Slip of Fate (Werelock Evolution Book 1) (13 page)

His hands fisted in my hair, cradling, tipping, and tugging my head as he saw fit to better devour my mouth from every possible angle. It was the most exhilarating thing I’d ever experienced as I allowed myself to drown in his kiss. His mouth melded with mine as if they were meant to be one, his tongue stroking a hedonistic rhythm that matched the pulsing cry of the little outer organ amid my legs that was now aching for want of attention.

My hips were soon lifting in silent entreaty, my pelvis seeking some manner of friction that might ease the pain before I could stop to consider consequences. He grunted into my mouth when my center successfully connected with his at last, the brief, delicious brush of contact sending my throbbing button into such a wildly fluttering, desirous frenzy that I almost screamed in protest when he abruptly drew his torso away.

“Christ!”
he swore, tearing his lips away and moving a hand from my hair to my hip in order to direct it away from his own hip and back down to the ground. I mewled sadly in objection.

After a string of
“fucks,”
he took to cursing in another language in between kisses.
“Argh
… we can’t … not right …” he grumbled disjointedly as he nipped and sucked on my lips. “You’re not yourself, honey,” he grated, sounding pained.
“No fear
… not fair … need to stop …”

But I didn’t want to stop, and I whined in dissent. I’d pretty well lost my mind to my own insatiable lust that was demanding satisfaction above all else.

“Please?” My fingers clung to him.
“Hurts …”
I conveyed in shameless reference to the lesser organ that had somehow gained control over my higher faculties.

“
Fuuuck!
”
he howled, abandoning my lips entirely to bury his face in the crook of my neck where he commenced growling with such raw, animalistic fervor his whole body vibrated and shook against me.

Strangely, it didn’t scare me in the slightest. And it did nothing to quell my desire. Eventually his shaking diminished in intensity, and he lifted his head to regard me with predatory golden eyes.

They didn’t frighten me either. For I could focus on nothing but how badly I wanted to feel him grind out the barely restrained violence so unmistakably radiating from him into the desperate emptiness I felt between my thighs.

Releasing another wounded cry, he leapt clear off of me as if I’d burned him. Confused by his rejection, I sat up to find him uprooting trees, mumbling colorful, fragmented expletives interspersed with “Alex” and “vessel” before announcing,
“Goddamnit,
I have to go. Alex is coming!”

He cut me off when I began to shake my head in denial. “No, no, honey, listen to me,” he implored, kneeling in front of me. “I fucked up. It’s my fault for getting you so worked up.” He took my hands in his. “What I did wasn’t right. You wouldn’t have responded the same way if I hadn’t suspended your fear and compelled you to feel safe with me.”

“No,” I refuted, “I would have. You … you lived through the Inquisition,” I rambled in justification, “and … and I really like you,” I stammered like a starry-eyed schoolgirl. “I didn’t know you before, and that’s why I was scared … but now that I do …”

He winced and shook his head, giving me a miserable, guilty smile. “I’m sorry, angel, but I can’t let you remember that I was here with you. So when I leave now, your mind will erase all memory of our dream encounter.”

“No, please don’t do that! I want to remember you like this. And everything we talked about.”
And the things I felt.
“You said you came here to help answer my questions!”

“Milena, believe me, it’s going to pain me so much more than it will you to do this. But I can’t risk Alex accessing your memory and finding out that I was here.”

“Please
, please
don’t do this?” I begged, feeling the burn of unshed tears behind my eyes. “I don’t want to forget!” It was a small comfort that he looked as miserable as I felt.

“You
will
remember everything I’ve shared with you about my family’s history, as well as the concept of a mate and the role of a vessel,” he promised, squeezing my hands. “When I leave, you’ll be left with the vague memory that it was my Grandma Lucia, the last vessel, who came to visit you in your dream and imparted all the information that I’ve disclosed.

“Clever, eh?” he wagged his eyebrows in a lighthearted attempt to inject some humor and garner my approval for his quickly fabricated ruse. “Alex will be so fucking irritated.” He chortled blithely, although the emotion seemed strained.

While his reasoning made sense, and the precaution was likely warranted, I still didn’t like it. I also knew I wouldn’t be able to sway him. So I nodded dolefully as I stared into his beseeching eyes.

