Читать книгу Enemy Lover - Bonnie Vanak - Страница 8

His kiss shocked Jamie into immobility. It was gentle, barely a brushing of lips. Damian raised his head, his expression softened. Hysteria fled as he cupped her face with his warm hands.

“Don’t scream, chère. I promise, I won’t hurt you, ma petite.”

With a mere touch, he extinguished her panic. Damn it, what was this? Draicon magick?

“I’m not going to hurt you, Jamie. That’s the last thing I want. I want to help you.” His expression grew fierce and intent. “But first … damn …"

He kissed her again.

Jamie sagged in his arms. Feeling the current sparking between them as it had on that night when they’d first met. Her head fell back as he cradled her neck in his palm. Her hands slid up around his neck, feeling rock-hard muscle beneath warm skin. Jamie hung on for dear life like a drowning woman. Tasting him as his tongue boldly invaded her mouth, flicked against hers. Challenging him in return, her tongue tangling in a duet of hot desire and lost passion. It felt as magical and crazy and uncontrollable as when he’d first taken her.

This wasn’t real. Or right. Or anything, but the moment, the succulent taste of him in her mouth, claiming it with each firm thrust of his tongue.

Jamie clutched fistfuls of his shirt, drawing him closer. Only then did Damian break the kiss. A low groan rumbled from him as he stepped back, never losing his grip on her. Intent burned in his gaze.

Alarmed and dismayed, Jamie licked her lips. I just kissed my brother’s murderer. The Draicon I tried to kill.

Damian laid a palm against her cheek. “Hush,” he murmured. “I won’t hurt you.”

“Then lift that damn spell of yours.” Jamie stopped moving, stricken by the calming feel of his touch. She stared at him, taking in his strong, square chin, straight nose and high cheekbones. Classical good looks. And a werewolf lurking inside.

She had tried to kill him in New Mexico, but Nicolas, his beta, had healed Damian. And then Damian had cast a binding spell, prohibiting her from doing magick. The dark powers Kane, the Morph leader, had bestowed on her had vanished. Damian had said it was because the Morphs wouldn’t want her without her powers.

But he lied. She knew it.

She then had escaped, but he’d found her. No matter. She would escape him once more.

“I can’t. The magick in you is dark. Until I can erase it, the spell remains.”

“I’ll find a way around it. I can defeat you, Draicon.”

A shadow crossed his face. “There are things you must know, Jamie. You’re in danger. You need my help.”

“Your help? I’d rather kiss a Morph. At least they gave me power.”

He gave her a pensive look. “What did Kane do to give you magick?"

“I had sex with him,” she taunted.

Now that full mouth flattened into a thin slash. He looked dangerous and edgy. Leaning closer, he seemed to nuzzle her neck. No, he was sniffing her, like a wolf scenting a rabbit. Damian drew back. Male satisfaction gleamed in his eyes.

“You didn’t. I can’t smell him on you. You haven’t been with another male since me.”

Her chin rose. “I could. Probably someone would trade me sex for a way to release your binding spell.”

A dark look draped his features. Damian offered a thin smile, but his green eyes spoke volumes. Rage and male possessiveness.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Jamie. Your body is worth much more. And if you try it, I’ll find the male and make him regret he ever laid eyes on you.” He paused, his strokes against her neck gentle compared to the murderous fury flashing in his eyes. “I’ll rip him apart. Slowly.”

White canines flashed in his dark smile … the teeth elongating as if he were shape-shifting. Jamie tilted her chin up, refusing to show fear.

“And me? What would you do with me?”

Damian’s expression shifted. The intensity of his look was strong enough to melt steel.

“What I’d do with you? I’d rip off your clothing and I’d put my mouth all over your body and make you come until you screamed for mercy. There’d never be another male for you, ever, because every time you’d try to get close to another I’d be there, my scent in your nostrils, my taste in your mouth and the feel of my cock inside you.”

