Lure of Forever Read online

  "For fuck’s sake, Lucas, what are you doing to her?"

  Lucas ignored the agitated shifter and smiled at Jerry. He let his voice drop further and she calmed visibly, refocusing on him.

  "Ah, that's better," Lucas murmured his approval. "What does she see?"

  "Things, dead things that scare her." Jerry's voice was a mere whisper. "They come in her dreams."

  Merde, this was not good. Jenkins started pacing behind him and Lucas forced himself to stay calm. Jerry was clearly terrified for her daughter, for herself and for Coralie. He picked something up, something deeply buried in her subconscious, but his body's own needs distracted him. Her blood rushed through her veins and Lucas’s jaw ached in response. He was still recovering from his injuries and the fight with Bughar and the subsequent healing of Coralie had drained his resistance to the blood lust. His fangs ran out and he moved closer. Just a little further and he could—

  The heavy object connecting with the back of his head snapped him back to himself.

  "What the hell are you doing, Lucas?"

  Coralie stood next to him—the heavy skillet that had been left on the table in hand— eyes huge in a face that was pale save for the two high spots of color on her cheeks. Had she hit him with that? Judging by the dull ache in his head, she had. He shook his head and tried to step closer, but she raised the skillet again.

  "Don't you dare…You were about to fucking bite her. What the hell got into you, and why the fuck didn't you stop him, Jenkins?" She glanced towards the shifter and Lucas took the opportunity to wrestle the skillet off her. The immediate stamp on his instep hurt, but he didn't release his hold on her.

  "Damn it, Lucas, let me go. You promised you wouldn't do this. I trusted you."

  ****

  Coralie wasn't going to do the girly thing and cry. No fucking way. Disappointment stuck a hot poker into her heart. Just when she was starting to trust him, he pulled a stunt like this. The ease with which he took the cast-iron skillet off her terrified her anew, even as his hold on her lessened and he let her go with a murmured, "Je suis désolé, pardonnez-moi."

  She darted away from him, keeping one eye on Jerry. Her friend looked dazed but unharmed. Jenkins hovered around her anxiously and Jerry leaned back into him. The same couldn't be said for Lucas. He sat down heavily and Coralie watched in horror as his shirt collar turned crimson. Oh, shit, that skillet had been heavy.

  Against her will, her legs moved of their own accord. Gritting her teeth, she tipped his head forward to inspect the damage.

  "Leave it, I'll heal."

  Coralie swallowed the rising bile as the wound opened further in front of her eyes. He wasn't healing, he was getting worse. What the hell was going on here? Lucas's painful groan as she examined the wound further brought Jenkins to his feet. He handed her a wet towel and she pressed it to the wound to stem the flow.

  "He needs more blood." Jenkins’s flatly delivered statement hung in the room. "And quickly, before Jerry comes to and wonders what the hell is going on." He smiled at her, but Coralie didn't feel reassured. "I didn't stop him, because we need answers and we need them fast. I can't protect her if I don't know all the facts. Jerry is hiding something." He cut her immediate protests off with an impatient wave of one clawed hand. Coralie stepped a bit closer to Lucas, as the eyes of Jenkins's wolf stared at her. Oh, shit. Why could she not get involved with men that didn't turn into terrifying wild animals or need to dine on you as though you were a conveniently located fast food place?

  Jenkins growled and Lucas pulled her onto his lap, resting his head on her shoulder. His blood had seeped through the towel and his face turned ashen. Shit, shit and fuck.

  "Despite what you saw he wouldn't have hurt her, not really. Lucas is the only vamp the boss trusts, and that's good enough for me."

  Jerry sighed and blinked and Jenkins cursed. He picked Jerry up and dashed out of the kitchen with a curt, "Whatever you're going to do, do it fast before he bleeds all over the floor. I'll keep her occupied for as long as I can."

  Lucas lifted his head off her shoulder with a tired smile in her direction and her heart clenched at the pain in his eyes.

  "Don't listen to him. I'll be fine. I just need to rest a minute." His voice lacked its usual conviction and he held himself upright with a white-knuckled grip on the table.

