Taken by Moonlight (67 page)

“You gave
me pleasure, and I liked every second of it,” she countered, squeezing her way
between him and the window. She briefly hoped there was no one walking before
their house at this moment who’d look up and see her naked ass.

His eyes
narrowed on hers, and then she felt him probing her mind. She purposely showed
him images of their erotic joining, the way he’d felt to her. He pulled away
when the images starting affecting him.

When she
leaned into him, he didn’t move away. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her.

“What are
you,
alainn
?”

“My mother
told me I’m druid, but that I have the genes of a witch, a werewolf, and a
human inside of me. Cassie is the same way. We can access all of them but we
are strongest as druids.”

“I never
smelled the wolf in you until your fight with Samia.”

She lifted
a brow and replied, “You didn’t smell my druid either.”

He only
smiled before conceding the point. “So you’re a wolf? It wasn’t a spell? You’re
a wolf?”

“A druid
who can shift into a wolf,” she clarified, kissing his chest right above his
steadily beating heart. “So stop treating me like I’m a delicate flower, easily
crushed.”

She nuzzled
him, and sighed. God, it was hot. She’d recognized it before but had been
intent on getting Conall to understand he hadn’t hurt her. She turned away from
him, and unlatched the window.

“Vivienne?”

In a rapid
succession, she pushed it up, sighing when the bitter cold night air rushed
over her body. Conall caught her in his arms once more, and held her like that
for a few minutes before closing the window, despite her protests, and dragging
her back to the bed.

She
protested as he placed her on the covers and leaned into her. He kissed her
clavicle, the tips of both breasts, and then her lips. Vivienne was already
sighing as the tingling between her legs started blossoming into something more
intense, when he murmured, “
Alainn
?”

“Yes?” she
replied with a smile, opening her eyes a fraction to glimpse his. There was an
amused expression on his face. She leaned up and kissed him, sliding her hands
around his neck, and pulling him down to her. As his hot skin touched hers, she
moaned, pushing her legs apart and gasping as his hardness slid over her
sensitive flesh.

“You’re
either going into heat, or you’re already there.”

Chapter Twenty

She was. In
heat. By seven o’clock the following morning, Vivienne was burning up, and in a
constant state of arousal. Conall cut off the heat in the house, and bared his
teeth at any of the bachelors who dared to complain. Sloan wisely kept his mouth
shut, piling on the down and wool jackets when there was need for his human
form, and shifting to his wolf when there wasn’t. Raoul did not, and had to
make do with Conall’s growling, glaring, and snapping. He seemed to find humor
in the situation and bore it. Eli, wisest of them all, left for a few days,
taking up lodging at the house of a friend.

Although
Vivienne had begged him to, Conall refused to open the windows. He even
considered having them bolted shut, but that would mean allowing males to enter
their bedroom. He growled at the thought. Even if she were removed, they would
smell her, know this was her time of need. No.

It was cold
outside and she was naked, refusing to even put on a flimsy piece of lingerie.
And in her state, Vivienne could not feel it. While immortals were definitely
harder to kill than humans, they weren’t invincible. And he was taking no
chances.

She wasn’t
allowed to leave his room. He’d told her that to her face, and she’d cursed at
him, thrown things at him. He’d expected it. Heat made females irrational,
among other things. It was for her welfare, for the welfare of the males in the
house and in the pack. She was in heat, and the only reason he wasn’t acting
the part of crazed mate was because she was in his room, and his room was
devoid of males.

He entered
cautiously, carrying a large tray filled with comfort food. When no projectiles
came at his head, he put the tray down and looked around the room. The window
wasn’t open, which he’d expected, but the shower was running. Narrowing his
eyes, he walked into the bathroom, opened the glass door, and promptly turned
off the tap. She was showering with ice-cold water.

“Vivienne!”

She bared
elongated canines and hissed at him. Her irises had shifted to yellow once
more. They’d been alternating between her regular color, black, and yellow
since last night. She looked tired. Due to her state, she had caught only small
portions of sleep.

“I’m hot.
You won’t let me open any of the windows, and I’m burning up.”

He reached
out for a fluffy blue towel and pulled her from the bathroom, wrapping her in
it, and massaging the soft material against her skin. “It will pass, Vivienne.”

“You said
that hours ago.” He had, when he attempted to explain what ‘heat’ meant to
their kind. She’d decided it was a PMS/menopause combination that included
heightened arousal, and severe emotional issues. “When?”

“It differs
for different—”

“No!” she
cried, pulling away from him and walking from the bathroom. She immediately
moved over to the food tray and plucked a blueberry muffin from it. He watched
as she ate it quickly, and then selected one of the scones. She’d specifically
asked for them. “I want a number of hours, days. Anything. You said I’m in
heat. Fine. But how long does it last? When will it stop?”

Her eyes
widened when he remained quiet for long seconds, and she seemed about to scream
at him when he said, “A few days is the maximum for first heat.”

She
grunted.

He watched
her eat, and she watched him warily, alternating between looks of desire and
suspicion. Why suspicion, he wasn’t sure. She’d blocked him from her thoughts
as well.

Vivienne
moved slightly and released an unconscious moan as she ate the remainder of the
scone. Her scent wafted over to him, and he knew, possibly before she did, what
she needed next.

She headed
to the bed and rolled over, pushing herself onto her hands and knees, and
impatiently wiggled her bottom. From his vantage point, Conall could see the
dew that glistened between her puffy lips, could practically feel the heat as
it called to him.

I need
you.

