Broken Heart 10 Some Lycan Hot (3 page)

Alaya shook her head. Enough with the regret already! She smiled at her reflection, and then turned, slipping into the hot, aromatic water.

CHAPTER THREE

Meanwhile, in Broken Heart, Oklahoma…

“IT’S JUST … I
CAN'T spend my whole life killing rogue vampires and hunting monsters,” said Tamara as she stared into the coffee cup. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the importance of keeping the world safe. I do. But sheesh! I have to think about the rest of my life. And college seems like the next logical step. I’m a young human, you know? Not a werewolf. And I’ll never be a werewolf.”

Anyone listening could’ve detected the small bit of longing attached to her last sentence. Dating preternatural beings could be difficult for humans, who sometimes felt lacking next to their stronger, longer-living partners. No matter how many muscles you had or how good you got at running, you would never match the strength and athletic
ism of a lycanthrope. Maybe Tamara was feeling less adequate now that her lycan boyfriend was older, stronger, and getting a reputation as one of the best hunters around.

In the Broken Heart
diner, vampires Jessica and Eva sat across the table from Tamara, who had graduated high school last year and spent the year afterwards training and hunting with Durriken. Durry was a Roma, a lycanthrope who only “wolfed out” during full moons. The Roma were the monster hunters of the parakind world, the ones who took out the supernatural creatures who tended to dismember first and ask questions later.

Tamara had met Durry when she was fifteen, and they had been basically attached at the hip since then … until now, when 19-year-old Tamara wanted to go to college. And Durry, following the traditions of his people, wanted to marry her and have her join his nomadic clan.

Tamara’s gaze implored her mother, Eva, and Jessica, who’d been a good friend to them both. “What should I do?”

“What did Durry say when you talked to him?” asked Eva. She reached and clasped her daughter’s hands.

Tamara looked down at her coffee. “Um … I haven’t actually talked to him. I was trying to get it all worked out ahead of time, you know?”

“Are you afraid he won’t support your choice?”

“I think he’ll be hurt. His family assumes we’re going to get married and get own our camper. Living on the road isn’t as fun as it sounds. I miss having a home—a place that doesn’t move. I think Durry and I might be headed in different directions … um, life-wise.”

Eva and Jessica exchanged a look. First love was exciting, wonderful. First break-up … not so much.

“I’ll be right back,” said Jessica. “Will order me some more chocolate cream pie? And chocolate ice cream?”

“Topped with chocolate fudge?” Eva grinned.

“You know me so well.”

CHAPTER F
OUR

DARRIUS STOOD ON the porch of the 1920s craftsman house, his heart racing as though he’d run all the way here. Driving had been torture because he couldn’t get here fast enough—and yet he was terrified to arrive.

He felt like a pup going on his first date. For a moment, he considered his dad’s advice:
throw Alaya over his shoulder and take her to the nearest cave. She’d always brought out the primal in him, but she could handle his beast. After all, she had one of her own. He remembered well the damage they had caused to bedroom furniture—and more than a few oak trees.

All the way here he’d thought about what to say. He’d crafted a dozen speeches—from “you broke my heart” to “why the hell did you leave me”? None of them seemed adequate to the task of communicating his fury and his grief and his hope.

He knocked on the door, and before he could even take his next breath, Alaya had opened it.

She was digging in her purse, and uttered a triumph, “A-ha! Here’s a twenty
, Leroy, and I don’t need—.” She looked up, her smile flat-lining the instant she recognized him.

Alaya scr
eamed, and jumped back.
Slam!
He heard the deadbolt snick and the security chain rattle.

Stunned, Darius stared at the door. What the hell!
?

“Yo, dude.”

Darrius turned and saw a skinny guy standing on the porch steps. He wore a green hat that touted “Pete’s Pizza.” He held an extra large pizza box and a confused expression.

“You must be Leroy.”

“Yeah. Who are you?”

“The guy paying the delivery boy. How much?” said Darrius drawing out his wallet.

“Thirteen bucks and forty-eight in change.

Darrius exchanged a fifty for the pizza
box. “Keep the change.”

“Awesome, dude! Thanks!”

Leroy ran to his moped, plopped on a helmet, and took off.

