
CURSED
© copyright May 2007, Amanda Steiger Cover art by Jenny Dixon, © copyright May 2007
New Concepts Publishing Lake Park, GA 31636
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
"Don't hurt me, Miss, please." The tall, muscular young man stood with his back pressed against a tree, eyes wide in his pale face. He was clean-cut, wholesome looking, with his blond hair and round blue eyes, but Jessica knew--better than anyone--that looks meant nothing.
"Why shouldn't I?" she asked. "You were planning to hurt me."
The man tried to swallow, and she pressed the dagger harder against his throat. "I wasn't going to rape you," he said, his voice choked. "I swear."
Jessica sniffed. "You're a fool if you think I believe that. And you're even more of a fool to think you could sneak up on me. We're in the forest. There's no one else around. I could hear your clumsy footsteps rustling in the underbrush from a mile away." She narrowed her eyes, the dagger still pressed to his racing pulse. "Am I to believe that you simply wanted to say 'hello?'"
"All right!" He shut his eyes tight, shaking. "I was going to take your money. That's all, I swear."
She felt a twinge of disgust. He was a coward, perfectly willing to attack unarmed, helpless women, but pleading for mercy when the tables were turned. "Even if that's true, you still intended me harm." She allowed the hand holding her knife to transform...just a bit. Her short, neatly-tended fingernails lengthened, sharpening into claws, and sleek, silver-gray fur sprouted from her fair skin, covering the hand quickly.
The man's eyes, already wide, practically bulged with terror. "Oh God," he gasped. "You're a shifter."
Jessica smiled coolly, cruelly, allowing him a glimpse of the beast that lurked behind the human mask. She dragged the knife-tip slowly, lightly along his skin, leaving a hair-thin line of blood. Her tongue stole out slowly, licking her full lips. "That's right," she said, "so if you're thinking about making a run for it, I wouldn't. I can run further and faster than any human. So, now," she touched one sharp, curved claw to the underside of his chin, lifting his face, "What shall I do with you?"
"Quite a show, Jessica," said a full, deep voice from the shadows, and her shoulders tensed. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were a vicious, bloodthirsty animal."
She looked up. Her eyes widened, then narrowed. "This is none of your business, Richard," she said. "Go away."
A tall form stepped forward, seeming to flow from the darkness. Clad all in black, with his long, dark hair flowing down around him like a curtain of liquid silk, Richard was shadow made flesh. His pale skin was all the more striking against that darkness. "You're in my territory," he said. "Everything that goes on here is my business."
"He attacked me. It is my right to deal with the threat as I see fit."
Richard chuckled. "My dear, you were never in the slightest bit of danger. I was watching, you know. Had you needed any help, I would have been between you and your attacker in a heartbeat. But I wanted to see you in action, and you didn't disappoint me." He smiled slightly, his pale yellow-gold eyes never leaving hers. "You are a force to be reckoned with."
The man's eyes darted from Richard to Jessica. His breathing was ragged. "I wasn't going to hurt her," the man said. "Really. I just wanted...."
"Stop your whimpering," said Jessica. The man's mouth snapped shut.
"I believe he's telling the truth," said Richard. "I don't smell any lies on him. In any case, I think killing him would accomplish little. And it might put you in danger. The human authorities will come after you. I think you will agree that is an annoyance you don't need."
Jessica sighed and released the man, who broke into a stumbling run, gasping with fear, and vanished into the darkness. She sheathed her knife and let her clawed, furred right hand dwindle back to its human form. The hot rage ebbed as the beast retreated reluctantly back into the depths of her human mind, curled up, and waited, dormant but not sleeping.
"I wasn't going to kill him," she said, flicking a few strands of dark, brown hair from her face. "You know me better than that. I just wanted to give him a good scare."
"Oh, I think you did. I doubt he'll try to rob anyone again anytime soon." Richard took a step closer, his bright, inhuman eyes still studying her face. "Normally, you're much more careful about hiding your true nature," he said. "This isn't like you."
She shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest. "He's a bully," she said, "someone who preys on helpless people and takes advantage of them. People like that make me angry."
Her arms tightened around herself. "Anyway, he doesn't know my name, and it's dark enough that he probably didn't get a clear look at my face. He won't be able to tell anyone about me."
"Why have you come here, Jessica? Somehow, I don't think you just dropped by for a friendly chat." A smile curved his lips. "But you did come to see me, didn't you? There's no other reason you'd be here."
Jessica kept her face neutral, expressionless, willing any trace of emotion from her eyes.
This, she had learned, was the best way to deal with him, put up a shield, show him a cool, uncaring front. "I have business to discuss with you."
"Interesting." Richard leaned against a nearby tree. "What sort of business?"
"May we discuss this in private?"
"The middle of the woods isn't private enough for you?"
"I might have been followed by more than that man," she murmured, leaning closer. "You never know who might be listening. I want to be sure I'm truly alone with you."
His smile widened a little.
She frowned. "Don't get any ideas. I just don't want anyone overhearing this."
"As you say." He gave her a small, mocking bow. "If you want privacy, my home is the best we will find. It's protected by so many wards that nothing alive may approach me without my knowledge." At her suspicious look, he added, "If we're going to conduct business, whatever the nature, the least you could do is trust me this much. Have I ever tried to harm you?"
"No, just done everything in your power to get into my pants."
He sighed. "You know I would never force myself on a woman."
"Not force her, just bombard her with spells and glams until she can't see straight. I know how you deal with women, Richard. But I am not some weak-willed human girl. If you try anything on me, I will make you regret it."
Richard raised his eyebrows. "I assure you, my dear, I have never needed the aid of spells to win a woman. But you needn't believe me, if you consider yourself strong enough to resist my magic."
"I do," Jessica said firmly.
"Then take my hand."
She stared suspiciously at the hand held out to her, and slowly took it. Richard's warm fingers curled around hers, holding her hand firmly. There was a jolt. For a moment, everything went black, and there was a sense of floating in some cold, impossibly vast emptiness, like outer space, but devoid even of stars ... and then, suddenly, they were standing in a huge room with wood floors and wood paneling on the walls. Jessica's eyelids fluttered as she looked around, disoriented. A fire blazed in the hearth. Round, glass lamps, with flickering flames inside, hung from the ceiling on gold cords. All light in Richard's home came from flame. He seemed to feel that electricity ruined the ambiance.
"You could have warned me you were going to do that," she said, and released his hand, rubbing her arms. Her skin prickled.
"Are you all right, my dear?"
"I'm fine. And don't call me 'dear,'" she said.
She felt his hand on her arm, warm against her chilled flesh. "My apologies. Are you sure you're all right? You look a bit shaken."
She averted her eyes. "It just surprised me. That's all." She didn't want to admit to him how much she hated using the Void to travel, how much that cold emptiness unnerved her.
The fact that he could do it unnerved her even more. It was a rare and powerful person who could safely travel the Void.
"Sit," he said, pulling out an armchair. It was upholstered in sleek, black fur. An animal or one of Richard's former enemies, she couldn't say. "I'll bring you some wine."
"That won't be necessary."
"I insist. You are my guest, after all." Richard left the room. As always, he didn't seem to walk so much as glide along on his long, lean legs.
Jessica sighed and sank deeper into the chair. She was tired, and her insides ached. Trying to hide her pain from Richard had been a strain. She knew that he had a keen mind-gift, among other abilities, so if she let her guard down too much, he would pick up on what she was feeling. But she didn't trust him enough to let him know just how bad her situation was.
Trust him or not, he might be her only hope.
She closed her eyes and allowed herself a moment's relaxation, basking in the fire's heat, cushioned by the softness of the chair. She felt a light touch on her shoulder and gave a start, eyes flying open. She found herself staring at a silver chalice a few inches from her nose. Straightening, she took it in one hand. "Thank you," she murmured, but didn't drink.
She was very conscious of Richard's presence nearby, the warmth radiating from his large body. Did he really have to stand so close?
"You're not dressed for the weather," Richard remarked, sitting in the chair across from hers. "Shouldn't you have a jacket, at least?"
Jessica glanced down at her clothes. She wore a simple white blouse and faded jeans. "I left in a hurry," she said, shrugging. "Why so concerned?"
"Simply curious," he said, and sipped his own wine. "Why do you not drink? Do you think I would try to drug you?" He chuckled. "My reputation must truly be awful. I'm almost flattered. People make me out to be far more dangerous than I really am."
"Your reputation, if you must know," she said, "is that you're a flighty fool who wastes his vast fortune and considerable power on wine and women. Also, that you're about as trustworthy as a hungry fox asking a chicken to dinner."
"And yet you're here," he said, "prepared to ask me for help, if I'm not mistaken. Either you don't believe the rumors, or you're very desperate." His smile was suddenly gone, his eyes keen and penetrating once again.
Jessica swallowed. Those eyes had power. The pupils were obsidian ovals ringed by pale yellow fire, animal eyes, but filled with a very human intelligence. "I don't believe you're a fool," she said. "I believe that's the mask you wear. I don't know exactly what you're hiding, but I think you're considerably more dangerous, and more powerful, than anyone gives you credit for."
He sipped his wine. "So then, Jessica, why have you come to me?"
She lowered her eyes. "I...." She stopped, suddenly, flinching, her fingers tightening slightly on the silver chalice.
He leaned forward. "Are you all right?"
She shut her eyes tightly. The chalice slipped from her fingers and struck the floor with a ringing, metallic clatter.
"Answer me, Jessica." He gripped her chin gently between a thumb and forefinger and lifted her face. "Open your eyes."
When she didn't obey immediately, she felt the tug of compulsion at her mind. Her eyes sprang open, and she found herself staring into Richard's. The world was spinning around her. Only his eyes remained still, anchoring her in place. "It hurts," she gasped. She doubled over, crying out at the burning pain in her middle. Shutting her eyes, she pressed a hand to her stomach, struggling to breathe. The fiery pain spread outward, into her lungs, her heart. Jessica swallowed, fighting to regain control, fighting to keep from screaming.
She raised trembling fingers to her forehead and felt a warm hand encircle her wrist. She could feel Richard's breath on her neck.
Almost immediately, the pain began to dim. He was inside her mind. She felt him there, blocking the pain, shielding her from it. At any other time, the invasion would have frightened her. She was aware of how vulnerable she was like this, open to him completely. Now, though, she was grateful. Anything, to escape the pain.
"How long have you been feeling this?" he asked softly.
She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "It comes and goes," she murmured.
"Someone has laid a curse on you." He phrased it as a statement, not a question.
Jessica lowered her eyes and nodded. There was no point in denying it. Their people were immune to disease. A curse was the only possible explanation.
"Tell me who it was." His grip on her wrist tightened. "I will find him."
Jessica shook her head. "I must kill him myself. I came here to ask you for something else."
"Tell me who it was."
"I don't know," she said sharply. "Let me speak. And take your hand off me, please."
He glanced down at his hand, then slowly relaxed his grip. She could still feel the warmth of his fingers lingering on her skin, as if he had left a brand on her. "Speak, then," he said quietly.
"Whoever it was," said Jessica, "he cast a spell on me to obscure the memory of the incident. I recall it only dimly, like something seen in a dream. When I try to focus, there is a splitting pain in my head. I must remember and find him before this curse claims my life."
"You believe it will kill you?"
"The pain grows worse every day. It's like hot wire twisting around my insides." She averted her eyes. "There has been blood."
She heard his soft intake of breath. "Let me try to undo the curse, first," he said. "Then we'll hunt him down."
She shook her head. "This is no ordinary curse," she said. "If you try to undo it, it will only hasten my death."
"There must be a way."
"There is. But it can only be undone by the one who inflicted it. I must find him and force him to remove the curse." She met his eyes. "I must," she said firmly. "I don't need help."
"Then why seek me out?"
"As I said, he cast a spell to make me forget. I have my suspicions, but until I know who is responsible, I cannot act. I have little time to waste. There is no room for mistakes. I know that your mind-gift is strong. I came here to ask you...."
"If I would undo the spell," he finished.
Jessica nodded. "I would owe you a favor," she said. "I'm aware of that."
He raised his eyebrows slightly. "You would be willing to bind yourself to me with debt?"
"I have no choice," she said. "There is no one else who can do it."
For a moment, Richard was silent. "You're aware," he said quietly, "that I would have to enter your mind."
"Yes. I'm aware."
"You are comfortable with this?"
"No. But it is my only chance." She stared at the floor. "Please." It hurt to speak the word.
Her throat resisted, tightening, but she forced it out. "I have no one else to turn to."
Richard was silent a long moment. "I understand," he said at last. He touched her chin lightly, lifting her face, his yellow eyes looking deep into hers. She felt the strength of his mind-gift emanating from those eyes in waves. A light shiver ran through her. Most people were not inclined to take Richard seriously, but she had a feeling that if those people could taste his power, they would think differently. She felt her muscles going limp, relaxed, but her body didn't move, and her eyes didn't leave Richard's. There seemed to be nothing in the world except those eyes. Everything else faded away into darkness, but the yellow eyes remained, floating like twin moons. They pulled her in, drawing her closer, swallowing her in yellow fire.