He released her neck and gave her nose a light, almost affectionate tap. “Understand?"

Jamie moistened her kiss-swollen mouth. A deep, primitive urge rose at the way he stared at her lips. His muscles locked as his pupils got larger, nearly overriding the jade-green irises. Damian might have some odd sexual hold over her, but damn, she had the same over him. She had the odd feeling if she had the courage, she could wield a much greater power. But her lack of experience and inner terror of Damian’s power held her back.

“I get it. You stripped my powers to punish me. Fine. Let’s deal. I’ll make up for it if you get rid of this damn spell. If you don’t, I’ll find another way. Like a hidden book of magick, Draicon.”

Damian lightly trailed long fingertips over her cheek. “My name is Damian, not Draicon.” His voice suddenly softened. Was there a note of regret there? She couldn’t tell. “There’s no need to make up for anything, Jamie. The binding spell is there for your own protection. Trust me, it’s best.”

“I know what’s best for me. I don’t need you or anyone else.”

Torment flashed in his eyes, then he closed them. Bemused, she stared at the long sweep of dark lashes against his tanned cheeks. Damian opened his eyes, the emotion gone. “Walk with me. We need to talk. It’s urgent.”

She didn’t want to, but the warm palm he cupped on her elbow suggested otherwise. Damian began steering her toward the river.

“Let me go. I don’t trust you.”

He stopped, giving her a solemn look. “I haven’t given you good reason to trust me, either. But we must talk. We’ll go to Café du Monde. Very public, so if you feel threatened, there’s people around and you can scream for help. Okay?"

The devil offered her an irresistibly sweet deal. Hunger pulled with the image of a crisp beignet coated with layers of glistening powdered sugar.

People crowded the green-and-white-striped canopied café. Damian guided her to a quiet table outside. He pulled a chair out for her.

Torn between wanting to flee and hunger, Jamie sat. Damian took the seat beside her, so close his leg touched hers. She shuffled over; he followed. He seemed determined to stay close. Damian frowned as he examined her dejected expression. Reaching over, he cupped her chin, lifted it to his scrutinizing gaze.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Relax. It will get better. The world hasn’t collapsed.”

My world has, she wanted to say, feeling her throat constrict. Instead she offered a brave shrug that hid her emotions.

Damian gave her a long, thoughtful look. He didn’t question her further, but released his grip and gave their order to a tired-looking waitress. Barely had she left when Jamie ripped a paper napkin out of the holder and spread it over on the tabletop. She shook the glass sugar container over the napkin, then unscrewed it, dumping out the contents onto the napkin.

His green eyes widened as she dug into the snowy mountain with her spoon and gulped down mouthfuls. “Easy,” he murmured.

Ignoring him, she continued eating. The rush kicked in, giving her a flood of energy. The spoon clattered to the table. The scarred tabletop resembled a white powder explosion. Damian looked deeply troubled.

“Wow, I knew sugar was supposed to give you a rush. I’ve been so tired lately.” She wiped her fingers with a fresh napkin.

His dark, heavy brows drew together. “Jamie, why did you ask the Morphs to grant you the power of flight when there were other powers you could have received?"

“I didn’t. Kane infected me with dark magick and told me it would shift to whatever natural form I desired.”

Damian’s gaze riveted to a fly landing near the sugar on the table. With amazing speed, his palm smacked down, killed the insect. She gave him a bemused look.

“Just a fly,” he mused, flicking it away. “But you can’t be certain. Not here.”

The waitress brought over plates of beignets and steaming cups of coffee. Behind horn-rimmed glasses, her eyes widened at the empty sugar container. “Are you guys nuts? I just filled that,” the woman snapped.

His eyes narrowed. “Then get another.”

Jamie sank back, watching as he sipped his black coffee. “You wanted to talk, so talk. Then I’m gone.”

Jade-green eyes met hers. “How long have you been eating like this, Jamie?"

“Since I dropped Weight Watchers. Any more questions? Are we done?"

