Covet the Night, page 31
A small shout mingled with a groan erupted from Gwen as William clasped the back of her nape, and his fangs pierced her neck. The hot sting of pain brought tears to her eyes, followed by a rush of pleasure, so intense her knees buckled. His thigh and hand caught her before she could crumple.
Dear God….
Gwen whimpered. The current of pleasure running through her was electric, leaving all her nerves aflame. With every greedy suckle of his mouth, more and more of her body came alive. Her hips bucked helplessly at the intensity of his bite. Her entire body flushed as she realized how close she was to orgasming. In a club. Full of strangers.
And she wanted to.
William made her want to do all the things she knew she shouldn't—spill all her shameful secrets, give in to the promises his lips and hands and body offered, to live.
A choked noise escaped her as she shuddered with her release. His fangs retracted from her neck. Gwen nearly collapsed, her head dizzy with sensation and blood loss. The hot mess of her blood was spilling over her shoulders, racing toward her perfectly pristine white dress. A flare of panic spiked in her, which must have shown on her face because, faster than she could blink, his jacket was once more tucked over her shoulders, absorbing the flow of blood—hopefully before it ruined her dress. William took her hand and pressed it against her wound, his copper eyes wide and bloodied lips parted.
He jerked his head toward the back, taking hold of her other hand to lead her out of the club. The crowd parted for William without hesitation, his massive frame demanding space. Gwen followed him, stumbling half the steps until he swept her into his arms. When they exited the building, a car was miraculously waiting for them. She didn't question it, merely tucked herself against William’s chest and allowed him to take them home.
XVIII
T
hey arrived back at William's private suite with candid speed, and for that, Gwen was thankful. At some point along the way, she regained her better senses and couldn't quit the urge to shiver and tremble. They slipped into his lounge quietly, his hand on the slope of her lower back, her teeth clenched as pain pulsated inside her. She'd not considered the other consequences of his bite.
"Are you all right?" He shut the door behind them.
"The blood loss," Gwen murmured as she shuffled to one of the button-back chairs. She gripped the tartan blanket draped across its top.
He cleared his throat. "I'll fetch you something. Sit." His hand skirted the curve of her hip as he briefly guided her down, then tugged the tartan over her lap. Gwen's “Thanks” was left in the air as he zipped out of the room. She winced. She was only on night four of the second dose of her tincture, but it felt like night six after he'd taken her blood. A headache thumped at her temples, and her nerves were in no better shape.
What would she say to Laurel? She couldn't hide the holes in her neck or the blood on her dress, let alone her pain.
Her lashes fluttered closed as she leaned back in the chair. The cushion gave readily, cradling her hunched back and throbbing skull.
There was one other problem to consider that left Gwen's stomach twisting. William. She'd overindulged in his presence, clinging to a life that was no longer an option for her and never would be. Her throat bobbed. He'd delivered on his promise, showing her the beauty and exhilaration of life, and made her wonder—no, not wonder, dream—about what life without her cancer and with him would be. It was all she thought about on the ride home.
"Are you awake, Gwendolyn?"
Her body tensed minutely as she feigned sleep. He knelt in front of her. A few bottles tucked safely into his hand as he waited for her to "wake up." She didn't disappoint, eyes heaving open at the same moment she drew in a sigh.
There was pain in her eyes. Pain that read in every inch of her body now that he took a good look. She looked frail tucked into his chair and covered in his family colors. He'd been afraid he'd taken too much blood, but now, he was sure. William cursed himself as he held out the first of three bottles.
Gwen took it with a puzzled frown. "What will this do?"
"It'll help accelerate the regeneration of your blood. Ah, take it slowly. There's a good, lass." Gwen summoned a scowl over the bottle's long neck. He smiled wryly. She might be weakened physically, but her spirit was strong.
"That tasted… odd, almost like licorice."
