What Rough Beast [Blood Oath 1] (10 page)

He blew out a long breath, lashes shuttering his piercing blue eyes from her, but Kate pressed on. “I understand that sizing clothes would've been a problem, but nightgowns are one size fits all. Basic T-shirts—"

"My weres are procuring your wardrobe as we speak."

"That doesn't answer my question, does it?” The self-righteous exasperation felt good, so good she almost missed what he'd said.

Almost.

She paused.

Frowned.

"Did you say weres?"

"Don't leave the house until you've taken more of my blood.” He lifted his eyelashes to stare at her. “It isn't safe."

She felt the color drain from her cheeks. Her head swam. “Wh—"

An unearthly howl broke the night, raising gooseflesh on her arms. Her gaze flashed to take in the obsidian midnight beyond the windowed wall. “Wolves? You've wolves here?"

Sudden understanding made her heart freeze.

Weres.

As in were
wolves.

Her wide eyes focused on the darkened windows of the bayou. “Dear God. Luc."

"They won't hurt him. He's fed from my blood often. My scent's all over him."

A great gray beast that might've been a wolf had it not been so enormous and his head so misshapen crept from the swamp and into a splash of light cast from the tall windows, open to catch the night breeze. Everything about the animal was wrong. The legs were disproportionately long, with sparse gray hair over hard sinew. The barrel of its chest narrowed like a wolf's, but when it turned malevolent yellow eyes on her, the animal's snout was blunted. It didn't extend as a wolf's should. The ears were low on his head, along the sides where a human's would be rather than peaking on top. Still, Kate couldn't describe the creature as anything other than lupine.

It was magnificent.

It was terrifying.

It stalked the length of the windows, very much the predator.

And it stared, unblinking and ferocious, at Kate.

Alarm made her pulse hammer.

"Go away, Peter. You're scaring her."

The beast's sly mouth curved, and his eerie yellow eyes laughed at Garrick's boneless weight in the chair.

Garrick's nostrils flared as he stared down the wolf.

Kate bit her lip.

Merciless glare never leaving the beast, Garrick slowly rose from the chair. The air around him crackled with unspoken menace.

Kate's skin prickled. Her hands rose to her chest, her heart having halted within it. This couldn't be happening. Vampires did not stare down werewolves in creepy swamps, and if they did, secretaries who didn't rate their own cubicles did not ever get front row seats.

Her gaze darted from man to wolf and back again.

The wolf blinked.

"Kate."

Oh, holy God.

She crossed the library on gelatinous legs that threatened to collapse beneath her. When she reached Garrick, he nudged her behind him. “Say hello to Peter, the were alpha. He won't hurt you. Because if he or any of his kind touches a hair on your head, I'll slaughter them. All of them."

She shivered at the icy warning in his voice.

Garrick glared at the wolf. “To the last whelp."

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Garrick's arctic glare never left the animal. “Kate? Say hello to Peter."

"Hi.” Her hand clutched at Garrick's biceps, learning—finally—the shape and feel of his hard muscle. He was built, God help her, with the strength and graceful power that had always appealed to her. She peered at the beast around his reassuring bulk.

"Peter, meet the mistress of Pridemore,” he said on a growl, “and exercise manners heretofore lacking, for it is by her forbearance and hers alone that you and your pack remain."

The wolf blinked his yellow eyes.

At her.

Kate's grip on Garrick's arm tightened.

"Easy, love,” he said under his breath.

The wolf's head dipped a stingy inch in salute before he pivoted and leaped into the bayou beyond.

The breath left Kate's lungs in a pained whoosh.

"Wait."

Twin points of yellow blinked at them from the concealing darkness of the swamp. Another pair of eyes joined the first, then another. And another.

The bayou filled with hostile, glaring eyes. Kate shook so forcefully she pressed her body to Garrick's to stay upright, though he must hear the thundering of her heart, feel it pounding against his spine.

"Steady,” he whispered. “It's almost done."

Ten sets of preternatural eyes studied them what felt like decades. Though she quivered under the scrutiny, Garrick's body was solid and sturdy against hers. He wouldn't waver. He'd never fold. She sensed it as surely as she felt the fluttery rabbit of her pulse in her veins. He'd stand there for epochs, if that was what it took.