“Jamie, how long have you eaten sugar like this?”

Obstinate Draicon. Jamie frowned, bemused at her bizarre behavior. “Today … I guess.”

“You’re certain this is the first craving you’ve had?” His voice sounded thick.

Jamie nodded and glanced at her coffee. She stared into the blackness. Black, like her soul had been. Once she would have done anything to hurt Damian. Now the desire for revenge fled, leaving only emptiness. Something inside remained as dark as the beings she’d lived among.

“Why are you here, Draicon?” she whispered. “To make me pay for what I did to you?"

His expression was blank, but he stroked her hand with his fingers as if he couldn’t bear not to touch her. “I told you, Jamie, my name is Damian. I’m here to keep you safe.”

Doubtful. He wanted something more. She could feel it.

“But, since you’ve broached the topic, why did you try to kill me? Most women don’t kill their lovers when they walk out.”

His voice was absolutely gentle, yet his laser green gaze demanded answers. Jamie plucked out a napkin and began twisting it into the shape of a small bird.

“I’m not most women.”

“There’s something more, isn’t there? What?”

Trust no one. Jamie dodged the truth.

“You lied to me, Draicon. At least with the Morphs, I knew what they were. Dark, powerful …"

“Evil.”

“But not two-faced. I played along. I thought you, what you did … after we … that night …” She struggled with the words. “I went back the next day to find you and you were gone. You broke your promise to teach me magick.”

The napkin twisted in her hands. Words hung unspoken between them.

He clasped her hands in his. The simple touch felt soothing. She stared down at his long, elegant fingers. Hands that crushed, killed.

“I left you a note, telling you where to meet me later.”

“There was no note.” Jamie wrenched free.

Damian’s mouth tightened. “Your … brother probably got to it first. I had to leave. I needed to get rid of a very large problem threatening you. I sent Nicolas, my best warrior, to find and guard you. I was going to teach you magick, but this other matter was more urgent. Now, answer my question. Why did you try to kill me, Jamie?"

“Why did you ground me?” she challenged. “This nonsense about me being your mate is a lie.”

“It’s not. You are my draicara, my destined mate, which makes no sense because you’re human and I’m an Alpha Draicon. We don’t bond with human women.” Damian looked grim.

“I’m human, so I can’t be your mate? Fine. We’re done here. Sorry I tried to kill you. Have a nice life.”

She pushed back from the table. He hooked an ankle around the chair leg. Jamie stared at his thigh muscles bunching beneath faded denim as he dragged her chair forward. Such power … She quivered, remembering his legs nestled inside hers, the soft hair rubbing against her skin as he thrust inside her.

Her startled gaze lifted to meet his. Damian gave a knowing smile. Little wrinkles fanned out from the corners of his eyes. He touched her hand, frowned.

“I can’t read you, even when we touch. Tell me, how did Kane infect you? Did he say anything?"

She glanced away, her stomach knotting. “Kane bit me. Like the bite of the loup garou. And he mumbled some words in a strange language.”

It had hurt, a lot. And more than the pain and the ecstasy of knowing she had power at last was an underlying shroud of evil. Jamie shivered.

“He was reciting a spell. The magick of a purebred Alpha may help.” He gave her a steady look. “My magick, Jamie.”

“So if you bite me, it will counter everything inside me? No thanks. One bite is bad enough.”

“There are other ways,” he said softly. “Much more enjoyable. I can make it very enjoyable.”

The meaning became clear in his heated gaze. Jamie drew back.

“Never again. I’m not having sex with you and what we had was just sex. Biology.” Afraid to look at him, lest she see a reflection of her own hidden desire.

“It wasn’t and will never be just sex between us, chère. You know it and I do, as well. It’s something neither of us can ignore. But I promise, I will never leave you again.”

Damian stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. “What was it like, Jamie? When the darkness came over you?"

