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  “Oh, that,” I said, remembering the cream-colored gown he was talking about. It had clung to me in long, silky waves, emphasizing my curves. I hadn’t known why Corbin had ordered me to wear it until I entered his office and found out I was supposed to be married to a complete stranger.

  Not so much of a stranger anymore, I heard Victor rumble inside my head.

  With a little shock I realized I had done it—I was in. Inside his head. Or he was in mine. Whatever—this was my first successful glam-session. Or it would be if I could manage to project the images he was asking for.

  I concentrated hard for a moment and then Victor and I were standing in the small back room at Under the Fang where we had been blood-bonded almost two weeks before. I was wearing the cream-colored silky gown and the white rosebuds in my hair and Victor was dressed as he had been also—in the too-tight black jacket Corbin had loaned him for the occasion.

  Hey, come on, I heard him say. At least put me in a tux.

  Oh, okay. I concentrated again and there he was, looking surprisingly suave in a tailored black tux and bow tie. Better? I asked.

  Victor growled approvingly. More like it.

  Now what? I looked around the room, wondering what else he would ask me to show him.

  We didn’t have a very long ceremony, he pointed out.

  No. And no reception, either, I said, wondering where he was going with this. Want me to conjure a wedding cake? If I can make it real enough you should be able to feel and taste everything. I can even make a buffet table filled with nothing but bacon. For that matter, I can make you a buffet table out of bacon. I was trying to joke, trying to defuse some of the tension of being inside each other’s minds but it didn’t seem to be working.

  Not interested in any of that. Victor’s mental voice was rough. But there is one thing we skipped—the part after Corbin pronounced us bonded.

  What do you mean? I looked up at him quizzically.

  I mean this. Victor stepped forward and took me in his arms. The part about kissing the bride.

  Suddenly his mouth was on mine, hot and sweet— incredibly gentle but urgent at the same time. For a moment I let myself melt against him, giving in to the kiss, to his strong arms around me, pulling me close to his big, hard body. And then I realized what I was doing.

  “Oh!” I gasped aloud, losing my concentration. I pulled back from him, breaking our connection both mentally and physically. The scene we had created together vanished, leaving me sitting in only a t-shirt on the brown leather couch, staring into his eyes.

  “Sorry,” he murmured.

  I blinked, trying to clear the glam-vision from my head but it didn’t want to go somehow.

  “Why…why did you do that?” I asked at last.

  He shrugged. “I was kind of sorry I didn’t get a chance to do it the day we got bonded. Did it bother you?”

  “I…wasn’t expecting it. That’s all.” I stood up from the couch abruptly. “Look, I should really go do something with my clothes. I can’t, uh, run around in just your t-shirt the whole time I’m here.”

  “I wouldn’t mind.” His warm brown eyes traveled up and down my body slowly, making me blush and cross my arms over my breasts. I was starting to get those feelings again—just as I had after I had fed on him the night before. What the hell was going on? I pressed my thighs together tightly where I was suddenly achy and hot.

  “Victor…” I frowned at him and he shrugged.

  “Hey, sorry. Can’t a guy admire his own wife?”

  “I’m not your wife—not really,” I reminded him. “This is just an arrangement and after the three months are up we’ll go our separate ways—just like you said.”

  He frowned and sighed. “Yeah, I guess I did say that.”

  “You said it because it’s true,” I said and cleared my throat. Okay, it was time to put our little glam-session behind us and get practical here. “So where are your washer and dryer?” I asked.

  “Out in the garage but you’ll have to let me do your laundry—there are too many windows out there.” He gave me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry about that, by the way. Didn’t know I’d be having a vampire wife—uh, houseguest when I designed this damn place.”

  “It’s okay,” I told him, shifting from foot to foot. The glam-kiss we had so briefly shared kept replaying itself in my head and I was really starting to feel an urgent need to get away and have some time on my own. “You couldn’t have known that Corbin would force you to marry some crazy second-rate vampire girl.”

