Enlightened (Love and Light Series) (28 page)

Alone in bed, Wolf sat up with a start, throwing the covers off.

 “Loti,” he bellowed.

“Here. I’m in the living room.” Her gentle voice floated in from the next room.

He narrowed his eyes and braced himself against the intense hunger, the driving thirst.
This has to stop or I’m going to drink her dry. How could I have fed just before passing out and wake up hungry?
He rubbed his face with both hands, then slapped his thighs.
I don’t like this. I don’t like anything about this.

“Gee, thanks,” Loti yelled.

He snorted. Snatching the hemp pants from the floor, he slipped them over his bare backside as he stood, swaying.
Damn.
He rubbed his temples, squinting his eyes.
What’s it going to take?

“Another night,” Loti called.

“Get out of my head.” Huffing through his teeth, he beat his chest with both fists in rapid succession.
Blood. Her blood. Now
. The thick, rich slide of it down his throat. Breathing heavily, he leaned one forearm against the cool rock wall, the fire inside him raging. Only quenched when he drank her, fucked her. He reared back and punched the wall, granite flakes and rock dust raining to the floor. As he undulated a war cry to the ceiling, he shook out his aching hand.

Loti appeared in the doorway. “Here, I’m here.” Her voice was vulnerable in the wake of his scream.

“Go away,” he thundered, whipping around, fangs bared.

She stepped back, eyes wide. She had to feel his raging thirst, his anger, his helplessness, and the knowledge fanned his fury.

“I don’t need anybody,” he snarled through clamped teeth.

But as he clung to his fury, he bore witness to her cringe. Her eyes darted around, one hand hanging on the door jam. Her fingers worried the cherry wood trim. Her face shifted from scared to uncertain, and then she straightened up and pulled her shoulders back, dark lashes framing determined eyes. She didn’t say a word, just stared at him. As he growled low in his chest, he lunged at her with vampire speed. She screwed up her face and hunkered down. They slammed into the living room rug, knocking the breath out of her. She wheezed, but didn’t struggle.

“You still feel safe?” he sneered into her ear. Her heart knocked against his chest, the acrid fear filling the back of his throat. With disoriented eyes, he crawled backward as she rolled over on her side and held herself with shaky arms. She coughed and wheezed, trying to catch her breath. When his foot touched the wall, he crouched down, watching her—wants and needs warred in his gut.
Feed. Fuck. Run.

“Loti, you need to get out of here.” His voice was just above a whisper.

She shook her head, her back to him. “I’m not going anywhere,” she said through the wheezes.

He snarled, “You’re an idiot.” Sniffing the air like a dog, his pupils dilated until all the brown melted away. He inhaled sharply. Pure sex, pungent, ripe, his. Wolf froze as she twisted around, turning glowing eyes on him. They had their own effervescent light. His pulse banged in his straining neck as Loti bared invisible fangs at him. He lunged, this time landing like a panther on the balls of his feet and tips of his fingers, his tense body hovering over hers.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Loti stared into Wolf’s crazy, black, bottomless eyes. This wasn’t the first time she’d seen this in the past 24 hours, and she wondered how many times they would have to ride this rollercoaster. Her confidence waning, she wished she’d asked Fiamette if it got better or worse. But she was in it, and although she could be insecure, downright needy at times, she wasn’t a coward. Pressing her chest against Wolf’s, she pushed up with deliberate slowness.

Wolf growled in her head as he pushed back, just as slow and steady. He wasn’t even trying. The ache in her ribs from his first tackle told her he didn’t have to, and she was lucky nothing was broken. He stopped, his eyes betraying his inner battle. He wasn’t thinking—d
amn, he’s good at that—
but she could feel the physical clench in his chest and the sick flip of his stomach.
God, the icy fury.
Teeth chattering and with little gasps, she strained against him. Suddenly, he smashed his mouth over hers. His teeth ground her lips painfully into her own teeth, blood oozing over her tongue. He groaned, his tongue darting to lap the blood.

She licked the blood from her bruised lip, ran her tongue over his mouth. He leapt off. When she gathered her wits and glanced around the room, she found him on the other side of the kitchen counter, his shoulders hunched, his core wound tight.

“I don’t need you,” he spit.

 
No, I know
. She jutted out her chin at him.

Doubt clouded his eyes, and it flashed so briefly in her solar plexus, that she couldn’t be sure.
Wish I could do that.
Wolf vaulted over the counter and out the front door, Loti crying out at the rending in her chest. The invisible wires wrapped around her heart squeezed, strained, and vibrated.

“Fuck you,” she screamed after him.

He flew fast and high. She knew by the incredible ripping in her chest, the depth of the agony, and the direction of the pull. She coughed as bile rose in her throat, crawling toward the bathroom. Cold sweat ran down her back, and she fought her heaving stomach.
Hold on. Almost there.
She made it to the toilet, trembling hands shoving the seat up. Pressing her cheek to the cold porcelain rim, she sagged against the bowl as the magical wires imbedded themselves into the smooth muscle. The green chakra strained between them, razor thin.

