Draicon: Enemy Lover Part 8

The cat hissed. For a moment, its fangs looked lethal. Recoiling, Jamie shrank back.

"Hey," Damian snapped. "Favorite pet of Renee's or not, enough. You will learn manners." He scooped up the cat with one hand and headed for the door.

Raphael gave her a hard look. "Jamie. Listen to Damian and do what he says. He's your dracairon and will take care of you."

"I can take care of myself."

His mouth narrowed to a thin slash. "He'd give his life for you, even though you tried to take away his."

Simmering anger in his voice sent alarm bells clanging. Not one to mess with, any more than Damian. But she never backed away from a confrontation. And wouldn't now. "You don't like me much, do you?"

"I don't need to like you. Damian does. I'm just his brother, and you're his mate." He took a menacing step forward. "But try hurting him again, and you will find out just how strong the bonds of brotherhood are."

Canines gleamed sharp in his mouth as he flashed a wide smile. The door banged shut behind him.

Jamie dismissed the warning. She had bigger problems. Six feet of problem, with broad shoulders and long, muscled limbs. She studied Damian as he returned to the kitchen. A natural leader, he even moved with authority. Her mind raced over the possibilities. He had tremendous power and magick and was her only pathway to the book that would cure her.

She fetched another laptop, placed it on the kitchen table and powered up, clicking onto the Internet. "We need to make a list of all the clues you have, the antique shop, what your father told you about the book."

Damian eyed the computer the same way Renee had. "I thought I destroyed that."

"I had another."

"It's not safe with that thing."

Another one stuck in the Stone Age. "How much do you know about computers?"

"Enough," he a.s.serted. "My last one was a Commodore. Are they still available?"

A sound between a snort and a laugh fled her lips. "On eBay, maybe. Look, you have no idea what technology is like these days. This machine is pa.s.sword protected. No one can break in. I have a dozen ways to block hackers. Including a virus that will wipe out hard drives. I could wipe out yours." She offered him a singularly sweet smile.

His face flattened. "You already tried that once, Jamie. The poison in your kiss was lethal, but defeated. I may not know machines, but I know my enemy and they can counter any protective measures you impose."

Gone was the gentle Damian, replaced by a hardened warrior who would never allow his guard down. Suddenly his hand shot out, captured something. Jamie twisted in the chair. In his cupped palms Damian held a fly.

"Morphs can s.h.i.+ft into insects so small you can't hear them. They make perfect spies. Their brains retain intelligence, no matter what the form."

Her breath hitched as she waited for him to crush the fly. Instead he released it out the window.

"Forget the Internet. Let's talk about the search. You're not leaving me out of this, Draicon. I want all the information you have on the book."

"I told you, my name is Damian. And if you're thinking of finding the book on your own, you can't. The clues are all in French." A hard smile curved his lips. "My father's precaution against outsiders infringing on our business."

The ringing phone interrupted. Fresh anxiety filled her as the caller introduced himself. Her hand shook as she replaced the receiver.

"That was Armand, Renee's son-in-law. He's in town. The police are releasing the body tomorrow and they're holding the funeral the next day."

They set out to find the first clue the next morning. A few clouds scudded across the clear blue sky. Hairs p.r.i.c.kled Jamie's nape as Damian accompanied her like a warden escorting a prisoner. She shot him a sideways glance. His profile was taut skin stretched over bone, his green eyes purposeful. The broad shoulders hinted of arrogant authority. Not a werewolf to cross.

Escaping him would prove difficult.

He'd insisted on sleeping in her apartment. Jamie had pointed the way to the guest bedroom. It did no good. She'd spent the night wreathed in lush, erotic dreams. Memories of when Damian had taken her virginity.

Her hands roving over the hard muscle rippling over his wiry body. Imagining him as a wolf, loping over glade and meadow, proudly leading his pack. The hot pleasure he'd brought with his gentle touch, then the pain as he pushed himself inside. More than the burning fullness had been the overwhelming sensation of Damian filling every pore, every cell, invading her with both p.e.n.i.s and mind. Losing herself, as Damian overwhelmed her with male force and power as he thrust into her. The hard edge of l.u.s.t on his face amid her growing need to bond with him because she must obey the compelling feeling to give herself to him, and him only...