A part of her instinctively tensed, resisting. The sensation was too much like drowning, a frightening loss of control, a sense of being overwhelmed by another mind. Her breathing and heartbeat quickened, and she tried to look away, but she couldn't. A small whimper escaped her throat.
Just relax. The voice seemed to be in her head and ears at the same time. There is nothing to fear, Jessica. Relax.
The voice was deep, rich, and smooth. It washed over her like the ocean. Her fears, her resistance, dissolved as she relinquished the last of her control, surrendered to the spell of Richard's eyes. For a moment, she felt as if she were floating. It was an almost ecstatic feeling, a feeling of total freedom. And then there was only darkness.
When she woke, she was in a bed, on dark red sheets, surrounded by red silk pillows. The room was dimly lit. Candles flickered on the small table beside the bed. Richard sat beside the bed, hands folded together. Reflected firelight danced in his eyes. "Don't try to move," he said. "Just rest."
Jessica tried to sit up, and a wave of dizziness washed over her. She sank back to the bed with a small moan.
"Told you not to move."
"Why do I feel so weak?" Her words emerged thick and slurred. Her lips felt oddly numb.
"Have you done something to me?"
"Simply what you asked. I removed the spell. You should be able to remember, now, but don't try, just yet. Rest."
Her brow furrowed. "Why? What's wrong with me?"
"The spell was woven very tightly into the fabric of your mind. Removing it was a delicate operation. I fear that if you put any strain on yourself right now, you will end up with a splitting headache." He reached down to brush a few strands of hair from her brow.
A part of her wanted to protest, but it felt oddly pleasant. His fingertips were warm, gentle against her skin. "Do you need anything?"
"Water, please," she murmured.
Richard lifted a tall glass of water from the nearby table. Sliding a hand beneath her neck, he lifted her head and held the rim of the glass to her lips. Cool water trickled into her mouth, down her throat.
When she'd finished drinking, he carefully let her head slide back to the pillow. "Rest," he urged.
Her eyes felt heavy, and the bed was soft and warm. She tried to hold her eyes open, but the lids kept drooping, until at last, she surrendered and let herself sink once again into sleep.
---------
Richard sat beside the bed, gazing down into Jessica's sleeping face. He touched it lightly, fingertips tracing the soft curve of her cheek. Her eyes were closed, the lashes dark crescents on her pale cheeks, her soft, full lips parted slightly. He tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear, then forced himself to pull his hand back.
He had wanted her for so long. To have her here now, so vulnerable, in his own bed, was an exercise in resisting temptation. Everything inside him burned with the need for her.
Involuntarily, his eyes wandered down the length of her body, over her full breasts, straining slightly against the blouse with each breath, down the length of her slim waist, to the juncture between her legs, outlined by tight denim. He wanted to unbutton those jeans, to slide them off her slim, smooth legs. He wanted to possess all the secrets of her body.
With all his willpower, he forced himself to turn away. He rose from his chair and walked out of the room, but the memory of her face and body lingered in his mind.
Whoever had hurt her, he would see him dead.
---------
Jessica woke slowly. Her eyes opened, and she looked around the unfamiliar bedroom with growing alarm. For a moment, she had no memory of where she was or how she had gotten there. Her mind was a frightening blank. Then the incidents of last night rushed back. She exhaled a soft, shuddering breath and closed her eyes.
The spell had been removed. If she focused, now, she should be able to remember. She had wanted for so long to remember, to reclaim the piece of her mind that her attacker had stolen from her. But now, she found, she was afraid. Whatever had happened to her that night, it had been horrible. She was sure of that. Remembering it would be painful. But it wasn't in her nature to hide from anything for long.
She took a deep breath, remembering....
---------
Jessica stared into her bathroom mirror as she applied blood-red lipstick to her mouth and pressed her lips together. That done, she opened her contact lens container and removed one of the tiny plastic circles. Her vision was fine. She needed the contact lenses in order to hide what she truly was. Naturally, her eyes were a pale amber gold. Not strange enough to immediately give away her nature, but the color was rare enough among humans that it attracted too much attention. It made people remember her.
She applied the contacts, blinking several times, and when she looked into the mirror again her eyes were an ordinary, human brown.
Of course, where she was going, such disguises didn't matter, but there was always the chance that she might encounter humans on the way there. Always better to be cautious.
There were too many humans who didn't like her kind.
Her heart beat quickly, and there was a ball of tension in her stomach. She would have preferred not to leave her apartment tonight, but she had no choice. She was performing at the Cat's Cradle. She would only have to hope she didn't run into Victor. Among the shape-shifting clans, word traveled quickly. By now, he surely knew it was she who had killed his brother. Words like 'self-defense' didn't make any difference to a man like Victor.
Jessica took a deep breath and smoothed her sleek, scarlet dress. Only then did it occur to her that wearing a blood-colored dress was, perhaps, not the best choice, but it was too late for her to change. A glance at the bathroom clock told her she had to be at the Cradle in half an hour. She slipped into the black, snug-fitting leather boots waiting for her outside the bathroom door and laced them up. Grabbing her purse and umbrella, she left the apartment.
It was raining outside, and the night smelled fresh and cold. The moon and stars were hidden by clouds. Raindrops rattled on the top of her umbrella as she walked across the lot to her car and got in.
As she drove, she stared silently through the windshield, listening to the hypnotic swish---
swish of the wipers. In the rain, the city was a wash of gray, scattered with blurry spots of light. Ahead, she saw the club's neon sign, the words Cat's Cradle splashed across the darkness in bright blue cursive. Beneath the sign was a black door, the door to the city's most private, exclusive club, a club with a carefully selected membership. It was a place where humans and shape-shifters could mingle, where ordinary people could enjoy the spectacle of transformation and magic. It was also one of the few places where a shifter like her could find permanent employment. Most employers quickly found an excuse to get rid of her once they learned her true nature.
She pulled into the private lot behind the club, got out of the car and circled around to the front entrance. She knocked, and the door opened.
The man who greeted her with a sharp-toothed smile was none other than the club's owner, Richard Strykes. As usual, he looked stunning, his black hair sleek and shining, falling to his shoulders in soft waves. Along with his usual all-black ensemble, he wore a cape with a red, silk-lined interior. It would have looked absurd on anyone else, but he pulled it off, somehow.
Jessica averted her eyes. She had hoped he wouldn't be here tonight.
Richard made a sweeping bow. "Miss Jessica," he said, still smiling. "A pleasure, as always." He reached for her hand, bending over slightly, as if to kiss it, but she pulled her hand back before his fingers could touch it.
"Good evening," she said.
"You could cool molten lava with your voice tonight, my dear. Have I done something to offend?"
She brushed past him, stepping into the club. "I'm here to perform tonight, Richard. That's all," she said.
"But of course," he said. "You're on with Bruce, just after the Swan Sisters. They'll be starting in a few minutes. Why don't you have a seat and enjoy the show?"
Jessica nodded without looking at him. That, she had decided, was the only way to deal with Richard, to place herself behind a wall of ice that he couldn't break through. She knew, all too well, what would happen if she let him get under her skin. He would woo her with relentless charm, use her, and cast her aside, as he had so many others.
She walked deeper into the club, looking around. The Cat's Cradle was softly lit with blue---
tinged lights that bathed everything in an otherworldly glow. The walls were draped in soft, black curtains, and the floor was lustrous, black stone tile. One half of the large room was occupied by round tables, their tops the same black stone as the floor. The room's other half was taken up by a stage and dance floor. Currently, the stage was empty, the backstage area hidden by more velvety black curtains.
People milled about on the dance-floor area, talking and laughing. Others were seated at the tables, sipping drinks. Many of them moved with the liquid, inhuman grace innate to shape-shifters. Jessica's eyes flitted from face to face as she seated herself at an empty table. Sometimes, as a sort of game, she tried to identify by sight what the animal self of a particular shifter was. When they were in human form, it wasn't always easy to tell, but there were clues.
She saw a long-legged, willowy woman in a dark brown dress, with sandy brown hair and large, liquid brown eyes. Her movements were quick and restive. She stood on the dance floor, a glass in one hand, her eyes wide and watchful.
White-tailed deer, Jessica decided.
There was a man who sat alone at a table, observing everything. His brows were black, bold slashes, drawn together in a frown over sharp, piercing dark eyes. His shoulders were slightly hunched, giving the impression of wings drawn close to his back.
Hawk, thought Jessica.
There was another man, grinning ear to ear and leaning back in his chair, his eyes bright and sly.
Jackal.
"Ladies and gentlebeasts!" boomed Richard's voice. He had appeared on the stage, seemingly by magic, though Jessica knew it was only his skill for moving quickly and silently. He swept his arm out, smiling. "If I may have your attention for a moment, our show is about to begin. Do have a seat, and give a warm welcome to the lovely Swan Sisters, Cecilia and Sandra!" There was a thundering of applause as he stepped off the stage with a flourish of his cape. The lights went dark, and a spotlight fell on the empty stage. The black curtains parted, just enough for a slender, white arm to slip through, followed by a woman of such exquisite and fragile loveliness she seemed made of glass.
Another, nearly identical woman followed close behind.
The Swan Sisters moved gracefully across the stage, dressed all in white, with plumes of downy feathers trailing from their dresses--long, sleek, snow-white dresses which began at the waist, leaving their upper bodies and small, pert breasts exposed. The nipples were pale pink, like their lips.
Even if their clothes hadn't made it obvious, it would not have been difficult to see what their animal selves were. Their necks were long and slender, their skin milky white, their hair a washed-out, pale gold. They did not seem to walk so much as glide. And, like swans, they possessed an aloof loveliness that suggested they were too pure to be looked upon by mortal eyes. They moved in perfect rhythm, as if they were one entity separated into two bodies.
The music started, a violin concerto, sweet and pure. The Swan Sisters began to dance, their movements slow and languid, as if they were in a trance. In the spotlight, they seemed to glow like otherworldly creatures. One--Cecilia or Sandra, Jessica couldn't tell them apart--reached out to caress the other's face. Their eyes locked briefly, then they broke apart again, gliding and dancing around each other, eyes closed, as if they were lost in a private rapture.
The music suddenly turned ominous, shifting to a minor key. A dark, wiry form crept out from behind the curtains, pushing the velvety folds aside. Jessica's shoulders tensed and her breath caught in her throat.
It was Victor. The Black Fox was dressed all in snugly-fitting dark leather, from his boots to his gloves. His lank, shoulder-length hair was tied back in a tight queue, and his face was hidden beneath a molded, black fox-mask, but even so, she had no doubt it was him.
He crept toward the Swan Sisters, who appeared not to notice him. Pausing, he turned to the audience and lifted a finger to the muzzle of his mask. A few ripples of nervous laughter swept through the crowd.
One of the Swan Sisters turned. Her eyes widened, and she opened her mouth in a silent shriek, hands flying to her face. Victor pounced and seized her. She struggled, her small, white hands beating against him, as he gripped her throat.
Her fear seemed so real. Jessica watched, unable to draw a breath.
She felt a touch on her shoulder, and gave a start. She looked up to see Richard standing beside her. "It's only a show," he said.
Jessica stared at him for a moment then looked back at the stage where the swan was still struggling in Victor's grip. Her sister cried out silently, reaching for her. The captive swan thrust a hand out toward her, fingers spread, eyes wide and desperate. She seemed to be screaming, without words, for her sister to run, to save herself. Weeping, the free Swan Sister turned and spread her arms. There was a writhing, a rippling of flesh. Clothes fell to the stage, and snowy white feathers burst from her skin. The audience gasped and ooh-ed appreciatively as a swan flew offstage, vanishing from sight, leaving the second sister in Victor's clutches.
With one black-gloved hand, Victor caressed the young woman's face. The dark eye-holes of his mask seemed to stare deep into her wide, terrified eyes. Her breasts heaved with each gasping breath.
The violins rose to a crescendo as Victor pushed her to the ground. One hand gripped her slender wrists, pinning them together, while the other hand squeezed her throat. He ripped off his mask, and his human face contorted and stretched, becoming the grinning face of a black fox, looking unnatural and frightening atop his human body. He licked his lips and hunched over his prey.
With a final crash of strings, the music died, and the stage went dark. Applause filled the club. When the lights returned, the stage was empty. The crowd went back to talking and milling as they waited for the next act.
Jessica sat stiffly in her chair, heart pounding.
"My dear," said a low voice, "you are trembling."
She glanced up. Richard was still standing there, his face neutral. "I'm fine," said Jessica.
Richard leaned close. His lips moved closer to her ear as he whispered, "Victor will not harm you."
"I am not afraid of him. What makes you think I am?"
"I was watching you at the moment he came onstage. You did an admirable job of keeping your expression blank, but your perfume can't quite mask the smell of fear, not to a nose as sensitive as mine."
Jessica clenched her jaw. She hated him for being right, and for seeing through all her carefully constructed masks. "Why should it matter to you?" she asked.