William took the empty bottle from her and handed over the next. "Do you want to know what else tasted odd?" Gwen hummed a little as she worked off the cork stopper, her eyes focused on her task. If she'd glanced up to catch his expression, she would have been more prepared to school her features and tame the sudden uptick of her heart. As it was, his answer took her completely off guard. "You."
The cork was released from the tight-lipped bottle, spilling glossy blue liquid over Gwen's hand. Her heart hammered against the inside of her chest. He heard it clear as a bell.
"Me?" She rushed to paste on a simpering smile, but the effect came across as desperate. "Should I take that as a compliment?"
"What kind of potions have you been taking?" William demanded softly. "And before you go protesting and declaring your innocence, I could taste it in your blood. You tasted heady—I couldn't stop myself from taking one more sip from you and then another. I took too much, which is why you're feeling so out of sorts, but for a man who prides himself on drinking in moderation… all it took was one taste from you, and I fell from grace."
The look William speared Gwen with made her heart leap. His eyes narrowed on his prey as he urged her to drink. She greedily took the out, gulping down the noxious drink faster than she intended. She coughed and sputtered, her eyes watering as she asked about the contents.
"To give you back your strength and energy. It might leave you a bit on edge," he commented, watching as her cheeks brightened with color and her eyes dilated. "I usually take one after every fight to help feel more myself."
Gwen struggled to temper her breathing. She set the small bottles aside to press a hand against her heart and took in long, steady inhales and exhales. There'd be hell to pay later for mixing potions with her tincture, but for now, she'd relish in the relief it provided.
William watched her silently, the intensity never leaving his eyes as she accustomed herself to the steady rush of adrenaline coursing through her. He caught the way curiosity stole over her features as she eyed the last bottle in his hand. She licked her lips absently but cringed at the aftertaste.
"What's that?" she asked.
William smiled despite himself, although he ought to stay stern over the matter of her blood, he was too relieved that his potions worked and brought her back to life.
"To heal the spot on your neck. I can't have you going back to the Roux with my mark on you… unless you'd like to wear it and stay?" Gorgeous rosy, red painted her cheeks at his bold suggestion. He bit back a laugh. "Didn't think so. Perhaps another time."
"That's highly doubtful," she quipped and swiped for the bottle.
This time William did laugh as he pulled the final bottle out of her reach at the last minute. He teased her further by letting her fingertips graze the bottle's edge. Gwen scoffed and sank back, tossing her arms over her chest as she glared at him.
His gaze darkened. Gods, did he love to see her flustered. He loved being the one to nettle and tease her. Under his wolfish regard, her flush deepened, spreading down her neck to her chest where her soulmark lay. He wanted to reach out and touch it, to feel the pleasure of their connection rush through his veins, but he stopped himself short. Exposing their bond while she was in this state would be unwise, and he never did get the verbal affirmation he was fishing for.
He'd gotten the barest crumb of what their life would be like while they danced among the throng, and it had been a revelation. He couldn't let the Roux have her, which meant he'd need to up his game.
He'd scheme and plot to get her alone, show her what could be between them, sweeten her with honeyed words and promises of a lifetime. Clearly, he wasn't above using a bit of coercion either—anything to get her to agree to be with him. And once she uttered her consent, he'd say the words and seal them. From that point on, no one could deny that she was his, and he, hers. Confidence buoyed him; tonight, she let him taste her. It was only a matter of time before she surrendered completely.
"Are you going to give me the drink or not?"
The waspish words brought William back to reality. Gwen's skin was still pleasantly flushed, and her eyes kept darting toward the bottle in his hand and the door. Weighing her options, no doubt—run and cry to her sisters or stay and find herself in debt once more to the big bad wolf.
A satisfied smile curled the ends of his mouth.
"What potions have you been taking?"
