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Can love be found on the unholiest night of the year?

There are some things Marissa Van Dyke won't do -- celebrate Halloween is one of them. When she's guilted into attending a Halloween party, a flamboyant woman dressed as a gypsy claims Marissa will be saved three times before she's finally free.

Foolish Halloween games, according to Marissa. Her life is fine; not perfect, but good enough, and nothing could save her anyway. All she wants is to leave the party until a man named Neil Drigan materializes at her side, making her forget everything but his hauntingly familiar green eyes. His animal magnetism is a dangerous temptation on a night she's always reserved for mourning.

Can there be salvation under his powerful presence -- even on such an unholy night?

Warning: Some explicit sex, shapeshifting characters, and a tiny bit of psychic abilities.

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What am I doing here?

A woman dressed as a fortune teller with gypsy beads glittering around her neck and a large purple scarf covering her wavy black hair mingled about, stopping to take people's hands and whisper soft words. Some party-goers looked excited, some shocked at her words, but all seemed to take the woman's alleged wisdom to heart.

Marissa rolled her eyes. She didn't believe in the powers of mystics and the supernatural.

When someone is dead, they're dead.

Period.

If anyone knew that, she did.

The gypsy woman stopped in front of her. "It is not good for the soul to dwell on the past," she said, taking Marissa's hand.

She pulled her hand away from the woman. "Trust me when I say, do not go there."

The fortune teller raised her sculpted black eyebrow at her. "The future is always upon us, whether we wish to see it or not."

"Thanks for the tip."

The fortune teller tried one more time. "You shall be saved thrice before it is through, then you shall finally be free."

"I've never been saved once."

"Are you sure?" the fortune teller asked.

Unholy Night

Copyright © 2008, Candice Gilmer

Edited by Emma Wayne Porter

Book design by Emma Wayne Porter and Renee Rocco

Cover Art by Renee Rocco

First Lyrical Press, Inc. electronic publication: May, 2008

Lyrical Press, Incorporated

17 Ludlow Street

Staten Island, New York 10312

http://www.lyricalpress.com

eBooks are not transferable. All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission.

PUBLISHER'S NOTE:

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

Published in the United States of America by Lyrical Press, Incorporated

Dedication

To Bob—you always trusted me and encouraged me, and I would not be here if it wasn’t for your constant support. I love you!

Acknowledgements

First and foremost, I must acknowledge my muses– I wouldn’t be able to come up with this stuff without you. Also, the unwavering support of friends like AE and Kim who kept my chin up when I wasn’t sure of myself or my ideas, I thank you. And then there’s Emma, who had to edit this, and reminded me, that even though the story’s good, pronouns are not evil. And Renee, who took a chance on this little story of mine, thank you very much. Writing may be a solitary effort, but publishing is a whole other ball of wax.

Chapter 1

October 1st

The glow of the moon lit the hard ground, trees casting monstrous shadows almost to the edges of the concrete. Plenty of places for enemies to hide; enemies of man and enemies of myth could weave through the dark, not to be seen. They lurked in the night, ready to attack.

Footsteps crunched across the pavement while the winds whipped in search of something to splatter against, dying only at the line of the woods. The branches flew about, spilling leaves onto the earth.

The animal heard more footsteps, another kind of hunter, not one of his own. The slow echoes of the other hunter’s trek, disguised by the whipping winds, were almost undetectable to the prey.

The other was darker, a mythical lust spilling off him as he stalked. The lust, far beyond what a human could comprehend, eroded the air around the creature, choking the animal on its horrid stench of sick desire.

This mortal enemy would attack.

The animal waited no more—the other would soon know that he was not the only mythical in the field this night.

The human prey, forgotten by the animal, moved closer into danger.

Air currents shifted, bringing a smell to the animal, the smell of female—a lacing of floral, of sweetness, and of death. An odd combination to be certain, but nonetheless the scent was there.

The animal continued.

The closer he got to the hunter, the stronger the floral scent. The stronger the smell of the floral, the stronger the hunter’s own smell increased.

The animal was almost there.

The hunter emerged from the shadows, heading straight for the floral-scented one.

Boom.

Thud.

Attack, went the animal.

*

Marissa Van Dyke rubbed her head and she pushed herself off the ground… Where was she?

A howl filled the night air.

She jumped, making her head pound.

There, not twenty feet from her, were two beings locked in mortal combat. She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out.

The dimness of the night swirled around her.

A hard crash, and one of the combatants flew across the ground.

The… Was it a dog?

It howled, whatever it was, and put itself between her and the attacker. It glanced back at her, and green eyes—greener than anything she’d ever seen—flashed an intense, brilliant warning.

The other attacker surged forward, the dog flying through the air again.

My God, that dog was huge!

With an enormous leap, the dog-monster attacked the man.

Again, she tried to scream, but no sound came out.

The dog hit the man, sending him flying to the ground; it dug its teeth into the man, scratching, and she smelled the tainted odor of blood as the dog ripped at the man’s flesh.

The man managed to push off the dog; his face contorted and he hissed. White fangs flashed in the night.

The dog growled, standing in front of her, guarding her from the creature.

She shook her head, and everything suddenly pulsed with the beat of her heart.