  “Hey, don’t talk that way about yourself.” He reached up and caught my hand, his touch sending a warm, electrical current through my entire body. It intensified my other problem, making my nipples hard and my pussy wet.

  “Victor…” I said, looking at him uncertainly. Could he see what was happening to me? Could he sense it somehow? I kept my other arm self consciously across my breasts, hoping he couldn’t see the pink points of my nipples pressing against the thin white cotton.

  Victor shifted on the couch and his nostrils flared, as though he was scenting something.

  “Goddamn, you smell good,” he murmured, pulling me closer until I was standing right between his knees. “Didn’t know a vamp could smell like that.”

  Suddenly all I could think about was leaning down to kiss him—for real this time. I wouldn’t have to lean very far—he was so big that even with him sitting down and me standing up, we were nearly eye to eye. Standing between his knees I could smell his warm scent and feel his heat. I wanted to step into that heat, to melt into his arms and let him warm me up completely.

  God, was I going crazy here? I can’t do that, I reminded myself. I don’t want to do that—not ever again. Besides, I’m a vampire and he’s a were—we’re natural enemies.

  I pulled my hand out of his and took a step back.

  “Uh, thanks. I need to—I should go get my clothes.”

  “You do that. Just leave them outside the door and I’ll take care of them.” He gave me a slow smile that made my insides feel like they were melting. “Be sure you go around the other way, away from the kitchen.”

  “Of course.” I nodded at him with as much dignity as I could muster and then walked quickly away.

  It wasn’t until I was locked safely in the master bathroom that I breathed a sigh of relief. Finally alone, and I knew what I had to do. My hand crept under the hem of the t-shirt. Cupping my swollen pussy, I rubbed gently but firmly against my aching clit.

  I came almost at once, biting my lip to keep back the moan that wanted to escape me. It felt good—incredible—but it wasn’t enough. Sliding down so that I was sitting with my back to the bathroom door, I did it again. And then again and again until I was coming almost continuously. It was like my clit was on a hair-trigger—every time I touched myself I had another orgasm.

  But it didn’t help. No matter how many times I made myself come—and believe me, I lost count after seventeen—it didn’t help. I just kept wanting more and more but more of what? Why wasn’t my desire fading away? Why was it growing every time I touched myself? And why couldn’t I stop thinking about Victor, about letting him touch me, take me in ways I swore I would never want again? I kept thinking I could smell him, that his warm leather and fur scent was just on the other side of the door, making me even more sensitive, more needy. But that was crazy, wasn’t it?

  I wasn’t so sure any more.

  God, what was happening to me and how could I make it stop?

  Chapter Seven—Victor

  What the hell do women do in the bathroom for hours and hours on end? I paced silently in front of the bathroom door, wondering if I should knock or say something. After the glam-kiss we’d shared and feeling her pressed against me in that thin t-shirt with nothing else on, my cock was rock hard. I really needed to get in for a minute and take care of business.

  But it didn’t look like I was going to get to do that any time soon. Taylor had disappeared into the one finished and function
ing bathroom in the house and now she had been in there for over an hour. I mean, she was a vampire for God’s sake. They don’t even have to use the facilities the way the rest of us mere mortals do. So what the hell was she doing in there?

  A soft moan on the other side of the door gave me what might have been an answer. But no, surely she wasn’t doing that? I leaned closer and inhaled, trying to get a whiff of scent from under the door.

  Taylor must have shifted at the same time because I heard the door creak slightly and then the warm, feminine fragrance of sex gusted out at me. The scent hit me in the face like a knock-out punch—I literally staggered backward a step before I caught my balance.

  They say most males are visually motivated—that is, we’d rather watch porn than read a smutty romance novel like women do to get turned on. But with weres, it’s a whole other sense that rules us—the sense of smell. Catching a whiff of Taylor’s hot little pussy and hearing that soft moan from the other side of the door was like walking into a nudie bar where all the lap dances were free for any other guy.