Gwen clenched her hands, hidden out of view by her arms. She wasn't going to be able to lie to him. He'd hear it in her voice or pulse. And if not by those means, who was to say he couldn't detect a lie by scent alone? He was part lycan, after all. The thought made her ill at ease, but she curbed the tide of her rising panic. She knew little of a lycans’ supernatural abilities, let alone a hybrid. Maybe he could sniff out a lie, maybe not. She'd never asked Laurel, or any of the sisters, about lycan abilities for fear of showing too much interest, and now—
"Go on, then." William caught her eye. "I'm not giving you the medicine until you tell me what you've been taking and why."
She bit down on the insides of her cheeks savagely before answering. "It's to help me perform during the initiation tests." Both of William's brows rose. "Laurel wants to ensure my success, and so do I. It makes me stronger and gives me a second wind. And because I never know what's coming with the initiations, it ups my chances."
"You still plan on going through with it?" Small, taut lines appeared at the corners of his mouth and eyes, and without thinking, Gwen leaned forward and placed her hand on his forearm. He tracked the movement with rapt attention, not bothering to look up as she found her voice and spoke her peace.
"Tonight was wonderful, but it doesn't change anything. I'm going to be a vampyré." I'm going to die. She swallowed down the lump in her throat. There was no other choice. She was in too deep, and any misstep now would doom her. And if William somehow figured out she was sick, she wouldn’t be the only one to suffer a dire fate. Laurel. Poppy. Hazel. Lily. Violet. They would all be struck down for her deceit.
Gwen squeezed William's arm very gently. "Whatever this is between us, we got to have a taste of it tonight, but it can only be tonight. I don't want to hurt you, and if we continued on and the Roux found out…." They would end her—them—before it could start.
William’s head snapped up. She was just as shocked as him. She didn't want to hurt him, and she knew the Roux's plans for him were anything but kind. She would remember tonight with bittersweet fondness, but it couldn't be anything more. She'd only end up breaking his heart—and hers. A rush of breath left her as her eyes shuttered closed. She'd tell Laurel she couldn't go through with her seduction of William and hope she wouldn't be too disappointed in her.
"Och, sweet, you certainly know how to hit at a man's pride. You've seen me fight. Do you really think you could hurt me?"
Her eyes shot open as her jaw dropped with incredulity. "You know that's not what I meant."
But his grin grew, and rather than allow her to retreat, he hooked one hand around the back of her neck and tugged her forward. Gwen let out a squeak as her gaze zeroed in on his lips.
"Let's not talk of the future as if we know it."
"But—"
"No buts," he rebuked with a fondness that left her a mess. His thumb stroked her neck in small, soft passes. "We'll have to get you properly cleaned up before Laurel comes to fetch you, which I've no doubt she’ll do soon. I can't imagine she's eager to leave you in my possession for much longer."
Gwen could only stare as he removed his hand and fetched a handkerchief out of the front pocket of his suit jacket, which still shrouded her. He spilled some medicine on the silken cloth and wiped it delicately over her neck. She winced only once at the surprisingly cool touch, and then a strange but potent numbness set in.
"How long will it take to work?" She glanced awkwardly in the direction of his work.
He clicked his tongue in reprimand, one finger rising to turn her chin back the way it came.
"The incision site is small. I'd say five to ten minutes for your skin to knit itself back together. In the meantime"—William nudged his suit jacket off her shoulder, a crease developing between his brows—"you'll need a change of clothes and a shower."
"What? Why—oh, no."
Damn. She'd worried about the spill of blood reaching her dress, and rightly so. Crimson tainted the gleaming white fabric.
"I'll grab you something to wear." Gwen's gaze jumped to his, and he leaned a hairsbreadth closer. "You're covered in sweat. Your own and others. Many others."
Her shoulders sank. "Point the way," she said with a grimace and shake of her head.
"You're not going to argue?" Her answer came swiftly in the form of an icy glare. William feigned a cough to hide his smirk. "Through that hall there, first door on your right. You can't miss it."
She made it to the aforementioned hallway before tossing a suspicious scowl over her shoulder. "Don't even think about joining me."