Not Kate.

She couldn't stand the giddy hostility coming from the wolves hidden in the shadows.

Was it fear anymore? She didn't think so.

At what point did terror become so ordinary one hardly noticed it?

Kate had evidently surpassed that point.

She couldn't tolerate the challenging glares anymore. So she closed her eyes and let her cheek rest against Garrick's shoulder, concentrating instead on his heady scent and the steady beat of his heart.

Nobody smelled like Garrick.

Nobody.

Not even Luc.

It did something to her, his scent. Like a drug, it intoxicated her. Made her want things she shouldn't want. Ridiculous to be so enraptured by his smell, but with her nose pressed close, the thin layer of cotton was no barrier to her greedy senses.

Heat coiled low in her belly, beading the tight points of her nipples and slicking the walls of her cunt. He smelled that freaking good.

The battle-ready tension seeped from his body by slow degrees. “They've gone."

She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder blade, settled her hand more firmly at his waist. Didn't care about the damn wolves. She was tired. Vampires, werewolves, blood, the constant warnings and threats—weariness beat at her, drained her, left her weak and vulnerable.

Garrick towered above her, though, unfazed and insurmountable. He was an anchor, his body a support she could cling to. His scent and his heat wrapped around her, filling the empty places inside her. “Don't,” she said when he shifted.

He smiled. “To move to the couch.” His arm snaked around her, holding her to his side when he staggered those few feet.

The awkward lurch of his steps sent a frisson of alarm through her. She raised her gaze to his. “Garrick?"

When he sank to the cushions, he pulled her down with him.

She went.

Of course she went.

God, she'd follow that scent anywhere. And at the moment, with him was where she most wanted to be so she nestled on the broad expanse of his chest. Her fingers curled into his shirt, exploring the contours of his muscle beneath. “You stumbled. Why?"

"I need blood.” When she stiffened, he laughed. “That wasn't a demand. Or a request. It's a simple statement of fact.” He rubbed her back, an intimacy that should've worried her but somehow didn't. His touch sapped the tension from her. “I played to Luc's horror of the stables,” he said, “but it didn't sway him. Curse him for more ruthless intelligence than I credited him. Again.” The corners of his mouth curved into a self-depreciating smile.

Kate lifted stingy inches from his chest. “Luc's okay?"

"He was to be detained to allow us no more than a few moments’ privacy.” He toyed with her hair, twining it around his finger. “Luc will rejoin us—annoyed but unscathed—soon."

She wanted to believe him. She wanted nothing more than to curl into his side, listen to him breathe, and just not think anymore. But as frustrating as Luc could be, he was her only lifeline in this weird new world. “They truly won't hurt him?"

"I'll never lie to you.” He brought the curl to his mouth, his nose, sniffed. “You smell like vanilla. And of me.” He flashed a grin. “You smell of me."

The smile, his lighthearted chuckle convinced her. If werewolves were chewing Luc to teeny bits, Garrick would've been stoic, silent. His normal creepy self. He might be one of the Borg, but she couldn't believe he'd be so relaxed if Luc were in legitimate danger. He cared about Luc in his bizarre vampy way. “I smell like I marinated in a vat of Bath & Body Works products. I do not,” she said, arching an eyebrow, “smell anything like you.” She ought to know, because Garrick smelled freaking
awesome
. Bath & Body Works never made a lotion or spray that smelled this good. Ever.

"Perfumes and lotions wash away.” Garrick's mouth curved to a wry grin. “You took my blood earlier. My scent is inside you now."

Damn, she wished he hadn't said that. Her pussy, already damp, went mind-numbingly wet at the idea of taking his smell inside her. Not just his scent, but
him
. There was nothing Kate wanted more than his sex smells painted all over her and splashed deep in her body.

Garrick buried his nose in her neck and inhaled lustily. “No man—not even I—can long resist a woman who carries his scent. Which is why Luc is only to be briefly detained. You aren't yet ready to bear my need for blood and sex, nor I yours."

She shivered at the passion that roughened his voice. Ready? Oh, she was more than ready. For sex, anyway. Blood? Not so much. “Could you be a little less
Night of the Living Dead
here? Just for a while?"