  That was it—I couldn’t stand it a second longer. I had wanted to wait for privacy but I literally couldn’t anymore. My cock was aching with need and the brand on my lower back was burning. I had to ease some of the tension I was feeling or the curse I bore would come down on me like a ton of bricks. Dealing with that on top of everything else was the last thing I needed.

  I ripped down my sweats, fisted myself, and came on the third stroke. I usually last a lot longer than that but I felt like I’d been hard off and on for a solid twenty-four hours by now. Taylor was really getting under my skin.

  I sighed in relief when it was over but then I heard her again, a soft little moaning sound from the other side of the door, almost as though she was so turned on she was in pain. I frowned—I had heard that sound before. The sound of a female who can’t help herself, who needs her mate.

  She’s a vamp, not a wolf, I reminded myself, even as I rose to attention a second time. It’s not that way with her, it can’t be.

  But the soft sounds and the unmistakable aroma coming from under the door made me doubt my own certainty. I had a moment of sympathy. Poor kid—she probably didn’t know what the hell was going on. I thought about knocking on the door, maybe trying to explain. But how in the hell was I supposed to do that without sounding like an opportunistic bastard?

  It’ll pass, I told myself uneasily as I tucked my still hard cock back in my pants. It has to pass because there’s nothing I can do about it.

  I decided to go check on her clothes and give her a little more time to herself so I went out to the garage. She’d thrown her skirt and blouse and underwear outside the bathroom door as I had requested and I had put the whole lot in the washing machine earlier. I used the delicate cycle because I didn’t know what else to do—my entire wardrobe mostly consisted of jeans and t-shirts that didn’t need any special attention.

  The clothes looked okay so I moved them into the dryer. I’m ashamed to say I lingered a little while over her underwear. It was a delicate set of lacy white panties and a bra to match—demure and sexy at the same time, which pretty much seemed to describe Taylor herself as far as I was concerned.

  I couldn’t help imagining her in the underwear as I put them in the dryer. She looked good in white—like the creamy white dress I’d had her wear in the little glam-fantasy we’d done. God, why had I asked her to do that? Why had I offered to drop my mental shields for her? It seemed to be in the same category as offering her my throat to feed from. I was letting her in, giving her access to parts of me that ought to stay private, hidden.

  But I had sensed hidden things in her mind too, during our session. Doors she wanted to keep closed, dark places she didn’t want to look into. I wondered if she would ever trust me enough to let me go to those places, open those doors. But why should she? And even if she did, it wasn’t like I could return the favor.

  My stomach growled, pulling me out of my thoughts and reminding me that I hadn’t had anything to eat all day. Well, unless you counted the three freaking packs of bacon she’d fed me when I was the Wolf early that morning.

  I couldn’t help grinning when I remembered our little exchange over that. Taylor clearly had a sense of humor that matched my own. I loved being with a woman who could laugh. Not to mention the fact that she was gorgeous and kind and brave—

  Stop it, I warned myself. Just stop right now. You don’t need to get in any deeper than you already are.

  I knew it was true and yet I couldn’t help liking her. Like her all you want, whispered a little voice in my head. She may even like you back but that’s because she doesn’t know.

  I put my fingers to the small of my back and traced the raised ridges of the brand that marked me there. Right, she didn’t know about my secret—about the curse that had driven me from my old pack. And if she did, she would most likely run fast and hard in the other direction, just like every other female I’d ever been with.

  There was a reason I was a lone wolf and it wasn’t just because I was an antisocial bastard. Taylor didn’t need to know about that, though. We were married in name only. When this was all over, she was going back to the vampire world and I would stay out here on my land, alone with my curse forever…

  My stomach growled again, putting an end to my pity party. The three packs of bacon I had consumed in my wolf form were long gone. Time to make a sandwich and stop playing poor pitiful me.