Against her better judgment, she slid her fingers up to lace with his. He looked startled. His smile chased the dark shadows beneath his eyes. Just as quickly, it vanished. She raised her gaze, saw his curiosity and worry.

He’d probably never known the gut-wrenching grief, fear and desperation caused by losing everything he cared about. Thinking nothing, not even pure evil, could be as bad. Then finding out what happened before was a spin on a slow carousel compared to the rocketing slide into an oily blackness so deep her soul was a tiny light winking in the vast, empty space.

Her voice rasped like a nail file when she finally spoke.

“It was like being sucked into a black depth, feeling evil invade every single pore. Trapped beneath this vile quicksand. No light, no hope, no way out, nothing but the sounds of your own screams echoing back at you,” she whispered.

Damian squeezed her fingers, his jaw tensing. For a moment, turmoil flashed in his eyes as if he’d had a taste of that particular darkness. Then it vanished.

“Care for anything else?”

Their grumpy waitress was back. She looked edgy, fidgety. Probably the end of her shift.

“Hello? Like I said, need anything else?”

Damian barely cast her a cursory glance. “Give me the check and leave us alone.”

The woman dropped a slip of paper. As she glanced at their linked hands, her mouth drew back in a disapproving sneer. Lips pulled back, revealing …

Yellowed, razor-sharp teeth, like a crocodile’s.

Startled, Jamie blinked. No, just teeth stained from nicotine. The waitress cast another censuring look as she walked off.

What was this?

Trembling, she withdrew her hand, trying to conceal her reaction. She fished into her pocket and threw a fistful of bills on the table.

“My treat. It’s getting late. I need to get home.” But her legs felt wobbly. “Why am I feeling like this?” she said, rubbing her legs.

“I know why.” He glanced around and then reached for her hand. His touch was absolutely gentle. “Jamie, it’s very bad. When Kane infected you, he poisoned you.”

Disbelief filled her. His green eyes looked serious, his mouth tightened to a slash. “He infected you with his bite, and the porphyry spell. The more dark magick you used, the faster it worked. The reason you feel so lethargic is …"

He dragged in a deep breath. “Your body is turning to stone. The craving for sugar is the first symptom. You’re eating for quick energy, but it won’t last.”

Sharp, intense silence dripped between them. The crowd chattering, clinking china, the clopping of horses’ hooves on the street and the roar of traffic were the only sounds. Then she laughed.

“Mark told me you were a liar, but he never said Draicon were great spinners of fantasy.”

Anger darkened Damian’s eyes. “Your brother was the liar, little one. A dangerous liar. I know it must have been agonizing and terrifying when you lost him … and that’s why you ran away.”

You killed him, she wanted to scream. Jamie bit her lip. She traced a small pattern in the sugar on the table. “Did you hear how he died?"

“I know how he died. He wasn’t who you think he was, Jamie. When you’re ready, I’ll tell you what I know. I know it hurts to lose a family member.”

“You have no idea,” she whispered.

A shadow crossed his face. “I do, more than you realize.” Damian’s green gaze roved around the room. His jaw tightened. “We need to leave. Now. I feel it. You’re not safe here. You need to go home and rest.”

Rest. The thought sounded lovely. Jamie got to her feet. Dismay filled her as Damian joined her.

“I’m coming with you. Consider me your guest.” He offered her a roguish smile, filled with dark promise. Smooth, cool sheets, warm bodies curling next to each other as they tangled together in passion …

Stop it! Jamie sprinted away, but he easily kept pace.

“Haven’t you ever heard of a hotel? Or if you can’t afford one, there’s an animal shelter around. They take in strays,” she grated out.

Six feet of muscled werewolf stared her down, until she was forced to blink and look away. “You’re my mate, Jamie. Pack. Pack bands together. It’s how we survive. I won’t abandon you so get used to the idea of having me around for good.”