The man took off, leaping into the sky, instantly a shadow against the moonlight.

She watched the man disappear up in the air, now lost against the inky blackness.

Men can fly, right? Of course they can.

The dog came toward her, stopping a few feet away. It knelt in front of her, its head down, and whimpered. Those green eyes stared at her.

She reached up, caressing its muzzle, and it inched across the ground to her again, the way a pet would curl up to its master. It brought its head to her lap, nuzzling her stomach and side as it curled itself around her.

This animal had saved her. This animal with green eyes.

Green eyes. Green eyes. Green eyes.

The words pulsed in her brain.

“Tha…” she started to say.

She collapsed to the ground.

*

“She’s coming around,” came a voice.

“Good,” came another.

Marissa blinked, met by dark male eyes staring down at her, appraising. “Hey,” said the man. His size was massive, yet his eyes radiated warmth and compassion.

She started to sit up, looking around. What? Where was she?

“It’s okay,” the first man said. “You were attacked. Are you in pain?”

She shook her head, the action making her brain ache. Immediately, she glanced around looking for the dog, but it was gone.

“My head,” she said.

He nodded, glancing toward another man, this one as large as the first, but much more intimidating in form. His eyes darted around the area, scoping for something.

“Concussion,” the first man said.

“Not surprised,” the second said. “Well, he’s gone.”

The man with the compassionate eyes helped her up. “Do you remember anything about what happened?”

“No.” She looked skyward, knowing the sky was important. It took her a moment to remember why. Then her mind flashed back to what she’d seen and she pointed up.

“Did the man go that way?” the first man asked.

Part of her knew this was a most illogical comment, but it seemed correct. “Yes,” she said, her words slurred.

God, she was tired. She just wanted to go to bed.

The men’s eyes narrowed in understanding, as though it was perfectly natural for a man to fly away into the sky.

“How did you escape?” the second man asked, his voice rougher than the first.

“Dog.” The smell and feel of the dog nuzzling her came back. “Big dog, with green eyes.”

“We hear that can happen this time of the year.”

She collapsed against him.

*

October 8th

Marissa woke in a cold sweat, shuddering in her bed, her hand at her throat. She didn’t scream this time, but the urge was there.

Maybe she was getting somewhere.

Ever since the weird experience last week, she’d woken up in a cold sweat, usually screaming.

Always with the same dream stained behind her eyes. The man was coming, he was attacking, moving like a ninja; fast yet silent, but she knew he was there. He was going to get her.

And she was going to die.

He was on her in a blink, throwing her to the ground.

Sometimes the large dog came and defended her. Though it wasn’t any dog she’d ever seen, more like a monster; a wolf, some massive form that wasn’t dog, nor wolf, nor any other animal.

Sometimes it saved her.

Most of the time, though, the animal was too late.

The man took her, yanking her up against him, bringing a sharp, desperate pain.

And the dog would howl.

She forced herself out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Splashing water on her face, she tried to steady her shaking fingers. Black arches hung under her hazel eyes, though tonight they looked more green, the red blood vessels circling her irises.

Sleep had become a precious commodity.

At least the goose egg on her forehead had gone away. Since she knew where to look, she could still see the faint outlines of it, but it had diminished enough that no one would notice. She’d been fashioning her hair to cover it up.

Not that she had a boyfriend her office would think was beating her, but still. She didn’t feel like trying to explain to her co-workers why she had a knot on her head and bags under her eyes.

Especially when she had no explanation.

She had no idea how she’d gotten home after leaving the bar. She didn’t remember driving, or anything beyond the weird attack. Someone had tried to hurt her, that much she knew. And she knew a dog had saved her.

A massive dog.

“Girl, you have got to get some sleep,” she muttered to herself. She ran her fingers through her mussed brown hair and tried to get some of the bed knots out of it, but they weren’t doing the job, so she picked up her favorite brush.

Scrubbing it through her hair, she managed to work out the tangles, and pulled the locks back into a loose ponytail to keep it from getting totally snarly for the rest of the night.

That was assuming, of course, she could get some sleep.

*

October 13th

Neil Drigan dribbled the basketball as he ran down the indoor court, the squeak of his shoes mere background noise as he aimed for his shot.

It was a useless gesture.

“You suck,” Dale called out, smirking at him as he grabbed the rebounding ball and started his own attack on the hoop, moving much better than Neil could tonight.

Of course, Dale was probably getting sleep at night.

He fought to block Dale’s shot, but again, it was pointless—Dale was stomping his ass. Not that he was any great player, but seriously, this kind of a stomping? Pathetic.

“Game,” Dale said, catching the ball and grinning. “Man, what’s up with you tonight?”

He shook his head, wiping some of the sweat off his brow; no one else was in the gym tonight, saving him from total humiliation. For once. He had to be thankful for small miracles.

“Neil, man, what’s up?” Dale asked.

Twitching at the sound of his name, he met his brother’s eyes. “I’m tired.”

Dale raised a brow. “You doing all right?”

“Fine,” he replied, turning away.

Dale, though, didn’t seem to know how to take a hint. He stepped right in Neil’s line of sight, tossing the ball over his shoulder, where it hit the bucket in the corner with the other balls and sank down in. One last swoosh of the night.

