Lion In Wait (A Paranormal Alpha Lion Romance) Page 11

  Erik laughed in an almost over-done, cartoonish way.

  “What’s so funny?” I demanded, putting my fists into the small of my back. My dress fell open, and he immediately stared at my bared curve.

  “It’s just… hump stump?” he laughed again. “I’m sorry, you know how this works. We’ve been over it a thousand times. I’m trying to figure it out. I’m trying to come up with some way that we can be together without the charade, but…”

  “But what?” I asked when he trailed off.

  “I…”

  I clicked my teeth.

  “Sorry,” he said with another laugh. “You’re just… kinda open there, you know? I have a hard time keeping myself from…”

  “From what? Come on, you big stud, at least say what you mean. Or wait.” I pulled back the tatter of a dress and looked down. He’d started stirring back to life again. I cocked an eyebrow. “Looks like someone isn’t exactly sure they’re finished.”

  He flashed another grin. “How do you do this to me all the time?”

  Erik took a step forward and grabbed one of my shoulders, spinning me around. I reached back and ran my hand along his length. As he caressed my back with his fingers, my skin prickled and tingled, and then he ran himself between my legs, against my belly.

  “Soon,” he said softly, and guided himself slowly into me after grinding for an incredible second. “Someday soon, we…” he trailed off, sighing deeply

  “I know,” I whispered, and urged him all the way. “I know.”

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  “You know, Leroy, someday you might look back and wish you’d paid attention to my rambling old-man stories instead of fiddling with that phone all the time.” Grandpa whistled and rocked back in his chair.

  He stuck his finger in the end of his pipe a couple of times then touched another match to it, blowing a big puff of sweet, vanilla-scented smoke.

  “Why not tell me a different one, grandpa?” I smacked my gum. The candy shell crunched for the first couple of chomps. Little bursts of mint filled my mouth and my nose. “If all that stuff about the wild packs of monsters running around the forests and the mountains is true, why do you only ever tell me the same story?”

  “They’re true,” he insisted, taking his pipe out of his mouth and pointing it to the horizon. “See that?” He jabbed the stem in the direction of a weird plateau jutting out. “One of them lives in a cave near the base of the mountain. Goes up there to survey the land and make sure everything’s on track. You can see him every night. Well, almost every night. He’s a little old too, but it’s different for them.”

  “So,” I said, pulling my knees up to my chin against the growing desert chill, “there’s a… would you call him a werewolf up there? If I sit out here all night, I’ll see him? This isn’t some story you just made up?”

  “Stay out here and find out,” he said. “As for me, there’s a game coming on, and I’d rather sit in there instead of out here in the wind. Anyway, when are you getting married?”

  I laughed so hard I snorted. “Married? It’s been at least a week since you asked me that, Grandpa. And just like then, I’ll say that I haven’t even thought about it.” I put my bare foot up on the table, wiggling my toes.

  “Well you should, you’re getting pretty old there, too Leroy. Just like me and Po—” he cut himself off with a draw on his pipe.

  “Grandpa,” I chuckled, “you’re the old one! Anyway, why does it matter? I’ve got my whole life in front of me. What’s the point in worrying about all that stuff now?”

  The truth was that I hadn’t stopped thinking about settling down and getting married for as long as I could remember. I guess growing up the way I did – with no one around but myself and my grandpa to rely on – made me crave stability and security. That, and I’d just never found anyone I liked enough to really get serious about.

  Except, of course, the guy who wouldn’t have anything to do with me if it required talking about subjects deeper than motorcycle repair.

  “Soul mates,” he said absently then shook his head.

  “What?” I said. “Soul mates? What are you talking about?”

  Grandpa coughed into his hand. “Well, you wanted a new story, huh? So here’s one. Wolves, they’ve all got spirit mates. Soul mates, fated lovers, whatever you want to call it. You can see them picking one another. In the pack, the alpha, he picks his mate, right?”

  I nodded, not sure where the story was going.

