A Werewolf to Call Her Own (Mystic Isle, Book 2) (12 page)

Nose in the air, he barely paused at each door. The coconut scent was strongest at the last door on the right. Three twenty-eight.

Glancing over his shoulder, he checked to make sure he was still alone as he used the keycard to unlock her door. He pushed it open and waited. When he heard and saw nothing alarming, he stepped across the threshold into the dark room.

The thick drapes were open wide, gauzy sheers blew in the breeze. Streaks of moonlight danced across the floor. He was surprised that she’d be so careless.

The resort, as a courtesy to their
customers
, provided rooms for all types. Including sleeping beauties who were allergic to the sun. Her room came with thick, blackout curtains that could seal out daylight. But why would she leave them open, exposing herself to the coming dawn?

As he stepped into the room, his vision adjusted to the darkness and his ears picked up a tiny fragment of a sound coming from behind the bedroom door. Carefully, silently, he twisted the knob and pushed it open. Warm light flowed from the bathroom, spotlighting the open suitcase on the bed.

Frowning, he stepped inside. There was a swoosh-swoosh sound that was tempered by a sniffle. Suddenly he felt like he was sinking, drowning.

Stepping into the light, he stared at the woman who’d given herself to him so freely. The tears rolling down her cheeks were undeniable and the wet streaks made his soul crack. She brushed her teeth with enough force to make her gums bleed.

Then it hit him, like a sledgehammer to the heart. She was washing away the taste of him. Cleansing herself. The gorgeous red dress lay on the ground at her feet and a white fluffy bathrobe wrapped around her like a suit of armor. She’d brushed the curls out of her hair and washed off her makeup. The vixen from the rooftop who had made his heart stop was gone. And in her place, the young, innocent, fresh-faced vamp who’d stolen his heart.

She stuck out her tongue and brushed it vigorously.

He’d done that to her. Shamed her. A woman with a pure soul and a tender heart. A quiet strength and endless beauty.

He was an ass.

A class-A jerk.

He didn’t deserve her.

Regardless of his problem, he should have controlled himself better. How was he going to be Alpha, lead his pack, when he couldn’t control his own temper? When he couldn’t see the facts? He knew better than to jump headlong to a conclusion.

She rinsed the toothbrush and turned off the water.

“Go away, Maxim.” Her voice was dull, broken, and sad. Three things she should never be.

He felt the weight of her request. And almost gave in. But, somehow, he had to earn her forgiveness. He entered the bathroom, aching to take her into his arms. To kiss away her tears. To promise her -- what?

His life was not his own. He had responsibilities too great to ignore.

She didn’t even look at him. Simply brushed by him and went to the armoire. An armful of clothes flew across the room, landing on the bed in a heap.

He followed her. “Ceara…”

A half dozen shoes, similar to the one in his hand, careened past his head.

“Ceara…” I’m sorry sounded so paltry. But it was the best he could come up with. Because he was sorry. Sorry he’d hurt her. “I’m sorry.”

She moved to the suitcase and shoved the clothing inside. No folding, just balling items up and shoving them in. Her movements were jerky. She paused to wipe away her tears with her sleeve.

“I know you’re mad at me. You have every right to be. I treated you badly --”

“I’m mad at myself.” She stilled but didn’t look at him. He saw her rib cage expand as she took a deep breath. Another sniff. Then she started packing again, her movements emphasizing her words. “I’m mad that I let my covenmates primp me up… make me believe that I could win a man like you. As if my clothes and the perfect shade of lipstick matter. I’m mad that I let myself believe that you were different.”

She was trembling.

He handed her the shoe. She pursed her lips, grabbed the high heel, and then closed her eyes. He longed to tell her he was different.

“I liked you before the fancy clothes and high heels.”

“Don’t lie to me, Maxim.”

“I’m not.” He would never lie to her.
Never had. Never would
. “That night on the rooftop, making a sand castle with you --”

“You walked me to my room and left. Only after I put on a skimpy swimsuit did you --”

He reached for her, pulled her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her.

“Just leave me a-lone.”

