Bite Me (18 page)

He found it in the kitchen, grabbed it, and returned to the bedroom.

Livy was still kneeling on the bed, appearing completely calm. “Open the back pocket and go into the zippered compartment.”

Vic did as ordered. Without looking, he located the zippered pocket with his fingers and opened it. He reached in and pulled out a long strip of condoms. Eyes narrowing, he focused on Livy.

“What?” she asked.

“You just carry around piles of condoms?”

“In case I feel like taking on the hockey team one night. You know, when I’m bored.”

“Can you ever give me a straight answer?”

“Maybe when you ask me a question that suggests one of the photographers I trained with told me exactly what to include in my backpack and travel bags so that I was always prepared for any situation rather than strongly suggesting I’m a whore.”

Vic blew out a breath. “You’re right.”

“I know.”

“Sorry.”

“Feeling a little possessive there, Barinov?”

“Kind of.”

“Don’t feel bad. One might suggest I’ve been feeling a little possessive about you lately.”

Shocked at that admission, Vic gawked at Livy. “Really?”

“Did you see me haul off and slap Melly outside the precinct?”

“
Everyone
saw you slap Melly.”

“Well, although there are many reasons I should slap the shit out of Melly Kowalski, in this particular instance I did it because she suggested that she wouldn’t mind ‘nailing that,’ when pointing you out to me. Her words. And I wanted to make it clear to her that I was not okay with her nailing anything. Especially you.”

“Really?” Vic asked again.

“Really.”

“I like that.”

“I can tell. Now come here.”

Vic dropped Livy’s backpack and walked toward her. As he did, she stood on the bed and walked to the edge. They met there, but Livy snorted.

“What?”

“I expected us to meet eye to eye. Instead, I’m looking at your throat. So tall.”

“Does that bother you?”

“No.” Livy nuzzled his neck. “Do you want it to bother me?” she murmured.

Vic briefly closed his eyes, worked to keep control. “Not at the moment.”

She looked up into his face. “Then shut up, Barinov. Shut up and kiss me.”

Vic did. His mouth moving over hers, his hands pulling her close until she was tight against his body.

Livy pulled her arms away from his grasp so she could wrap them around his neck, her tongue sliding between Vic’s lips and stroking.

Vic lowered her to the bed. He felt desperate, bordering on fully out of control. He knew he couldn’t risk that. Knew he wasn’t ready to reveal that side of himself yet. Hell, he might never be ready to reveal
everything
about himself to anyone, much less Livy.

Vic pulled out of their kiss and began moving down Livy’s body, pushing up her T-shirt until he’d exposed her breasts. His tongue was rough as it dragged along the skin, teasing the nipple. Livy was sure such a rough tongue would have annoyed most women. But Livy’s skin was tough and not only easily tolerated the feel of it, but loved it.

But Livy had always been impatient. She couldn’t stand to wait for anything, but especially getting off. So she placed her hand on Vic’s head and pushed. Hard.

Thankfully, Vic laughed. Laughed and moved down her body until he was crouching by the bed. His hands gripped her thighs and yanked her down a bit until her pussy was right at the edge of the bed. He held her legs wide open and buried his face between her thighs. His rough tongue lapped at her, tickling and exciting her clit in the process. She didn’t know whether to giggle or scream. Then he slid that tongue deep inside her, tormenting her by using it like a slow-moving cock. Vic eased it in and out, taking his time.

Livy began to writhe on the bed, her hands gripping the comforter under her so that she didn’t unleash her claws and dig them into Vic’s scalp.

But then, with his tongue still inside her, Vic pressed his thumb to her clit and began to move it in small circles.

It was all Livy needed, her back arching off the bed, her claws ripping into the bedding. She cried out, her body nearly coming off the bed, but Vic held her down, kept her pinned. She liked that.

Hell, she liked everything. Until Vic was gone. Why was he gone? Where did he go?

Livy opened her eyes, but Vic hadn’t gone away. He hadn’t left the room. He’d just stepped away to push down his jeans and put the condom on.

Then he was gripping Livy’s legs again and yanking her lower half up, his cock pressing against her. He paused. Just long enough to make sure he had Livy’s attention. Then he pulled Livy closer and thrust hard. So hard, so mercilessly, that Livy started coming again. And at this rate, Livy wasn’t sure she’d ever stop.

Vic had only so much control, and he had to really concentrate not to lose himself in Livy. He wasn’t ready to let that happen. Wasn’t ready to forget that there were some things he had to keep to himself. But while trying to keep control of one part of himself, he was losing control in another way.

Vic was never this rude and demanding in bed. Never. He wasn’t Mr. Sensitive, but he wasn’t this . . . brutal.

But what didn’t help was that Livy really seemed to like it. She liked him just fucking her like they were two animals who’d met on the African plains or something.

Even worse . . . Vic liked it, too. Perhaps too much. It would be hard to go back to women expecting a more polite first ride. Because at the moment, his cock was as happy as it had ever been.

Only Livy’s shoulders were on the bed as she gasped and groaned. Her hands suddenly gripped her breasts, her fingers tugging at her nipples since Vic couldn’t with his own hands busy.

“Oh God!” she panted, her fingers tugging harder, gripping tighter, and Vic knew she was coming again. “Oh . . . oh . . . God!”

It was like her pussy had turned into a vise, all that wet heat gripping his cock hard and pulsating until Vic bit back a roar that might have destroyed every window in the damn rental house if he hadn’t stopped it.

Gasping, Vic pulled out of Livy and fell on the bed beside her.

Lying on their backs, they looked at each other, then back at the ceiling.

After a few minutes, Livy said, “Vic?”

“Yeah?”

“Now I’m starving.”

“Good,” he sighed, the feline in him sated and curling up for a little sleep, leaving his bear side awake. “I’m hungry, too.”

