Belonging (5 page)

“You okay, Ana?”

Eff me
. Could
no one
remember her goddamned name?

“I’m just fine, Frankie. Sorry for worrying you. I apologize for starting my set late.” She tried to scoot by him, but he reached out, cupping her cheek in his clammy hand. Her stomach rolled.

“No problem, Ana. I was more concerned about you. You’ve been in there quite a while.”

She didn’t think she’d been in the restroom
that
long. Guess time got away from her. She forced herself not to recoil from his touch, even though it made her skin crawl. He was standing a bit too close for her comfort, but this was what she’d wanted. If he tried to kiss her, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to refrain from vomiting, especially since her stomach was still doing somersaults.

“Thank you. I appreciate your concern. I’ll be sure to play a few minutes late.” She waited a beat before stepping back. Surely that was an appropriate amount of time to keep suspicions at bay, avoiding the undoing of the work she’d put into him for the last several days.

“Well, I’d best get started.” He let her go without protest, calling
good luck
behind her.

As Analise made her way to the stage for her second night, she couldn’t help the feeling of foreboding that rolled over her. It was the same one she felt the last three nights she’d stepped foot in Dragonfly. It was unlike any other feeling she’d had. This time, something in her life was about to monumentally change.

She just wasn’t sure if it was going to be good…or bad.

C
hapter
7

Damian

He’d arrived at the club much earlier in the evening than anticipated. Rom tagged along, albeit reluctantly. Damian was bound and determined to get the guy laid. Although he wasn’t quite sure why, once again he came in through the main entrance versus the private entrance at the back of the building.

He’d no sooner set foot in the building when the most sensuous sound he’d ever heard caressed every single nerve ending in his body like a gentle lover.
What was that?
Or better yet…
who
was that?

Taking a few steps forward, he searched for the voice that set his blood on fire. After just moments, his eyes landed on the incredibly gorgeous creature on center stage.

Fuck me
. She’s
mine
.

His heart raced as he drank in her exquisite beauty. Her straight, shoulder length chocolate hair swung loosely around her perfect oval-shaped face. Her eyes were closed tightly as she poured her heart and soul into the song. And it pissed him off. He wanted to see their color. He wanted to gaze into her soul.

She wore a curve-hugging, but conservative, short black dress with matching heels. But all he could think about was what lay underneath. He wanted to rip the somber dress from her body and uncover her secrets.

It was
her
. The one woman who just the other day he’d thought he wasn’t ready for. The one woman he’d foolishly and selfishly told himself he didn’t want to find yet.

Everything now made perfect sense. Since stepping foot in Milwaukee months ago, a hazy premonition had fallen over him that a life-altering event was about to happen. He’d thought it was just this mess they were in with Xavier, but he couldn’t have been more wrong.

It was about her.

His Moira.

His Destiny.

His
Mate
.

MINE.

The ethereal vision standing before him was
his
. A plethora of feelings bombarded him at once, almost buckling his knees.

Joy.

Lust.

Excitement.

Lust.

Possessiveness.

Lust.

Completeness.

She sang with such emotion; her pain became his. He could feel it radiating from her and he wanted to take it away. He wanted her to smile. He wanted her to be happy. Her darkness called to his. But her light…her light filled every tiny dark, desolate corner of his heart. Cracks he was aware of and those he wasn’t.

She was full of pain. He would replace it with joy.

She had so many holes in her soul it looked like Swiss cheese. He would get out a fucking shovel and pack them so tight nothing would penetrate them ever again.

Every woman he’d ever met or been with in his entire life just fell away. He couldn’t remember a one of them. He couldn’t remember their faces. He couldn’t remember their names. It was like they never existed. The only woman that existed now and forever would be
her
.

He forgot his entire reason for even coming to the club tonight. She’d clouded his mind. She already owned him, body and soul, and she had no goddamn clue.

