Chapter 5 #2
Amusement warmed his eyes. There’d be no repudiations from him, no defensiveness, even though it could be easy for her to say he was so used to following commands that he was easily led.
His poise and self-possession stirred her admiration.
And her desire. There was nothing so attractive as a powerful, handsome, and self-assured man.
God. What the hell was the matter with her?
She needed to eat. That was it. She hadn’t fed in days, and hunger was making her vulnerable to Elijah’s appeal, which also made it too easy to forget what he was.
Trying to get her mind off it, she texted Salem to make sure he was en route with the busload of lycans Stephan had been tasked with rounding up. Assured that everything was on track, she took a moment to make sure the Alpha was on track, too.
“Are you all right?” she asked him. “About yesterday.”
“No.” His face shuttered. “But I’ll survive.”
“You handled the announcement well last night. I meant to tell you that.” But she had been distracted by aggravation with the fawning lycan who’d patched him up. Not that she’d ever admit it.
He stared at her for a minute. “Thanks. And thanks for the pep talk.”
“No problem.” Suddenly feeling awkward, she gestured toward her Jeep. “Help me unload before Raze arrives.”
They were just finishing up when the sound of a helicopter approaching signaled Raze’s arrival.
He landed smoothly in the empty parking lot and cut the engine.
The remote location of the property spoke to the ambition of the previous owners—they could’ve expanded indefinitely as business grew.
Instead, the rising cost of fuel and weak retail traffic in stores had led to a short sale. Their loss was now Syre’s gain.
The heavily muscled vampire, one of the Fallen like her, climbed out of the aircraft with a grin, his eyes hidden behind wraparound sunglasses, his shaved head shining under the desert sun.
He sized up Elijah with a long, sweeping glance.
Then he looked at Vash. “I’ll have to make another trip, at least. Maybe two more. ”
She nodded. “Let’s get you unloaded, then.”
It took all day to move the necessary supplies into the building, even with the help of the four dozen lycans they’d brought in via bus.
In addition to the electronic equipment, which took priority, they set up rows of bunk beds that drew groans from the lycans, because they were nearly identical to the ones they’d been provided while indentured to Adrian.
Cameras were set up on the roof, since any angelic incursion would come from the air, and the windows were covered with UV-blocking film to create a safe haven for the minions that would join them in a few hours under the cover of darkness.
The most important thing for Vash, however, was the van-sized map showing the pattern of contagion across the country. She stood in front of it with her hands on her hips, knowing the radiuses had extended in the last few days she’d spent setting up the lycan/vampire alliance.
Turning her head, she watched as the lycans worked alongside her most trusted captains, Raze and Salem.
Lycans and vampires working together. It was insane, really, considering the seething hostility that weighted the air, like flammable gas awaiting the strike of a match.
She was restless in anticipation of a sparking event, knowing it wouldn’t take much to set off an explosion that could devolve into a bloodbath.
It didn’t escape her attention that Elijah was the force keeping it all together.
As the temperature rose, he took most of the outside shifts, hefting the heavy equipment and carrying it into the loading bays without a word of complaint.
She knew how lycans hated the heat; she’d exploited how testy they became while uncomfortable countless times on hunts.
But Elijah was such a powerful example of grace under pressure that the others were shamed into good behavior—lycan and vampire alike.
Although sweat poured down the lycans’ laboring bodies and their chests heaved, they worked quickly and efficiently.
And the vampires gave the Alpha only a token amount of flak when he directed their efforts with firm, unwavering command.
They didn’t trust him, but they couldn’t fault his leadership style. It was impossible to do so.
There was something inherently majestic about Elijah, a core strength of will that was unshakable. And he was compassionate. He took the time to speak to each lycan individually, placing a hand on their shoulder and offering personal words of thanks and praise.
More than once, she found herself staring at and admiring him. We’re equals or we’re nothing, he’d said, referring to vampires and lycans as a whole. But it was true for them as individuals, too.
No, she corrected herself. He outranks me. His equals were Syre and Adrian. For the first time, she was confronted with an attraction to a man who wasn’t beneath her in rank. She was startled at how much that changed the dynamic.