It was hard not to growl at him.

“You’re not fine,” Dale said, studying him.

“Really, just drop it. It’s nothing.” He tried to walk away, but the stubborn ass wouldn’t leave him alone.

“You’re not having dreams, are you?”

“I dream every night. Part of the chemistry.” He headed out of the gym, really not wanting to have this conversation.

He knew exactly where Dale was going with this, and he didn’t want to hear it. His dreams were not “those” dreams. The ones each of his brothers said they had right after they first met the women who became their wives.

These were not those kinds of dreams.

These were nightmares.

“Don’t be an ass,” Dale said. “Kristy will kill me if I let you animals sweat all over the gym.”

“That I would like to see,” he muttered. Kristy was maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet, and though she had quite the mouth on her on occasion, she wasn’t in any way able to control Dale.

At least not physically. However, the brothers seemed rather wimpy when it came to decrees from their wives.

Something he didn’t quite understand.

“Seriously, man, are you dreaming?”

He stopped, hands on hips, baring his canines. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Dale snarled right back at him, and regardless of Dale’s pacifist beliefs, the man could rip a guy’s head off with a single stroke.

And Neil was pushing. He knew he was. He should stop, but he didn’t.

“You are,” Dale said, a broad grin replacing the snarl on his face. “Well, tell me all about it. Who is she? Where’d you meet her? I swear, I never thought I’d live to see the day you gave up the bachelorhood groove.”

“They aren’t those kinds of dreams.”

“What do you mean? There’s a woman, right?”

“I don’t know what it is. And it’s been plaguing me for the last few weeks.” The dark, the cold, the smell of the blood...and frigging flowers. What a damn combination. Even now, some of the images resurfaced in his mind and he had to force himself to push the thoughts away.

“Violent dreams? Attacks and stuff?” Dale asked.

He nodded.

“But there’s a woman in them.”

“Sometimes,” Neil replied when they turned into the locker room for a shower. He didn’t want to tell him there was always a woman—then Dale would never shut up.

His finger flicked on the door lock, but Dale followed him in before he could flip the switch.

Not that a door would keep Dale out.

“And is it violence against her?” Dale asked as they started stripping for the showers.

“Yeah.” Sometimes, he would save the woman. Sometimes not. But in the ones where he saved her, a strange thing had occurred. She’d not been afraid of him.

Women like that didn’t exist.

Dale burst out laughing. “My brother, you are having the dreams! I dreamed for a month straight about Kristy being mauled by spiders when I first met her.”

“Doesn’t Kristy love spiders?”

“I didn’t know that then,” Dale said.

He stepped under one of the showerheads, letting the hot water run over him. The water cleansed him, purified him. Maybe it was even enough that he could actually relax a bit tonight, and get a decent amount of sleep.

Zeus knew he needed some.

“So what’s attacking the woman? What’s her name?”

“I don’t know,” Neil said. “The attacker, though, I think, is a vamp.”

Dale tipped his head to the side, staring at him in disbelief. “You sure you’re not watching the news too much?”

“No.” There’d been a rash of kidnappings in the area, all women, all disappearing for a few days and later found, bodies mauled and torn up, almost unrecognizable.

An inhuman attack.

The local police were baffled.

The only good thing about the attacks were they had been occurring every few days, for the last six weeks or so.

Ergo, no one in the family was responsible.

At least not that they knew.

Chapter 2

October 31st

“Marissa! I know you’re in there!” Deanna’s voice boomed outside Marissa’s door.

“I’m not going!”

“Marissa, open up!” Deanna pounded on the door. “Your neighbors are going to call the cops soon!”

Sad but true. The neighbors were nosey as hell. Mrs. Warwick next door would soon be calling the police because of the pounding and yelling.

She released the door locks, and in came Deanna.

At least it kind of looked like Deanna.

Deanna had covered her red hair with a strawberry blonde wig, a wig that had one side melted off. The corresponding side of Deanna matched with burns and fake melted flesh, while the other side was perfectly fine, depicting her in a pink prom dress.

At a loss, Marissa asked, “What are you supposed to be? A run-over Barbie doll?”

“I’m going as the burned prom queen, a la Roseanne,” Deanna said, doing a pirouette. The costume was impressive, flowery and pretty on one side, a horror movie vision on the other.

Nodding, she vaguely remembered an episode of the sitcom Roseanne where Roseanne’s daughter had dressed similarly for Halloween. That was a lifetime ago, back when Halloween had been a fun holiday.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Why aren’t you in costume?”

“What?”

“Kristy and Dale’s party? Don’t tell me you forgot.”

“Are you on crack?” she asked, staring at her friend like she’d inhaled too much of that skin glue when she’d pasted on the scarred flesh. “You know I don’t go out on Halloween.”

“You used to. You used to be the life of the Halloween party. Shoot, I think you rivaled Roseanne’s TV show some years. Besides, you promised.”

“I did no such thing.” She hadn’t celebrated Halloween for the last three years; it was a mourning day for her.

She’d killed her family three years ago on Halloween.

Her penance was remembering them every Halloween. A bag of Three Musketeers candy— her mother’s favorite—and home movies. She didn’t celebrate anything on this day anymore, and never would again.