  "You don't look fine. You look as though you're going to pass out," Coralie whispered. Her heart beat faster at the thought of what she had to do. He hadn't wanted her blood last time and the little he had taken had hurt like hell. She gritted her teeth and lifted her wrist. "I know you need this, so… so do whatever it is you have to do to heal."

  "Non, it's not necessary."

  "Yes it is."

  Lucas shook his head and closed his eyes. She didn't catch the whispered French words, but his desperation came through loud and clear and her heart ached for him.

  "Lucas, this is my fault. I hit you. I should have trusted you, but…but I thought…and you… shit." She framed his head in her hands. "Look at me, please, Lucas."

  He tensed, those sculpted cheekbones standing out even more than usual. She couldn't even be sure if he was still breathing—his body a still statue, the only movement a small muscle ticking in his jaw. When he finally looked at her the anguish she saw in his eyes soothed her frayed nerves and she swallowed. His eyes followed that movement and his fangs ran out. He moved his head and grabbed her wrist with one hand. His tortured eyes never once leaving hers, he bit into her soft skin.

  Coralie braced herself against the pain, but apart from the initial sharp sting, no pain came. Instead heat flowed up her arm. Tingles replaced the heat—tingles that increased in intensity the harder Lucas sucked. Coralie's breath hitched and she shifted restlessly on his lap as those tingles sent darts of electricity dancing along her skin until they settled between her thighs.

  The functioning side of her brain wandered what on earth was happening to her, whilst the instinctive feminine part sighed in submission to the sensations filling her. Her eyes fluttered closed and she leaned further into Lucas's frame, his arm behind her back stopping her from falling. She lost all sense of time as the sensations built until she was so close to release she moaned her protest when Lucas slowly withdrew his fangs. His chest shook in silent amusement as she pulled away and she opened her eyes so see him licking the tiny wounds on her wrist with infinite care. Relief replaced arousal. The gaping wound on the back of his head had closed, and apart from the matted hair and the blood-stained collar there was no evidence of his previous injury.

  "Merci, Chere." The growled words settled straight in her heart and she hastily dropped her eyes as emotions overwhelmed her. No, no, no, no, she could not be falling in love with him. This was insane, but what other explanation was there for what had just happened to her? Instead of running away screaming, like any sensible person would have done, she had offered her wrist and had almost climaxed whilst he drank her blood.

  Oh God, there was something seriously wrong with her. His cool hand under her chin forced her to look at him. The concern she saw in his face caused an army of butterflies to take up residence in her tummy and she swallowed visibly.

  "Are you OK, Coralie?"

  She nodded, not trusting her voice at that moment and his eyes narrowed as heat crept into her cheeks.

  "Are you sure? I didn't hurt you?"

  Oh God, why could he not just let this go? She was going to self-combust if the heat in her cheeks was any indication. She tried to wriggle away from him, shaking her head in denial, but his hold on her tightened and he pulled her closer into him. He was so close his whispered words raised her fringe. "So, if I didn't hurt you…"

  Her stomach somersaulted and she buried her face into his shoulder, mumbling her reply.

  "You didn't hurt me, just the opposite… I…" She couldn't bring herself to finish that sentence and her breath hitched when he dropped a kiss into her hair. What must he think of her? His hand rubbed her back an
d she snuggled further into him—the coolness of his skin a welcome relief from the heat suffusing her own body.

  "You what, Chere? Tell me."

  "Why didn't it hurt? I don't understand. Last time…"

  He pulled her up and away from his body so abruptly her teeth clanged together. His eyes searched her face and his expression softened.

  "Last time I didn't have the strength to make it easy for you. It's not meant to hurt, not unless I want it to." A chill went down her spine at the murderous shadow crossing his face before he looked at her and smiled the most seductive smile she had ever seen. "It's meant to be pleasurable, Chere."

  That smile of his deepened at her surprised reaction and she simply melted at his next words.

  "Just imagine what it would feel like during sex."