"For you, I almost wish I could, but you are vampyr, Kate. As am I. We can't change what we are.” He rolled her hair from his finger, brushed the curl across his chin. His blue eyes focused on hers, not icy as before. Hot arousal glittered in them, but his stare wasn't as terrifying as she'd once thought it might be. “What did Luc tell you before sending you to me?"

His low rumble didn't fool her. Garrick was digging, but for what she didn't know. She'd play along, though. Too weary to fight a battle she'd lose, she was doomed either way. Might as well enjoy the ride. “He told me not to go anywhere near you."

He looked at his body stretched across the length of the couch and hers nestled atop him. “I see."

Her lips curved. “Don't gloat. It's unattractive."

"You find me incredibly attractive, or you would have never taken my blood earlier.” But his eyes sparkled with boyish humor when he said it. “Did he explain why he didn't want you close to me?"

"So you wouldn't suck all my blood out?"

He arched a skeptical eyebrow, waited.

Kate frowned.

So much for her fun.

"He said he didn't want you smelling me,” she grudgingly admitted, “or me smelling you.” She frowned because Luc had been more concerned about her getting a whiff of Garrick rather than the other way around. “He said it was too risky."

But it didn't feel dangerous.

It felt amazing.

"He did explain, then. In part.” Garrick shrugged. “Humans are drawn to mates by superficial appearances. Vampyr are not. As we mature, our faces and bodies adapt, chameleon-like, to hide us among our prey—not to appeal to mates. Our kind is attracted by smell and by taste instead. You've tasted me, which is why you find me appealing even when I gloat. I can smell my blood inside you, which is why you are driving me out of my head.” His hands moved up and down her arms, sending shivers of tingling heat up her spine. “What else did he tell you?"

Why did she feel like he was playing with her?

Because he was.

She glanced away.

"Kate?"

She didn't like this game anymore. “He said I shouldn't look into your eyes."

Garrick's finger nudged her chin, forcing her stare back to his. “And?"

She scowled at him. “He didn't say why."

"But you know. Don't you?” he said on a low purr.

She ripped her gaze from his and tried to pull away, but he held her fast.

And she found out fear wasn't beyond her, after all.

Neither was anger.

She scowled. “Stop it."

His fingers moved to caress her nape. “Males are the hunters among our kind. We develop hypnotic abilities to lure our prey to us. Though you are now physically vampyr, your mind is still very human and therefore vulnerable. But you know I haven't exerted any influence over you."

She glared at him. “If you succeeded, I wouldn't know the difference, would I?"

"You are no hapless human. You are vampyr. Of course you would sense it. But I haven't lured you to me."

"I haven't needed to."

Her eyes snapped shut.

Her insides turned to jelly.

Dear God, he could talk to her as Luc did.

Or rather as he didn't.

In her head.

"You took my blood. Only a drop, but enough to forge the link. Look at me, Kate."

"No.” She swallowed the boulder that had lodged in her throat. Her pulse rocketed. Her body shook.

Garrick could slip into her head whenever he liked.

He could know anything.

Everything.

His thumb brushed her neck in a soothing stroke. “Look at me. Please."

She shook her head, then relented when his stubborn silence stretched. “Why should I?"

"So I can apologize."

Her eyes flashed open. She gaped at him. “What?"

He simply stared, the blue of his eyes like ocean waves lapping on a sandy beach—warm, liquid, pure. “I upset you. Please forgive me."

Kate's muscles eased. The knot in her stomach unfurled, and her pulse slowed to a normal, steady thrum. “You're hypnotizing me now, aren't you?"

"Yes.” His eyes shone, irresistibly gentle. “I only wanted to show off, love. Impress you. I didn't mean to frighten you."

Curiosity overwhelmed fear. “Could I fight it?"

He reached again for her hair, playing with the ends for long moments before finally answering. “Yes."

"But I wouldn't win.” She studied the planes and angles of his face, but his carefully schooled features revealed nothing. “I could fight it, but I wouldn't win."

"Power intensifies with maturity, and few unmated males survive as long as I have."

"You won't say it, will you?” She laughed, reluctantly innervated by the display of raw power. Crap, that was hot. Psychotic. But hot.