Damian held her elbow, a courtly, old-fashioned gesture with a greater intent behind it. Trapped, his prisoner. Too weary to fight, she walked. As they crossed over to Jackson Square and neared the cathedral, he ground to an abrupt halt. A cruel, ruthless smile curved his lips.

“Ah, I see an old friend. Stay here,” he ordered, guiding her over to a park bench.

Grateful for the reprieve, Jamie sat. Interest sparked as she watched the Draicon stalk over to the doorway near where he’d kissed her. The doorway was open. Odd, because that building was empty and …

The hell with it. She didn’t take orders.

Inside, dust and debris littered the empty room. Damian was standing in the far corner, crowding a short, elderly man in faded khaki trousers and a plaid short-sleeved shirt. She recognized him. The vendor who sometimes set up shop on the street near Café du Monde, sold fresh crayfish and then vanished before the police could order him away or question him about a permit.

Nice man, struggling to make a living after his shrimp boat had been washed away during Katrina’s awful storm surge. Originally from Slidell, he …

Jamie gasped.

Damian was picking the man up by his throat, shaking him like a rag doll. The vendor uttered a dry squeal. A dagger appeared in Damian’s hand. Horrified shock slammed into her as the Draicon thrust it into the man’s chest. Then Damian flung him, dear God, flung him, across the room. The little crayfish vendor’s head hit the wall with a sickening crack.

He was dead.

A scream died in her throat. Only a strangled moan arose as Damian turned, saw her and sped to her side. He cupped her cheeks in his hands, searching her face.

“Ah, Jamie, I wish you hadn’t seen that.”

“Y-you killed him,” she whispered.

“Watch,” Damian said quietly.

Before her eyes, the crayfish vendor’s body turned to ash. Gray ash.

“He wasn’t human. He was a Morph, disguised as a human.”

“But I knew him! I’ve known him for a year now, I used to buy crayfish from him, he lives in …” Her voice trailed off. Jamie rubbed her arms, suddenly chilled.

“The Morphs killed him, and one assumed the man’s identity. This is the second one I’ve killed today. I think the city is crawling with them, Jamie. Even people you know are really Morphs in disguise.” Damian released her.

“How do I know you aren’t one, as well?”

He waved his hand and a dagger appeared in his palm. Damian handed it to her, hilt side first. “Cut me. I bleed red, same as you. Not acid. The Morphs disguise themselves as humans, but they can’t disguise their blood. That’s how I knew the vendor wasn’t human. He bled acid.”

Hedging, she studied the knife. Calmly, Damian held out his hand. Then she slashed his palm. He didn’t even wince. Crimson droplets welled up, bright and viscous. Grimacing, she touched the fluid. Just blood. Fascinated, Jamie watched the wound slowly close.

Damian waved his hand and the dagger vanished. “I suppose that’s a good sign that you didn’t take the knife and thrust it into my heart,” he said with a wry smile.

“The thought occurred to me, but I think it would take a steel drill bit to pierce your hide.” Jamie leaned back against the doorjamb, suddenly weary beyond words.

His expression changed to concern. Taking her arm, he guided her out of the building. They went to her house, each step feeling as if she slogged through heavy mud. Finally she reached home. She unlocked the gate and he escorted her inside, taking the key and locking the gate. Damian pocketed the key and released her. Exhausted, Jamie headed for the courtyard and sat in one of the faded wicker chairs.

Approval flared on his face as Damian followed. He looked around, his hand resting on the redbrick wall. “This is a good house. A safe house.”

Jamie shoved out of the chair. “Find yourself somewhere else to sleep tonight. You’re a Draicon, the ground should suit you fine. Don’t howl at the moon. You’ll wake the neighbors.”

“Howling at the moon is an old wives’ tale. I only howl when I want sex. So don’t be alarmed if you hear me in the night.”

Startled, she turned to find him offering a charming smile.

“Howl at me all you want, Draicon, but you’ll have to force me to get me into bed with you again,” she snapped.

