Part 7 (1/2)

He groaned and eased a hand over his wet boxer briefs. A glance to his dry clothes lying on the bench decided it for him. He pulled off the boxer briefs and wrung them out over the pool. He'd have to go commando.

Using the towel on the lounge chair, he dried off. Ignoring a hard-on took monumental willpower. Dressing and tying up his boots, he stalked inside Bella's home after finding the patio door unlocked.

So she wasn't keeping him out? Good girl.

He scanned the room, dodging the jungle of plants hanging from the ceiling and sprouting up from pots on the floor. She wasn't on the phone; the cordless sat on the counter.

The vast room was like a big studio, divided down the center by the flimsy white fabric. A big couch and a plasma TV designated the living room on one side, and on the other, against the wall, sat a low bed and a nightstand.

Bella appeared from what must be the bathroom, wearing a loose white top and pants. Some kind of yoga wear. It appealed to Severo because her nipples pointed through the thin fabric, and she did not wear a bra.

”What's that?” she asked.

He dangled his underwear in his hand. ”Can I hang these in your bathroom to dry?”

”Uh, sure.” She pointed over her shoulder and he took direction. ”Will you leave, then?”

”I will if you want me to,” he called. Her pause gave him hope, but with a shake of her head, she confirmed, ”I do want you to.”

”Fine, but I'll return when the sun sets.”

”Do you think that's necessary?”

He strode out from the bathroom and met her at the couch. ”Yes, I scented vamps all night. They were prowling. Looking for something.”

”Really?” Now the nervousness he recognized warbled her voice. A twinge of fear filled Severo's nostrils, acrid and hot.

”It'll be fine. Just keep that stake and cross close at hand. Holy water would be great.”

”Oh sure, I keep a liter in the fridge for such occasions.”

”Sweet.”

”Don't sweet me. In what alternate universe do you get to boss me around and expect I'll tolerate another of your kisses?”

”Another?” He lifted a brow. ”You like my kisses.”

”They're fine.” She surprised herself with that answer.

”You wish to have one more before I leave? Be decisive, no maybes.”

”Yes.”

He did love this woman's daring.

Severo swept her into his arms and kissed her soundly. She accepted his command and answered with an eager reply. Plunging in deeply, he explored her, noting the texture of her tongue, the soft insides of her mouth. Her sweet breath. Every moan she murmured only made him all the more determined to possess her. To win her.

To get the h.e.l.l out of here before he couldn't resist the desire to rip away those loose clothes and lave his tongue all over her flesh.

”Tonight.” Severo kissed her on the forehead and walked out the patio door.

Chapter 6.

S evero arrived home to find a turkey sandwich on the kitchen counter. Actually, it was like a Thanksgiving feast stuffed between two innocent slices of French bread. Stuffing, cranberries, gravy and loads of meat.

Heloise, the cook/housekeeper, had worked for him twenty years, and he dreaded the day she considered retirement.

Not only was she a great cook, but Heloise also understood his foibles and knew what he was. She knew when not to press and when a defiant tone would be tolerated. She worked Monday through Thursday, noon to whenever, and would never move in, despite his frequent suggestion she do so. She had a family; he understood.

Demolis.h.i.+ng the sandwich, he then tipped back a couple gla.s.ses of water. His appet.i.te never waned. He loved meat. He ran off the calories nightly, so he needed not fear a gut. Besides, he was still young.

At ninety-some years, Severo was only about a third through the usual werewolf's life expectancy. Three centuries were more than enough. He wasn't immortal, and he was thankful for that. He'd endured much in his near century of life. He'd seen unspeakable horrors, and he'd partic.i.p.ated in the horror himself. He'd loved but once-an unrequited love. And that had taught him to be wary of future love.

Until he'd caught the lovely Belladonna Reynolds in his arms. He'd only intended to keep her safe from the vamps, then release her, never to see her again.

Setting the empty plate in the sink, he headed for the office.

Funny how life never follows the plans a man makes, he thought. He didn't need the distraction of a s.e.xy human woman. He lived a simple life, yet he was always busy with real estate purchases. He systematically purchased forested land in the upper northern areas of the state. Much was state forest release.

If Severo had his way, he'd buy it all. But there were the Indian reservations, and he would not deny them their bid to reclaim some of the land. He was getting close to beginning construction on the wolf preserve. At this moment an architect in Minneapolis was designing the project to Severo's specifications.

A lifelong dream, the preserve would protect those he considered his closest relatives in the animal kingdom. The wolf packs were few in Minnesota, thanks to frightened farmers shooting wildly at wolves that strayed from the pack, and hunters seeking a prize to mount and display for friends.

If only there was a way to protect his kind from the vampires. Beyond their banding together in multiple packs and standing strong against the longtooths, or allying themselves with the b.l.o.o.d.y b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, it was better that a werewolf kept to himself.

There were some packs who partic.i.p.ated in the blood sport-a vicious retaliation against the vampires-but Severo did not condone senseless violence.

Though a member, Severo had not attended the Council for years. It was a conglomeration of representatives from the various paranormal nations. Vampires, witches, werewolves, faeries, elementals and others. They tried for peace amongst the nations but accepted tolerance.

No humans served on the Council. Humans were but distractions to the paranormals. To be avoided by the werewolves. Few considered them a necessity, save the vamps.

And yet, Severo would not fight his body's attraction to the human female. He hadn't experienced such a powerful pull since, well, not even since Aby.

Aby had been different. Theirs had been a close, friendly bond, like family. Yet not. He'd been more s.e.xually attracted to her than she had been to him. But she had felt it. He knew it.

Picking up the picture frame from the shelf behind the doc.u.ment-littered mahogany desk, he tilted it to erase the reflection from the window. Bold red hair spiked about a pixie face with a smile so bright, it hurt him to know she was no longer a big part of his life.

He tapped the gla.s.s over her face. ”Miss you.”

Aby was but a phone call away. Ten numbers. Three states.

And one wedding ring.

He set the picture down and heaved out a sigh.

Had he not walked this earth long enough that love should finally be his? He did desire it. He craved the connection and emotional bond that accompanied what he believed love to be.