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lucas ruthlessly tamped down on the surge of pure lust shooting through him. His blood pooled south and his balls grew heavy. His cock pressed against his jeans, surging upwards to seek entry to her slick haven. She was too damn responsive, and his body reacted to her as though he was a green-eyed teenager rather than the jaded and experienced lover he usually thought himself to be. Everything with her seemed different. From the minute Coralie tumbled into his arms, she'd surprised the hell out of him. Cynicism had gone out the window. He was in danger of acting like a lovesick puppy.

  Seeing her now, her body treading the fine line between arousal and embarrassment, eyes drawn together and gaze settled on his fangs, a part of him wanted to fuck her silly. But the other, long-suppressed human part wanted to wrap her up and keep her safe. Take her away from all of this madness and spoil her rotten. The vivid images assaulting his brain took him by surprise: Coralie, back in his home village in the Provence, her eyes wild with laughter as they rode horseback along the beach and made love in front of the fire at his cottage.

  Merde, what was wrong with him? His breathing picked up and sweat pooled between his shoulder blades. His stomach churned and his chest tightened as he pulled her off his lap. Her startled gasp of surprise at his actions settled like lead in his conscience. He needed to put some distance between them.

  She folded her arms around herself, a frown on her face as she watched him, before she turned heel with a muttered, "I'll just go and check on Suz again."

  Her blood zinging through his veins called her to him, that's all it was. He couldn't afford to let it be more than that. He had nothing to offer her apart from physical satisfaction. But damn it, why did the dejected line of her shoulders, as she walked away make his insides ache? Lucas sensed her confusion and hurt and something else that he didn't dare to examine closer. She was human and fragile and she needed protecting. There was a fucking demon on the loose.

  The sounds reaching him from Jerry's bedroom had him balling his fists. She was involved in this. It all tied together and if his gut was right it all centered on the little girl Coralie was now singing to in low, hushed tones. The little girl who'd read his thoughts as easily as though he'd spoken out loud, and whose wide-eyed stare had reached deep inside of him as though she knew exactly who he was. The little girl that had caused Coralie to glow with love, lighting up her features and making him wish he could give her that.

  Putain l'enfer! The expletive hung in the silent room and Lucas had to suppress the urge to grab the skillet and throw it against the wall. Instead he focused on righting the room. Jerry could never know what he really was. It would block his chances of getting close to her daughter and finding out who she was and why Jacomo focused his attentions on her. He stuffed the bloody towel in the washing machine and stuck his head under the kitchen tap to wash the blood out of his hair. Nothing he could do about the stain on his collar. He’d just have to hope Jenkins had managed to fry Jerry's brains enough that she wouldn't notice. Coralie would never forgive him if he had to compel her friend a second time, and he wasn't sure he could cope with seeing that look of intense disappointment in her eyes again.

  Shaking the water out of his hair, he paused at the sight that greeted him. He hadn't even noticed that he'd followed Coralie into the bedroom. The woman he—he what, exactly?

  Merde, snap out of it, Lucas. You do not have feelings for her. You can't have.

  He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe, schooling his face into a mask of indifference, even as his ancient heart galloped like a newborn foal, stopping, starting, and searching for its home. His throat closed in and had he been human he would have found it impossible to breathe. Damn it, he didn't like feeling—not one little bit—but Coralie seemed to have opened the floodgates and now there was an avalanche of emotion overwhelming him. And he remembered—fuck, how he remembered.

  Coralie sat on the edge of Suzanne's bed quietly humming, silent tears streaming down her face as she held the little girl's hand. Only in his mind's eye he wasn't seeing Coralie, but Melisande. His wife, sat on the sparse cot in their hut, crying. The bloody rags balled at her feet, testament to what had happened whilst he'd been away. Again. Merde, not again. A shell of her former self, she rocked to and fro, to and fro, her once-lustrous auburn locks hanging around her gaunt face in greasy strands. He'd stood there, guilt and despair freezing him to the spot, as his wife howled her agony at having lost yet another child. He shouldn't have left her. This was his fault. All of this was his fault.