"Jessica." His voice was low, almost a whisper. "No one faults you for Vincent's death. He was eaten up with madness. He attacked you. You acted only to preserve your own life. Victor knows that."
Her teeth pressed into her lower lip.
"He would not dare harm you," said Richard. "He knows that if he so much as lays a hand on you, I'll cut off his balls and string them up to dry. Besides, he is weaker than you."
"Are you so sure?" she whispered.
"Victor has always been weak. He is cunning, but he has no true courage or power. If I thought he was a threat, I would not allow him to set foot in this building."
Jessica drew in a slow breath. "I know. And I know that it's not fair to assume that just because Vincent was cruel and mad, that his brother will be the same. But there is something about him, something unspeakably loathsome. I can't even describe it."
"I don't like him either. He's a prick." Richard's mouth twitched in a faint smile. "But he draws in the crowds. And, as you said, he is not like Vincent. He does not share his brother's madness, or his thirst for blood."
"It felt very real. The act, I mean."
"That's why he and the sisters are so popular. It's not exciting if it doesn't appear real. The audience wants something that feels dangerous, something to make their pulses quicken. But I assure you, it's all farce. A spectacle. Look." He pointed. Jessica followed his gaze and saw the Swan Sisters talking to a third woman. All of them were laughing gaily. "Do they seem frightened?"
The tension eased from Jessica's shoulders. She felt suddenly foolish. "You're right," she murmured. "I'm a little edgy tonight, that's all."
"Understandable. This is, after all, the first time you've been to the club since the incident with Vincent. But rest assured, when you are within these walls, you have nothing to fear." He grinned. "Now, my lovely creature...." He touched her chin, lifting it. "You have an act to perform. You're not going to keep your audience waiting, are you?" His thumb brushed her lower lip.
The touch sent a surprising tingle of pleasure down her spine. Irritated that he could elicit such a reaction from her against her will, Jessica frowned and pushed his hand away.
"How many times, Richard," she said, "have I asked you not to touch me without my permission?"
"Probably quite a few. I haven't been keeping track."
She made an exasperated sound in her throat and stood. Every time she started to like him, to think there was more to him than the irresponsible playboy that everyone saw, he retreated behind his usual smirking arrogance. She was a fool to expect more out of him.
He could not respect her. A man like Richard respected no one, least of all himself.
Without looking at him, she strode across the room and through the door that led to the dressing room behind the stage. It was small and dimly lit, the only furniture a wooden stool and a dresser with a tarnished mirror.
Bruce was already waiting there. He was a large man, solid and stocky, with thick, bushy brows and skin almost as dark as his eyes. She had worked with him before. He gave her a small nod of greeting, which she returned.
Jessica faced the mirror and carefully removed the contact lenses from her eyes. She placed the lenses in their small, plastic holder, which she then tucked into her purse, and set the purse on the dresser. Looking up at the mirror, she stared into her eyes, no longer a deep brown, but rings of yellow-amber fire. Wolf's eyes. The eyes which had set her apart her whole life, even before she discovered what she was. The eyes that had gotten her mercilessly teased every day at school, until she learned to start hiding them, as she hid her true nature from the entire human world.
Jessica took a deep breath. She undid the buttons of her dress and let it slip to the floor.
Her undergarments quickly joined it. She stood naked, goose-bumps on her flesh, nipples erect in the cool air. It was necessary to strip down, in order to avoid ripping her dress when she transformed. She couldn't afford to go through that many dresses.
"Are you ready?" asked Bruce. He was already naked. His smooth, dark, muscular body appeared to be sculpted from stone.
"I'm ready," said Jessica. Her heart was pounding. The Swan Sisters' act, she knew, had been only a teaser, something to whet the audience's appetite. She and Bruce were the main act.
As she watched, he turned and strode toward the curtains. Sweeping them aside with one hand, he stepped onto the stage. Jessica watched, pulling the curtains aside just enough to peer out without being seen. Bruce stood, facing the audience, and raised his arms, hands fisted, as he unleashed a deep, thunderous roar. The audience cheered. Bruce dropped to all fours and threw his head back, back arching as he transformed. Tawny fur swept over his skin. A long, tufted tail sprouted from his spine, and a thick, reddish mane grew to cover his head and neck. The lion lifted his head and roared again, fearless and ferocious, the very image of savage virility.
Jessica stepped out, moving in swift, delicate steps. Her heart pounded. The sudden glare of the spotlight nearly blinded her. The faces in the audience were a blur. She'd done this act countless times before, but still, the moment when she stepped onto the stage, in front of all those staring eyes, was always nerve-wracking. She wasn't a natural performer. To expose herself and her powers like this went against all her instincts.
Taking a deep breath, Jessica lifted her arms, mimicking Bruce's motions. She opened her mouth and relaxed her consciousness, letting the beast rise within her. What emerged from her throat was not a human sound, but a low, sonorous howl, clear and full.
She felt the beast within her like a separate being, struggling to break free from the confines of her humanity. She let the last of her control slip away, and the beast filled her, consumed her from inside out.
There was always some pain when she transformed. Skin rippled and stretched, muscles tore apart and rearranged themselves, bones crackled and realigned. She felt the pain only dimly, though, through the ecstasy of becoming another creature, feeling the incredible energy of the shift pouring through every fiber of her being.
When the transformation was over, a sleek gray wolf stood in Jessica's place, facing the lion. Bruce's velvet muzzle wrinkled, baring long, sharp fangs as he roared at her again, a sound that seemed to shake the whole room. The two predators circled each other, slowly, warily. A heavy drumbeat started up, emanating from hidden speakers. Jessica felt the rhythm vibrating in the hollows of her bones, felt her heartbeat quickening to match it. She felt something moving through her, a pulsing energy. It seemed to circle around the room, from her to Bruce to the audience, and back to her again. It was Richard, she knew. It was his mind-gift, moving through everyone, drawing them into the spell, into the mock-battle between the two creatures on stage. He was hypnotizing all of them.
She'd been held in this spell before--it was all part of the act--but she never quite got used to the feeling. It was like being in a dream. Nothing felt quite real, and yet, all her senses were heightened. Everything was unnaturally crisp and clear, from Bruce's whiskers to the sound of the audience members' breathing.
The drumbeat quickened. Jessica leapt. Bruce reared up on his hind legs and swung one huge paw. It cannoned into her chest, knocking her aside. She crashed into the wall and fell to the stage. It was a controlled fall, but it looked real, and the audience gasped.
Jessica rose and leapt again. The drums had reached a feverish pace. The lion and wolf circled, snarled, darted and snapped, teeth clashing together like steel traps. He knocked her down again, with a swipe of his paw. As he leaned over to finish the kill, Jessica buried her teeth in his throat ... or appeared to, rather. Her jaws closed harmlessly over the thick fluff of his mane, but Bruce let out a low, rumbling groan and sank to the stage, where he lay motionless, a tawny bulk. Jessica climbed atop him and howled.
Applause thundered as the stage went dark. Jessica and Bruce retreated behind the curtains.
They transformed and quickly dressed. Bruce wiped sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. Jessica stood facing the mirror, pulling the strap of her dress over her shoulder and buttoning up the front.
Bruce chuckled. "Don't know why I'm always the loser. Maybe one of these days, you'll let me kill you for a change."
Jessica forced a small laugh. She found herself thinking of the swan girl, struggling in Victor's arms. Why did there always have to be death? Was that all the audience ever wanted?
Looking into the mirror, she applied her contact lenses, drowning out the yellow fire in her eyes. "Bruce?" she said suddenly. "Does it ever bother you?"
"Hmm?"
"The shows, I mean. Putting ourselves out there in front of the humans and making a spectacle of ourselves. Aren't we just feeding their perception of us as monsters?"
"Don't get political on me now," said Bruce. "It's just a show. They know it isn't real."
"Yes, but...." She sighed. "Never mind. I'm just in a strange mood tonight."
"Don't worry about it." He gave her shoulder a brief, friendly clap. "See you tomorrow."
He left the room.
Jessica stood a moment longer, staring into the mirror. She felt suddenly cold and rubbed her arms. The back of her neck tingled, as if she were being watched.
"Quite a performance," said a raspy voice.
She gave a small gasp and whirled around. Victor stood behind her, still in his black fox-mask. She could see nothing within the dark eye-holes. "Victor, I ... I didn't hear you come in," she said. Her eyes darted back and forth. "Listen, I really can't stay."
His hand darted out, gripping her wrist. She tensed. "Let go of me."
"We need to have a little talk, you and I," he said. She saw the gleam of a knife in his hand.
She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound emerged. It was as if a ghostly hand had wrapped itself around her vocal chords and squeezed, cutting off her voice. Jessica's eyes widened. She tried to pull away, but a cold tendril of power slipped into her brain, and suddenly, she was paralyzed, frozen in place. Her heart thundered in her chest.
"Surprised?" Victor's voice rasped. He chuckled. "I've grown more powerful since my brother's death. More powerful than you or anyone else can imagine." He leaned closer.
His eyes glinted, deep within the dark openings in the mask. The sharp, cold tip of a knife caressed her cheek. "I'm inside your mind," he whispered. "You're completely within my power." The knife slid down to her throat, resting against her rapid pulse. "You're frightened, aren't you? Good." Behind the mask, his breathing quickened. "Do you know, she-wolf, that Vincent was the only person I ever loved? How do you suppose I felt when I learned he had died by the hand of a cowardly bitch?"
Through her fear, Jessica felt a hot stab of anger. She narrowed her eyes and tried to speak, but no sound emerged.
The knife-tip poked her throat, not quite hard enough to break the skin. "I could kill you right now. It would be so easy. But a quick death would be too good for you. No. I want to make sure you suffer. And oh, how you'll suffer." He began to whisper words in another language, a strange, dark, silken tongue. Jessica felt cold tendrils of magic wrapping around her, binding her. They pierced her skin, and she gasped as the spell snaked through her body and coiled around her heart. Pain, sharp and penetrating, shot through her. It was unbearable, like white-hot needles shooting through every nerve. She wanted to scream, but only a faint whimper escaped her throat.
Victor's laughter echoed in her ears as the pain dragged her down into darkness.
---------
Jessica blinked and looked around the dressing room. She was sitting in the chair in front of the mirror, alone. What had happened? A moment ago, she'd been talking to Bruce, and then a blank, as if she had fallen asleep for a few minutes. Jessica touched her forehead.
"Must be tired," she murmured. She'd been daydreaming for a moment. That was all.
"Jessica?"
She gave a start and looked up. Richard stood in the door to the dressing room.
She stood quickly. "You shouldn't come in here without knocking."
"I apologize," he said, and for once, he sounded sincere. "I just wanted to check on you. Is everything all right?"
She blinked. The concern in his voice seemed so real. "Of course," she said. "Why wouldn't it be?"
"I thought I heard ... never mind." He was staring at her so strangely, his eyes intent, searching her face. She felt a flush rising into her cheeks. "You did an excellent job tonight, my dear. Your performance was very convincing."
Jessica nodded, too preoccupied to reply. She felt odd.
Richard frowned. "Are you sure you're all right?"
"Yes. I'm sure," she said, though she wasn't.
He took a step closer. "Has Victor been in here?"
She looked up, her brow furrowed. "No," she said. "Why?"
The tension eased out of his shoulders. "I just wondered. Go home and rest, my dear. You look exhausted."
---------
Shortly after, Jessica stared out the rain-smeared windshield, listening to the wipers flick back and forth as she drove back to her apartment. A sudden, sharp pain in her stomach made her gasp. She pulled over to the side of the road and doubled over, gasping, one hand pressed to her stomach. The pain faded slowly. When she raised her hand, her eyes widened in horror. Blood glistened on her palm. She looked down and saw a spreading, dark stain, blood soaking through her dress. With shaking fingers, she undid three buttons, exposing her stomach. There was no wound, but her skin was smeared with blood. As she watched, more of it welled up from her pores like sweat, shining crimson beads. A small, frightened moan escaped her throat. A wave of dizziness and nausea washed over her, and she slumped forward, her forehead resting against the cool, plastic steering wheel. Tears filled her eyes.
This was no disease. This was a curse. Someone wanted her dead.
Jessica's eyes opened slowly as she surfaced from the memories, and found herself once again in the bedroom of Richard's mansion. "Victor," she whispered. Her hands curled into tight fists, the nails biting into her palms. So it had been Victor, after all. But how had he gotten so powerful so quickly? It seemed impossible. It took years, sometimes decades, to master the dark arts.
Of course, to a man consumed by madness and a feverish desire for vengeance, perhaps no feat was impossible. He might have sold his soul to a demon for greater power. Men did such things, when they were desperate or eaten up with hatred, though it was something no sane person would consider.
She heard footsteps, and tensed. The door creaked open, and Richard peered in. "Ah. You're awake." He entered, carrying a silver chalice.
Slowly, she sat up, propping herself up on one arm. She still felt slightly weak, but no longer dizzy.
Richard sat on the edge of the bed. "Drink this." He pressed the cup into her hands.
"What is it?"
"An herbal mixture. It will give you strength."
She sipped the hot drink. It tasted faintly bitter, but it wasn't wholly unpleasant.