If her voice hadn’t faltered, he would have done as she asked. Selfishly, he’d gotten what he wanted. At too great a cost…

“I can’t.”

Her chin tipped up and her eyes opened. Perfect white fangs peeked out over her bottom lip. “Why not?”

“I don’t -- I want you too much.”

She pushed against his chest.

“You got what you wanted.”

“No. I didn’t. I want you.” Saying the words out loud cemented the feeling, the desire.

“We don’t always get what we want.”

Chapter Twelve

We don’t always get what we want.

Maxim had never felt so close to suffocating before. But Ceara was right. A few careless words had hurt her beyond repair.

He pushed a green frond away and continued down the trail. How did he earn her forgiveness when she wouldn’t even see him? When she threatened to flash again and again? He’d never be able to track her if she didn’t want to be found.

He felt like hitting something. Ripping something apart with his claws. Biting and shredding with his teeth. It was no use fighting his wolf. He didn’t want to, not with the energy pulsing through him. And the mountain ahead was just the way to stretch his legs.

He took off running, shifted as he jumped over a fallen tree and came down on the other side on all fours. Leaves slapped his fur as he tore through the undergrowth. The mountain’s lush, moist soil squished beneath his paws as he made his way up the incline. Overhead, birds cried out at his approach.

Halfway up he heard running water and made his way across an outcropping of rocks to a waterfall. He stepped to the edge of the pool and lapped at the water.

Thirst quenched, he circled the water until he was standing at the top of another waterfall. The large, wet stone was cool beneath his paw pads. With water raining down behind him, everything else seemed so quiet. So still. From here he could see the ocean, the resort, and plenty of sky.

He sat and watched a puffy white cloud drift by. A sense of rightness, of peace, oneness with his true nature filled him. Relaxed him.

There was no use denying he felt something for the shy young vamp. But could he trust his heart with the most important decision of his life?

Could he have one without the other? Did he want her more than the pack? He and Danya had worked for years to create the pack they’d never had. Close, well-balanced, safe. But Ceara… she fit him like a glove. Had the ability to make him smile. And damn if he hadn’t missed her every day for the last three months.

He closed his eyes and remembered the look in hers when he’d swooped in and saved her from the lusty demon. Surprise. Thankfulness. Disbelief. Desire. And then, when he’d started building that sandcastle… The blue-violet color had intensified. That unnamable emotion wasn’t so sneaky now that he knew what he was looking for.

Ceara loved him. Had almost from the first.

He couldn’t pinpoint the moment he’d fallen for her. It seemed like he’d known her forever. Loved her… forever.

How was it possible? A handful of days. A half dozen experiences. She was a vamp.

He shook his head.

A sweet vamp. Not scarred by centuries of battle and betrayal. Feisty in her own way, courageous when she needed to be, but happy to let him lead.

He had a pack. A pack of vampire-angry werewolves. Would mating with Ceara bring vampires and werewolves closer together? Would his pack accept her? Or would their union drive a wedge between the two?

Even if Ceara accepted him, what about heirs?

Maxim sat at the water’s’ edge until the sun dipped low in the sky, showering the world with golden hues. Having asked himself the same questions over and over, he felt like he’d been chasing his tail for hours. And he hadn’t gotten anywhere. One thing remained the same. He wanted Ceara again. He wanted to feel her body against his, her hands in his hair, her lips beneath his.

He needed to hear her say the words that would unleash him. But more importantly, he needed her to forgive him. He needed her to see that he would never willingly hurt her again.

The heat he felt whenever he thought of her sizzled in his veins. Without his watch, he had no idea what time it was, but he knew he should get back. He needed to eat and then figure out how to win her back.

Rising to his paws he waded into the water, enjoying the coolness. He paddled toward the waterfall and turned his face up to the spray. This would be an incredible spot to bring Ceara.

He shifted back to his human form and dipped his head beneath the sheets of falling water. He ran his fingers through his wet hair, pushing it out of his face. He wanted to strip her bare and carry her beneath the spray. He’d let her body slide down his, the water making the journey extra slick. She’d gasp when he settled her on that stone over there and kiss his way down her body.