He gifted me with a tight smile and a wink. “Thank you.”

I’d had no choice in the matter.
Much like everything else in my life lately.
I wasn’t sure what he was thanking me for.

“Oh, and Milena,” he said with a final squeeze of my hands, “when Alex visits you in your sleep now, you won’t let him push you around or intimidate you, okay? You will recognize that you are dreaming and that he has invaded your mind, but you won’t be fearful of him in the same manner you are in the flesh. Understood?”

CHAPTER EIGHT

I was jolted from my solitary reverie as an irate male voice, which seemed to be coming from the night sky above, growled,
“
Yes, so I can smell! The question is what the hell has been happening in here to make her so aroused?
”

Another man in the sky responded,
“She’s been fast asleep this entire time
.
I have no idea what aroused her, but it could only have been something she was dreaming about.”

More swearing and questioning ensued, and I realized the voices belonged to Alex and Kai.

I was sitting all alone in a darkened forest. It occurred to me I was dreaming, although I couldn’t recall what I’d been doing in this dream before I’d heard the men’s voices in the sky. For that matter, I wasn’t sure for how long I’d been dreaming about sitting in a forest, either.

As I was struggling to remember, Alex materialized, wearing a fancy black tuxedo and marching straight for me through the trees. He looked angry.

“Jesus Christ, Milena! What the hell have you been up to sitting here by yourself?”

I shrugged. It didn’t seem to be the answer he was looking for, as he appeared exasperated by my response. He gnashed his teeth and growled down at me, his body shaking with fury.

“You were fucking despondent not forty minutes ago!” he accused.

My eyes widened as realization clicked that it was really
Alex
—not just a dream Alex—that I was interacting with now. That creepy mind-raper had had the audacity to invade my head when I was dreaming!
He seriously had no soul.

“I was in the middle of a critical business negotiation, and it felt like you were dying of a broken fucking heart or something!”

What? The man was daft. I didn’t recall having any upsetting dreams.

“Finally, there was the briefest respite where I thought I might recover some semblance of sanity.” He chuckled bitterly as he began to wear a path into the forest floor in front of me. “But
then
your emotions somehow turned on a dime to crazy, insatiable arousal!” he proclaimed, throwing his arms in the air like I was the world’s greatest basket case.

Arousal?
No way! Although … strangely, now that he’d mentioned it, I noted I was feeling somewhat worked up?

“
I couldn’t fucking concentrate!
My mind kept conjuring up all these … images … and scenarios of … of …” He stopped pacing as his words trailed off into a low, sustained growl, his fists clenching and unclenching by his sides.

“What in God’s name is wrong with you, anyway?” he demanded. “Do you always dream like this? Like you’re fucking bipolar?”

That did it!
Where the hell did he get off waltzing into
my
mind and dream state reprimanding and belittling me for my unconscious choice of reverie? I leapt to my feet.

“Well, gee, I don’t know,” I sauced back, walking right up to where he stood fuming at me. “I’m not normally
drugged
when I’m sleeping, for starters. And no one’s ever come barging into my mind while I was sleeping before to rant or lodge a complaint about how strange my REM cycle is!” I screeched up at him on tiptoe. He gawked down at me like I’d grown four heads.

“What in God’s name is wrong with
you
?”
I countered, jabbing my pointer finger into his chest. “Do you always interact with people like this? Like an unconscionable asshole?” I shrieked.

Rather than strangle the life out of me in fury as I half-expected him to do, he stepped back, his brows gathering in suspicion. “Wait. Why aren’t you afraid of me right now?”

I huffed and rolled my eyes. “I’ll just take that as a
yes
to my last question.”

To my surprise, he smirked. Then he eyed me up and down with obvious interest. He still seemed baffled by my behavior, but no longer incensed. He appeared to be more … intrigued by it. He closed the space between us in one fluid movement. My hands went up instantly, if however futilely, in defense to press against his shirted chest.

“You know, you’re acting awfully brave for a little human girl completely at my mercy. Is this your way of asking me for attention?”