"Richard...." Her hands tightened on the cup. "I remember."
He looked at her, his expression unreadable. He waited, silent.
"It was Victor," she said. "The Black Fox."
Richard's eyes narrowed. "Him? No, it cannot be. He wouldn't have the power to perform a curse like this."
"I remember clearly," said Jessica. "He came to me in the dressing room after the show, still wearing his mask. I could not mistake his voice."
Richard drew in a slow breath. "And I told you he was not to be feared," he murmured.
His hand, resting on the bed, curled slowly into a fist. "I should have foreseen that he would seek his revenge on you. How could I have been so blind?"
"You could not have known."
He shook his head. "I should have been more cautious. I should have anticipated this. I have been a fool." Jessica realized, with surprise, that he was shaking. "Let me find him, Jessica. I will force him to undo the curse."
"I couldn't ask that of you. It is not your place."
He stared deep into her eyes. "I cannot allow you to risk your life when I am the one responsible for your condition. Victor overpowered you once. What makes you think he cannot do so again?"
"This time I would be prepared," she said.
"No. If he had the power to cast a spell like this, he is too dangerous for you to confront."
"And you think you can?" asked Jessica. "You think yourself so much stronger than me?"
She pulled her hand away. "No, Richard. And I won't allow you to take responsibility for this. You couldn't have been expected to know what that weak, cowardly creature was capable of, any better than I could. I intend to deal with this myself."
His eyes flashed with anger. "You're a little fool."
She tensed. "And you're an overbearing, arrogant...."
"If you face Victor alone, you will die. At the very least, let me accompany you. He might be a match for one of us, but not for the two of us together."
"And what will you claim as your payment?" she asked, eyes narrowed.
"What do you mean?"
"I already owe you a favor for undoing the spell on my mind. This will put me in even greater debt to you. Don't you think I know the code of our people? All such debts must be repaid. And the manner of payment will be of your choosing." She took a deep breath.
"I know what you want of me, Richard."
"That is not the manner in which I would choose to acquire it," he said.
"Are you saying you won't claim repayment for the debt?"
"As I said, I bear a certain amount of responsibility for what happened to you. There will be no debt. Not for this, nor for the help I've given you so far."
She was silent.
"Say yes, Jessica," he said quietly, but firmly. "If you don't, I will find some other way to protect you. I cannot bear the thought of you facing Victor alone."
Jessica was silent, staring into space. At last, she nodded. "Very well. I pray I will not regret this."
Richard took her hand and squeezed it. Jessica blinked in surprise at the gesture. "We must leave as soon as possible," said Richard. "We have no time to waste. But you're still weak. Undoing that memory-obstruction spell took a great deal out of both of us, I'm afraid, and a full night's rest would do wonders. I think it would be best if we waited until tomorrow to seek out Victor."
"Yes. I believe you're right."
"In the meantime, let me bring you something to eat. I made some soup while you slept."
"Thank you. I would like that."
Richard rose and left the room.
Jessica sighed softly and sank into the bed, staring at the ceiling. There were moments when she desperately wanted to trust him. But after being betrayed by a series of men, starting with her father, who had abandoned her soon after her mother's death, she was not inclined to trust so easily again, especially not someone with a reputation like Richard's. If the rumors were true, he'd slept with half the females in the shape-shifting community, and quite a few humans, as well. He simply wanted to add her to his long list of conquests.
She rolled onto her side, facing the wall, and drew her knees up to her chest. A memory flashed through her head, a memory of Victor's masked face, his breath rasping softly behind the black muzzle, as he held a knife to her throat. Shivering slightly, she pulled the covers tighter around herself.
"Are you all right, Jessica?" asked Richard.
Jessica gave a start and looked up. He stood, holding a bowl. Steam rose from within, and the smell--shellfish--made Jessica's mouth water. "I'm fine," she said quickly.
"You don't lie very convincingly," said Richard, pulling up a chair to sit beside her. He set the bowl on the table next to her bed. "You always look away."
Jessica's shoulders tensed. "What do you want me to say?" Defiantly, she raised her eyes and looked straight into his. "Fine. I'm scared. Is that what you want to hear? I am afraid of this curse, and afraid of what I must do, but that doesn't change anything. I have to confront him."
Richard sighed. "Eat," he said.
Jessica picked up the bowl and lifted a spoonful of the thick, chunky soup to her lips. She blew on it lightly before slipping it into her mouth. Richard watched, hands folded in front of him, as she ate. "It's good," she admitted.
He smiled slightly, showing a glint of sharp teeth between his lips. "You see? I'm good for some things, after all." He reached out to touch her cheek, but she pulled away.
"I warn you, Richard, if you start your foolish games with me, I'll leave. I won't take up your offer of help if you're going to abuse it."
"Why do you pull away every time I reach out to you? Have I ever harmed you?"
"No, but that isn't the point."
"Then what is? Why do you resist me so?"
"Why do you assume that every woman you meet is so enamored with you that she'll fling her legs open after a few token compliments?"
"You desire me." He stated it simply, without arrogance, as one would state a self-evident fact. His face was open, his gaze direct. "As I desire you. Yet you have always kept your distance. I wonder about your reasons, that's all. You are not a woman to be frightened of anything, least of all her own desires."
Her hand tightened on her spoon. "All right," she said, "you have a pretty face, and a body to match. It means nothing. I'm not like you. I can't share my bed with someone without sharing some of my heart, as well, and that is not something I do lightly."
"And if I told you that you already have my heart?"
His words sent a small shiver through her, but she ignored the feeling. "I wouldn't believe it. If it were true, you wouldn't sleep with any silly girl who caught your fancy."
He hesitated. "The situation is more complicated than you might imagine."
She frowned. "What are you talking about? Is your reputation not true? Have you not slept with countless other women? They say your lovers number into the hundreds. Do you deny that?"
"I don't know. I lost count a long time ago."
She wondered how he could speak those words without a hint of shame. Her disgust flooded back. "Then how can you claim to care for me?" she demanded.
"There are things about me you don't know," he said. "For now, that is all I will say. This isn't the time for lengthy explanations. Finish your stew."
She hesitated, then dipped the spoon back into the bowl and resumed eating. She surprised herself by finishing it within minutes. She hadn't realized just how famished she was. Setting the bowl aside, she leaned back, her eyelids growing heavy. "Suddenly I'm so sleepy," she murmured.
"Rest. Don't fight it."
She looked up at him. "You didn't drug the stew, did you?" There was a hint of real fear in her voice.
"Your opinion of me must truly be low. No, I did not drug you, Jessica. You're simply tired. Sleep. You will be safe here, I promise you."
Jessica surrendered, letting her eyes slip shut. Sleep claimed her within moments.
Night. Jessica was running through the forest, branches scratching at her bare arms and face. Behind her, Vincent's mad laughter echoed. He was gaining on her. There was no way she would be able to outrun him. She had no choice but to fight. Panting, Jessica whirled around and stood, fingers arched like claws. Her dress was torn and bloody, her feet aching, but the beast roared to life within her. Long, curved claws sprouted from her fingertips, and her teeth grew into fangs.
Vincent burst into the clearing, grinning madly. He was in his hybrid shape, a towering, naked man-fox, his muscled form bristling with reddish-brown fur, his huge phallus dark and erect. His yellow eyes gleamed with crazed hunger. He licked his lips and took a step closer. "What a pretty morsel," he said. His voice was thick and garbled, half a purr and half a growl. A ribbon of drool hung from his lower lip, shining in the moonlight. "There's nothing I love more than the sight of a proud bitch trembling in fear." He took another step closer. Leaves crunched under his clawed toes.
"Come no closer!" cried Jessica. "I'll kill you if I have to."
Vincent threw back his head and cackled like a hyena. "You? Kill me?"
"I mean it!"
"Then try," he hissed.
Jessica flowed into wolf form and growled, the fur on her back rising. She leapt, jaws aimed for his throat. At the same moment, Vincent lunged at her, his jaws gaping. She saw his throat, red and gleaming with saliva, his teeth, sharp and white....
---------
Jessica woke with a strangled gasp. She looked around, her eyes wide and wild, her heart thundering in her chest.
A hand touched her shoulder, and she almost shrieked, managing to swallow the sound at the last moment and save herself a great indignity. It was only Richard, of course. She looked up at him, tense. "You startled me!"
"I apologize," he said. "I heard your cries. You were having a nightmare."
She took a deep breath. "Yes. Yes, it was ... well, it's not important." She twisted a few strands of hair around her fingers, then quickly let her hand drop to her side. It was an old, girlish habit she had broken herself of years ago, but it still occasionally surfaced when she was feeling especially uncertain. She didn't like Richard seeing her in such a vulnerable state.
When she looked up, however, she saw only concern in his yellow-gold eyes. "Do you need anything?" he asked.
She turned away. It would be easy, all too easy, to succumb to that gentle voice. She wondered if this was just another ploy of his. But maybe she was being unfair to him?
Maybe she had really misunderstood him, all this time? "No," she said softly. "Thank you. I'll be all right." She laid her head on the pillow, facing away from him.
Richard drew the covers over her. Quietly, he left the room.
Jessica lay awake for a long time, staring at the wall. The horror of the nightmare was still fresh in her mind, making her reluctant to surrender to sleep, but fatigue slowly weighed down her eyelids, and she felt herself carried away by gentle currents into the darkness.
The last thing she thought of, before drifting off, was Richard's face.
There were no more dreams that night.
---------
Jessica woke feeling refreshed. She sat up, stretching, and yawned. Though the room had no windows, she sensed it was morning. Pushing aside the covers, she slid out of bed and stood, brushing a few strands of hair from her face.
A fresh set of clothes had been draped over the chair nearby. She changed quickly into the loose-fitting jeans and white blouse. Where Richard had gotten the clothes or how he'd known her size was something she didn't care to guess. He even knows my preferences, she thought. Jessica usually preferred loose, simple, comfortable garments. The cotton shirt was cool and soft against her body.
Barefoot, she left the bedroom and walked down the hall, looking around. A few turns took her to the large entrance hall where Richard had first brought her. He was there, sitting in the large, fur-upholstered chair by the hearth, dressed in a long-sleeved silk shirt with an open collar, dark slacks, and dark slippers.
"Do you ever wear casual clothes?" she asked. "You look as if you're dressed for a dinner party."
He smiled. "These are my pajamas. Would you like some coffee?"
"You have a coffee-maker?"
"Of course. I don't avoid modern conveniences completely, you know. I just don't believe in becoming dependent on them."
"Then yes, I would like some coffee." After a moment, she added, "Thank you."
He rose. "Wait here," he said. "Have a seat, if you like." He walked out of the room with his usual oiled, graceful stride, the stride of a stalking cat.
It occurred to her that in all her years of knowing him, she had never seen Richard's animal form. She had always assumed he was feline, perhaps a jaguar or a puma, but she had never asked him. Unlike many shifters, he chose to spend most of his time in human form. She wondered why.
Jessica sat down in the huge armchair. It was warm, and still smelled faintly of Richard, a warm, clean, male smell.
He returned carrying a white mug filled with steaming coffee. "You take it black, do you not?" he asked.
"Yes," she said, surprised. "How do you know?"
"Well, you have been working for me for quite awhile, after all. I would have to be very unobservant not to have learned some things about you." He handed her the mug.
She took it from him, blew the steam away, and sipped it.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
"Good," she said. "Much better than I did last night, anyway." She knew, however, that the sense of well-being would not last. The pain awaited her. It was always just around the corner, lurking, like some dark, shadowy beast waiting to ambush her when she least expected it, and each wave was worst than the last. How long, she wondered, before it grew so intense that it rendered her unconscious, and then...?
She pushed the thoughts firmly from her mind. She would not allow herself to dwell on her fear. Fear would paralyze her. She needed to act, or she truly was doomed.
She rubbed her forehead with two fingertips and took another sip of her coffee, hoping the warmth would chase away some of the coldness inside her, the memory of Victor's voice, so filled with hate.
She heard Richard moving, felt him behind her. He touched her shoulder lightly, then her cheek, his fingertips spots of warmth against her cool skin. She closed her eyes. She should push his hand away, she knew. She shouldn't encourage him. But she was too tired to fight him right now. She wanted warmth, touch, reassurance. She wanted someone to lean on. It bothered her that Richard could make her feel that longing, but maybe she was just so lonely that she would take it from anyone.
Yet she knew that wasn't true. She had denied herself comfort many times, denied herself the chance to get close to someone, fearing the consequences, fearing betrayal. She had pushed others away so many times. Most wolf shifters chose to live in packs, like their wild brethren, but Jessica had always been alone, telling herself it was because she preferred the independence. But the truth was she didn't dare let anyone into her heart.
How had he slipped past her defenses? How had he weakened her like this?
"You don't have to face this alone, Jessica," Richard said quietly. His hand cupped her face, his palm warm and rough against her cheek.
She felt tears welling in her eyes, and quickly closed them, taking a deep breath.
"Richard...."
"Let me help you," he said. "You've been fighting your own demons for so long. For once, let someone else fight them for you."
