Draicon: Enemy Lover Part 19

No one would ever send her downward again. He'd make sure of it. Any person who tried, he'd strip the skin from their bones.

Damian took her mouth, a deep kiss. Over and over, his tongue stroking her inside, imitating what was to come. Nudging his hips between her legs, he braced himself on his hands.

"Look at me," he commanded. "Jamie, look at me."

Slowly he pushed inside her, so slowly, gritting his teeth. Looking at her, her wide, gray eyes filled with trust. Sweet mercy, her wet, tight core felt like a hot fist clenching his c.o.c.k.

Must take it slow. She deserved tenderness and good loving. Damian strained with the effort to hold back. He withdrew, thrust again slowly.

He nuzzled her neck, blew into her ear. She s.h.i.+vered delicately, her nipples hardening into tight little cherry buds.

With a slow grace, an exquisite smoothness, he pushed into her. Damian laced his fingers through hers, pinning them to the bed, and thrust forward.

Jamie writhed a little, trying to find some ease as his thickness penetrated her fully. She sucked in a breath, and relaxed, opening to him, feeling blunt pressure filling her. Making them one. He pulled back, and began to stroke inside her, his p.e.n.i.s rubbing against her sensitive tissues, the friction creating a delicious heat that began from her center. His muscles contracted as he thrust, powerful shoulders flexing and back arching.

Damian consumed her, chased the evil darkness inside her with gentle light. Silky chest hair rubbed against her aching b.r.e.a.s.t.s, his hard six-pack sliding against her soft abdomen. She arched to meet his rhythm.

Wonder came over her face as she watched him. His mouth parted on a gasp, lips trembling. The bed beneath her felt soft as down, the male pressing her backward onto it solid muscle. It felt as if he locked her spirit in his, a closeness she'd never experienced.

His thrusts became more urgent, harder, until his flesh slapped against hers. Jamie's legs lifted as her hips pummeled upward in need. Close, so close...she writhed and reached for it, the tension growing until she felt ready to explode.

Screaming his name on her lips, she climaxed, her sheath squeezing him as she shattered, her back arching. He growled in satisfaction, gave one last thrust and threw his head back with a hoa.r.s.e shout. Hot seed jettisoned inside her, filling her with warmth. Damian collapsed atop her, his face pillowed beside her, his breathing ragged. She bore his weight, welcoming it, but then he eased out of her and rolled over, pulling her into his arms.

Jamie gasped and clutched him, feeling something else.

Magick. Good, strong, pure magick, racing through her body, pus.h.i.+ng back the drenching darkness left there by the Morphs. White light streaking along her veins, humming with power.

Frightened, she wriggled, trying to free herself of his embrace. He cupped her face in his hands.

"Let it happen, ma pet.i.te. It's my magick inside you, countering the darkness. Just relax and let go."

Quivering, she forced herself to lie still, feeling the tinge of power filling her body. Damian stroked her hair, murmuring rea.s.surances until the last of the magick faded, leaving her tired, yet buzzed, as if she'd sipped a very strong c.o.c.ktail.

She nuzzled her cheek against his sweat-slicked shoulder. His hand stroked her hair in a tender caress. "Don't run away from me like you did in New Mexico, Jamie. Promise not to leave me. Whatever problems you face, we can work them out together."

Jamie listened to his heart thud as she rested her cheek on his muscular chest. A huge step, making that kind of promise. It meant tying herself to him, strengthening the bond already forged in the flesh and...

Her heart. She stirred, troubled by the idea, testing it over in her mind. He was so good to her, so gentle and tender. What woman wouldn't want this?

He caged her with the seductive lure of s.e.x. And she'd willingly walked inside. But filling this cage were wild wolves, a pack who could destroy her.

She buried her face in his shoulder. "I promise to try." It was all she could offer.

Silence dripped between them a minute. Then he raised himself on an elbow, his fingers brus.h.i.+ng against her cheek. "Try hard," he said softly. "And I promise if you do run from me again, I will catch you."

His eyes gleamed with that wild, frightening look, a wolf secure in knowing it had caught its prey. "Because I won't let you go. Ever."

Chapter 13.

T hey hunted for the next clue in antique shops the following afternoon, searching for a bust of Napoleon with the marking 111. The number was the same as the revolutions on the Natchez. Lemon polish scented the enormous antique shop. Jamie gazed upward at chandeliers dangling crystal teardrops. Oriental rugs covered the original wood floors. Heavy oak and mahogany tables and chairs arranged in discreet settings gave the interior an elegant look.

Somewhere had to be a Napoleon bust. It was the last shop they explored. Before they'd left the house, Damian agreed to her suggestion to signal the others upon finding the statue and returning later to purchase it and defray suspicion.