  “What you don’t know, and what they don’t say on those nature documentaries you watch all the time, is that they have souls. Their souls speak to each other. It isn’t random chance, or the result of a fight or anything as simple as that.” He lit his pipe again, and took another long draw before setting it down and letting it go out. “They search. Those ones that live on the bluffs, you call them werewolves, but that’s not… anyway, they search for their mates. The whole pack goes from place to place as the alpha looks for his mate.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said with a laugh. “Did you say werewolves? Those aren’t real. They’re monsters in books, movies, whatever. They’re not…”

  “Nineteen years old and knows the world, this one.” There was a hint of a tease in his voice. “They’re not werewolves. That whole business about the full moon and all that, you’re right, it’s a bunch of hogwash. But there’s something out there, and they’re certainly real. Huge men who run in packs, turning back and forth between wolf and man,” he tapped his fingernail on the side of his pipe bowl and trailed off.

  “Oh, one other thing I forgot,” he said, startling me. “They get caught. Sort of, er, stuck.”

  A look of disbelief crossed my face, and a chill down my back got me to pull my knees tighter against my chest. “Stuck?”

  “Yeah, halfway. Partly transformed. I don’t know, it never made much sense to me, and I’ve never seen one in such a state, but –”

  “Seen one?” I said. “You’ve seen these things?”

  “Never a stuck one, no. But those wolves we see sometimes? Ever wondered why they come through and then vanish? They’re looking for a mate. One of them’s looking for his soul mate.”

  “This sounds like some kind of weird destiny-prophecy stuff.”

  Grandpa reached across the table and smiled, patting my hand. “I’m old,” he said. “I’m sentimental. I’m sure it’s probably nothing.”

  But that wasn’t what the look on his face said, not at all.

  Almost on cue, a howling wind swept across our little stretch of land, kicking up a dust cloud some thirty yards away. It had a bite to it, but summer was setting in, and the desert nights stopped cooling off so much. I stared off in the distance where he pointed. The lingering, relaxing smell of his smoke followed my grandpa inside. The screen closed behind him with a long squeaking sound, then a clatter of metal on metal.

  I swept my eyes from east to west, squinting. By then, full darkness had descended. Another wind swung through, gusting then breathing softly, putting the towering radio antenna on top of the hand-built house to a gentle sway.

  Judging from the speed with which the wind came in, a storm was probably coming. Whenever it rains out here, it’s strange. We go so long without any that the ground gets too hard for the water to soak in very much, so it pounds off the cracked dirt, then pools up for a time and if there’s any left in the morning, it evaporates before it can do much. That’s storms anyway. Long, slow, patient rains, they make the desert come to life for a few short days.

  “Where are you?” I said into the darkness. “Shouldn’t you be here by now?” My gaze fell on the spire-like plateau that grandpa pointed out as his words replayed in my mind.

  There was something about it, how Carey’s Bluff just stuck out of the ground, defiant and proud. Then again, it was just a rock. A big one, sure, really big, but just a rock sticking out of the ground; there was no magic about
it, no ley-lines or whatever… vortexes. None of the stuff they talked about on the radio show grandpa listens to every night.

  Behind the plateau rose a hazy, fat moon. It was a little orange, the sort that always preceded a storm.

  A shiver rolled through me. When I looked away for a moment, to check my buzzing phone, I thought I saw a shape climb the on the edge of my vision, but when I looked back it was gone.

  Old wives’ tales and the weird, almost alien landscape went together perfectly. Although a wide ring of desert – ten miles or so – stretched past our house, it quickly turned to brush, then woods surrounding the mountain bluffs, the biggest of which was Carey’s.

  Laying my head on the table, I felt the cool metal latticework press into my skin. Cold and biting, it gave me a little bit of a shock before I relaxed. I closed my eyes and let the whistling wind and the chimes in the background of my mind carry me away.

  “What was that?” I started, first lifting my head and then standing and peering into the dark. “Someone there?”