She raised her chin to look him in the eye. "I don't need someone to protect me," she said.
"I've been taking care of myself for most of my life."
"I know. I am well aware of your strength." His thumb lightly touched her lower lip. She flushed, and told herself that it was anger at his impudence. "But you are not invincible," he said. "Everyone needs protection sometimes. And not just protection, but warmth, intimacy. The very things you deny yourself time and again."
His eyes were warm, almost molten, as he looked into hers, his thumb still resting against her full lower lip, a warm, steady pressure. Slowly, he began to stroke her lip, the hard, calloused pad moving slowly back and forth across her soft flesh. Her breath caught in her throat at the gentle friction of his skin against hers. Heat pooled in her middle, and she pressed her thighs together. Wetness tickled her folds.
She closed her eyes as his thumb trailed lower, tracing the curve of her small chin, then finding the pulse in her throat. She tried to speak, to tell him to stop, but no words would emerge. She couldn't bring herself to push him away. Not this time. Her pulse fluttered beneath his thumb like a trapped butterfly.
"You are so beautiful," he said, and his voice was soft and husky with emotion. It seemed so real. Did she dare to believe that it was real? "So beautiful and so alone. You act so strong, try to hide your true needs from the world. Why? Who has hurt you, Jessica?"
She drew in her breath slowly, wondering how much she dared reveal. "It's a long story," she said softly. She kept her eyes closed, knowing how easily Richard could read her emotions in them. "It doesn't matter, anyway."
"I think it matters. It's caused you to shut yourself away from the world. Not just men, but everyone." She felt him lean closer. "Open your eyes, Jessica."
The command was iron wrapped in velvet. Slowly, almost involuntarily, her lids lifted.
His yellow eyes stared into hers. They seemed to penetrate deep into her mind, bypassing her defenses with ease, seeing her naked soul, her fears and desires. Her tongue crept out to wet her lips. "Richard...." Even shaping his name with her lips felt somehow intimate, as if she were touching a part of him.
His fingers pressed lightly against the underside of her chin, lifting it. She could feel their shape against her skin, burning into her, like a painless brand. "You want to be touched," he said softly.
"Yes," she whispered. The word left her without her permission. It rose from somewhere deep within her, as if it had been waiting to escape. "God help me, I do want it, but...."
She trailed off, unwilling to say the words out loud, to admit that she was afraid. Yet somehow, she felt that he knew.
He took the cup of coffee from her trembling hand and set it aside. He loomed over her, dark and broad-shouldered, yet it wasn't his physical size or strength that frightened her, but the power he held over her heart--a power she had never intended to give him. His eyes were warm, infinitely gentle, yet at the same time, they held her as firmly as a physical grip. His fingers brushed her cheek again. He leaned closer, and his mouth found hers. Her lips quivered slightly as his pressed against them, gently at first, then firmly. His hand moved to her wrist, fingers closing around it. Those two points of contact--the pressure of his hand on her wrist, and his lips against hers--tingled throughout her entire body. She all but melted into the armchair. A soft, plaintive moan escaped her.
Somewhere deep within, she felt exasperated at her own reaction. She was no silly, naïve girl, so why was she letting herself melt into a puddle over a single kiss? Yet she couldn't ignore her body's reaction.
Richard pulled back, looking into her eyes. His free hand settled on her thigh. She felt its shape through her jeans. Her lashes fluttered as she panted softly. Her nipples had hardened to aching peaks. She wanted his hand between her legs. The desire, the need, was unbearably sharp, a throbbing point of heat. The intensity of it frightened her.
"Richard," she whispered. "Don't." It took all her strength just to force that simple word from her mouth.
He met her eyes. "You don't want this?" he asked softly.
Her teeth clenched. To say no would be a lie. She wanted it more than she could ever remember wanting anything--or at least, her body did. But her mind whirled in protest, cried out that it was happening too fast. "I can't," she said. "Not now. This is happening too quickly." She pushed a lock of loose hair from her face and looked up at him, still breathing hard, her eyes begging him to understand.
His hand left her thigh, and she felt a rush of relief, accompanied incongruously with a sharp pang of regret.
Richard looked away so that a curtain of dark, silk-thin hair fell across his face, hiding his eyes. "We are shifters, Jessica," he said quietly. "We need the touch of our own kind, even more than humans do. It is not good for you to deny your body what it clearly needs."
She frowned, her rational mind reasserting itself, now that he wasn't distracting her with those all too knowing hands. "Interesting logic," she said. "You make it sound as if you're doing something selfless for me. Sex isn't a need, Richard, and we both know that that's what this is really about. That's where it's bound to lead us."
"You think sex is not a need?" he asked. He looked at her, raising an eyebrow.
She sat up straighter. "Of course it isn't. I've lived without it for quite awhile, and I'm healthy enough," she said sharply.
"There are different types of needs," said Richard. "One can exist without touch, without pleasure, but it takes its toll. Especially for us. We are of the animal world as well as the human, remember. We have human intelligence, but our instincts still rule us. You know as well as I do that our needs can be very insistent, almost overwhelming."
She drew in her breath and closed her eyes. Her heart was pounding. His voice was deep, soft, convincing. It seemed to caress her physically, like silk trailing across her skin. When she met his eyes, she felt the power behind them. Was he manipulating her thoughts? She knew how powerful he was, how skilled. He could probably do it. She touched her temple lightly and averted her eyes.
"I am not within your mind right now, Jessica. What do I have to say or do to make you trust that I would never use my power on you for such a sordid purpose?"
"If you're not," she said, "how did you know what I was thinking about?"
"Well, you are rather easy to read, my dear."
She sat up straighter. "I am not!"
A slight smile curved his lips. "Not to most people, perhaps, but I have watched you for a long time. I've learned to read your eyes, your face, your body. I never need to use my powers with you." He leaned closer. The hint of teasing had vanished from his face. "We will face Victor very soon," he said, "and that will be dangerous. Will you not allow yourself some pleasure and release before you face him? I am a very skilled lover. I can make your body sing in ways you've never imagined."
She almost laughed, pressing a hand to her mouth to hide a smile as she shook her head.
There was not a modest bone in his body. "You're very persistent," she said. "I've told you, Richard, I can't share my body without sharing my heart, as well. Perhaps as a male, you can't fully understand this, but it is very intimate to allow someone else inside your body."
He brushed a few strands of hair from her forehead and leaned even closer, until his lips almost brushed her ear. "We don't have to join that way yet, if you'd rather not," he said.
"There are other ways I can give you pleasure."
His breath was warm against her ear, her neck. She felt her resolve beginning to weaken, felt a sweet melting sensation within her, a spreading warmth. She wondered again if he could be using his power on her, making her feel these things, but she knew in her heart that he wasn't. It didn't feel like a lie, like a trick, though it might have been easier in some ways to believe that it was. The feelings rose up from somewhere deep within her, from a long-buried need to abandon herself to pleasure. Just once, just for a little while, she wanted to forget her fears, to relax her guards and simply feel. She wet her lips and slipped a hand around the back of his neck. "I'm a fool," she whispered.
His arms surrounded her, lifting her.
"My legs still work," she protested.
He only smiled as he carried her to the bedroom and laid her gently on the bed. For a moment, he simply looked down at her, his eyes moving over her face, her breasts, lingering on the juncture between her thighs. Heat rose into her cheeks. Just the way he was looking at her felt so intimate, as if his gaze was a tangible thing, roaming gently over that sensitive flesh.
"Relax," he said softly.
Jessica wet her lips again. How could she relax when her whole body was on fire? "I'll try," she said.
She had never looked so beautiful.
Her hair was fanned out on the pillow, shining softly, her cheeks flushed, her full, soft lips parted. The musky, warm spice of arousal drifted from her pores, but her desire would have been obvious to him even without his keen sense of smell. Her hard nipples thrust against the thin fabric of her blouse, and her eyes were soft and half-lidded, pools of liquid amber-gold.
He unbuttoned her blouse slowly, letting it fall open, revealing her round, full, soft breasts.
The nipples were a rosy pink. He rubbed a thumb slowly around one, and then gently pinched it between a thumb and forefinger. A soft, gasping moan escaped her. Leaning down, he trailed kisses slowly down her neck, over the swell of her breast, down her heaving belly. Then, slowly, he began to undo the buttons of her jeans. He slid them down, freeing her long, slim legs, and dropped them to the floor. Lightly, he traced a circle on her pale thigh with one fingertip, marveling at the softness of her skin. It was like satin.
Her panties were already wet, and clung to the contours of her sex. He touched one finger lightly to that tantalizing crease, then slid his hand beneath the elastic waist of her panties and pulled them down, exposing her. Rather than human hair, her mound was covered with a fine, velvety layer of silvery-white fur--a hint of her true nature, like her yellow eyes. Her outer lips were plump and moist with desire, like a ripe peach waiting to be eaten.
Very lightly, he traced her warm, wet furrow with a fingertip, starting at the bottom and moving slowly up. He could see her tiny, pink clit poking out from beneath its hood. The pad of his finger brushed over it, and she moaned, soft and low in her throat, a deep, primal sound. He smiled. Exquisite, he thought, like a little bud of velvet. He wanted to take it into his mouth, to suck it and tease it with the tip of his tongue, but he knew that she was very sensitive. Too much stimulation could easily hurt her. Better to take this slowly, cautiously.
With his thumbs, he parted the lips of her sex, exposing the delicate pink folds within. He stared into her, as if he could claim her with his eyes alone. His fingertip teased the silken opening to her sex, assuring him that she was wet and ready. Then he pressed inside.
He felt her body moving, writhing against the sheets as he probed carefully within her, exploring the smooth, slick flesh, until his fingertip encountered a series of tiny ridges deep inside her. He pressed gently, and she let out a gasp. Her long, dark lashes fluttered.
"Oh." The word escaped her in a faint whisper.
As his finger moved inside her, the pad of his thumb grazed the protruding nub of her clitoris, teasing it, caressing it. It had darkened from pink to a deep, rosy hue. He brushed it again, then covered it with his thumb and pressed lightly. At the same time, he brought his fingertip more firmly against that secret spot inside her, stimulating her two pleasure centers. Her breathing grew faster and harder. Her fingers dug into the sheets, clutching them tight as her body arched upward. The walls of her sex seemed to ripple and shudder, then clenched tight. Her body arched again, sharply, her back lifting off the bed, then she went limp, panting softly, her skin glistening with beads of sweat. Her eyes were unfocused, dreamy.
He withdrew his fingers from her, licked them clean, tasting her hot essence. His own cock was hard and throbbing, straining against his trousers, but he did his best to ignore it.
Without a word, he gathered her into his arms and kissed her parted lips.
"Richard," she whispered. "That was...."
"I told you I was skilled," he said, with a slight smile. "Did I lie?"
"No," she breathed, and smiled back.
"I can do much better," he said. "I will, one day, if you will allow me. I can use my powers to enhance the pleasure you feel."
He felt her tense slightly. She was nervous at the idea of allowing anyone else inside her mind, he knew. "I would not do it without your permission," he assured her softly.
"I know," she whispered. "Thank you."
He held her close for a moment, and she didn't pull away. She relaxed against him, slipping her slender arms around his waist, resting her head against his chest, accepting the warmth and closeness she had denied herself for so long. A soft sigh escaped from between her lips, and her eyes closed.
His lips brushed her temple, her cheek. Her skin was so soft, so smooth. His hand slid down her back, over the curve of her bottom, her thigh. He had wanted to touch her like this for so long. He had dreamed, fantasized about it. His hands moved over her body possessively, almost greedily, memorizing every contour, yet at the same time, he felt strangely humbled that she would allow him to touch her in such intimate ways--this woman, so reluctant to let down her guard, to allow herself to feel, had given him access to the secrets of her body. His arms tightened slightly around her.
She yawned. "I shouldn't feel so drowsy," she murmured. "I had a full night's sleep. I...."
She gasped suddenly. A shuddering spasm gripped her body.
"Jessica, what's wrong?"
"It hurts," she gasped. "The curse...." She clenched her jaws, eyes shut tight as another spasm shook her. Gasping, trembling, she twisted in his arms. Sweat beaded on her brow.
Tears ran down her cheeks.
He gripped her chin between a thumb and forefinger and lifted her face, looking into her pain-clouded amber eyes. "Let me take the pain from you," he whispered.
She managed a slight nod. A fresh tear spilled over her lashes, down her cheek.
He entered her mind. There was a slight resistance, a push, but he slipped past it easily. He felt her pain, her fear, felt it as if it were his own. He had learned, through years of practice, to hold his own thoughts and feelings separate when he entered the mind of another. It could be a dangerous thing, submerging oneself in another person's being, especially if their emotions were intense. He had to maintain a strong grip on his own identity. He held firmly to it now as he moved within her mind, like fog. Locating the pain centers of her brain, he switched them off, one by one.
She went limp against him, breathing hard. Her eyes were dazed.
Gently, he cupped her face with his hand, his thumb stroking her cheek. "Are you all right?" he asked softly.