“I won’t ever force you. You’ll come to me. Soon, you won’t be able to resist any more than I will,” he said gently.

When wolves fly.

Damian followed her upstairs, but she ignored him. The bedroom door locked behind her. Jamie collapsed on the antique four-poster, clutching her pillow and staring at the yellowed ceiling. A cool night breeze drifted through the French doors open to the garden. She always hated this room with its dreary heaviness, but Mark had liked it so she left it alone.

Her body felt leaden. Was she turning to stone? Impossible. It’s a trick to get you to trust him, so he can sleep with you again.

She hugged the pillow to her chest. Tears didn’t come. They weren’t allowed. She hadn’t cried since, wow, when?

One single tear, shed from guilt and shame when she’d gone to Damian’s deathbed and saw him lying there. But real, honest, grieving tears?

Since the day her parents died. Since then she hadn’t wept. Not even for all she’d lost. And doubted she ever would again.

Small sounds barely audible to the human ear alerted Damian. He paused outside Jamie’s door. Hovering, he waited, instinct screaming to rush inside and hold her in his arms. She’d bite his head off. Tough Jamie didn’t want him seeing her break down.

Her breath was hitching in little gasps.

He broke the lock and went inside. Damian switched on a small Tiffany lamp. The soft yellow glow illuminated a crimson room smothered in ponderous furniture. Much too serious for Jamie.

She needed a light, airy room, with sky-blue walls and whimsical furniture.

Approaching the four-poster bed more suitable for a royal monarch, Damian silently assessed his future mate. Asleep, she lay curled on her side toward him, her shoulder-length black hair mussed. Little snuffling noises came from her, but she shed no tears.

Such delicate features, the pointed chin, the impossibly thick lashes, nearly translucent skin and carved cheekbones and full, mobile mouth and pert nose. She looked so damn young.

Sadness had shone in those expressive gray eyes. Jamie might try hiding her emotions, but her eyes were mirrored pools. He saw himself in the reflection, the arrogant, supremely powerful Draicon who had so much to offer, but instead took so much away. More than her innocence. He’d stolen away her dreams of magick and power.

And in doing so, made her turn to dark forces.

Regret arrowed through him. He would make amends, but had to earn her trust first. Her spunk relieved him. Jamie hadn’t lost her spirit or courage, two attributes she’d need in the coming days.

The house was safest for Jamie. He’d felt the ancient, sturdy power. Someone long ago had put a strong shield on it to guard against anyone performing dark magick. Anyone wishing to hurt Jamie would have to drag her outside the structure.

The bed sank beneath his weight. Just to hold her, touch her, if only for a moment. Instinct lashed him to mate. A purebred Alpha, Damian could only procreate with Jamie. He needed her for his pack in New Mexico, ruling at his side.

But he pushed aside lust, brushing back a lock of hair from her pale face. So cold, damn, her skin was icy.

He stroked her forehead. He would save her, at any cost. She was his, and he always took care of his own.

A grim smile touched his mouth. Even if they didn’t want saving.

Damian lay down, curled his big body next to her slender one and draped an arm about her waist. She moved back, snuggling against him as if relishing his heat.

He relished the feel of Jamie’s slender body. Heaviness flooded his loins. The erection reminded him of the relentless desire chasing him. Damian ruthlessly reined in his control and eased back. She was so slight, yet tough. Tainted from dark magick, yet innocence still clung to her.

Jamie whimpered in her sleep. A single tear leaked out of the corner of one eye. Deeply troubled, Damian chased it away with a kiss. Expecting a salty tang, he recoiled.

Pure, sweet confectioner’s sugar.

Growing dread gathered in his chest as Damian abruptly sat up. “It’s happening already. What the hell am I going to do?"

I will not let you die. You can’t die like my family did. I’ll do anything I can to stop this.

Rising out of bed, he left and quietly shut the bedroom door. Damian realized for the first time that he might be too late.

If he couldn’t find the book, he’d lose her.

Forever.