He was aware of someone shaking him, but he couldn’t—
wouldn’t
—take his eyes off his Moira. She’d moved into singing “Broken Pieces” by Apocalyptica. Her sadness bled into him as she belted the chorus.

“Damian, are we just going to stand here all night staring at the singer?”

He shook of this nuisance. “Fuck off.”

Suddenly something—
no someone
—blocked the vision of his mate. Rom. He looked into his friend’s face and bared his teeth, barely holding back his rage. “Get the fuck out of my way, Rom, or I’ll remove you myself.”

Rom’s brows drew together. Damian had never spoken to his mentor in such a manner. Rom was very old and the most powerful vampire he knew. Damian wasn’t sure he could take him if it came to blows, but at this point, he didn’t fucking care. Rom needed to get out of his way.

“What has gotten into you, D?”

“Not now, Rom. Move.” His mate’s voice had wrapped around his heart, her vocal fingers sensuously caressing it. Bringing it back to life. He wanted to watch every nuance on her face as she performed.

Rom moved, following Damian’s line of sight and was unusually quiet as she finished her song.

“Congratulations, D.”

Damian briefly glanced at Rom but quickly returned his gaze to his Moira. Rom was a smart guy. Damian knew it wouldn’t take him long to figure out why he’d turned into a raving lunatic who’d just verbally challenged the most powerful vampire in the world. Very uncool and undoubtedly suicidal.

What was her name?
He suddenly had an intense desire to get her off the stage. He didn’t want to share her with anyone, let alone a bunch of drunk humans. Looking around the club, every single human male was as enthralled with her as he was. She had them entranced in her erotic web. They all thought they stood a chance with her, that they would be allowed inside her temple of a body.

Raging jealousy and possessiveness swept through him.
No one
should look upon her, but him.
No one
should worship her, but him. Her angelic voice belonged to
no one else,
but him.

He started toward her, but Rom firmly grabbed his arm, holding him back. Unbridled fury raged. No one, including Rom, would keep him from claiming his fated.

Right.

Fucking.

Now.

“Patience, young grasshopper. Now’s not the time to make a scene.”

Scene?
The only scene he was going to make if Rom didn’t get his hands off him was a bloodbath when he tore his mentor apart. Piece by piece. He had tunnel vision, his sole objective to get his Moira off that stage.
Now
. He began to turn toward Rom, when she looked right at him and their gazes locked.

His world narrowed to only her. He heard her sharp intake of breath. Her sweet voice faltered, then stopped. He ached for her to continue, never wanting her to stop. Except when she was underneath him, moaning his name as he made her come repeatedly.

Then his world crashed around him as he saw her sway and her eyelids close. To his horror, his Moira was no longer standing.

He stood helpless as the scene unfolded before him in slow motion. Her legs gave out and she crumpled to the stage floor, lying in a still heap.

C
hapter
8

Analise

She’d had goose bumps over her entire body for a solid fifteen minutes, about the time the vibe in the room became intense. She’d tried to block it out and finish her set strong. The sense of both danger and excitement were almost too much to ignore. The desire to seek out what caused this reaction in her was strong, but she needed to focus on her music. Three more songs to go and she’d be done.

Earlier she’d thought about sticking around to snoop a little since she hadn’t had a chance to do that yet. That was the sole reason she was here, after all. But now all she wanted to do was go back to the motel, take a bath and go to bed. She worked again tomorrow night and would find some time to sneak off and look for the entrance to the lower level. The
vampire
part of Dragonfly.

She’d just finished “Broken Pieces” and started a Halestorm favorite of hers when she spotted
him
standing just inside the entrance. Their gazes locked and she couldn’t have torn hers away if her life depended on it.

Analise’s childhood had been difficult. Some people got breaks in life, some didn’t. She didn’t. And she accepted it for what it was. She wasn’t bitter. She didn’t carry around a grudge the size of Texas. She wasn’t resentful of the people who’d had it better than she. Envious perhaps. Resentful no.

