CARNAL APPETITE (3 page)

“It’s Etienne. Raoul Etienne.”

“Clara Falkner. I thought you sounded French.” It seemed ridiculous to have this conversation now, after all they’d shared, after the strange confrontation the two men had had. Jeez, could she be any more inane?

Clara wanted to dig a hole and cover herself with a rock. This man had had his tongue and cock inside her, and she’d not even had the grace to discover his name first. Her family would be so ashamed at her behavior. She hadn’t decided if she would bury the memory yet. It was hard to think past the fog of lust he inspired in her, with his scent still on her skin, with his erection pressed intimately against her and her own body begging to be filled by his cock once more.

“Cajun,” he said succinctly, bringing her back to the present. “Danior still wants you. You will be safe at my place, Clara. Allow me to take care of you.”

Staring into his eyes, she felt her willpower wavering. She was just about ready to say yes to anything he proposed. She’d begun the night with insanity. Shouldn’t it end that way as well? Instinctively, she knew he would not hurt her, so what was the harm in living out her fantasies?

Lost in thought, she said nothing. When she didn’t answer him, his face grew serious. His eyes darkened and his brow furrowed. In a voice chill with certainty, he said, “If you do not come, you will die tonight.”

* * * *

Raoul saw his words had provoked the appropriate response in her. Her face paled, and her eyes grew wide with dawning fear. Danior had scared her--he had reminded her of that fact. If she’d known the truth about Danior, about what he himself was, she would likely be terrified. He wanted her to be afraid. Fear was the ultimate survival tool.

She seemed to remember herself after a moment and clenched her jaw tightly.

Raoul’s face darkened with irritation. He tightened his hands on her arms but she continued to look at him unafraid. She had him to thank for her ease of mind, though she didn’t realize it. Had he not broken the vampire’s mind marking, she would have willingly gone wherever the bloodsucker asked and been completely susceptible to his every suggestion.

He had made a mistake not taking her from this place to start with, to goad the vampire so near his lair. But when she’d begged him to take her and wrapped those sweet thighs around his waist, he’d been unable to resist sinking into her depths. And still he’d not had his fill of her. A mere human woman had tempted him and clouded his reason. It angered him to lose his control ... and it was deadly.

Danior had given them a brief respite for some unknown reason. Raoul couldn’t risk that he would not return with back up. He could only fight so many before succumbing. Clara wouldn’t have a chance in hell. He wanted to shake her, make her realize the danger.

If he’d had time to place the remaining marks on her, she would not be so foolishly defiant now. She would be bound to him, would crave his touch as she would no other. His cock hardened unbearably at the thought of laying his claim to her.

Beneath her bravado, she was still anxious, still afraid, and the heady mix only increased his hunger for her. She couldn’t know her heightened adrenaline was as enticing to him as the musky perfume of her desire. Couldn’t know that he was dangerously close to losing his chained beast after confronting Danior. He could not afford her fear right now, and did not want to fight her. “I am the only one who can protect you. I swear, on the blood of my heart, I will not harm you.”

His sincerity pierced her stubbornness. “I’m regretting this already.” She sighed and closed her eyes, shaking her head once before looking at him again. “I’ll go with you. But you have to explain everything to me.”

He nodded once and released her. “You’ll learn more tonight than you ever wanted to know.”

* * * *

Clara was surprised when they reached his car, not expecting that he would drive such a costly vehicle. He was a large man, well over six feet tall, and the black viper fit as though made for him. A custom job on an already expensive car. Luckily, wealth had never impressed her like it did some people, and she was able to be at ease in the luxury vehicle.

Lights flashed as other cars drove past them on the lighted streets, busy with late night traffic.

She hadn’t noticed before, given all that had happened, but now that she had some leisure and at least dim lighting, she could see he was covered with scars. Deep gashes rent his forearms and exposed shoulders, pulling toward his back to disappear under his mesh shirt. They were old enough to have healed completely and faded into the color of the surrounding skin. She wondered just how extensive the damage was.