Darrius held the pizza, and knocked on the door.

“Go away, Darrius!” Alaya yelled.

“No,” he yelled back. “I want to talk to you.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Too bad. I’ve waited seventy years to see you again, and I’m not going away until I do.”

Silence. He knew she was thinking about his words, weighing them carefully. Alaya was fair-minded. At least, she had been.

“I have your pizza,” he added.

“Put it down and back away slowly,” she said. “Nobody has to get hurt.”

“Forget it. I’m holding the pizza hostage.”

“Fine!” she cried. “But if you die, it’s your own fault!” 

He heard her stomp away, muttering obscenities, and then she stomped back.
Snick. Rattle
. 

The door opened.

Alaya stood there defiantly, her hands fisted. She dressed in a light pink sweater and faded jeans. Her feet were bare, her toes painted a vivid blue. Her dark hair, with its reddish highlights, drifted around her shoulders in damp waves. The most remarkable item she wore, however, was the crocheted throw draped over her head.

“Give me my goddamned pizza,” she growled.

“Okay,” he said, and stepped through the threshold, forcing her back. He looked around the living room. It was decorated in browns and bronzes. The tan couch, accompanied by two matching chairs, was contrasted by the cherry wood coffee table and end tables. The place was warm and inviting, much like the Alaya he had known.

She stood still as he placed the pizza box onto the coffee table.

“Take off the blanket,” he said.

“I can’t.”

“I know about your scars,
Liebling
, and I don’t care. Don’t hide from me.”

“I’m not hiding from you.” She paused. “Technically. I’m protecting you. Please, Darrius, just leave. You can’t see me.”

“Bullshit.” He cheated by using his lycan speed. He ripped off the blanket and tossed it onto the couch.              

“You ass goblin!” she yelled. Then she spun around and faced the wall. “Look, I made a bargain
with a goddess, okay? If you see this face, you die.”

Darrius put his hands on her shoulders. “I’ve looked at your face for the last three days, Alaya. I’m still breathing.”

“You’ve been here for three days?”

“Yes. And I’m telling you I’ve seen your face. Your whole face. Multiple times.” He leaned forward and kissed the top of her head. The gesture was so familiar. His heart leapt. “Please. Turn around.”

She inhaled a deep breath and turned. Her eyes were squinched shut. “Are you dead?”

“Nope.”

Alaya opened her eyes. “What the hell is going on?”

“Good question.” Darrius cupped her face and his brushed his thumbs over her cheeks.
The fire had left its mark. Her cheek and neck were gnarled flesh, and he realized the physical damage was too much for her lycan healing abilities to handle. It didn’t matter to him.

She was beautiful. 

“Tell me about the bargain,” he said.

Tears formed in her eyes. “You came back to the village. I was fighting Nefertiti. Her blades were poisoned—werewolf’s bane. You rushed in front of me—and she stabbed you instead. You died.”

“I don’t remember any of that.”

“Making you forget was part of the bargain,” she said softly. “Nemesis heard my keening and came to me. She said I could choose your love or your life.” Tears fell, her gaze filled with grief. “
I choose your life. She healed you and transported you to the woods. I tried to get out of the village, but the fire got to me first. Two priestesses found me and took me to the temple.” Alaya’s hands crept up his chest. “Don’t think I’m not happy, but why are you alive? Did Nemesis lie to me?”

“I doubt it.”
Darrius rubbed her back. She felt good, right. She belonged in his arms, always had.

“I remember the words exactly,” said Alaya. “
The price for his life is his love. If he should ever see this face of yours again, his shall die.”

             
“This face,” he mused. “Hmm. That’s specific.”

             
“My face was different before I was burned,” said Alaya, following his line of thought. “So, I have a … a
that
face instead of a
this
face.” Alaya leaned back and gaze at him in amazement. “Could it be that simple?”

             
“It appears so,” said Darrius. His gaze pinned hers. His heart turned over in his chest. His anger, his hurt, his confusion … nothing was greater than his joy.

Alaya was alive.

And he loved her still.

NEMESIS SEETHED AS she watched the drama unfold between Alaya and Darrius. Her sword had many uses and powers; the blade could be used to peer into the mortal world.