"I think so," she whispered. She took a deep breath, as if gathering her strength. "What did you do?"
"Simply dulled the pain," he said. "It is not true healing, but it is the best I can do, for now."
"It's amazing," she murmured.
"My powers can be useful things," he agreed. He looked down at Jessica's stomach, where blood had welled up from the pores. It ran down her skin in dark rivulets. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped the worst of it away. "Stay here," he murmured.
He left the room and returned shortly with a bowl of water and a cloth. Gently, he cleaned away the rest of the blood.
Jessica lay in bed, her eyes half-closed. "I feel weak, Richard."
"Rest, then." He smoothed her hair back from her forehead, buttoned up her shirt and tucked the covers around her. "You are safe here. Just rest."
Her eyelids flickered, struggling to stay open. With two fingers, he gently pulled them closed. "Sleep," he said softly. "Release your worries. Release your thoughts. Let yourself be at peace. Sleep." His voice had taken on a rhythmic quality, like a chant. He repeated the phrases into her ear, letting them wash over her mind, pulling her deeper into the realm of sleep, until her breathing and heartbeat slowed. When she seemed to be fully asleep, he looked briefly into her mind, checking her brainwaves, to be certain. Slowly, he stood.
She would remain like this for the rest of the day, in a deep sleep, where the pain of the curse could not reach her. He had ensured it, slipping a subtle but powerful command into her subconscious as he spoke to her.
It was a manipulation, he knew, a betrayal of her trust. But he needed her to sleep.
Turning, Richard strode out of the room, down the hall. His footsteps echoed sharply.
He had told her that they would face Victor together, but he knew he could not allow it.
She was weak from the curse, and he knew that this particular curse also gave Victor a certain amount of control over her. Besides, it was his responsibility, his error. He had allowed that creature into his club, thinking, in his arrogance, that Victor could not possibly outsmart him, could not be powerful or cunning enough to do any real harm. Yet Victor had fooled him. Richard had even scanned his mind that night to ensure that Victor had no plans to harm Jessica, but somehow, Victor had hidden his true thoughts. How had he become so strong?
No matter. Richard would find him, bring him here and force him to undo the curse. And if he refused....
Richard's fingers twitched and curled into fists, his lips peeling back from sharp teeth.
Victor would not refuse. Richard would not allow it.
He flung the front doors open and stepped out into the daylight. A ripple of energy passed through his form as he shifted. His clothes dissolved into thin air. Muscles stretched, changing, as glossy, dark fur spread over his form. A long tail lashed. When the transformation was complete, an enormous tiger stood in front of Richard's home, a tiger with mahogany fur so dark that the black stripes were almost invisible against it, a tiger with powerful, solid muscles and burning golden eyes.
He bounded into the forest, paws propelling him forward, seeming to barely touch the ground as his long, sleek body cut through the dense vegetation like a knife. He cast his mind out like a net, searching. Almost at once, he located and recognized the patterns of Victor's thoughts. A hazy picture swam into his mind--a woman, huddled at the foot of a tree, her blonde hair in disarray as she stared up with wide, terrified eyes. She brought one hand up, as if to shield herself. A shadow fell over her, a shadow with pointed ears.
A growl rippled from Richard's throat.
Victor was in his feral form, and he was hunting. Hunting humans. Victor was becoming more and more like his mad brother every day.
Richard bounded through the forest, silent as mist, despite his enormous size. He focused his power, and blackness surrounded him as he leapt into the Void. For a moment, there was a total blankness, an absence of all sensation. Then he rematerialized in another part of the forest. His paws touched the ground, and he was off running again. He knew he would be too late to stop Victor from killing the human woman, whoever she was, but he could make sure that the black fox never harmed anyone again.
Victor's heavy, rank smell reached Richard's nose. He was close.
Richard slowed down, creeping through the forest, head low, nostrils flaring. His lips wrinkled back from long, sharp teeth as Victor came into view. He stood in the clearing, a black fox, unnaturally large, bigger than most dogs, with thick, coarse fur and a long, narrow snout. He was eating something, smacking loudly, licking his lips. The salty, hot smell of human blood filled Richard's nose. Victor was eating his victim.
Deliberately, Richard allowed Victor to feel his presence, like a cold fog creeping over him. Victor shivered and raised his head, looking around uneasily. His eyes were yellow, and jagged teeth protruded from his upper lip. Froth and blood dripped from his mouth.
"Who's there?" he called out, his voice thick and distorted by a muzzle not made to pronounce the words. "Come out where I can see you." He turned to face Richard, eyes narrowed.
Richard leapt with deadly grace and speed. He swung one huge paw, knocking Victor's head back, then pinned the fox to the ground with his greater weight, one paw pressed to his throat. Victor twisted and snapped beneath him, eyes bulging. Foam, tinted pink with blood, bubbled from the corners of his mouth. At last, having exhausted himself, Victor lay still, panting. He began to shift, fur receding, his body shrinking until a pale man lay at Richard's feet, his face twisted with hatred. "What do you want, Richard?" he demanded.
Richard shifted, as well. His clothes materialized around him. Over time, he had learned to absorb them into himself when he shifted to animal form, and to bring them back when he returned to his human shape. "I know what you did to Jessica," he said coldly.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
With his power, Richard lashed into Victor's mind. The man screamed and twisted, curling into a fetal ball. He swung wildly, and his sharp, ragged nails clawed Richard's cheek, leaving bloody scratches. Richard gripped Victor's throat. "I see the truth in your mind," he said, his voice a low snarl. "Do you think you can hide it from me? You may have grown stronger, but your power will never be a match for mine. You've done a monstrous thing. You're coming back with me, and you're going to undo the curse."
Victor's eyes narrowed. "She killed my brother."
"She was defending herself from a deranged lunatic."
"He wouldn't have attacked her if she was minding her own business."
Richard's grip tightened. Victor clawed at his hands, his face contorting in pain. "What are you talking about?" Richard asked, his voice low and dangerous.
"Vincent was hunting," Victor gasped out. "She tried to stand between him and his prey. She interfered where she had no right to!"
"And what was his prey?"
"What does it matter?"
"Was he hunting humans?"
"What if he was? They are nothing but vermin. They have always hated and feared our kind, always sought to destroy us. Yet our law protects them!" His eyes glowed with feverish rage. "It's madness! We have every right to kill them!"
Richard flung Victor through the air like a rag doll. His body struck a tree, and he slid down. He crouched on his hands and knees, teeth bared as Richard loomed over him.
"You will come with me now," said Richard, pouring every ounce of his power into the command. "I'm through wasting time with you. You will accompany me back to my home, and you will remove the curse on Jessica. After that, I will decide what is to be done with you."
For a moment, Victor's eyes started to glaze over. Then he shook his head, hard. With a snarl, he flung himself at Richard. His fingers contorted and lengthened into long, sharp claws which raked at Richard's chest and face, narrowly missing his eyes.
The claw-cuts burned and stung, but Richard didn't pull back. He wrapped his hands around Victor's throat and began to squeeze. Victor let out a low, choking growl, glaring at Richard, his eyes ablaze with crazed fury.
This was going to be more difficult than he'd thought. Victor was resisting his mind control, somehow--and Richard knew he couldn't risk killing him. Victor was the only one who could undo the curse. He had to fight more carefully than he was accustomed to. If he'd wanted, he could have simply crushed Victor's throat in his hands, but he dared not squeeze too hard. He applied a bit more pressure, trying to subdue the struggling man.
At last, Victor's thrashing grew weaker. He went limp in Richard's hands, mouth open and gasping.
Richard was breathing hard, his hair in disarray, sweat trickling down his neck and back.
"You will accompany me back to my home," he said again, his voice a low growl. "You will not fight me." His power seeped into Victor's foggy mind. For a moment, he began to struggle again, but then the power took effect, and the movement stopped. His eyes stared dully.
Richard dropped him to the ground. Victor didn't try to struggle or fight. He stood slowly, arms hanging at his sides, head lowered, breathing noisily through his mouth. His lank, greasy black hair hung around his face, hiding his eyes from view. His throat was red where Richard's hands had squeezed.
Richard began to walk, and Victor crept along in front of him, shoulders hunched and head low.
Victor glared over his shoulder, eyes narrowed. They were still dull, but not entirely blank.
"Why should you want to protect that murderous bitch, anyway?"
Richard clenched one hand into a fist, nails biting into his palm. It took every ounce of his self-control not to snap Victor's scrawny neck. He reminded himself firmly that Victor was necessary--for a little while longer, anyway. "Jessica is not a murderer," he said, his voice low and steady. "She is a brave woman who risked her own life to protect an innocent. Unlike you and your brother, Jessica does not enjoy killing. She does it only when she needs to, and even then, with great regret. You are not worthy to kiss her feet."
Grabbing Victor by the back of his neck, he hoisted him into the air. "Do you understand that?" he asked, staring hard into Victor's yellow eyes.
Victor twisted in Richard's grip. Naked, pale and dirty, he reminded Richard of a snail pulled from its shell. His lips were flecked with foam and spittle, his eyes burning, and his teeth showed sharp and white. "You can force me to come with you," he said, "but you can't force me to undo the curse. I won't." His face twisted into an ugly grin. "Torture me, kill me if you like. I don't care. My revenge is all I have left, and I won't let you take it from me."
Richard felt a twinge of revulsion, and something else, something almost like pity. It was not something he wanted to feel toward Jessica's attacker, but Victor was so eaten up by madness and obsession, there was almost nothing left of him. Whatever pity he felt, though, was swallowed up by a black cloud of rage. "Oh, you will undo the curse," he said, his voice deceptively low and soft. "Make no mistake about it. I will not leave you any choice."
Victor's eyes narrowed to slits. He hissed and lashed out, fingers curled like claws, nails growing into long, hooked talons. Richard jerked his head back to avoid the swipe. "Be still!" he snapped.
"You're too late," said Victor.
"What do you mean by that?" Richard demanded.
In his mind, Richard heard a scream. It was a woman's scream.
It was Jessica's.
He felt her come suddenly awake. He felt the jolt of hot pain that tore through her body, her fear, her nausea. She cried out his name.
"Jessica," he whispered, and felt a pang of fear.
Victor laughed, a cold, hard, ugly sound.
Richard's fingers tightened around his neck. Victor was doing this to her. Somehow, through the curse, he was connected to Jessica, had some sort of power over her. He was hurting her.
Rage boiled up in Richard, hot and powerful, a rage unlike anything he'd ever felt. He raised one hand. The nail of his forefinger lengthened and sharpened into a bright, silvery talon. He pressed it against Victor's cheek. "Stop," he said through clenched teeth, "or I'll cut you apart, one piece at a time." Slowly, he drew the talon downward, leaving a bright line of blood.
Victor just laughed again, a gasping, choking laugh.
Richard's heart pounded. In his mind, Jessica screamed again. A flash, and suddenly, he was seeing through her eyes, seeing her palm covered with blood--her blood--saw the sheets stained red, saw more blood seeping through the front of her shirt. He felt her racing heartbeat, her dizzying terror as another convulsion of pain wracked her. She doubled up, gagging, tasting hot, coppery blood in her mouth.
"No!" Richard cried, his voice ragged. He whirled Victor around and slammed him, hard, against a tree. Victor kept laughing, wheezing, his eyes rolling. Saliva dribbled from one corner of his mouth.
Richard's mind raced as his heart slammed against the wall of his chest. Jessica's life was in the hands of a madman, a raving beast who could not be reasoned with, could not be threatened or coerced, a beast that didn't even care if he died as long as he took her with him. He felt sick, furious, helpless. His body trembled with the force of his wild, dark anger as he seized Victor's wrist and bent it backwards until the bones snapped. Victor, unbelievably, just kept laughing, as if he didn't feel the pain.
He had cast some spell on himself, thought Richard--that had to be it. He had somehow numbed himself to pain, so that he could not be tortured into undoing the curse. In desperation, Richard seized and snapped his other wrist. "Release her!" he shouted into Victor's face.
Victor sniggered and shook his head. His tongue darted out to lick his wet lips. "I feel her fear," he gasped out. "I taste it. It's delicious."
"You twisted, depraved...."
"You can kill me," he said, "but if you do, she dies with me. We are linked. I've anchored myself into her mind, deep, deep down, where even you can't dig me out. I've won!"
Desperate, Richard did the only thing he could think of. He gave Victor a hard, mental shove into unconsciousness. Victor went limp, eyes rolling back.
In his mind, Jessica's screams faded into tiny, frightened whimpers. She lay in sheets wet with her own blood. Her clothes were soaked with it. Waves of pain and nausea still rolled through her. He felt every emotion and physical sensation as if it were his own.
"Hold on, Jessica." He whispered the words, both aloud and inside her mind. "I'm coming. I won't leave you alone."
I'll be all right, she sent, though her thoughts were clouded with pain.
A painful spasm gripped his heart. She was hurting so much, yet still, she sought to reassure him.