“You did, too. You said, and I quote, ‘I shall be there, I promise, with bells on.’”

Her brow went up, immediately seeing through her friend’s tale. “Um, one flaw with your logic. I never said that. And I don’t use that phrase.”

“What phrase?”

“‘With bells on,’ that’s what. You use that phrase.”

Deanna waved her hand in the air. “Give me a break. It’s been what, three years? It’s time for you to get out, to have some fun.”

“Deanna,” Marissa said, tears welling up in her eyes. “I don’t party on Halloween!” She should have known this year would be hard, since Halloween fell on a Saturday. The last few years, it hadn’t been as hard, since it had come during the week.

Now, though, since time and even the calendar seemed to be against her, Halloween fell on Saturday, meaning everyone wanted to party. Hiding at home already was proving a challenge.

Deanna reached over and stroked her arm. “It is time for you to move on. Do you really think your parents would want you sitting home on Halloween?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she tried to fight Deanna’s determination. “Forget it, Deanna, I don’t do Halloween.”

“It’s time for you to live again.”

It was no use. Deanna’s determination was more powerful than any form of persuasion in the world.

Before she could even voice any type of reply, Deanna headed into Marissa’s room to start putting together the ultimate Halloween costume.

*

I should have never opened the door, Marissa mulled as she walked in the door of Kristy and Dale’s party.

Not only was she being dragged to a Halloween party, Deanna had insisted on dressing her for it, and had come prepared.

She was now the Slutty Librarian, complete with stiletto heels, garters, stockings, and a push-up bra that would give even a boy super cleavage.

The heavy makeup made her eyelashes stick together under the cat-eye glasses. Her long, black hair had been bundled up into a French twist Deanna had somehow managed to secure with two pencils.

Kristy and Dale greeted her with cheers and hugs and kisses; Kristy was dressed as a red devil temptress and Dale as a priest. The party was in full swing with people all over their little ranch house, and everyone in costume.

It was a sea of painted faces, big masks, and jovial laughter. She didn’t know a soul beyond the hosts and Deanna. Which had its pluses and minuses. On the plus side, she could slip out undetected. Minus, she’d have to sneak past Dale, Kristy, and Deanna before making her big escape.

And Dale and Kristy were masters of observation. Even as she mingled through, she could feel Kristy’s gaze running over her, assessing where she was headed. If she didn’t make nice for at least a little while, she’d be forced to help play hostess next to Kristy for a few hours.

Certainly something she didn’t want to do.

Weaving past a Darth Vader and a Neo before finding the punch bowl, she poured herself a glass, hoping the stuff was spiked to the hilt. She was going to need it to get through this night.

How long do I have to stay before I can get out of here? she wondered. The desire to strangle Deanna burned inside. Her so-called friend had insisted on driving, so she couldn’t just up and leave. Damn Deanna for knowing her so well.

Taking a long sip of the red punch with floating ice hands in it, she did smile, realizing that yes, the punch was spiked. Vodka if she wasn’t mistaken, and that was good.

Her second cup started to relax her as she stood in front of the snack food trays. The food was all done in a Halloween theme; orange and black cookies, little treats that looked like jack-o-lanterns, witches, and ghosts. Several bowls of candy also littered the table.

She pulled out a Three Musketeers and opened it, popping the tiny mini-bite into her mouth. A tear welled up, her mother’s favorite candy suddenly tasting bitter. Her mother had always bought herself a separate bag of Three Musketeers candy and hid it somewhere in the house.

And woe to the child who managed to find Mom’s secret stash. A small smile twisted the corner of her lips as she remembered getting caught in Mom’s chocolate stockpile.

What am I doing here?

A woman dressed as a fortune teller with gypsy beads glittering around her neck and a large purple scarf covering her wavy black hair mingled about, stopping to take people’s hands and whisper soft words. Some party-goers looked excited, some shocked at her words, but all seemed to take the woman’s alleged wisdom to heart.

Marissa rolled her eyes. She didn’t believe in the powers of mystics and the supernatural. When someone is dead, they’re dead.

Period.

If anyone knew that, she did.

The gypsy woman stopped in front of her. “It is not good for the soul to dwell on the past,” she said, taking Marissa’s hand.

She pulled her hand away from the woman. “Trust me when I say, do not go there.”

The fortune teller raised her sculpted black eyebrow at her. “The future is always upon us, whether we wish to see it or not.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

The fortune teller tried one more time. “You shall be saved thrice before it is through, then you shall finally be free.”

“I’ve never been saved once.”

“Are you sure?” the fortune teller asked.

Before she could object and remind this woman she’d certainly know if she’d ever been saved, the gypsy wandered off in the crowd, beads clattering in her wake.

Marissa chugged the last of her punch to stop herself from going over there and knocking the woman down. How dare she? How dare she assume to know anything about her? The nerve of some people. After all, she’d certainly know if she’d ever been saved. What was wrong with people? Did they think putting on some funky costume suddenly made them an expert about the supernatural? Making up mumbo-jumbo like that just for the hell of it, to get under people’s skin—Halloween brought out the worst in people.