C
HAPTER
16

T
he food was ice-cold but remarkably delicious.

They ate while naked on the living room floor. Vic tried to set some nice mood lighting, but the automatic fireplace didn’t work and he ended up covering one lamp with a linen napkin and turning on the TV, but muting the sound. It worked out surprisingly well.

Vic didn’t find out, though, until they were in the middle of their meal that Livy hadn’t eaten anything since hours before she’d gone into Whitlan’s apartment. How she’d lasted through two plane trips, that entire joust, and their amazing sex fascinated Vic. And watching her heal before his eyes, the bruises on her body and face all but gone, blew his mind. Shifters healed fast, there was no doubt about it. Yet it seemed honey badgers were even more resilient. Instead, the more food Livy put into her mouth, the stronger she became.

“This is a really nice place,” Livy remarked as she devoured more of the General Tso’s Honey Chicken. “A lot of times these rental vacation homes are . . .”

“Tacky,” Vic filled in for her.

“The pictures they have online never look the same as what you actually get. And sometimes they smell weird.”

“Rita’s smart. She keeps updating the homes she rents out so that they don’t just look like you’re renting out Grandma’s house while she’s in a nursing home.”

“So you’ve been coming out here for a while.”

“Since I was a kid. My parents brought me and my sister here at least once a year. They also took us to an all-bear town in Siberia every other year, and Moscow every Christmas to see the relatives.”

“Seems like you spent more time with bears than tigers growing up.”

“I did. My mother’s family pretty much cut her off when she married, then bred with a bear. They wouldn’t have been so hard on her if she’d had a couple of cubs with a tiger first, and then got married. The Cat Nation, in general, is pretty tolerant of that, but step outside that breeding plan of theirs, and you get the big family shunning.” He grabbed another egg roll. “What about your parents?”

“What about them?”

“I’m sorry. Was that out of line? Asking about your dad?”

“No,” she replied easily. “I just don’t understand the question.”

“Well, your dad’s white and your mom’s Chinese so . . .”

“Race, religion, politics . . . none of those mean a thing to honey badgers.” Using chopsticks, she popped another piece of chicken in her mouth, chewed, swallowed, and added, “Unless they’re in the mood to start a fight.”

“Pardon?”

“Badgers love starting fights, and we’ll use anything available to us to do it. Bigotry of any kind is fair game, whether we believe in the philosophy or not. Religion, no matter what you were raised as or believed in, is also a great fight starter. And then there’s politics, which is the best for when you really just want to see people beating the shit out of each other for a ridiculous reason. Badgers will go from one extreme opinion to another, whether they believe in it or not, as long as it gets that ugly fight rolling.”

“I always thought of foxes as the troublemakers.”

Livy snorted. “Foxes are lightweights. Cute little con artists and gold diggers. But honey badgers . . . we’ve been changing history since before a Roman honey badger told Julius Caesar that he doubted Pompey would have a problem with him crossing the Rubicon. And, of course, everyone knows about Rasputin—although he was kind of tall for one of us. But I think his mother was full-human.”

Vic had been about to put the last bit of egg roll in his mouth but he stopped and stared at Livy.

“And the rumor still holds that the Hundred Years’ War was started by badgers,” she went on. “And who can forget that the Borgias were all honey badgers?” Livy nodded. “Yep. My kind can start a knife fight at a sit-in peace rally using nothing more than overly expressive eyebrows. I’d call it a curse if we didn’t really,
really
enjoy starting shit for shit’s sake.”

“Even you?”

“Are you kidding? My parents sent me to private schools from preschool through high school for one simple reason. Private schools are a veritable shit-starting paradise. and they wanted me trained to be the best. But I met Toni when I was fourteen and she got me to focus on my photography instead of starting fights in the teachers’ lounge. She convinced me to make it the most important thing in my life. Once I did that, I stopped caring about making everyone else miserable. I don’t think my parents ever forgave Toni for that, either.”

“Why would they want you trained in shit starting?”

“If you don’t desensitize yourself to fucking with people’s lives, it’s impossible to rob them. It’s impossible to break into their homes and take things that are invaluable to them if you don’t enjoy tormenting rich people just a little bit. And the Kowalskis and Yangs do not steal from the poor. So it’s private school for all of us.”

“They don’t steal from the poor? Because stealing from the rich gives them a sense of higher moral ground??”

“That and they just don’t like rich people.”

“And sending you to private school had nothing to do with getting you a better education?”

“As far as my parents were concerned, I was getting my education from them. I knew the basics and multiple dialects of four languages by the time I was nine. But all the kids in the family went to private school because that’s where the wealthy are. The people we’re trained to size up from the first ‘hello.’ In fact, when I met Toni’s mother, she was carrying around her Stradivarius violin while she was trying to rein in her kids. And my first thought was, ‘I could get at least fourteen million for that on the open market.’ ” Livy shook her head. “It’s a beautiful instrument. My parents could never believe I didn’t bring it home with me.”

Finished eating, Vic folded his arms and rested his chin on them. “Why didn’t you?” Vic asked her. “Why didn’t you bring that violin home to your parents?”

Livy took a sip of her wine and replied, “Because I liked the Jean-Louis Parkers. A lot. They treated me like family from the very beginning. Still do. It never occurred to Jackie and Paul
not
to attend my father’s funeral. Even though they knew there would be fighting and snakes and supermodel mistresses.”

“They were there for
you
. That’s why it never occurred to them not to go.”

Livy pushed her empty plate away and sipped more of her wine.

“Oh,” Vic said, “I should warn you . . . Toni found out that Blayne asked you to photograph her wedding.”

Livy winced a little. “Did Blayne duck in time?”

“No, but thankfully I was standing there, so I managed to get hold of Toni before her claws made contact.”