             
She watched Alaya break their bargain.

So what if she used a technicality?

Punishment was punishment.

             
Nemesis screamed in frustration and stabbed the sword into the nearest statue. The blade embedded between the large breasts of the stone effigy. Having a spa day at the Mount Olympus in the Pampering Goddess Grotto had been a mistake. She’d spent too much time getting a facial, mani-pedi, massage, mud bath, and seaweed wrap. Seconds ago, she was feeling relaxed and stress-free. And then she checked on her little wolf toy. 

             
Shit, shit, shit! Appealing to Zeus or a gods’ council would do no good. They wouldn’t agree that Alaya hadn’t broken the bargain. No, they would point out that Nemesis had created a loophole. They would laugh, and shrug, and say, “Oh, well.”

             
She hated to lose. She hated that her own stupid actions had created the loss. Gah! She pulled the sword from the statue’s rather impressive boobs, and paused. The sculpture was of Aphrodite, the goddess of love.

             
Nemesis cackled. She knew exactly what to do. Getting vengeance on Aphrodite would be the wrath ice cream on the justice pie.

             
All she needed was one bad apple.

CHAPTER FIVE

D
ARRIUS CONQUERED ALAYA’S mouth with a slow kiss. His hand slipped around the back of her neck and he drew her closer. Her arms crept up to his shoulders, her fingertips resting like nervous butterflies on his collarbone.

Her tears salted his lips.

Darrius missed how she’d felt in his embrace. Her scent was as light as spring blooms, and her touch softer than flower petals. He had never wanted a woman the way he wanted her. She had imprinted his soul, so much so that no other woman could ever take her place.

He understood that now.

She freed herself from their kiss and then cupped his face in her hands. “We should probably stop. We need to talk.”

“We will. But first … we finish this.”

She couldn’t hold his gaze. He saw the guilt mixed with yearning, and there, too, the shadows of regret, of shame.

“
How can you forgive me so easily?” She released him and stepped away, putting the back of her hand against her marred cheek. “I’ve changed. I’m no longer the woman I once was.”

S
he’d drawn his attention to her scar, but he knew she was speaking more about how she had changed inwardly.

“I’m different, too,” said Darrius. He slid his fingertips down her neck, tracing the marred flesh. “You are beautiful, Alaya. Nothing changes that for me.” He paused, unable to keep his grief from showing. “
I wish I’d found you sooner.”

She shook her head. “
I learned that you and your brothers had left Germany—and I took that as a sign. I would serve the Moon Goddess, and you … you would find another woman to love and to marry.”

“No,” said Damian. He drew her back into his arms, where she belonged. “I cannot pretend I haven’t been with other women, but my relationships were brief. More physical than heartfelt. How could I love another, Alaya, when I’d found you?”

“Seventy years,” she said.

“A mere blink of the eye for our kind.”

“I … there was no one for me, either.” She offered him a half-smile. “I had no room in my heart for another. You filled it completely.” She caught her lip between her teeth, and tears fell. “I have been such a fool.”

“Sshh. We have each other again.” Darrius heart sang. Alaya loved him! She yearned for him as much as he had yearned for her. “Be with me,” he said softly.
“We will work through our problems. We will navigate whatever life—or our pasts—throws at us. As long as I have you, I have everything.”

“Oh, Darrius.” Her gaze shone with love, and she leaned forward … and kissed him. Then she pulled away, grabbed his hand, and led him into her bedroom.

Dark greens, gleaming bronzes, and shimmering golds were punctuated by bright splashes of orange. Her bedroom held a huge bed with more pillows than he could count. The door to the master bath was open, revealing wet towels and woman’s beauty products scattered on the countertop.

Alaya pulled him toward the bed, but he stopped her. She faced him, her gaze questioning. He wanted her … and he wanted to worship every part of her body. He would make her believe that he loved her fully, that no scars, no fears would ever keep them apart again.

Slowly, Darrius undressed Alaya. She stood proudly before him as he drew off her shirt and her jeans. She wore a simple white lace bra and matching panties. He could see the fire had left its marks on her belly and her right thigh and calf. But her skin … her skin was still luminescent and soft.