How she’d ever loved this holiday, she didn’t know.

Yet her rebellious mind brought back a memory, one from only four or five years ago, where she’d worn a similar get-up and ran around a party, pretending to be some great fortune teller. She’d spat out future-babble for people, most of it so cheesy it could have come from a fortune cookie.

Gritting her teeth, she turned to look over the table of food again, as if it could erase her memory.

She grabbed the ladle and refilled her glass, taking a sip, then refilling her cup completely. She quickly downed the whole thing.

Just get through tonight. You can do this. You can. As she started to refill her glass again, she considered just sticking a straw in the bowl. Much easier to drown her anger that way. And faster. Of course, maybe if she ventured into the kitchen, she might be able to find the vodka bottle and get the alcohol straight from the source.

That’s what she’d do. Go find the bottle of vodka.

Someone had the balls to interrupt her internal pep talk.

“Interesting predictions,” the male voice said.

“And what the hell do you know about it?” Marissa didn’t look up as she ladled another cup, taking a sip, and repeating the process.

“Sorry,” he said. “Could you hand me a glass? That is, if you’re not planning on drinking the whole punch bowl.”

About to spout off something incredibly rude, she stopped dead. “Here,” she managed to squeak out. It was the best she could do when confronted with the most amazing eyes she’d ever seen.

“Thank you,” said the green-eyed man. He took the ladle and filled his glass, his eyes wandering over her. He was dressed from head to toe like Bela Lugosi’s Dracula, with the medallion, the cape and the tux. His sharp widow’s peak was combed back into a mass of black hair and framed his strong face.

She stepped away from the punch bowl, looking for an escape route. This absolutely wouldn’t do—men were not part of her mourning. Even sexy, black-haired ones.

Nope, she told herself. Not going there. Her libido had suddenly jumped a thousand percent, and throbbed as he looked her up and down. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears, and the room started to take on a surreal feel, as if the two of them were the only ones in the entire world.

He radiated some weird vampire-esque type magnetism she’d read about in books. Her skin practically sizzled with desire as he raked his gaze over her.

This was so not good.

Not good at all.

She needed to get away from him; he sent crazy mojo through her, making her entire being feel like it was on fire.

Sure, she’d felt intensity with men before. Instant desire and attraction. Even her ex-boyfriend Kirk had projected that kind of bad boy magnetism when she’d first met him. Probably why she put up with his shit far longer than she should have.

Ever since, she wanted nothing to do with men who had that kind of power.

And Kirk had nothing on this guy’s intensity.

She tried to see the door, but people littered the way, voices echoing all around, and everything seemed to overload her senses as she considered an escape plan from this man.

Her body hummed as she met his green eyes again; her rational thoughts screamed that she needed to get away from him right away. Her breath slipped out of her chest as she tried to formulate words, wanting partially to tell this guy to get his vampire mojo away from her, but the primal side of herself wanted him and his mojo to stay.

That part, she repressed.

No, I need to go. Mingle. Be social.

All the while, working my way to the door.

The only thing stopping her was the last nighttime adventure through the dark a month ago. What she saw had seemed like a dream, and how much of it had been real, she didn’t know, but something had happened. She’d had a nice goose egg on her forehead the next morning to prove it.

Still, how it had happened, she wasn’t sure. Only in her dreams did she see any clue—images of huge dog-like animals stained her brain. The further away the moment got, the less she was able to remember. The only overall impression she had from that night was that she needed to be kinder to stray dogs.

The man put the ladle back, took a sip off his drink, and smiled with those dark green eyes burrowing into her. It was almost a tactile sensation. She let her gaze wander down his strong jaw line and saw his smile widen.

My God, are those real? She stared at his teeth, and he certainly had some long-assed canines. And unlike store-bought ones, they matched his teeth color. Lord, he could have been a real vampire. Or worse, he could have been one of those idiots who thought he was a real vampire.

His brow raised as he looked her over, and the I-can’t-wait-to-see-you-naked glint in his eye amplified the energy between them a thousand-fold. She felt rooted to the spot, like she couldn’t get away from him, even if she wanted to.

Her brain cried out for her to bolt when he held out his hand. “Neil Drigan.”

“Marissa Van Dyke,” she said, shaking his hand. She noticed the dark brown hairs on the back of his hand. She would bet he had a soft, fuzzy chest, and forearms and legs covered in thick, luxurious hair…

She caught herself looking down his body, her pulse quickening. She’d always had a thing for hairy guys. Wolverine was her dream man—minus the claws, of course. Not that she’d admit that to her girlfriends. They’d all think it was weird, but still, hairy chests always had been a turn on for her.

There was something special about curling up against a fuzzy chest that made her feel comfortable, safe…

She blamed her dad, whose chest had been covered in hair.

The thought of her father slapped her back into reality, killing the attraction.

Neil pulled her hand up to his mouth, inhaling her scent as he placed a kiss on her wrist. “A pleasure,” he said, his voice deeper than it had been a minute before.

“Uh huh.” Her pulse throbbed, the beat running amuck from the brush against her wrist. Run girl, run, pleaded her brain. Stay girl, stay, pleaded her libido. If she could detach her libido and leave it, she would have. This was not a pleasant situation to be stuck in—being overrun with hormones now? Tonight?