She had steeled herself against the temptation to remain in Damian's arms last night and let his immense strength support her. Instead, she'd slipped away, sleeping downstairs. Each day she grew dangerously close to letting him into her heart and luring her into his pack and his purpose.

Jamie turned back to the small shelf in a corner. She glanced at her hands. Damian's lovemaking had turned her hands pale white again, but the nails remained gray. All the more reason for her to find the next clue.

A small white bust caught her eye. It was chipped. She picked it up, excitement thrumming inside her. Turning it over, she saw the small mark. 111. The number of revolutions on the Natchez's paddlewheel.

Jamie set Napoleon down. If she hid the bust and returned later to purchase it, she could find the last clue and the book. Cure herself and leave Damian behind. She didn't need him anymore.

Her hands hovered over the bust. Didn't need him? Who was she fooling?

He'd protected her, shown her a tenderness she'd never experienced. Given her magick to slow the spell, and sworn to her it was the two of them together in this. Maybe it was time for her to step out in trust. Jamie went to Damian.

"There's not much here. Let's go." She murmured the code words, signaling she'd found the statue.

Br.i.m.m.i.n.g with excitement, Jamie held his hand as they left. Later, they would return and...Damian nodded to a man lounging against a light pole. Alexandre nodded back, and headed directly for the shop.

Her heart dropped to her stomach. So much for trust. Damian studied her mutinous expression.

"He'll buy the statue and bring it back."

"Why are you bringing your family into this? It was supposed to be just us."

"Alex is an expert on antiques. His purchase will be less suspicious than if I bought it. My family wants to help, Jamie." He regarded her evenly. "Help cure you, Jamie."

"You make so much of family, family, family. Being part of a group is way overrated. I wouldn't want someone telling me what to do, where to go, how to live."

"Someone to be there when you need them."

"I don't need them. I do better on my own. Even with Mark, he didn't care..."

She bit her lip, looked away, aware she'd already said too much. Jamie flinched at his soft look of dawning comprehension.

"So that's it, Jamie. The Morph wasn't your brother but it was exactly what you wanted. The Morph played the part of the big, protective brother he thought Mark was. Only Mark really didn't care what you did, no matter how you tried to please him. All he cared about was his career, and as long as you stayed out of the way, he was fine with you."

Physical pain squeezed her chest. "He was my only brother. I always had enough food, clothes, everything I needed."

"Everything but someone to love you. You were living with a roommate, not a brother."

"I don't need love or a family. And I don't need you, either," she snapped.

"You need me more than you realize," he said quietly. "You're my mate and part of my family now. Tonight we're dining with them. You won't put them off any longer."

Her stomach tangled in knots. Jamie said nothing. She walked home, not caring that he walked beside her. She'd trusted him for once, and he'd let her down.

Families? Who needed them?

Not her.

When they returned to the house, she went straight to her room. Jamie ditched the pretty white blouse and plaid skirt for sweatpants and a fleece sweats.h.i.+rt. Laughter and conversation floated upstairs, making her feel more isolated than ever. Legs tucked beneath her, she perched on a chair before the antique desk and opened the laptop. A family dinner? Her eyes closed as she tried to imagine them pa.s.sing plates, talking, reconnecting those strong bonds.

Instead she saw only mocking smiles, heard the sneering tones.

Jamie powered up the computer, determined to crack the code on the MyPlace page. After working for two hours, she stopped and logged on to World of Warcraft. Going solo, her Night Elf solemnly engaged in a quest to find spider eggs.

Even on the Net, she was alone. Maybe it was better like this.

Loneliness engulfed her. Jamie powered off, dug into her suitcase and withdrew her purple elf ears. She put them on. Cosplay always made her feel better. But it didn't work now. Too much reality had stormed into her life.

She was not Celyndra, her warrior Night Elf. She was plain Jamie, who possessed scary powers of her own, magick she couldn't control. And memories of a childhood no games could ever erase.

She threw the elf ears into a steel wastebasket.

Soon after came a soft knock on the door. When she called out to enter, Damian came in with his usual grace. Jamie recognized the natural elegance, the innate sense of style. Damian was resplendent in a burgundy cashmere turtleneck, black wool trousers and polished loafers.

He lounged against the wall. "Dinner is downstairs. The children have already eaten and are in bed."

"Not hungry."

"You need energy. You'll eat. Even if I must drag you downstairs."

"Try shoveling it in my mouth."

Damian came over, bracketing his arms on either side of her. "Jamie, they're my brothers, my sister-in-law. Your family, as well. They want to know you better, chere." He dipped his head down to meet her gaze, warm breath feathering over her chilled cheek. She basked in the heat he emitted.

"I'm staying here."