She'd awakened from the dream tangled in damp sheets, perspiration soaking her pajamas. The smell of cooking bacon drifted from the kitchen. Jamie had caved in and eaten the breakfast Damian cooked. It was pointless to resist. If Draicon magick kept her alive, she'd cater to her body's needs. Later, when the spell was broken, she could be vegetarian again.

Now, like tourists browsing for treasures, they drifted in and out of shops. At the second stop, her BlackBerry vibrated. Jamie removed it and stole a peek while Damian was scanning bookshelves. Text message from Paul, her online friend, to meet her. In the square, very public.

Jamie texted back. Can't.

Just got a new e-book reader. The latest and greatest.

Oh, wow. Her eyes widened. She nearly salivated. Her forefingers hovered over the keyboard. G.o.d, I'm such a geek.

Yeah, she was. If Paul had a new electronic toy, she was there.

Jamie responded in the affirmative and pocketed the BlackBerry.

Around noon, she sensed Damian's real purpose.

The two-story brick building they approached featured a charming balcony with wrought-iron gates. Mesh screening barred the old wood door to the antique shop. Antiques cluttered shelves in the window. Someone locked a battered bicycle to one of the crooked balcony posts.

Damian herded Jamie inside. Cramped and musty, the shop had narrow aisles wide enough for one person. She searched the walls, studying the antique rifles hung neatly on pegs, the nude paintings. She studied the gla.s.s display cases filled with silver dollars, toy soldiers and jewelry. Silent as a wolf on the prowl, Damian followed her.

He'd told her to examine the back wall. His father's favorite chair had once sat there. Damian paused before bookcases inlaid into the wall. A CD of 1930s music played softly in the background as the singer warbled "Ain't She Sweet."

Stark melancholy flashed across his face. The hint of vulnerability shocked her. The look vanished, replaced by a cold, a.n.a.lytical one as he caught her staring. "Stop wasting time and start looking for it." Curtness lashed his deep voice.

Jamie examined the wall, glad of his mood s.h.i.+ft. It reminded her what an arrogant a.s.s he was.

She scanned shelves crammed with faded dolls, Lionel trains and antique beaded purses. Next to the bookcase was a four-foot section of exposed brick. Dusting off his hands, the proprietor approached, asked if he could help them.

"I'm looking for the words of Andre Marcel. Have you seen such a book?"

The man's face was careworn, but his brown eyes were sharp. They scrutinized Damian as if studying a rare coin. "You followed Andre Marcel?"

"Yes, but not when I was younger. It was only when I became an adult that I realized his wisdom."

The odd exchange warned Jamie of its importance. An approving smile came over the man. He glanced about the shop, then brought over a rickety footstool. After climbing it, he reached for a book at the very top shelf and climbed down.

With a reverent look, he handed it to Damian. "You may find this of interest." Then sorrow flashed into his eyes. "Mr. Marcel was an extraordinary person. Consider this a gift from an admirer."

Damian nodded, hiding his expression as he opened the musty leather-bound book. The proprietor picked up the stool and vanished into a back room.

Jamie craned her neck to read over Damian's shoulder. Her eyebrows shot up. "The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?"

A wry smile touched his mouth. "Father told me there was truth even in fiction. Men often show two faces. He was always teaching a lesson."

On the next-to-last page was a cryptic note, a penciled drawing of a wolf's head. Beside it was scribbled something in French.

"Gentleman buccaneer imbibes," Damian murmured.

Dust motes drifted outward as he snapped the book shut. Damian tucked it beneath his black T-s.h.i.+rt, then grabbed Jamie's hand.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

His mouth thinned. "Allons. Come on, let's get back."

Outside, she blinked at the bright suns.h.i.+ne. People strolled the streets, pushed past them. Haunting sadness flickered in Damian's eyes as he glanced at the storefront. Jamie s.h.i.+fted her feet.

This six-foot male with his muscled body in the tight jeans and the hands that could snap her neck in half was a ruthless, arrogant killer. Yet now he looked like a lost little boy. Damian whirled around, caught her looking at him. She knew all about loss, and memories and regrets. And the blast of sorrow he emitted engulfed her, amplified her own sense of loss.

Chapter 6.

A short while later, Damian sat before the brick fireplace in her bedroom, feeding a fire. Flames licked at the leather-bound book. He'd explained to her the importance of burning the book so it would be destroyed and the Morphs wouldn't find the clue.

"What did the clue say?"

"The gentleman buccaneer. My father always added history into everything he did. He meant Jean Lafitte. The bar named after him is on Bourbon. The next clue is there."