Not what she considered a proper memorial.

Of course, if she’d had her way, she would be at home right now.

The stereo’s tunes switched to Nine Inch Nails, and the dark, pulsing beat didn’t help Marissa’s euphoria at the man’s touch. Her libido screamed in ecstasy at the music choice, and her body wasn’t the only one turned on from the beat. People in the crowd started to move and dance, hips gyrating and bodies bumping together, mimicking primal movements

Her own hips started to sway a little, and she chided herself. God, how much vodka was in that punch?

Neil held out his hand. “Would you like to dance a bit?”

In the few seconds it took to make a decision, her mind warred with itself. If she said yes, the dancing would only heighten her arousal. If she said no, she might be able to flee him this second, but she doubted she could make it to the door without anyone noticing.

And then there was outside.

He raised his brow, his smile warm enough as he waited for the war in her mind to ebb.

Hell, she thought as she reached up to take his hand. You win this round, libido. His palm was marred by strong calluses and defined lines. He escorted her a few feet from the food table, into an unoccupied corner. The crowd swayed and pulsed, the song, the tempo of the rhythm, even the lighting seemed to move with the music.

Neil pulled her against him, his chest pressed against hers, and she inhaled a sharp breath at the intimate contact. That gentlemanly confidence radiated off him, daring her to admit she didn’t like the closeness.

And her libido was absolutely loving this. She hated to admit it, but it was true. He truly felt incredible wrapped around her. When her logical side started in with its rational reasons why she shouldn’t have anything to do with this guy, she blocked the thoughts.

If only in this moment, she’d let herself enjoy the sensation of a warm body against her. She wound her arms around his neck, her fingers grazing his hairline, and he smiled at her.

Together they swayed to the music, Neil’s pace easily matched, intensifying the NIN song.

“I love Pretty Hate Machine,” Neil said.

“It’s a very sexy rhythm.” Her voice was thick, either from the vodka or the intensity of this man. Probably a bit of both.

“Only when dancing with the sexiest girl at the party,” he whispered, his breath grazing her earlobe.

Her cheeks flamed bright red as his words sunk in. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had called her sexy.

“I saw you come in, and I had to know you,” he whispered. “I was pulled.” He tightened her against him, their bodies pressed together, his erection rubbing in the right places. The sensation made her wet, and she wanted to feel everything.

No, do not do this! This is your day of mourning! Her rational brain screamed at her. Every hormone in her protested as he continued to touch her. Neil’s hand ran down her waist, caressing the small of her back, his fingers spreading down just over the top curve of her ass.

She shuddered in his arms. The heat of him made her lightheaded. Good Lord, who was this man that made these incredible sensations pool in her core so easily? How could he have such an effect on her? And why was she submitting to it so easily?

Why did it have to be today? Tonight? Why couldn’t it have been tomorrow, next week, last week, something?

Not tonight.

This was something she could never have. She wasn’t supposed to feel this kind of sensation, this kind of want and need. Her soul had died three years ago. She didn’t deserve to feel this now. Not after what she’d done.

She tensed in his arms.

“Marissa?” he whispered in her ear; just saying her name was enough to send warm spasms of desire through her body. She forced the sensations down. She wasn’t allowed to feel this way.

“I…” She pulled away from him. “I can’t,” she whispered, torn up from the inside between her warring desire and logic.

Neil still kept his hands on her hips, though she’d pulled away from his warm body, a harder prospect than she’d ever thought. His eyebrow arched, his green eyes studying her. “What? You can’t dance?”

“I… I need some air,” she said, adjusting her glasses. Letting go of him, she darted through the crowd to the sliding glass door and the back yard where the air was clear and the moonlight bright.

She needed to clear her head.

Chapter 3

Neil stared at the empty space Marissa left behind, his body fighting the urge to go after her.

His instincts screamed he needed to go out there, to touch her again. The fire that had poured through him when he’d first seen Marissa still throbbed in him, and touching her, smelling her scent, he could almost taste her essence. He wanted to pull off her little cat-eye glasses and see into her soul.

And he knew.

He knew her. Though he didn’t know why.

He understood what this was, though. His brothers had told him about it; the fire that burned the first time he would be exposed to the one. They all said when they’d met their mates, their bodies had burned and scalded in ways they hadn’t understood. All they’d known was that they had to have them.

And he knew Marissa burned for him, as well. He could smell it on her, that floral scent mixed with desire; it wafted up from her, filled his nostrils. He would forever be stained with that scent.

No other woman would ever smell as sweet to him. Another scent blended with the floral, the scent of death, a stain on her soul, and he desperately wanted to erase it from her being.

What could blacken a beauty like Marissa’s soul so completely?

Neil sipped on his punch, trying to ignore the nagging feeling of needing to be outside with her to protect her, because that’s what his kind did. They protected their mates.

In the last month, he’d been searching for his. He’d seen her in a dream, and he knew her, the feel of her, the smell. Dream visions weren’t like real dreams, and they weren’t common among his kind, but they did happen. Some claimed the dream visions weren’t dreams at all, but real impressions that happened during the change. Things they couldn’t remember.