"Then they'll come up after dinner. You can't put them off forever."

Her resolve wavered. Damian seemed determined to make her mix with them. Couldn't put it off any longer. She plucked at her worn Tulane sweats.h.i.+rt. "I'm not dressed."

"You look beautiful," he said softly. "But if you wish, you can change. But not for me. Or them, either."

Wearing different clothing wouldn't matter. Now or never. Sooner or later, she'd have to face them. How could anyone understand?

Her mouth was dry, her hands clammy as she went with him downstairs.

In the dining room, with the lead-crystal chandelier spilling muted light over the ecru walls, a table big as a football field was set with lace cloth, damask napkins and heavy silverware. All four brothers rose politely when she entered. Her nervousness flowered. She saw a blur of silk trousers, dress s.h.i.+rts, h.e.l.l, even that biker rogue Raphael was decked out in a pinstriped black suit and white s.h.i.+rt, with French cuffs and gold links. Cindy wore a string of freshwater pearls around her slim neck, a black silk dress setting off her long blond hair to perfection. She gave Jamie a warm smile, but it did nothing to erase the cold pit in her stomach.

Numbly, she slid into the chair Damian pulled out for her. Jamie stared at the table as he sat beside her. Wedgwood bone china. Cut-gla.s.s tumblers. On a oval platter were raw steaks. Another serving dish held a mountain of rice, one was stacked high with okra and steam misted from a gravy boat. A smaller platter held slices of rare roast beef, and another was topped with two steaks, grilled. Two quart-size bottles of Tabasco looked out of place among the elegance.

"I wasn't certain what you liked, so Raphael prepared and grilled the beef for you," Cindy explained.

Her blue eyes radiated kindness, and Jamie forced a smile. "Thank you."

The meal began unwinding in slow, agonizing tendrils of time. As she tentatively reached for her water gla.s.s, Damian served her a cooked steak and rice.

Jamie thanked him. She sliced off the smallest piece, watching a rivulet of blood trickle. Talk flowed around her like water streaming past a river rock.

The steak was tender and juicy. She swallowed, reached for her water and drank deeply. Not bad. Maybe she could do this, after all. It was only meat.

"So, Jamie, you're a computer geek."

This from Gabriel. All eyes turned to her, riveted as if Gabriel announced she was a plump, juicy rabbit they wanted to hunt. Oh G.o.d, the attention-now what?

She blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "I prefer the term G.o.ddess."

Laughter broke out around the table. They were mocking her, just as her family had. Humiliated, she dropped her gaze to the plate. What a mistake this was, thinking she could fit in.

They should just kick her under the table, salt her milk, spit in her food like her cousins did. Then finally drive her away, give her a plate with sc.r.a.ps to eat on the cold, cold back porch. No one would care.

Ashamed, she wanted to fling down her napkin and flee. Run upstairs, bang shut the door and never come out. But she wasn't a child and couldn't let them know how upset she was.

Silence hung in the room, but for the clinking of silverware against china. Then Gabriel winked. "Good. Rafe is a total loser at playing Doom. I could use a challenge. Maybe you could even teach Damian."

Warmth covered her palm as Damian slid his hand over hers. "I'm sure she will. I could use a diversion and a video game sounds excellent. I'd like to learn."

They weren't mocking her. Jamie relaxed as talk resumed. Gabriel asked her questions about her computer expertise. She eased into the conversational waters, then began to swim with confidence.

"This is good," she told Raphael. "All this needs is a little more greenery. Spinach and kale add color and vitamins."

"Vegetables?" Damian shuddered.

"You can hunt down a tomato or two in a garden." She set down her fork, swept them with a thoughtful look. "You can garden in your human form, and then if rabbits invade the garden, shape-s.h.i.+ft into a wolf and chase them away. Ecologically and environmentally sound farming. Vegans would sing your praises."

She bit her lip, hoping she hadn't crossed some invisible line of werewolf protocol. Oh G.o.d, what if she had and they all did something like growl or snarl or snap...

Alexandre's lips worked violently. Suddenly he burst into laughter. His brothers stared a moment, then joined in. Damian looked emotional as he squeezed her palm.

"You are amazing," he said in a low voice. "I haven't heard Alex laugh like that in years. Thank you."

His adoring look erased all tension. Tears she never thought she'd never shed suddenly clogged her throat. Jamie forced them down, concentrated on his hand gently stroking hers.

"Does this mean you'll get me a whole-wheat pizza with extra gorgonzola, pesto and tomato for dinner tomorrow?" she asked hopefully.

Damian made a sound suspiciously like a smothered laugh. Gabriel guffawed. "Are you from California?" His accent p.r.o.nounced the word with a slow slur.

"New York. Just as bad, only with better water and transportation."