Richard crouched by Victor's unconscious form, his mind racing. How to get him back to the mansion? Carrying him the entire way would be awkward and slow, regardless of which form he took, and he couldn't travel through the Void, not with an unconscious person. Victor would be left behind here, or lost in the nothingness, and Richard could not afford to lose him when Jessica's life depended on it.
Richard closed his eyes and reached out with his mind until he located a familiar pattern of thoughts. Trevor, he sent, I need your help.
Where are you? Trevor asked. That was what Richard liked about Trevor. In an emergency, he didn't waste time.
Richard sent Trevor a bird's eye image of his location, based on what he knew of the surroundings. Then, as quickly as he could, he explained the situation--not in words, but in an instantaneous flash of pictures and emotions, replaying his own memories of discovering Victor's treachery and finding him crouched over the dead human woman.
He is the only one who can undo Jessica's curse, Richard sent. I must get him back to the mansion as quickly as possible.
Right, sent Trevor. I'll be there as soon as I can.
Richard waited, pacing. He wished he had some ropes to bind Victor with. With two broken wrists, Victor probably wouldn't have much fight left in him, but with a lunatic like the black fox, it was difficult to be sure--especially when he seemed to have no sense of pain.
He reached out for Jessica's mind again, but he couldn't feel it. Had she fallen unconscious, passed out with exhaustion? Or was something else blocking him?
He heard the steady, rhythmic flap of enormous wings. Looking up, he saw a dark shadow overhead, blocking out the moon, a shadow with spread wings. It was bigger than an eagle, bigger than any living species of bird. It was a gigantic raven, with jet-black, glossy feathers, a yellow beak like a sword, and sharp, splayed claws.
The claws closed around Victor, easily encircling his limp form. Trevor beat his wings, lifting Victor into the sky.
Richard shifted back into cat-form and ran through the forest, following the great, black shape in the air. Normally, on those few, rare occasions he shifted to animal form, he reveled in the sense of power, the strength surging through his limbs, the enhanced senses of smell and hearing which made the forest come alive.
Now, however, he could think only of Jessica. He reached out for her again. Still nothing.
Fear squeezed his heart with a cold hand. Even if she was asleep, he should still be able to perceive her. Either she was deeply unconscious, or....
No. He couldn't bring himself to consider it.
At last, his mansion came into view. Trevor swooped low, dropping Victor on the ground, then flew back into the clear, open sky.
Thank you, sent Richard.
You owe me, friend, Trevor sent back. Then he cut off the link.
Richard approached Victor's form. Unconscious and naked on the ground, he looked as helpless as a newborn, but Richard knew better than to trust appearances. In that body lurked the soul of a cold-blooded murderer who had inflicted a slow death upon a woman whose only crime had been to defend her life.
Richard lifted him and slung him over one shoulder like a sack of grain. He unlocked the front door and entered. His heart pounded as he strode through the main hall. "Jessica!" he called.
No response.
He broke into a run. When he reached the door to her bedroom, he flung it open. Jessica lay motionless in bed, her face white as a sheet, her mouth open, her clothes drenched in blood. Lowering Victor to the floor, he approached, trembling, and leaned down to press his ear to her chest. He could hear her heartbeat, very faintly. It was weak, uneven, straining to beat.
Straightening, he took her face gently between his hands. He reached out with his mind, reached deep into hers, searching for the spark of her consciousness. He encountered a frightening emptiness. "No," he whispered. He shut his eyes and reached deeper still.
There!
Something flickered, a faint glow. He focused on it, speaking with his mind. I'm here, Jessica. I have Victor, and he's going to undo the curse. You're going to be all right. Do you here me? I'm going to bring you back.
Richard, she whispered. Her mental voice was weak, so weak. She was clinging to life with all her strength, but she was slipping away.
Victor stirred and groaned. Richard looked over his shoulder to see Victor curled up in a corner of the room. He was awake, eyes half-open, watching Richard distrustfully as he cradled his broken wrists against his chest. Richard approached slowly, and Victor flinched away. "You can torture me all you like," he said. "I won't feel anything."
"Is that so?" Richard crouched so he was at eye-level with the other man. "You're breathing awfully hard. I think, perhaps, the spell has worn off." He smiled. From the way it felt on his face, and the way Victor's eyes widened, it must have been a very unpleasant smile. He was glad that Jessica wasn't awake to see this. "You can make this easy," said Richard. "Undo the curse, and I'll grant you a quick execution."
"You won't even spare me?" asked Victor. "What sort of bargain is that?"
"We both know you're too dangerous to live. How many have you killed, Victor?"
"They don't count. They were humans."
"How many?"
Victor's lip curled in a sneer. He didn't answer.
"I'll repeat my offer. Undo her curse, and be granted a quick death," said Richard. "Refuse and I can make this as unpleasant as I need to."
A growl rippled from Victor's throat. "Go to hell!" Before Richard's eyes, he began to transform, black fur sprouting in patches on his face, chest and back, jaws stretching into a muzzle. His jaws opened wide to reveal his long, jagged teeth. Richard pulled back as the teeth snapped shut, just inches from his face.
Somewhere deep in his mind, Jessica cried out, a distant, lonely sound. And then there was silence. He felt the weak spark of her life-force flicker and die.
Cold panic seized his heart. He whirled around to face her. "Jessica!"
Victor laughed, a shrill, manic laugh.
Richard leaned over her, his fingers frantically seeking a pulse in her pale throat. Nothing.
He pressed an ear to her chest. Nothing. He breathed in her scent. It was cold, the stale, flat smell of death. "No!"
Victor was still laughing, his head thrown back, his mouth open. Richard clenched his fist.
Raising his other hand, he lengthened the nail of his first finger into a long, sharp talon and approached Victor in two long strides.
With a single, sweeping movement, he slit Victor's throat. Blood spilled down Victor's naked chest. He let out a choking, sputtering cough, eyes bulging as he fought for breath.
Spittle bubbled and frothed, dripping from his mouth, turning pink as it mixed with his blood. Then he slumped, half-transformed, jaws still frozen open. Dull yellow eyes stared into space, clouded over with death.
Richard turned away from the sight and looked at Jessica, pale and motionless on the bed.
Slowly, he approached and lifted her limp form into his arms. She seemed so tiny, so incredibly fragile. Without the power of her life-force, the strength of her will, her body seemed so insubstantial. It was like holding a doll. Tears stinging his eyes, he bent and kissed her lips, very softly.
Victor had deserved a death much worse than the one he'd been granted. The only thing that had stopped Richard was knowing that Jessica would not have wanted him to turn into a torturer for her sake.
What did it matter, anyway? She was gone now. Nothing mattered.
He sat on the edge of the bed, Jessica still cradled in his arms. Throwing back his head, he roared in agony, a deep, thunderous sound that reverberated throughout the mansion.
When the last echoes died away, he hung his head, eyes squeezed shut.
Richard.
His breath caught in his throat. Slowly, he raised his head, opening his eyes. "Jessica?" he whispered hoarsely. He waited, but there was no reply. Had he only imagined it?
He cradled her face with one hand, hope flickering faintly in his heart.
Jessica's body was dead. Of that, there was no doubt. But there was a chance--albeit a small one--that her soul had not yet fled to the realm of the afterlife, that it still hovered in the gray space between life and death. Souls with especially strong willpowers, and a reason to live, had been known to linger in that space for as long as several hours. If that was the case, there might still be a chance to bring her back. Victor had hoped to drag her into death with him, but now that he was dead, the curse would be broken. If she could be brought back, she would be free of its grip.
Richard closed his eyes and reached out with his mind.
Over the years, he had become familiar with the many uses of his gift, from the mundane to the obscure. He had learned things that were forbidden to most people, dangerous information.
He slipped into a trance and felt himself descending through layers of darkness, until he met a barrier of solid black, the barrier between life and death. He pushed against it, felt it stretching. He knew that if he pushed too hard, he could easily slip through, into the realm of the dead--but at this point, death was a small risk to take. Life without Jessica did not seem worthwhile. He had been in love with her for so long, longer than she would ever understand or believe. He could not lose her now. He pushed harder, until he could see, faintly, what lay beyond, a white emptiness.
Jessica! he screamed with his mind.
Richard.
Her voice again, still faint, but closer now. He moved toward it, deeper into the barrier, reaching out. She was close. He sensed it. Just a little further ....
Jessica, come to me!
He felt a hand close tightly around his, and with a frantic heave, he pulled her back into the realm of the living.
Jessica gasped, her eyes flying open. A flush of color returned to her white cheeks as she panted for breath, looking wildly around.
Richard held her tightly, his eyes brimming with tears of relief. "You are safe," he whispered hoarsely. "Victor is dead. The curse is gone." He stroked her hair, holding her close against him until her racing heartbeat slowed.
She gulped, clinging to the front of his shirt. She looked up, eyes wide. "I was dead," she whispered. "Wasn't I?"
He nodded.
"Then how? How am I here now?"
"I brought you back," he said simply. He grazed her soft cheek with his knuckles, ran his thumb over her lower lip. "Not even death could keep me from you, Jessica."
"Richard...."
He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers in a gentle, lingering kiss. When at last their mouths parted, he laid her gently on the bed. "Rest, now," he said softly. "You're still weak."
Jessica glanced at the corner of the room, where Victor's corpse lay, and a small, frightened sound escaped her throat.
"Don't be afraid. He cannot hurt you now." Richard stood. "I'll bury this," he said. "Far away, in the forest." He opened a chest in the corner of the room, took out a spare blanket, and rolled Victor's corpse in it, hiding him from view--all but his legs, which dangled out one end. The blanket wasn't quite large enough to cover them.
Richard stood, the bloodstained body in his arms. "I will return," he said, and walked out of the room.
He found a secluded spot in the forest, perhaps a mile from his mansion, and dropped the body. I should leave it for the scavengers, he thought. But he knew that Jessica would not want him to. Besides, the presence of a dead body would attract the attention of human authorities, which could cause problems. Richard shifted forms, altering his front paws just enough to make his claws thicker and sturdier than usual, and dug a deep hole. He nudged the body into it and covered it with soil. There would be no gravestone, no marker.
No words could be said over such a man. He simply patted down the soil and kicked some rocks and leaves over it to disguise the grave's presence. When the job was done, he returned to the mansion and washed up.
When he entered the bedroom, Jessica was sitting up in bed. She was pale, but she looked otherwise normal. "You killed him yourself, I take it," she said quietly.
He nodded.
Jessica drew in a breath. "I thought we agreed that we would face Victor together."
"We did. I broke the agreement," he said.
She frowned, and then looked away, sighing. "Somehow, I can't bring myself to be very angry at you." Looking up, she gave him a small smile. "I'm just happy that you're all right. But once the relief wears off, you're going to get a long lecture about the importance of honoring your promises."
"If you had attempted to fight Victor, he would have killed you," Richard said.
"The risk was mine to take. If you had died fighting him, I would never have forgiven myself."
"Unlikely," said Richard. "Victor was never any match for me. His madness and rage gave him strength, but ultimately, strength is not enough. He had no control. He was only a wild animal." He sat next to her and looked into her eyes, smoothing her hair. "How do you feel?"
"Weak," she said, "but otherwise, fine. The curse is gone. I feel it." She looked up at him, her eyes solemn. "You have given me back my life. How will I ever repay you?"
"There is no debt," he said softly. He took her hand in his and held it tightly, looking into her amber-gold eyes. "To have you back is reward enough." He stood. "Now, you must eat and regain your strength. Wait here." He walked out of the room and returned shortly after with a bowl of stew and some bread. He sat next to the bed, waiting as Jessica ate.
She finished the meal quickly, wiping the last bit of stew from the bowl with a crust of bread and sliding the crust into her mouth. "Drink," said Richard, holding a glass of water to her lips. He slid his fingers into her hair, holding her head in place as she drank.
She sighed softly in contentment. "Thank you."
He set the glass aside and pulled her closer, onto his lap. She tensed, and for a moment, he thought she was going to pull away, but she didn't. Instead, she relaxed and nestled closer, resting her cheek against his chest, over his heartbeat. For a few minutes, he simply held her close, listening to her breathing, hardly daring to believe that she was here, alive and safe in his arms. "I will never forgive myself for almost losing you," Richard whispered.
"But you brought me back."
"If I'd protected you properly, it wouldn't have been necessary."
She looked up at him, frowning. "I'm not your responsibility."
He smiled slightly. "As you've said. But as often as you say it, my heart won't listen. My heart thinks you are mine." He looked into her large, amber-gold eyes. "Be my mate, Jessica."
"Why?" she whispered.
"Because I love you. I love only you."
She lowered her eyes. "I don't understand you, Richard," she said quietly. "How can you claim to love only me, yet share your bed with so many other women?"
He sighed. "I am cursed," he said, "with a hunger that can never be sated."
Jessica crossed her arms over her chest. "All men have desires, but not all men sleep with as many women as you do."
"No, Jessica, I mean this literally." He cleared his throat, embarrassed. "There is a curse on me. There has been for many years."
Jessica's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"
"It's a long story." He hesitated. "When I was a young man, I was a fool."
"You're still a fool."