Marissa was the first to stir him as much as the dream had. Even without the dream, he could imagine her hand stroking his face, a caress of pure love and tenderness, something he hadn’t felt in years.

He set his glass on the table. Pushy or not, he had—no, he needed— to go after her and find a way to comfort her. To ease her pain. That’s what mates did. And he wasn’t changing his instincts for Marissa. She may not be his formal mate yet, but that didn’t matter.

She would be.

Neil made his decision—he would go outside. He ran one hand over his smoothed-back hair, when a new aroma met his nostrils.

The thick metallic scent of blood filled his senses. The hairs on his neck stood up, and the urge to growl overwhelmed him.

He started scanning the crowd, partially to find the scent, partially to find Dale. If his brother knew what had just entered this party, he would have a fit.

Surely Dale wasn’t friends with a vampire!

Across the room, Dale stood talking to his wife Kristy, his posture stiff, his eyes narrowed. He’d smelled it too.

“You smell it?” Neil asked when he reached Dale’s side.

Dale nodded. “I don’t know for sure who it is.”

“Well, who don’t you know?”

Kristy’s gaze roamed over the party. “Everyone here was on the guest list.” She reached up, putting her hands on Dale’s chest. “Should I call?”

“Call, and get them here fast.” Dale met his gaze. “We do not engage.”

“I won’t.”

Dale’s eyebrow went up.

“I am no longer a pup,” Neil said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Even Kristy’s stare wasn’t flattering. “I don’t want anything spilled on my carpet,” she said.

“It won’t be.”

Kristy pulled a cell phone out of… well, he wasn’t sure where she’d had that stashed, but she took the phone and headed down the narrow hall to make the call.

“Let’s find him,” Dale said.

“You sure it’s a he?” Neil asked.

Dale tipped his head to the side. “It’s a male. Find him.”

*

Marissa stood outside, the cool breeze whipping through her. It was a miracle that it wasn’t raining. It always rained on Halloween. She ran her fingers down the weathered wooden railing as she stepped down to the lower concrete patio, away from the smokers on the deck.

She stared at the sky, the clouds covering the almost-full moon. The air was electric, powerful energy swirled everywhere.

Perhaps that was why she’d been so mesmerized by Neil.

The outside air cleared her head a bit, and she didn’t feel so heady at the thought of him.

Who was she kidding? The man was incredibly hot, and it took all her restraint to keep from running in there and attacking him.

She didn’t dare, though. Not tonight.

Not on the anniversary.

Thoughts of her family and their loss sobered her, and almost squelched the desire she’d had for Neil.

Oh, why hadn’t they met some other time? Some time when she wasn’t dressed as a Slutty Librarian, at a Halloween party she didn’t want to attend anyway? Why couldn’t it have been a barbecue? Where people were dressed normally, when the sky wasn’t filled with a bright moon?

She let out a sigh as she walked to the edge of the patio, pointing her toes to play in the damp grass. She didn’t want to walk out on the soft ground; her stilettos would sink into the mud. Didn’t mean she couldn’t play with the grass though.

“Marissa?” came a voice behind her.

She spun around, thinking Neil had followed her.

Her eyes narrowed when she realized it wasn’t Neil, but Kirk, her ex-boyfriend. She hadn’t seen him at the party, but now she was glad she hadn’t. His face had grown gaunt since the last time she’d seen him. His costume was a hodge-podge mix, like he’d dressed to be a vampire that hadn’t seen a shower in weeks.

“What do you want?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Kirk held up his hands. “Relax. I just want to talk.” He stepped toward her, within arm’s reach, and she stepped backwards, trying to both stay on the concrete and get away from Kirk.

“We said all we needed to say,” she told him. “It’s over. It’s been over.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” He took another step forward, his eyes looking surreal in the moonlight, as if he were wearing white contacts or something. “You still love me, I still love you,” he continued, a familiar look on his face, one she’d know anywhere—the man was looking to fuck.

Even when they’d been dating, she’d known this was a bad look.

“Kirk, this isn’t about love, and you know it,” she said, trying to keep some space between them as she maneuvered around the patio, but with very little luck. And God, what was that smell? Had he cut himself shaving or something? She could smell blood on him.

Kirk kept her cornered. “I can’t breathe without you,” he pleaded. He moved closer, pinning her against the side of the house. Even though his face was pale, his lips were crimson, blood red, like he’d been sucking on a popsicle or playing in lipstick.

She wedged herself into the little corner where the house jutted out, her arms extended. “You seem to be breathing just fine without me,” she said, scanning around for escape.

“But I need you,” he said, reaching out and running his hand down her cheek.

Man, his hands were cold! “Kirk, get away from me!”

He didn’t move, except to get closer. “But Marissa, baby, I need you, I need to feel you, I need to touch all of you, to feel you beneath my skin.” His words, haunting and powerful, frightened Marissa more than just his proximity.

The lust in his eyes grew even darker, more primal than she’d ever seen it, and she’d seen some very strong versions of it.

“Well, I’m sure you told Claudia, Jennifer and Linda the same damn thing.” She held her arms up, trying to keep him back. She had to distract him, to get away. Every fiber in her being screamed that she needed to start moving right this second.