Grasping his cock he imagined it was her caressing his length. Her cool fingers wrapped around the shaft, squeezing him as she moved her hand up and down. The water would provide the perfect lubrication.

He’d lick and nip his way to her pussy, dine on her juices, watch her face as she came all over his tongue. And when he was done licking her dry, he’d flip her over, thrust into her as they watched the moon rise. He’d cup her breasts in his hands and kiss her shoulders.

He realized then that curse or no curse, pack or no pack, children or no children, he needed her. With him. Wanted to be with her. For the next week. The next month. The next year. A yearly vacation wasn’t going to be enough. He had to have her sharp wit in his life. Her random facts. The impish smile that drove him crazy. Her special brand of bold innocence and curious fire. He wanted to watch her blush, watch her learn and explore their world. He needed to protect her, shield her from the harshness of their kinds.

He wanted her by his side regardless of what his pack thought. If he was right and she truly did love him, then she was even stronger than he imagined. Pushing him away, holding strong, protecting herself even as it was killing her.

He had to be right.

He would have her. They would set an example for the rest of the world to see.

With his hand stroking his cock to a frenzy, he imagined it was her body squeezing him, milking him dry. The thought was enough to draw his balls tight. Biting his lower lip, every ounce of his concentration zeroed in on the delicious feelings tingling outward from his erection. One last pump downward and…

“Yeah…” he growled, his seed shooting into the water.

He sucked in a deep breath, hardly able to believe he’d been able to give himself an orgasm. Two in one day. It hardly seemed possible.

Shifting back to his canine form, he padded down the mountain, feeling like a hundred pounds had been lifted from his shoulders. It felt good to have a plan. Too bad he couldn’t whistle.

Ceara smoothed her hand down the back of the floral skirt as she sat. Valencia arched a perfectly tweezed brow across the table.

“New dress?”

“I wanted something a little softer. For spring.” Though it wasn’t spring on the island, she planned to once again go through her wardrobe when she returned home. Feminine spring and summer dresses were at the top of the list. No more skin-tight corsets and hip-hugging pencil skirts that left nothing to the imagination. She’d been trying too hard to emulate her friends and there was something to be said for letting a man use his imagination.

Izzy, Avery and Valencia had filled her closet with skinny jeans, bedazzled T-shirts, yoga pants and severe-but-classic suits.

A lucky find in one of the island shops, her current silk dress with small flowers on long green stems was her first step at finding the real her.

“I think it is pretty,” Izzy announced. Coco agreed.

The waiter came and offered them a menu. She had no appetite but ordered a glass anyway. Grayson paused from nuzzling Coco’s neck and asked for a dinner menu.

The two were ridiculously cozy. The sight made Ceara’s heart ache. She wanted that for herself,
desperately
. Had been so sure that with time she could have found her own happily ever after with Maxim. She’d been prepared to wait. To find her place in his life.

She felt a shift in the air and heard Avery’s gasp. Jerking her head left, she saw Avery’s surprised stare and dropped jaw.

“Are you okay?”

Ceara followed Avery’s gaze.

Maxim strode toward their table, handsome as ever in a dark suit. Her heart squeezed, and for a single moment, she closed her eyes so tears wouldn’t fall.

She’d made herself perfectly clear earlier this morning. Or so she’d thought. He’d left. Her heart had shattered. She’d spent the day crying. Thank goodness vamps healed so quickly. No one would ever know about the bags under her eyes or her Rudolph-red nose.

His dark eyes were locked on her. Half of her hoped that he’d keep on walking. Right out the door and out of her life. There was no need to torture her further. The other half hoped that he’d stop and tell her it was all a big misunderstanding.

He rounded the table.

“Ceara --”

She pivoted in her seat. “We have nothing left to say to each other.” She had to be strong. For herself. Her pride. Her future.

Though she spoke quietly, it would have been impossible for her covenmates not to hear.

Please.

He sounded desperate.

“Is everything all right?” Valencia asked.

Ceara glanced back and forth between them. Everyone at the table had fallen silent and she could sense their attention on her.