Yes, she was different. He, too, had a body with wounds and scars. Didn’t everyone? A woman who had lived … who had survived … whose beauty was only amplified by her warrior’s body … this woman, this lycan, was his.

Darrius slipped a finger under the band of her panties. With one tug, the material tore in two, and he tossed the pieces away.

“Darrius!”

“I will buy you more,” he said, chuckling. “As many as you want.”

She ruffled the top of his hair. “You are incorrigible.”

“Maybe.” He knelt at her feet, feeling like her captor and her slave, and leaned forward to breathe in her feminine spice. Kissing the tender flesh, flicking his tongue over her clit—those merest touches made his cock hard.

Holding onto her trembling thighs, he kissed the spot just above the crease of her sex. He dragged his tongue down the slender line, and then nibbled his way up the plump flesh. Her moans stoked his desire, but he was patient. He’d waited more than seventy years to have her again. What were a few minutes more? As he continued his veneration of her womanhood, he slid one finger … and then two inside her. She was wet, oh-so-ready for him.

Her hands clutched at his hair. Darrius looked up and noted with satisfaction that Alaya’s eyes were closed and her face was flushed.

As he established a slow rhythm with his fingers, he began to suckle on the sweet pearl beaded in his mouth.

Within moments, she tensed and grabbed his head, holding him still as pleasure overtook her. “Oh, Darrius,” she whispered. “It’s been so long.”

“I’ve missed you,
Liebling
.” Darrius was on his feet in two seconds flat. He shucked his shoes and socks, dragged off his jeans.

Alaya took off her bra, then grabbed his shirt and tore it open. Buttons popped off and what was left of the material drifted to the floor.

Lust roared through him, the hot desire of a man coupled with the dangerous need of a lycan. He picked up Alaya and slammed her against the wall. She growled, her eyes going animal. Her nails dug into his shoulders and drew blood.

His heart pounded furiously and his blood raged. The tang of her sex was still in his mouth tormenting him as he plunged inside her slick heat. The tight, sweet feel of her made him howl.

Literally.

Darrius swung around and walked to the bed, throwing Alaya onto it. She snarled, baring her teeth. He snarled back, dominant, in control. She stayed on her back, and sank into the mattress. His gaze latched on her breasts, just as lovely as he remembered. Big as grapefruits with nipples pink and juicy, luscious treats for a very hungry man.

He kneeled between her legs and slowly covered her body with his. Then Darrius kissed the puckered flesh around her nipples, tracing the crinkles with his tongue. He scraped his teeth along one nub then he lightly nipped the other peak.

A low growl issued from Alaya—and he couldn’t stop his answering growl. That erotic sound sent lust zinging straight to his balls. Oh, yeah. He gave up his playful torture in favor of an all-out sensual assault on her breasts.

He felt her nails on his back, raking the muscled flesh, digging her fingers into his buttocks. Her hips arched against his cock, rubbing against invitingly. He plunged into her, hard and fast, his mouth working her nipples. Making love to Alaya was all new—and yet familiar.

She smacked his ass. Her nipples went hard and tight as she gave herself over to another orgasm. She went limp. “How could I forget how good we were together?”

“I will seek to remind you often.” He kissed her softly.

She kissed him back, and what began as sweet meeting of lips turned into a desperate mating of mouths.

Darrius rolled over and she went with him, laughing.

His cock felt achingly hard. One thing lycans never worried about was erectile dysfunction. Lycans could have intercourse for hours.

Alaya licked the space between his pectorals, and then she feasted on his chest, peppering kisses across his rib cage. As she explored his body with fingers and mouths, his hands were restless on her shoulders, her back, her hips, her luscious ass.

She crawled down the length of his body and positioned herself between his knees. He watched her lower her head, her dark hair a curtain as she kissed his cock. Darrius’s eyes rolled back into his head. He heaved a breath. Her hot mouth worked his shaft until his control was threadbare.

Darrius looped his hands under her arms and pulled her forward, rolling once again so that she was on her back. He pushed up her legs until her heels rested on his shoulders. He gripped her thighs … and buried himself into her wet heat.

“Alaya,” he said, his gaze capturing hers. “My beautiful one.”

The rocking of their bodies was familiar, new, perfect.

Pleasure consumed them both.