  It was something like a howl, but not like any I’d ever heard. Coyotes aren’t rare around here, and every now and then a pack of red wolves will lope along and carry on some before moving on to better parts. I looked all along the horizon. The moon rose higher, framing the top of Carey’s Bluff in a halo of pale yellow.

  Something moved.

  I squinted, leaning forward.

  Nothing. When I stared directly, there was nothing to see. But then, the instant I looked away, to another of the rocky spires, I saw it again.

  Movement. Something was moving, and I saw it. That time, I saw it.

  But still, I couldn’t focus. It was as though something purposefully blocked my sight. A hazy circle on top of Carey’s Bluff kept my attention.

  Soul mates. The alpha has a mate that’s meant for him – and who he is meant for – and he searches far and wide until he finds her.

  The thought sent a hot wave snaking down my stomach. A brief sound pierced the night, somewhere between a cry and a screech. Briefly, I wondered if the stuff grandpa said might be true. How horrible, to be stuck partway between two lives, between two beings.

  I shivered again, a chill rattling me all the way to my core, followed by a wave of warmth when another howl pierced me straight through.

  “What is that?” I asked myself, clutching my arms around my chest. As the beast – or whatever it was – went on making that powerful, half-howl half-cry, I couldn’t help but envision the sort of mouth it must come from.

  Half a man and half a wolf, Grandpa had said.

  The images that came were horrible, but fascinating. Would this great monster be fully man, but with teeth like a wolf, and long, hard muscles like one? Or more bestial, with an elongated face and terrible teeth and dead, black eyes?

  It howled again, and that time the warmth I felt was further down, in a place that made me first smile, and then blush, hoping that no one was around to notice.

  The teeth, the claws, snapping and tearing and pulling, all took my imagination in a different direction. I imagined long, dagger-like teeth scraping my throat, then snapping shut inches from my face. Phantom claws painted a hot, red streak down my back as the beast, infuriated with lust, ripped my clothes, forcing me to the ground.

  Whoa there, cowboy. That’s certainly a different thing to imagine. There’s a bunch of wolves on a bluff and the first thing you think is about one of them ravaging you? Time to go find myself a man, I guess.

  I made a hollow laughing sound, the sort that a person makes when they want to convince themselves something is funny. Biting down on the wad of gum in my mouth, I noticed it had gotten hard with how long my mouth had hung open – apparently a whole lot longer than I realized.

  After another few seconds spent staring at the figure on the bluff’s peak and having wave after wave of goosebumps and heat on my skin, the sound seemed to grow closer. That was impossible, the bluff was twenty, maybe thirty miles from where we lived, but even so, it just felt closer, like the wolf’s voice was carrying across the distance and stroking my face.

  With that, I got up and went straight inside, fell on grandpa’s couch and wrapped myself in a red and black checked blanket so tightly that I couldn’t move.

  I was vaguely aware of his voice, calling ‘goodnight, Leroy’ from down the hall, but I was so lost in my own head that I didn’t even think to respond. It was like some kind of a trance fell upon me as I closed my eyes.

  I didn’t even want to close my eyes. They were forced down, as though something outside of me wanted me asleep.

  “They choose their mates, soul mates, and they’ll go anywhere to find them,” grandpa had said.

  A shiver went through me and when it went, my consciousness shuddered. I felt myself sailing through the air on dream-wings that took me through the desert, over the top of raspy brush, then through a maze of trees that scraped my hanging feet.

  “Open your eyes,” a distant, but strong and booming voice commanded. “Open your eyes, Lily.”

  “What am I looking for?” I replied. “I can’t see. I’m groping in the dark.”

  “Here,” the voice said as something moved under my hand. Hard, wiry fur, thick and heavy, pricked my palm and warmed my fingers. “My… my mate.”

  With that, a dark spiral slid through my vision. All sight was gone, replaced with warmth and sensation. His fur in my hand, his hot breath caressing my sweaty chest, and those hard, sharp, dangerous teeth scraping their way down my arched neck to my collarbones.