But with her difficulties growing up, also came in the inability to form bonds with other people. Beth was the only exception. Maybe inability was a strong word; she just didn’t
care
to form bonds with people. It was certainly a better way to protect her heart from the crushing loss and despair that inevitably happened when they disappointed you—or hurt you.

So the powerful feelings of desire and belonging she felt as she stared into this beautiful stranger’s dark eyes were completely foreign and most unwelcome. Her breath caught and her voice faltered. She couldn’t remember the words to the song. She couldn’t even remember where she was. There was only him. His gaze was so intense it was frightening. He looked directly into her soul, seeing the darkness and sadness lurking inside. It was unnerving.

Suddenly she felt light-headed. Black spots swam in her vision. Her ears began to ring. Noises faded away as if her head were stuffed with cotton. Her knees gave way and she dimly registered she was falling.

The last thing she remembered was the look of horror on
his
face. Then the darkness consumed her.

C
hapter
9

Analise

“Analise, you need to wake now, my child.”

“No.”
She didn’t want to wake. She wanted to stay in the comfort and safety of her dream world with her guardian angel. In the real world, she was weak, but in her dreams she was powerful. As powerful as Mara. She could manipulate the elements. Rain fire with a thought. Dig a hole with nothing but her mind. Pop a lock by blinking.

“I’ll be waiting for you as always, child. But now you need to wake. Analise, your destiny awaits.”

Destiny? What destiny?

That was her last thought before consciousness grabbed her again.

And she wished it hadn’t. Her head hurt like a mother. It felt like someone was playing the drums on the inside of her skull. She moaned, reaching up to touch the offending wound.
What happened?

A rough hand gently stroked her cheek and she vaguely registered someone talking. Muffled music played in the background.

“She’s coming around,” someone said.

“Thank fucking Christ.”
Whose deep, sensuous voice was that?

Her eyelids cracked open, vision slightly blurry. She blinked several times to clear it.

When she’d lived on the streets, one of her favorite escapes was window-shopping. She’d lose herself in a dream that she could afford the luxurious clothing mocking her from behind the thick glass. And that once her day of self-indulgence was over, she would have a loving home to return to. On one such day, she saw the most beautiful man she’d ever laid eyes on. He was tall, handsome, clearly fit. He oozed masculinity and sexuality. She often wondered if she’d dreamt him up for she’d never seen anything like him before or since.

Until now
. The man staring into her eyes—
the same man from the club
—made window guy seem like Weird Al Yankovic.

He had piercing dark eyes, almost like onyx. Thick, dark waves framed his face, almost hanging in his eyes a bit as he looked down at her. And his face…how could she possibly describe to anyone the most perfectly exquisite face she’d ever seen?

His eyebrows were textbook manly, dark and thick. Sharp, high symmetrical cheekbones framed a perfect, masculine nose. His lips were full and plump, with a cupid's bow gracing the top one. They were completely kissable. A five o’clock shadow rounded out the sexy package. He was the most flawless thing she’d ever seen. He was an angel. Or the devil in disguise.

“Are you okay, princess?” The Adonis was speaking.
To her
.

“Ummm…”
Was she okay?
She needed an aspirin, badly.

“What’s your name, princess?”

“It’s Ana.”
Frankie?
In looking around, she was in an office of some sort, lying on a soft leather couch. Frankie, Adonis and another extremely attractive, but very scary-looking man were all watching her intently. She moved to sit up, feeling extremely vulnerable in her prone position.

“Whoa there. You hit your head pretty hard. You should lie still,” Adonis said.

She ignored him, pushing herself up anyway. Bad idea. Her head throbbed and her vision blurred again.
Were there now two Adonises?
Hell, she could live with blurry vision if that were the case.

“Ana, are you okay? What happened?”

She was suddenly very angry. “My name is Analise. Not Ana. Not princess. And I’m fine. I just need a minute here. And possibly an aspirin.” Or twelve.