Metallic saliva welled in her mouth; she spat it into the water. She huffed a weak “Ha” at the bizarre thought she had:
what kind of septic did he install?
Her stomach heaved and yellow curried mush sprayed across the water and porcelain. She wretched again and again until all that was left was bile and stringy snot. She spit the sour taste out of her mouth as white hot unthinkable pain tried to excise her heart.
Please.
She panted against it, her thoughts spiraling and jagging.
Rather die. Rather bash my brains out.

She screamed with all her might, tears on her cheeks as she banged the side of her head against the rim until she saw stars. She did it again—harder.

White rabbits, white rabbits, white rabbits—

What the hell are you doing?
Wolf’s thoughts were indistinguishable from her own. His panic was like a chemical burn in her head when she didn’t respond. But she didn’t know it was his. She slammed her head against the toilet again, trying to knock lose the hurting.

Stop.
His mental scream reverberated in her head. She banged it again.

Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.

Blood trickled into her ear.

BASH

She saw stars.
Good

BASH

Open the door, where’s the door down the rabbit hole

The pain in her chest eased, and she sighed, shuddering as she collapsed to the white tile floor.

Good
.

 Blackness.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Wolf yelled, “Fuck” at Loti’s limp, rag doll form on the floor, her hair sticky with blood splayed around her. She didn’t move. Throwing open the vanity, he grabbed a bottle of witch hazel, yanked the cap off, and squatted by Loti. Thick blood hid the wound. She must have busted her skull pretty good because there was a lot of blood soaked into her hair and pooled on the floor. The witch hazel glubbed out of the bottle as he scrubbed at the tacky blood on her scalp above her ear, but there was no wound.
What the fuck?
She had healed herself. Was it part of the bond? Would she have vampire powers? She groaned
.
Wolf hunkered lower, setting the plastic bottle on the cold tile, his hands dangling between his knees as he watched her eyelashes bat against her pale cheek. She grimaced. A fluttery hand dabbed above her ear.

“It’s healed,” he said in a flat tone. “That was fucked up. What you did.”

“What?” Her voice was thick.

“Busting your head open like that. That was stupid.”

She pushed herself away from the tile, squeezing her eyes tight, gritting her teeth. “I . . . don’t know why . . . ” She cleared her throat, hocked up phlegm, and spit it in the bowl, splatters of vomit around the rim and on the lid.

He’d felt pretty sick at the excruciating cutting sensation in his chest. He reached over her and smacked the lever. Water rushed out, the roar filling the small room. Pulling a length of toilet paper off the roll, Loti wiped at the rim and tossed it in. Wolf held still, just watched. His mind was blank, until he realized she was crying. The release valve on the lid he’d clamped over his boiling thoughts rattled with her feelings: the fear, the sadness, the love—
what?

How could she love me? Insane woman.

“Pffpt.”

He jerked his chin back. Steam hissed a warning in his head, the valve shaking violently
. I hate it. I hate her emotions—they’re so uncensored
. He hated the way those feelings mixed inside his chest and stomach, making his heart heave. He hated the way he wanted her. He hated
that
he wanted her. He hated that he couldn’t leave her without feeling like his heart was being torn out. He hated that she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He hated the softness of her inner arm and the same tender skin on the inside of her thighs.
I hate that I crave you.

Loti kept her eyes on her task, only the increasing shake of her shoulders told him she heard his thoughts.

I never wanted to bond with anyone—ever. I watched my mother die of some white man disease rather than give her my blood. It didn’t matter that she didn’t want it—I wouldn’t be tied to my own mother.

He didn’t feel guilt. He didn’t feel remorse. Regret, yes. A well-worn sadness, yes. Those were the emotions Loti sensed. That’s how his mother raised him. Practical. Self-sufficient. Selfish. To be a Wolf clan leader. The warrior clan. Loti wiped the last of the grisly splatter and dropped the clump of tissue. She lowered the seat and folded her arms over it, resting her head on her forearms. Closing her eyes, she took several shuddery breaths.

Of course she heard all his thoughts. He wondered why they couldn’t shield from each other. Bond-mates should be able to pick and choose.

That would be nice.
Her thought drifted through his mind.

He came to life then, shifting forward and running a hand over her bloody hair. She didn’t respond, just kept breathing, extra long breaths. Regret. Shame. Fear. He knew those were his. She had nothing to be ashamed of. He was the prick—the 500-year-old bastard, who didn’t need anybody.

I understand.

She might as well have buried a knife in his throat. He coughed.

She lifted her head, opening red-rimmed eyes. “Who do you think you are?” The pain in her voice as raw and as uncensored as the pain in her heart. Trembling like a Chihuahua, her eyes bulged as she got up. “I am not a piece of precious fucking china that’s going to shatter into a million pieces because you can’t let yourself love me.” She hunched over, holding her stomach like something might fall out. “Give me a little more credit than that. I killed my husband, remember?”

The pride radiated from her. The fuck-you implied in every syllable knocked him off balance, and he had to catch himself with one hand. She left him stunned, staring wide-eyed at her shuffling, retreating backside.