  When he moved against me, his skin on mine, his heat on me, all I could think is how badly I wanted this creature, whatever he was – beast or man, or something halfway between.

  As strange as it was, the beast’s menace ravishing me gave me no sense of fear, rather I was overwhelmed with belonging, like I had been… claimed?

  “Yes,” his voice was a whisper, but an urgent one, as he entered me in my dream. “Let me take you, let me have your everything.”

  He shuddered against me, and in the dark of night, the dead dark of night, my muscles clenched. He groaned “Lily” in a seductive, desperate voice.

  My breath quickened, my chest tightened, and the world exploded into a swirl of savage lust, uncontrollable desire. I clutched his back as he pushed against me with increasingly powerful, hard thrusts of his hips, his thickness stretching every inch of my constricting, tightening sex.

  “I… yes!” I screamed. Grabbing handfuls of the monster’s fur and feeling it melt away in my palm until my hands rested on lean, hard muscle. “I’ve never felt anything like this, like you. I can’t… oh, oh yes, I’m…!”

  As my climax shook me to the core, something bound us, holding our bodies tight against one another as he trembled. Only moments later, my legs collapsed to the ground of the bluff, but instead of hard packed dirt, I felt cushions.

  “Huhn?” I opened my eyes, looking around in the dark, rubbing away the grogginess with the back of my hands.

  For a moment, I lay in the still silence and listened to myself breathe in and out heavy, quick breaths. My clothes clinging to me, I threw back the blanket and peeled off my shirt, and my shorts, letting the overhead fan cool my skin as I massaged two sore spots deep between my legs.

  When I drifted off the second time, I had no more wild dreams, no more crazy fantasies.

  The last thing I remember before sleep completely overwhelmed me was looking out the big bay window across from the couch, through the slight part in the curtains, all the way to Carey’s Bluff.

  “My mate,” a voice that was too real to be a hallucination but too unbelievable to actually be real, said. “Not long, and we’ll be one… forever.”

  A howl somewhere far off in the distance rattled me.

  Then sleep took me, warm and safe.

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  “Doctor Appleton?” the voice called to her over the lab’s intercom. There was a slight tingle of static on the end of the words. The place was about fifty years too old to be presentable, and the fuzz on the PA was the first thing any visitor noticed.

  Jill Appleton put down the latest edition of The Fortean Times, which happened to contain a round-table discussion about whether Bigfoot was an alien, some kind of interdimensional traveler, the missing link, or just a boring, never-found creature. She’d been looking forward to this for a while. Not because she bought into it, come on – she’s a real scientist with a real degree – but because there’s something undeniably amazing about people who believe things so strongly that they’ll defend them until their dying breath.

  Even if that thing is Bigfoot being a time traveling space alien.

  Jill had her own things. Everyone does.

  “Doctor Appleton? You’re needed in the lab as soon as you can get away from whatever you’re doing. Doctor Stanton needs your help in the biology lab.”

  “Oh my God, shut up,” Jill threw her lab coat over the speaker on her desk and gritted her teeth.

  From out of nowhere, another of the flashes hit her square in the stomach.

  Deep inside, she felt a wave of warm that ran up her spine, and then a tingle of cool that prickled her body to life.

  These had been coming more and more recently, and subsequently, so had she.

  But at work? Right when she was supposed to show up for a meeting? She shook her head, trying to fight the feeling, but it was no good. Not at all.

  Without really thinking about it, she slid her hand under her skirt and flattened her palm against the soft cotton of her panties. She ground at herself, biting her lip to keep quiet. Whatever had lodged itself in her brain wasn’t going to let go of her. Maybe it was the long dry-spell? Maybe it was the immensely long hours in the lab?

  No, it was pretty much definitely the long, long dry spell.

  The walls in this place were old cinderblock, but still, if she started carrying on the way she’d been lately, that wasn’t any insurance against her screaming.