"Insolent woman." A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. "Anyway ... I lost my parents at a young age, as you know, and I was accustomed to taking care of myself. I had grown confident of my own power, and I thought I could get away with anything. On a dare, I stole something from a very powerful mage. He wasn't pleased, to say the least. When he caught me, I thought he was going to kill me. Instead, he placed a curse on me. This mage had a rather twisted sense of humor. He said he would curse me with the very thing that young men desired above all else--a limitless sexual potency. He gave me an animal hunger for women so intense that to resist it for long enough would result in madness."
Jessica stared at him, wide-eyed.
He looked away, unable to meet her gaze. "If I don't satisfy the need, the hunger grows. It eats at me, until I am literally more animal than man. Part of the curse is that I am unable to relieve the need myself. I need a woman. I have tried everything to master my desires. At first, I was convinced that I could learn to resist and overcome them. I tried. How I tried. I asked a friend, once, to chain me in a cell overnight, when the need was particularly intense, just to be sure I would not give in to it. The hunger grew so strong that I screamed and wept with it. I thought I would die. I begged him to release me, and he was too frightened of me not to comply." He stared into space, his jaw clenched. "That night was the one and only time I have used my mental gifts to seduce a woman to my bed, and I vowed I would never do it again. But I was desperate. I feared what I would do if I didn't find release soon." He sighed. "Please believe me, Jessica, I don't enjoy living like this. I hate being a slave to desires beyond my control. I've thought about taking certain, drastic measures to end the need permanently, but I am a coward at heart. I fear the knife." A quick, mirthless smile darted across his lips. "I've learned how to live with it, how to manage it and control it, to an extent. But I cannot hold out forever. In the end, the need always wins."
She drew in a breath slowly. "Is there any way to end the curse?"
He shook his head. "Like your curse, it can only be undone by the one who inflicts it. I once tried to approach the mage, to beg him for mercy, but he only laughed at me. The only way to escape it is through death."
"Dear God. I never knew."
"How could you? I never told you the truth. I dare not let the world know about this weakness, for I have enemies, and I'm certain they would find some way to use it to their advantage. It is easier, safer, to let people believe I'm simply an irresponsible playboy with an appetite for flesh."
Jessica bit her lower lip. She was silent for a few minutes, thinking, trying to absorb all that she had learned. "This curse, this hunger, does it mean that you must sleep with many women?"
"Not necessarily."
"Then why? Why do you not simply choose a mate? Wouldn't it be easier?"
"Because," he said quietly, "you are the only woman I have ever wanted as my mate. And I was afraid to tell you the truth about my curse."
"But why?"
He shrugged. "It's humiliating. A true man is not a helpless slave to his own lust. A true man is the master of his desires. I am only an animal."
"No. Victor was an animal. He did not even try to fight his twisted urges. He embraced them. You have done everything in your power to master your desires. It isn't your fault if the curse is simply too strong. I know, from personal experience, how strong and how devastating a curse can be." Her eyes searched his face. "You understand," she said, "that if I did agree to be your mate, you would have to be faithful to me, curse or no curse?"
"My appetites are voracious," he warned her.
She raised an eyebrow. "You think I wouldn't be able to handle it?"
"I don't know. I fear it would prove to be a bit much for any one woman to handle."
"Oh, really. What do you take me for, some delicate china doll that will break if you handle her too roughly?" She slid a finger down his cheek. "You really are arrogant. You know that, don't you?"
"I've been told that once or twice." He raised his eyes, meeting hers. "I'm serious, Jessica. I'm afraid I would hurt you."
"What about all those other women? You weren't afraid of hurting them?"
"They were the kind of women who liked roughness. I made sure of that ahead of time."
"How do you know I'm not?"
"Because I know you, Jessica. I know you are far gentler and more sensitive than you would like most people to believe. I am capable of tenderness at times, when the need has been sated, but when the need grows too strong ... I fear the consequences."
She slid a hand into his hair, gripping it tightly. "I think I'm up to the challenge."
"Jessica...." He leaned closer, his lips brushing hers. He felt her mouth soften beneath his as he pressed more firmly against it, savoring the kiss like wine, paying special attention to her full, soft bottom lip. It was silky warmth, yielding and sweet. He tugged it gently between his teeth, and a small, soft moan escaped her throat.
Gently, he pushed her to the bed. He trailed kisses over her pale throat, her collarbones, and then forced himself to pull back. She wasn't strong enough yet. She needed to rest.
As he started to stand, though, she gripped his arms, pulling him back down to the bed.
"Please." The word escaped her in a whispered rush of air. Her breasts heaved beneath her shirt. "Touch me."
"Are you sure?"
Her small, even teeth pressed into her lower lip, and for a moment, the skin between her brows knitted with uncertainty. But she nodded.
He covered her body with his and kissed her cheeks, her forehead, and her lips. He slid his fingers behind her neck, massaging her nape in slow circles. His tongue lightly traced her ear, slipped briefly inside it.
Her nipples had begun to harden, pushing against the soft fabric of her shirt. He circled one with a fingertip, and then slid his hand beneath her shirt, until his palm found the warm, satin fullness of her breast. He cupped it, and then brushed his thumb over the bud of her nipple. Her breathing quickened.
"Do you want me to undress you, Jessica?" he whispered, his lips moving close to her ear.
"Yes," she breathed.
Slowly, he slid her shirt off, unbuttoned her jeans, pulled them down, and slid a finger beneath the waistband of her panties. His finger brushed her moist furrow, then probed deeper, into the hot, slick silk of her folds. He found the opening to her sex and teased it, stroking it slowly, watching her mouth fall open, her back arch, listening to the soft, gasping breath of pleasure that escaped her.
He slid her panties down, exposing her sex. Fingers trembling slightly with anticipation, he undid his belt and pulled down his pants and underwear. Her eyes focused on his huge, hard cock, and her tongue crept out to wet her lips. Slowly, she reached out and slid her soft fingertips along its length. A low, hoarse moan rose from his throat. He closed his eyes as those fingers caressed him, and then curled around his cock, sliding up and down the thick column.
He caught her wrist in his hand, and she looked up at him, her eyes wide open. He stared into them. "Let me into your mind, Jessica," he whispered. It was a command and a plea, wrapped into one.
She hesitated. Her eyes grew a little wider.
"Please," he whispered.
Slowly, she nodded. Her brilliant, amber-gold eyes seemed to be the only thing in the world. He allowed himself to fall into them, through them, submerging his mind within hers. He felt her need, her fear. His thumb brushed her cheek. "Do you want this?"
"Yes," she breathed.
He positioned himself over her and pushed apart her trembling thighs. The tip of his cock pressed against the entrance to her sex. Still looking into her eyes, his thoughts intertwined with hers, he pushed forward. Her heat engulfed him. She was so hot, so tight. He felt her body arch beneath his, rising up to meet him as he pushed deeper. Her soft moans fed the flames of his need. He tangled his hands in her hair, growling softly, deep in his throat, as he pushed harder and faster into her, needing more, needing to take her harder, deeper.
He forced himself to slow down, to push aside the feverish need and control his pace.
Through their mental link, he felt her pleasure and enhanced it, allowing her to feel his pleasure, as well, the joy of burying himself in the heated silk of her body.
He heard her breathing quicken, felt her fingers tightening in his hair as she neared her climax. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open and gasping. She cried out, once, and then went limp, her breasts heaving and glistening with sweat. Her eyes were unfocused, dreamy and half-closed.
He was perilously close to losing his control. The beast rose within him, demanding satisfaction. He trembled with the effort of holding it back. At last, with a cry, he let go and bit down, hard, on her shoulder. She gasped, tensing beneath him. He growled softly and tangled his fingers in her hair, gripping tightly, as he thrust into her again and again, pounding mercilessly into her body until he came. Panting, he pulled out of her and lay by her side, pulling her into his arms. "Jessica, are you...."
"I'm all right," she whispered, though her voice trembled slightly.
He looked at the mark on her shoulder, where his teeth had nearly penetrated the skin.
There would be a bruise. He touched it lightly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that."
"It's all right, Richard." Her fingers smoothed his hair back from his brow. "How often...?" She trailed off.
"Yes?" he prompted.
"How often do you have to?"
"It varies. Sometimes I can withstand the need for a week or more. Sometimes I cannot last through the day without relieving it. It's like hunger. You can go a day without eating, if you wish, but you pay a price. Try to go more than a day, and it becomes unbearable. When I don't, it ... weakens me." He sighed. His eyes were weary. "Do you see why I did not want you to find out about this?"
She frowned. "You should have told me much sooner. I would have understood your behavior." She touched his cheek, trailing her cool, smooth fingers over the rough stubble of his jaw.
He closed his eyes, savoring the touch. "But now that you know," he said, "can you ever accept me as a mate, knowing what it would mean for you?"
She laughed breathlessly. "Richard, what we just did together is hardly a chore."
He didn't smile. "Sometimes it is hard for me to control myself," he said.
"You could never hurt me, Richard. I understand that now."
He stared at her, and his yellow eyes seemed to glow in the dim light. "Then you accept me?" His voice was low, husky.
Her heartbeat quickened. "Yes," she breathed.
Slowly, he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingertips, one by one, his eyes never leaving hers. She felt the heat of his mouth, the wetness, as he slid one of her fingers between his lips and nipped it lightly. Then, slowly, he pushed her to the bed and pressed his mouth to hers. "You are my mate." He spoke the words softly, his lips moving close to her ear. It was as if he were speaking the words of a magic spell to bind them together.
She slid her fingers into his hair and repeated the words, just as softly. "You are my mate, Richard."
They lay together in a warm tangle of limbs, their skin flushed and damp with sweat.
Jessica's eyes were closed as she savored the feeling of Richard's hand stroking her hair and back. He was right, she realized. She had been deprived of touch for far too long. She hadn't realized just how much she was missing out on. A smile touched her lips as she felt a deep, rumbling vibration in Richard's chest. "I hear you purring."
"Mm?"
"You're not a tiger. You're just a big housecat," she teased.
"Oh, am I?" He rolled over, trapping her beneath him, smiling as he looked down into her eyes.
"Yes, you are. You're not really so fierce." She trailed a finger down his chest, her eyes sparkling.
He caught her finger between his teeth and gazed down at her, his eyes half-lidded, yellow fire. She felt the heat and moisture of his tongue and shivered with pleasure. Releasing her finger, he slowly trailed kisses down her body, between her breasts, over her smooth stomach, ending just over the nest of curls between her thighs. His breath caressed the sensitive flesh. "A housecat, am I?" His voice was low, smooth, like oiled silk.
Her breathing had quickened. "Yes," she said breathlessly. It was becoming a struggle to form words. "That's exactly what you ... oh," she gasped softly as his tongue darted out, flicking lightly against her clitoris.
He smiled wickedly and traced patterns on her thigh with one fingertip. His tongue traced the moist furrow of her sex, lightly, teasingly. "You're aroused again," he said. His voice had dropped even lower. It resonated deep in his chest. He lowered his head, breathing in, inhaling her scent. When he looked up again, the teasing smile was gone. He stared at her, his eyes intent, burning with heat and hunger. His hand covered her mound possessively, his hard, calloused palm pressing against the wet silk of her folds, making her dizzy with need. "Will you let me show you what I can do with my power?" he whispered. "How good I can make it for you? I can give you pleasure beyond anything you've ever imagined."
She smiled. "Arrogant as ever," she whispered breathlessly.
He squeezed her plump mound, and she gasped. His thumb pushed between her thick outer lips, into her folds, then deeper, into her wet core, caressing it, claiming it. "Let me," he said. There was urgency in his voice, his eyes. His thumb was still deep inside her. It probed, sought out her most sensitive spot, and stroked.
Heart pounding, Jessica nodded. His hand withdrew, and he positioned himself over her, his eyes burning into hers. She felt his mind within hers at the same moment he slid into her wetness. Her eyes slipped shut, and a moment later, she was drowning in pleasure. She felt as if she were soaring, as if he were carrying her through the sky, above the clouds, taking her to heights of ecstasy she had never dreamed possible. She was dimly aware of herself moaning, of Richard's huge body over hers, his skin dripping with sweat as he thrust into her again and again, each stroke carrying her higher. When she came, it was like a burst of pure light inside her mind, a sharp, hot point of pleasure deep in her body.
She collapsed to the bed, panting and drenched with sweat. Richard collapsed beside her, pulling her close to him. She felt his heart pounding against the wall of his broad chest. "I love you, Jessica," he whispered. His arms tightened around her.
"I love you," she whispered back. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had spoken those words to her. Not since the loss of her parents had anyone made her feel so cherished, so safe. She felt a tear slide down her cheek. "I've been alone so long. I almost thought I had forgotten how to love."
Richard licked it away and nuzzled her cheek softly. "You never forget something like that," he whispered. "But I swear to you, Jessica, you will never be alone in the world again. Not while I breathe. I will protect you always."
She opened her mouth to tell him that she was quite capable of protecting herself, and had been doing it for years now. But he kissed her then, savagely and tenderly, and after a moment, she couldn't even remember what she'd been about to say.
The End