"No wonder your father didn't think you were old enough to follow the trail," she observed. "He was waiting until you were of legal age."

"Which was more than sixty years ago," he drawled. "I'm quite legal now."

"When are we going?"

"Tomorrow, after the funeral. I want to provide a diversion to throw Morphs off the trail."

"What kind of diversion?" Jamie's curiosity stirred.

He playfully tapped her nose. "You'll see, little one."

He stood, stretching. Fascinated, she stared at his broad shoulders s.h.i.+fting beneath the tight T-s.h.i.+rt. Damian poked at the dying embers with the toe of one scuffed boot.

"I have things to do, so, against my better judgment, I'm sending two males Rafe trusts to guard you. They're from his pack and have sworn allegiance to me while I'm in town." Damian gave her a level look. "Two males warned against interacting with you. They're stoic and utterly loyal. You'll find them completely boring but you will not leave the house."

A prisoner in her own home? No way. Jamie headed downstairs, taking her backpack, but Damian followed. As she reached the front gate, he snagged her wrist gently.

"I said you're not leaving." His tone was steely.

"And I say you can't keep me here. I'm meeting someone."

Now his gaze grew intent. "Who?"

"NOYB," Jamie taunted. None of Your Business. See if he could understand her slang.

He drew his thick eyebrows together. "Who is this n.o.b?"

"A guy who knows what NOYB means." She struggled to free herself and glared. "Besides, he's from my world, a geek like me."

He released her and she staggered backward. Damian's big shoulders tensed. His fingers extended, claws grew from the fingertips. He raked a hand over the green wooded gate, scoring marks, growling as if he wanted to carve up the man she mentioned.

She backed up, swallowed hard. With a deep breath, he dropped his hands, the claws retracting. When he spoke, his voice was mild.

"Your world, chere. You've left it behind. You can't return to it. You're in my world now, with my blood in you. I know it must be frightening, and confusing. With everything you know turned upside down, you want the familiar and the comfortable. But you must move on, because sometimes the familiar is dangerous."

Jamie's lower lip wobbled. Damian pinpointed all the roller-coaster emotions she'd ridden since the day Mark died. She felt close to crumbling into a ball at his feet. Instead, she scowled. "The familiar is not dangerous. Paul's a friend I met in cybers.p.a.ce. I did an in-depth background check on him. We've known each other for a year now and we're meeting in a very public place. Perfectly safe. I need to see him."

Long, lean fingers trailed over her cheek. His green gaze burned possessively. "You don't need another male. Or want one."

s.e.xual heat poured off him. Her own body responded, desire rippling through her like a rock tossed into a tranquil pool. Why did she want him when he'd taken away everything she'd loved?

"You're wrong."

"Jamie, I told you. You're my mate. Our body chemistries are intricately tied together. You can no more resist the desire than I can, and no other man will satisfy you as I will."

"Maybe I should try."

"You will not." Male possessiveness flared in his eyes.

Jamie rolled her eyes.

He wrapped his fingers about her upper arms, holding her, but with absolute gentleness. His deep green eyes searched her face.

"Jamie, listen to me. This male, he could be a predator." A hint of vulnerability flashed over his face. "I can't bear to see you hurt. There's so much out there that can hurt you."

The chest-beating male was gone. Confusion filled her. Why was he acting so protective? No one was interested in her welfare. Mark had been too absorbed in his television show.

She clutched his arms, feeling taut muscles flinch. And kissed him, just a peck, really, like she'd give a good friend.

He groaned and pulled her to him and delivered the real thing. Full body, mouth merging, tongue tangling, let's-have-s.e.x kiss. And wow, it was amazing. His mouth was warm, wet and he tasted like faint spices. Jamie licked the inside of his mouth, nipped his bottom lip.

Damian's eyes closed. Beneath her hands, she felt him quiver like a wild beast straining to be free. Jamie sucked on his tongue, siphoning his arousal, anything he gave her. He pulled her closer, thrust his tongue deep inside, as if trying to crawl inside her.

She opened her mouth wider. She didn't care, as long as she could touch him, feel his body against hers, find a way to ease this awful craving.

Werewolf. Killer. The thought flashed like a movie marquee. Danger. Warning. Steep grade ahead. Sheer drop. Brake hard. Now.

She froze. Fear leaked out of her like sweat.