolt turned. She pressed herself against the door as if somehow it would bend to her will and unlock. This was normally when she shifted. The edges of wildness intruded on her senses, but even stronger was her own will pressing back, for once choosing not to change.

  “Please,” she whispered as he moved closer. “You don’t have to kill me. Whatever you need my blood for, you can have it. You know that.”

  His brows drew together. “What are you talking about?”

  She wondered which would be faster, her enhanced strength, or his magic.

  He embraced her, then pulled back to look into her eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you. What exactly is going on in that head of yours?”

  “Stop lying to me!” She shoved him with all her strength, and he went flying back, confirming her theory that he was only human with a few fancy language upgrades.

  He opened his mouth to even the odds, and she flew at him, punching and clawing. With one last burst of energy, Greta slammed his head against the wall. Dayne crumbled to the floor, and the door lock fell open, withdrawing its simple magic now that the spell caster was unconscious.

  She ran into the night, her eyes adjusted, and she fought the urge to shift. No fur. No paws. The trees were coming toward her too fast. She’d never run like this on two legs before, but her reflexes came to her rescue, causing her to zigzag through the woods without even a branch snagging her top.

  When she’d put a few miles between herself and Dayne, she slowed her pace. Time to strategize. Think. The tribe wouldn’t be looking for her; they’d just expect Dayne had her, keeping her safe until it was time for the sacrifice.

  She wasn’t sure how long he’d stay unconscious. She might be able to make it past the border and take shelter with a wizard. Unlike sorcerers, wizards could be trusted. Too bad there weren’t any in Cary Town.

  Before, she wouldn’t have considered involving a human; it was too risky. But she’d run out of options. At the main road, she hailed a taxi.

  “633 Oak Circle.”

  The driver gave her an appreciative once-over. Greta smiled, glad she’d remembered her pill. Though the heat would have to be pretty bad for this guy to inspire her lust. He had a scruffy beard and was wearing flannel, for God’s sake. Mother Nature could only take one so far.

  “Here we are,” he said unnecessarily when they pulled up to Charlee’s house.

  “Thanks. Could you wait while I go get some money?”

  “You tryin’ to stiff me, sweethea
rt?” His voice held a touch of menace and some darker, violent part of Greta itched to do damage. Instead, she took a breath to steady herself.

  “Just. Wait.”

  “Fine, but if you aren’t out in five minutes, I’m comin’ after you.”

  Greta’s eyes glowed golden, and she hissed. She didn’t have time for this crap.

  His hands shot up in surrender. “Take all the time you need, baby.”

  Greta knocked for a full two minutes before a bleary-eyed Charlee opened the door, her red curly hair askew.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I need money for the cab first.”

  Charlee went and got her purse. When the taxi rolled away, she asked again.

  “I need you to smuggle me out of the city.”

  Confusion marred her friend’s face. “Huh? Just drive away.”

  “I can’t. I know this is going to sound weird, but you were on board with the cat thing and the sorcerer thing.”

  “Didn’t that work out?” Charlee tied the belt around her bathrobe and led Greta inside.

  “It was just a way to keep me in a holding cell, so no one in the tribe against this could warn me or help me escape.”

  “So tell me again why you can’t just drive out of the city.”

  “You know the toll booths on all the major exit roads?”

  Charlee nodded.

  “Preternatural border guards.”

  “Why not just take the back roads? There aren’t any tolls there.”

  “There are wards to keep therians from crossing. The toll roads exist because there are exemptions. And some species can pass at will, like vampires. Therians have to have permission to leave and when they do, they go through the toll roads and present paperwork.”

  “Why therians?”

  Greta sighed. “I can appreciate your curiosity, but I don’t have time to get into therian politics right now.”

  ***

  Ten minutes later she was in the trunk, blankets wrapped tightly around her, with an opening in the top to breathe through. The blankets served to dampen her magical signature. With any luck, the guards wouldn’t sense it.