  He'd sworn to protect her. He was never going to put her though that agony again, but Melisande hadn't listened. He'd been unable to resist her desperate pleas and all seemed to be going so well this time. That is until he'd left, called away by his father's urgent demand. Duty and honor had forced his hand. He had to go and obey his liege and Melisande had refused his pleas to stay at her mother's.

  "This is my home, Lucas. I will not leave the place my babies are buried."

  So he'd left her and she had to face the horror of losing their son on her own. No one would help a suspected witch. The villagers kept their distance, and in her despair she had called forth Jacomo. He had feasted on Melisande, weakening her further, and started a killing spree that spanned centuries until Lucas had managed to track him down. And now the bastard was back again, and threatening everyone Coralie cared about.

  Lucas couldn't quite stop the agonized groan his memories evoked. Coralie's soft gasp broke though the mists of agony swirling behind his closed eyelids.

  ****

  Lost in her own thoughts, Coralie hadn't noticed Lucas standing in the doorway until he made a sound like a wounded animal. Raw pain radiated off him, slicing through her bruised heart. Eyes closed, arms crossed over his chest, he seemed far away, caught in the grip of some terrifying emotion. She carefully slid her hand from Suz's, and driven by the need to comfort, she crossed the room and touched his arm. She gasped at the jolt of recognition and terror that sprang up her arm, the flash of pain so acute it took her breath away. His eyes flew open at the contact and he pulled her against himself with a muttered French curse. She wrapped her arms around him and he buried his fists in her hair with the desperation of a drowning man. Neither one of them spoke, both needing the comfort of just being held. The sound of Suzanne's steady breathing was the only sound in the room.

  When Lucas finally released her, his hands shook, and he balled them into fists before stuffing then into the back pockets of his jeans. The gesture was so familiar to her now, Coralie smiled, despite the heaviness in her heart. His scent wrapped itself around her senses and her body responded with embarrassing predictability. The ghost of a smile kicked up his mouth for a second, when he noticed. He pulled his hand from his pocket and his thumb swiped across her bottom lip. Coralie sighed. Lucas dropped a kiss on her nose before he stepped away, putting distance between them for the second time this evening. With one last searching look at the sleeping child, Lucas turned his back on her and walked back to the kitchen. Coralie pulled the door to Suz's room shut and followed him. He sat back down at the table and stared into the distance, every line of his beautifully
-formed body suggesting exhaustion.

  God, she was so doomed. Not only did she want to jump his bones every time she looked at him, but her silly heart contracted painfully, and she wanted to kiss those worry lines off his face. Face it, girl, you are not falling for him. He's already caught you, hook, line and sinker and you don't want to run away. You're such an idiot.

  She sat next to him and her eyes filled with tears seeing the white-knuckled grip he held on the spirit glass, left over from earlier. She put her own hand over his and felt some of the tension leave his body.

  "We need to talk, Chere."

  The deep, growled words increased her awareness of him to such an extent, that she had to clamp her legs together to stop the answering tingle between her thighs.

  "I guess we do," she sighed, her voice far too breathy, even to her own ears. Yup, she'd turned into a raving nymphomaniac. Jerry would be proud of her. Come to think of it, where was her friend?

  Before she could ask that question, Jenkins walked out of Jerry's bedroom. His hair was wet, as though he'd just showered and thankfully he was dressed. It wouldn't have helped her current state one little bit to see the shifter’s perfectly-toned abs on display.

  He smiled at Coralie and, swinging his legs over the bench opposite them, sat down before addressing Lucas.

  "She's asleep. Events tonight have exhausted her. Looks like she's not the only one." He glanced at Coralie again, and the concern she read in his eyes soothed her fears for her friend. Unless she was very much mistaken, Jenkins cared for Jerry—a lot. If it hadn't been so tragic she'd have laughed out loud. Who'd have thought she'd find herself in the same boat as a shifter...hopelessly in love with someone who would never love you back?

  Lucas cleared his throat noisily and let go of the glass to squeeze her hand.

  "What do you know about Suzanne's father?" He squeezed her hand again and turned round slightly. His face was back to its usual unreadable expression, but his eyes showed a maelstrom of emotion as they connected with hers.