“If this alliance sticks,” Elijah said at the end of the day, “it’ll take me years to get used to.”
“How many of these lycans can you trust to have your back?”
One slashing brow rose. His hair was damp from a recent shower, inciting a mental picture of him standing beneath a spray of water, naked and wet and irresistibly sexy…
“Hell if I know,” he said without heat.
Honest to a fault. She liked that about him, among too many other things. He was a goddamned lycan, a race of beings that couldn’t be trusted—
His other brow rose to match the first. “Problem?”
“No problem.” She brushed past him on her way out, her nostrils filled with the wildly clean fragrance of his skin mixed with the earthy pheromones he exuded as a matter of course…pheromones her senses soaked up as if starved for them. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
She didn’t hear him come up on her, but she felt him. Was overly attuned to him. Damn it all to hell. “Don’t nip at my heels, puppy,” she snapped.
“You’re charming when sexually frustrated.”
Her fists clenched. “I’m hungry for food, not you.”
“I am your food. We discussed this.”
“You discussed it.” She stepped outside into the chilly desert night and took a deep breath of air untainted by the primal scent of hardworking lycans. As she walked, her head began to clear…
Then Elijah cut her off by stepping in front of her, fogging her mind with the masculine scent unique to him, a fragrance reminiscent of cinnamon and cloves. It was delicious, as everything about him was.
“You stay with me,” he said. “That part of the deal was mutually agreed to.”
“I’ll be back. I need to take care of something.” She needed blood, and—for the first time in damn near sixty years—sex. Then she could deal with him without tripping over how scorchingly beautiful he was.
Sidestepping him, she reached into her cleavage for her Jeep key.
He caught her wrist before she passed him. “How much shit have you got in there? Cell phones, flash drives, keys.”
Yanking her hand free, she gestured at the skintight, sleeveless black catsuit she wore. “Where the hell else am I going to carry things?”
His hand, however, didn’t budge, despite the ferocity of her movement. It remained suspended by her shoulder, close enough that she tensed in expectation of his touch.
Slowly, as if she might yet bolt, he adjusted his position to bring them face-to-face again and reached for the exposed zipper that was nestled between her breasts. Breasts that swelled and began to ache, growing heavy in anticipation of his touch.
She’d forgotten what it felt like to be physically aroused, forgotten how intoxicating it was, how it impeded the ability to think rationally and act with common sense.
“Keep your paws to yourself,” she bit out, stepping back.
“What are you afraid of?”
“Not wanting to be mauled doesn’t make me scared, asshole.”
Emerald eyes glittering with challenge in the moonlight, he held up both hands. “I promise to keep my paws to myself. I just want to see what else you’ve got in there. Cash? Debit cards? Spare tire?”
“None of your business.”
“I’ve shown you mine,” he taunted softly, goading her with a lycan’s overt sexuality.
Vampires were sexual creatures, too, but lycans were pagans, their demon-tainted blood spurring wild natures.
Elijah was more brutally sexual than any other lycan she’d ever met, his confidence and quiet command stemming from his comfort with himself, his luscious body, and his awareness of his virility and strength.
She couldn’t get the image of him out of her head—naked, bloody, his big hand stroking his big cock, his eyes dark and hot with wanting her. The memory had haunted her all night while he slept soundly. Fucker.
Pissed at the imbalance in the attraction between them, Vash yanked her zipper to her navel and pulled the separated halves aside.
Her breasts bounced free, the tips hardening as a cool breeze slid across them.
She was braless because the suit’s natural constriction hugged her so tightly that any other support would’ve been superfluous.
The garment was comfortable, affording her full range of movement, and it distracted her opponents—win/win all around.
He stared, unblinking, his face hardening into an austere mask of ferocious hunger. His arms fell slowly to his sides, his hands fisting.
“Jesus,” he hissed.
Pure feminine power slid through her, her anger and frustration soothed by his undisguised helpless captivation.
When she moved to close her top, he growled low and deep, the rumbling sound an unmistakable animal warning. She stilled instinctively, her body freezing in place as if the lack of movement would make her invisible to the predator stalking her.