He easily
divested himself of his robe and moved to her, sliding against her mind to see
if he could access it. Whenever the physical aspect of heat overcame her, she
lowered the mental shield she’d put up against him. She had done so once more.
He could feel her need, urgent, almost cruelly so, as he mounted her. There was
also frustration, anger at her frustration.

Vivienne
cried out as he dipped into her tight, pulsing channel. She sighed and pushed
back against him eagerly. He caught her hip, growling low as he held her
steady, before he began thrusting. Head lowering, she whimpered, arms and legs
trembling as sweat broke out across her skin. Conall drew a comforting hand
down her back as his hips rocked against her. Heat was always physically
exhausting for both male and female, but this was one part they both enjoyed.

“Who are
you and where am I?”

Lucian held
up a hand and projected calm to Drusilla. She was terrified. He could see it in
her eyes, the way she bladed her body as if prepared for an attack, or
preparing to attack him. She pressed against the wall, next to the large canopy
bed she’d instantly evacuated when he strolled in. A tall glass vase was in her
hand. Despite her fear, she presented a beautiful picture. He’d known she was
pretty when he’d first seen her, but after she healed, as was common with
human-to-vampire transitions, any flaws she had had disappeared, leaving
perfection. Now, positioned as she was in that flowing white nightgown, with
her brown eyes wide, and full lips pursed, she looked like some version of a
dark angel. He resisted the urge to smile, deciding that doing so would not
help him gain her trust.

“I won’t
hurt you,” he began in a soft, reassuring tone. As a vampire, he could easily
shift, sometimes change entirely, the emotions felt by another. Their kind were
well versed in mental powers.

She
released what could only be termed a loud snort, and promptly shook her head.
“Yeah, okay, I believe you.”

Shock made
his eyes widen before he narrowed them on her. Why wasn’t she calming down? He
easily entered her mind, and whispered words meant to relax. The tension in her
shoulders eased, but she held fast to the vase.

“My name is
Lucian Thormidor. You’re in my home.”

Drusilla
seemed to take that information quickly. She nodded, swallowing even as she
tried to shake off her fear. “Okay. What am I doing here, and how do you know
me?”

“I saved
you,” he began slowly, continuing when her brows lifted. “You were near death,
and I healed you. You’re in my house because you are recovering.”

“Healed
me?” she repeated. Her mind reeled, searching for memories of a possible injury
she’d sustained. She found nothing, as Lucian knew would happen. He didn’t know
how much Drusilla remembered of her previous life—he hoped very little—but she
would remember nothing of her change. None of the changelings did.

“Are you a
doctor?” she continued, looking around the large bedroom as if searching for
something that would answer her question. When she found nothing, her gaze
moved back to him. “Is that why I’m here?”

Lucian
considered lying before deciding against it. She would learn the truth soon. He
hadn’t fed her in almost a day, and as a new vampire, she would be growing
hungry soon.

“Don’t you
want to put the vase down?” he asked instead, using his powers of persuasion on
her.

She nodded,
and was moving over to the vanity to replace the vase, when she stopped and
shook her head, clutching it even tighter in her grip.

“You were
just in my head. No, that’s not possible. What are you?” she whispered
frantically, stepping back until she was pressed against the wall once more.

Strange,
Lucian thought, watching her cower
away from him. Most of the changelings could not determine which were their
thoughts, and which were their creators’ persuasion, especially so soon after
the change.

“Drusilla….”

“Is that my
name?”

He nodded
once and she frowned as if trying to remember it. He touched her mind once
more. She was testing the name in her memory, searching for something to
confirm it.

“I have
promised not to hurt you,” he began easily, lowering his hand slowly. Her gaze
followed it, before lifting to his eyes once more. “You’re as much a part of me
as I am of you.”

“What do
you mean?” she rushed out.

“You are a
vampire, Drusilla, and I am the one who created you.”

Her name
was Drusilla, and she was in a room with a man who thought they were both
vampires. Her memories were scattered, and she could barely focus on anything,
but of two things she was quite certain. The man before her, while extremely
attractive with his midnight-black hair, blue eyes, and perfect, aristocratic
features, was insane. And she was trapped in a room with him.

As she
looked around for any escape routes, she noticed he was smiling. That didn’t
surprise her in the least. Hot or not, the man belonged in a loony ward. Her
heart plummeted upon realizing that while the room had windows, there was
something covering them. The outlines of the windows were visible, but she
could not see the glass due to some sort of thick—was that steel?—venetian
blind. Even if she got to the window, she doubted that she could get past that
thing.

“You don’t
believe me?” he asked softly, taking a small step forward.

Eyes
widening, she lifted the vase. “Stay back!”

He dipped
his head, and retracted the step. “Very well. I’ll prove it to you.”

She tensed
her stance, waiting for some sort of attack, but none came. Instead of rushing
her and trying to bite her neck, as she feared he would, he lifted one hand,
and rolled up the sleeve of his button-down shirt. And then he presented his
wrist to her.

“What are
you doing?” Drew demanded, ignoring the sudden dryness in the back of her
throat. She looked behind him to the partially opened door. If she could get
around him….

Lucian
lifted his other hand, and she watched in horror and fascination as the nail on
his left index finger lengthened and grew pointed. She squeezed her eyes shut,
and then opened them again. No, the nail was still there, looking positively
wicked.

“Okay,
fine. Maybe you are a vampire, and I feel fine now. Thanks for helping me. I’m
just going to leave now….”

He drew the
nail across the smooth skin of his wrist. Instantly, a line of red appeared.
Her nostrils flared as the scent hit her. Even as she acknowledged the
irrationality of her behavior, Drew took a few steps toward him. The line
expanded, and flowed down the side of his hand. She watched as a droplet of
blood fell to the wooden floor, and licked her lips.