"I'll only dream of it, then."
Her mouth slipped open at his gall, then snapped shut as she retreated to the shower.
Once William heard the splash of water, he let out a heavy breath of relief and stood.
Their brief conversation ran through his mind as he went in search of something suitable for her to wear. He didn't like the fact that Laurel was giving her supplements to pass the Roux's initiation. Unease tensed his muscles. Numerous rumors circulated the court about what the Roux were making their initiates do, giving cryptic answers such as proving their worthiness and loyalty. But if Laurel was making her take a potion to enhance her strength, there must have been a real element of danger to the tests.
No, he didn't like that at all.
The door to his wardrobe banged against the wall as he opened it with a touch more force than necessary. He winced as it swung back with a pitiful creak.
There was another question niggling at the back of his mind. It had been four nights since her last test. Four nights since he saved her, but he could still taste whatever potion Laurel had administered in her blood. The potency of the mystery potion was enough to make William want to rip off the wardrobe door, but he refrained. A human body could only withstand so much magical intake before they became addicted. He needed to get Gwen to stop taking Laurel's potion somehow.
Hopefully, it wouldn't be as impossible as his gut was inclined to believe.
Gwen said she didn't want to hurt him. His eyes shuttered closed as he replayed the fresh memory in his mind. The sincerity of her words tugged mercilessly at his heart. There was no doubt she meant what she said. And if she truly didn't want to hurt him, that meant she cared for him in some capacity. She cared—about him.
A stupid smile lit up his face as he opened his eyes and picked out the first thing his hand touched for her to wear. He trotted over to the bathroom door just in time for her to poke her head out.
"Oh," she breathed, canting her head back at his nearness. "Do you have something for me to wear?" She took the clothing he offered without comment before slamming the door shut in his smiling face.
She cared for him.
"Seriously!" she screeched from the other side a few seconds later. "A shirt? That's it?"
A laugh flew from his mouth before he could stop it. Apparently, he'd grabbed one of the dozen button-downs he owned.
"You'll be more covered than when you arrived." He leaned against the wall near the door and was rewarded a minute later with her appearance. Steam billowed from the bathroom, accentuating the flush painted across her skin.
"You're a vision." The words spilled from him in soft reverence as a lump formed at the back of his throat.
Her makeup was slightly smudged around the eyes, and her hair was a wet, tangled mess, but her skin was glowing and exuded radiant energy that brought a sparkle to her dark eyes.
Gwen looked anywhere but William. He was half blocking her escape with the way he was leaning and staring at her with such mirth and joy and lo—
She clutched the ends of his starched shirt. "Don't you have something else I could wear?"
"I like you in this," he replied flippantly, reaching out to graze the shirt's hemline and whisper his fingers over her thigh. "Though I have a mind to think I'd like you better out of it."
"Don't," she protested, sidestepping him and entering the short hallway. A firm hand locked around her wrist, halting her next step.
"What you said before… that little warning you gave." He locked on her gaze as if he was searching for something hidden inside her. "It's no use. You can't hurt me, and neither can your sisters. And this connection between us?" William closed the ground between. "I'm not going to let it go without a fight. I'll keep following you to make sure you're all right. I'll tease you till you've no other choice but to shut me up with those soft, sweet lips of yours. And I'm going to steal you away from them. You were meant to be mine, and I, yours." He cupped her face, the lump in his throat swelling as he laid his intentions bare, hoping his earned declaration would reach her and prepare her for the full truth of their connection.
Gwen willed herself to step away—to look away—but found herself helplessly stuck. "Please, I—"
She was in the midst of shaking her head, ready to protest and let him down again, but then his mouth was on hers. Insistent. Hot. Coaxing. His tongue teased the seam of her lips, drawing a traitorous moan from her as he proceeded to nibble at the delicate flesh to gain his entry. His hands angled her head back and pressed his lips against hers more firmly.