“What happened to your arms?” she blurted out without thinking and cringed at her callousness. She touched a gentle fingertip to him, fascinated, traveling along one long scar that curled around his biceps. It was smooth and felt no different than his whole skin. “It looks like an animal got hold of you.”

He glanced at her then back at the road, his look unreadable. “Something like that.”

He didn’t seem a man to talk much, but she sensed she’d struck a nerve, and with good reason. She shivered, thinking of what he must have gone through. Her heart ached with empathy for his suffering. “It must have been painful.”

“Yes.”

She burned to ask more but fell quiet when she saw where he was taking her.

They headed to an expensive residential neighborhood, enclosed in the city for convenience, where she knew the lots cost in the tens of thousands due to their location and illusory seclusion. For the first time, she wondered what he did for a living.

He pulled into the only road in or out and stopped at the gate briefly before a guard waved them through. Old fashioned street lamps lit the way through the heavy woods, and they passed several immense houses before he pulled into the drive of an old style Tudor.

The tension was thick in the intimate space.

She’d remained silent as long as she could bear it. She still wasn’t ready to drop his accident. She knew instinctively that it was something she needed to know. “Would you like to talk about it? About the accident?”

He parked in the front and turned off the car. “Some things should be forgotten.” Palming his keys, he got out of the car and opened the door for her.

“And some things you can never forget.”

He gave her an angry look, then headed up the path to his front door. She had to practically run to keep up with him. He took so long to respond, she’d begun to think he wouldn’t even bother answering. “You wouldn’t understand,” he said finally.

“Try me,” she said, a little breathless as they stopped in front of the door.

“You don’t belong in my world,” he said gruffly as he unlocked the door and held it wide for her to enter.

“You’ve just invited me inside....”

Chapter Three

Could he risk telling her the truth? That the monsters of the world’s nightmares actually existed in a shadowy, secret society? She wouldn’t believe him. No one did until it was too late to listen to the warnings. He’d never worried about people heeding him before, but he found he wanted her to believe him--not just think he was some psycho.

Had he not been attacked, all those years ago, he himself would still be ignorant and deny their existence.

He could warn her, tell her what had happened to him ... and what Danior had done to her. But that wouldn’t mean she would listen.

Clara waited in the foyer, watching him expectantly with her soft, hazel eyes. She perceived too much. There was a vibrancy about her spirit that was difficult to resist ... or deny. That, and she was too damn beautiful by half, a woman built for loving. Being so close to her incited him to a raging lust he was hard pressed to control. Small wonder that Danior wanted her for his own.

“Follow me,” he said finally, resigned, leading her into the living area that opened off the front entryway. A two story cathedral ceiling stretched above them, the hewn wood warm and inviting in the soft yellow light of a central chandelier. Here was as good a place as any to divulge his secrets.

He picked up a remote and hit a button. Instant fire roared to life in the fireplace.

Sitting near the blaze in an overstuffed chair, he stretched out his legs and bade her sit across from him. He stared at the fire, waiting until she was settled before beginning.

“Seven years ago, I was on the force, heading up the case of the Necro-ripper.”

“I remember when that happened. I was in college, we were all terrified.”

He nodded. “We thought we had him tracked down to the swamp. Had every available officer out there scouring the area, set up a perimeter and road blocks, the works. He wasn’t getting out. He’d taken another girl, you see....”

He turned his gaze to her, watching her reaction. “My partner, Jim, and I had discovered some tracks. I never got to radio the finding in. Something fell from a cypress, slashed into my back. My left arm was nearly severed in the struggle. The last thing I remember was seeing Jim’s head floating next to me in the water, and then blackness.”

Clara looked about to speak, but Raoul held his hand up, stopping her. “I woke up in the hospital a week later. They’d found the Necro-ripper. Put about three dozen bullets in him. But the damage had already been done to me. I ... changed the first full moon....”

She looked confused, unsure of what to say. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, wringing the bottom edge of her blouse. “I ... I don’t understand.”

Watching her steadily, he held her rapt with his gaze so that she couldn’t look away. “I was infected, chere. By a very rare virus. So rare, it’s become nothing but a myth, or a tale to scare children.... Lycanthropy ... a werewolf.”