Before I could tell him and his condescending tone where to stick it, his evil fingers found their way into my hair and proceeded to capitalize on my worst weakness where he was concerned. I closed my eyes against the traitorously pleasurable tingles they produced.

Warm lips skated across my forehead. “I can smell your arousal,” he whispered against my temple as his other hand slipped around my waist to span my lower back. “And feel your intense frustration,” he added, yanking my body solidly into his so that his hard, muscled upper thigh hit unerringly against the most vulnerable, sensitive point between my legs. I gasped and my eyes flew open, but I refused to look up at him, keeping my sight trained on his lapel.

“If you ask me nicely, I might take care of that ache for you, Milena.”

To my supreme mortification, that
ache
he’d so eloquently referred to began pulsing wildly against his thigh at his insulting proposal, as if chanting its own approval. My knees felt unsteady and I was short of breath.

“I know you enjoy the way my fingers feel against your scalp,” he said quietly, dragging said digits sensuously against the back of my head to illustrate the effect he knew he had on me as goose bumps flowered over my skin.

His hand at my lower back slid to my shorts. Long, sure fingers firmly cupped my right ass cheek before gliding down along the cleft of my globes to tap between my legs at the seam of my shorts—the sheer indecency of such a shocking and unexpected caress rendering me stupefied.

“You’re not breathing,” he noted, his fingers drifting back up to the center of my backside to splay across my ass. I opened my mouth to allow air in, but I couldn’t remember how to breathe.

“If you say please”—he flexed his thigh into my front where I was now throbbing with need—“I might be persuaded to show you just how good my fingers can feel elsewhere.” Those fingers were now massaging the flesh of my ass, effectively grinding me into his hard thigh.

I panted for air.
Wow. Just … Wow!

Only the unparalleled hatred and disgust I felt rising up in my gut for him could eclipse the scandalous sensation of my own painful state of arousal at his wicked hands. He was the purest of evil straight to his core, as he clearly delighted in inflicting all manner of humiliation and torture upon those weaker than he. He was twisted and sick, and I would not succumb to his malevolent wiles.

I glared up at him. “I would rather eat glass, thank you.”

“Suit yourself,” he said, releasing me so fast I toppled to the ground. “Try not to dream like a fucking schizophrenic.” He turned on his heel and began walking away. “Or I’ll come back and force-feed you that glass.”

“I am not Lucia, and I won’t be your vessel!” I declared to his back, although I hadn’t the faintest clue what had prompted me to say it at first. But then the memory of a female werewolf named Lucia who’d visited me in my dream earlier resurfaced, and it all came flooding back to me.

“I wouldn’t choose you if my life depended on it,” I tacked on recklessly, remembering how Lucia had told me I would always have a choice.

He halted in his tracks and turned to face me. “What do you know about Lucia?”

I hauled myself to my feet. I was determined not to let him intimidate me. “Just that she was the last vessel.” I straightened my shoulders and raised my chin. “She came—visited with me … um … earlier in my dream.” I began to stammer despite my better intentions when he started stalking back in my direction, his expression darkening. “Told me things about … about being a mate and being a vessel.”

He cocked his head to the side. “What things?”

“That I have a choice!”

One brow arched. “Really?”

“And I don’t want you! Not now, not
ever.”

He looked incredulous. “And you think I fucking want
you?”
Cruel black eyes raked me up and down with obvious contempt. “I’ve seen better curves on twelve-year-olds. Trust me, little girl, I’d fuck every unmated female in my pack and every human pet Remy keeps here before I’d think to come slumming with you.”

My mouth fell ajar at his crass affront.

He grimaced. “Making that face won’t entice me.”

I forced my jaw back into place as my face burned with indignity.

“Don’t confuse my
wolf’s
present concern for your welfare for my actual caring, Milena,” he scorned. “You are neither vessel nor mate to me. And ours is a very temporary arrangement.”

*****

I drifted in and out of consciousness for what seemed like a week, although Kai assured me it was not nearly that long each time that I awoke and inquired. He was at my bedside whenever I came to. And several times a young, attractive female was in attendance as well. Magically, she seemed to be present and prepared to assist me to the bathroom each time I awoke needing to go. She was nice, but I was mostly incoherent during our interactions, and in my delirium I kept forgetting to ask her name.