  It was going on six o’clock by that time and the light in the kitchen had dimmed considerably. It would be twilight soon—safe enough for Taylor to emerge, I hoped. It hadn’t been much later than this when I'd gone to collect her the night before. God, had it only been twenty-four hours since I had brought her home with me? It seemed so much longer. It was strange how much could happen in a day. Well, a day and a night…

  I was thinking so hard about my time with Taylor that I nearly stepped right in the damn silver trap that was lying out in the middle of the kitchen floor.

  I would have put my foot right into it but the light of the dying sun caught it, casting a gleam of silver that hit my eye right before I stepped. I glanced down at the last minute and saw it lying there, its silver teeth still stained with my blood from the night before. Shit! I would have stopped but I was already in motion, my foot raised for the next step. I wound up making an awkward little hop to get over it and damned if the fucking thing didn’t jump up in the air and snap shut, right on the crotch of my sweatpants.

  If there are any guys reading, I’ll save you the agony and tell you right now that it didn’t get me. I thought for a minute it had, though. I could feel the weight of it dragging against my sweatpants, could see the bloodstained silver teeth digging into the baggy gray material and in my mind’s eye I swear I saw my balls clamped in the thing’s awful grip.

  “Fuck!” I shouted, scrabbling desperately to get it off me, away from me. I shucked the sweatpants down in record time and grabbed myself with both hands, making sure I was still intact.

  Of course, that was how Taylor found me a moment later when she came rushing to the kitchen door. Pants around my ankles, both hands groping my junk and the fucking trap still clamped in my sweatpants and grinning up at me like a set of evil silver teeth.

  “Are you all right?” she gasped, giving me a worried look. She was still wearing my t-shirt but she had a towel in one hand, as though she’d been about to get in the bath.

  “Fine…I think.” I tore my eyes from the crazy trap and realized what kind of a picture I must make. Damn it, so much for being Mr. Cool. “Uh—the trap,” I said, nodding down at the thing between my feet. “It was laying in the middle of the floor. I went to step over it and I swear it jumped three feet in the air and tried to bite me.”

  To my surprise, she didn’t look incredulous at all. “It twisted in my hands when I got it off you last night and almost got me too,” she said, frowning. “But I pushed it over in the corner with the broom. And it was
closed when I did that—how did it open up again?”

  “Fuck if I know,” I growled, glaring down at the thing. “I only know the damn thing nearly made a soprano out of me just now.” I stepped out of the sweatpants it was still attached to and kicked them carefully to one side. “Throw me that towel, will you?” I asked, nodding at the towel she was holding in one hand.

  Taylor threw it to me and I wrapped it around my waist, relieved to be covered.

  “Do you think someone else could have come into the house and set it while we were in the other room?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “All the doors and windows are locked. And I’d be able to smell it if someone else was in my house. You and I are the only ones here.”

  “You know I didn’t do it because of the sun.” Taylor looked thoughtful. “And of course you didn’t do it. Do you think…” She looked up at me uncertainly. “Could the trap have reset itself? I know it sounds crazy but when I was handling it last night it just seemed so…so evil. It was like I could sense some kind of malicious intent coming off of it—like it wanted to hurt someone.”

  “I guess it could be spelled to hurt someone—most likely me,” I said, frowning. “That’s pretty strong dark magic though. And we’d have to get a witch to test it to be sure.”

  “I know a witch you could ask,” Taylor said. “I can get her information from Addison.”

  “Get it,” I said, still glaring at the trap. "If somebody left a spelled trap on my land, I need to know it. Anybody who’d go to that kind of trouble isn’t going to give up easily.”

  Taylor went pale—well, paler than usual, anyway.

  “Do you think this has to do with me coming here? Coming to stay with you?”

  I shook my head. “I doubt it. More likely to do with the fact that my land is right beside the place the local wolf pack runs on full moon nights. I didn’t know it when I bought this place or I would have looked a little harder.”