* * * *

Clara laughed. What he’d said wasn’t the least bit humorous, but the horror he described, the conviction in his voice.... Her body hurt as though she’d lived through it, and her gut reaction was to bleed off the fright in the only way she knew how. She was disturbed to hear her hysteria so plainly, but she couldn’t help herself. After only a moment, she went quiet, confronted by his dead seriousness, his silence.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, ashamed at her lack of control. It had been a hell of a night. She rubbed her eyes with her fingertips, covering her face with her palms, unable to bear meeting the condemnation she knew he bore her. What she’d done was unforgivable. She’d been brought up better than that. But how could she have suspected he would tell her something so ... so outrageous and impossible to believe? She expected any minute some cameraman would jump out and surprise her with the knowledge she was on Scare Tactics.

“It’s understandable, chere.”

That only made her feel worse. Worse still, her gut told her he wasn’t lying. She couldn’t believe that he would lie about something so horrendous--not when his voice held the pain of truth. Not when confronted with the evidence of his extensive scarring. There had to be some explanation for it, but at the moment, she couldn’t fathom what it could be.

“This is crazy,” she said finally, her voice muffled by her hands, still cowardly trying to hide her shame.

“Don’t make me show you, Clara. I don’t want you to fear me.”

Dropping her hands to her lap, she looked at him, struck by his tone and words. He was just as beautifully masculine to her now as when she’d first seen him. Hearing his admission, however crazy it sounded, hadn’t changed her desire for him, her desire to know him. It was insane to have such strong feelings when she didn’t know him, but he provoked a powerful response in her that she’d never encountered before.

“I would never fear you,” she said with conviction, feeling it to be true. Obviously he was attuned to action, but as a foil for violence, not an aggressor. He’d been a police officer before. It that was true, it would explain much.

“You can’t know the future.” He looked into the fire, his jaw hard.

No, she couldn’t, but she knew her feelings of the moment. She wanted to go to him, to soothe his torments, but she dared not right now. He seemed ... distant, troubled. So she did nothing but sit there, watching him. He excited her, but he didn’t scare her, intense as he was. Still, there was one inconsistency she hadn’t considered. “If you’re a ... lycanthrope, how can you wear that?” She indicated the ring in his right nipple. “Isn’t it silver?”

He smiled darkly. “I like a little pain mixed with my pleasure.”

The low timbre of his voice vibrated along her nerves like an electric current. Heat flooded her, pooling between her legs. She shook herself mentally, trying to get a grip on her emotions. It was frightening how easily he could play them. Maybe he was more dangerous than she realized ... just by sheer potent sexuality....

“I know you don’t believe me. You needn’t worry. I will still protect you from Danior.”

She felt better moving on to a different subject. It allowed her to gain control of her libido--before her brain was fried. Better not to dwell too long on his disease ... or her reaction to him. “Who is he?

He watched her a long moment before finally saying, “He is a vampire.”

Clara shivered, unexpectedly chilled by this admission. She should have known better than to ask. She was reminded of that eerie wind that hadn’t touched him, how he’d seemingly vanished. No, it just couldn’t be. Still, Raoul’s contempt made her curious. “You say that like you hate ... them.”

“I do, as do all of my kind.”

She couldn’t fully believe him--it was just too far past the realm of believability--but suddenly she was fascinated. The paranormal had always captured her imagination. She’d spent more hours than she cared to remember reading horror books through the night. “Why?”

“They seek to control, to drain us. Our blood is like a drug to them, addictive, potent, rare. I have never met a natural born shape-shifter, but even those who were once human are scarce. Men rarely survive their attacks--women, almost never.”

From a scientific standpoint, it made sense, just based on old legends and stories. Lycanthropes were like superhumans. It stood to reason that their blood would be more powerful, and highly prized by a vampires, who subsisted on blood. And also that it would be difficult and painful for a human to survive such vicious attacks, which would account for the rarity of such a race, to the point of lack of evidence to support their existence in modern society. She supposed most who were attacked were ... eaten. Clara swallowed hard, ill at that possibility.