The feeling had nothing to do with Kirk’s adulterous nature.

And now, for some damnable reason, there were no smokers left on the deck; she was utterly alone with him.

“They meant nothing,” he waved his hand. “It’s you.”

Marissa shoved her hands against his chest, trying to push him away, but he wouldn’t budge. Instead, he only moved closer. He grabbed her hand.

“Feel,” he said, pressing her hand against his crotch, “feel what you do to me.”

Marissa jerked her hand out of his, wiping her hand on her skirt as if she could wash away the sensation of touching him.

“Stop this,” she said. “You’re disgusting.”

Kirk’s face contorted and darkness and rage overtook him. “I wasn’t so disgusting a few months ago, was I?” he said, pressing up against her, his hand mauling at her breast.

“Kirk, no!” She tried to knee him in the crotch. He was too quick, though, and grabbed her leg, spreading her wide, and shoved his hips between hers. “Get off me!” she screamed, struggling against him. Though tall and thin, Kirk was wiry and rather strong, and he held her pinned against him.

How had he gotten so strong? He’d never been this powerful before.

He took her leg and wrapped it around him, the force tearing the hem in her skirt.

She tried kicking at him, trying to poke him with her stiletto, but it didn’t faze him. He barely seemed to register the fight in her.

“Oh, so you want it rough,” Kirk said, dry humping her so hard she cried out again and tears burned her cheeks.

“Please, Kirk,” she said. “Don’t do this.”

“You always loved what I did,” he snarled in her ear, biting at her throat. She fought as his tongue lapped over her bared skin. He didn’t break the skin, thank God, but it felt like he tried to.

“The lady said no,” came a voice from behind him, and suddenly Kirk flew through the air, landing a few feet away from her on the ground.

She stood frozen as Neil attacked him.

Like a crazed animal, Neil started pummeling Kirk, growling as he attacked. Kirk came up, throwing punches at Neil, but Neil was quicker, dodging each punch and landing his own, some in Kirk’s face, some in his side.

Kirk fought back with more strength than she’d ever suspected he possessed. He snarled at Neil, his own canines seeming huge and massive in the moonlight.

What the hell?

Neil lunged at Kirk, pummeling him. Marissa could barely keep up with who did what, even though Neil seemed to dominate the fight. The two men, in the heat of the fight, growled at each other, Neil’s a thunderous roar, and Kirk’s more of a hiss, like a cat. Neil landed a few more strong punches, accompanied by a kick, and Kirk lay on the ground, unmoving.

She ran up to Neil. “Stop,” she grabbed his arm.

Neil glared down at Kirk. “Ever touch her again, and I’ll kill you.” In a flash, the shifting of the moonlight changed in the back yard, and for a brief second, she swore she saw a long muzzle on Neil’s face as he snarled at Kirk.

Kirk laid there, hissing as blood came out his nose. “This isn’t over.”

Neil moved in a flash, punching him hard in the face, and with the punch came a crack of bone as Kirk’s nose broke. “Never come near her again!”

The back door slid open, and two men dressed like SWAT team members erupted out of the house.

“This him?” The one with blondish hair glanced at Neil

Neil nodded.

The second, this one with cropped dark hair, approached Kirk, leaning down to examine him. “He’s young.”

Dale and Kristy came out then, and a couple of party members joined them, but Kristy shooed them back inside, pulling the door shut.

The second man scooped up Kirk, and Kirk struggled against him, trying to jerk out of his arms.

“Don’t make me ash you,” the man growled.

Kirk spit in his face. The dark headed man blinked, and with a quick punch knocked Kirk out.

The first man rolled his eyes at his partner, then focused on Neil. “We need to talk.”

Dale and Neil accompanied the first man inside, while the second one hauled Kirk out of the backyard through the side gate.

Kristy put her arms around her. “Come on. Let’s get you a drink.”

As they headed inside, the blonde SWAT guy looked her over. “Do you know that guy?”

“He was my ex-boyfriend, though I hadn’t seen him in a few months.”

“We’ll need a statement from you later,” he said.

She shook her head. “I don’t want to press charges. He didn’t get very far.”

“This is not a police matter. Charges aren’t a choice. We will need a statement.” His eyes dug into hers, imploring her cooperation. Still, she really didn’t want to talk to police, or whoever this guy was, about what happened.

Neil glared at the guy. “She doesn’t want to talk about it.”

The man leveled his gaze on Neil. “Procedure. You know this.” He glanced back at her. “We’ll be contacting you in a few days.”

She nodded dumbly as Kristy led her into the house.

Chapter 4

Neil had planned to duck out quietly, preferably with Marissa on his arm, but that wasn’t to be the case.

The Templar, Sir Adrian, was following him, gesturing for him to come out the front door so they could talk.

He didn’t want to talk to him. Really he didn’t. But he knew he didn’t have a choice. Marissa was now in the middle of his world, and damn it, he’d hoped that he could leave her out, at least for a while.

Eventually, she’d have to know everything, but this wasn’t how he wanted to do things.

A woman who looked like she’d been run over came to Marissa immediately, and Marissa relayed the story of what Kirk had done to her. The woman, Deanna, looked ready to kill the vampire, though he doubted she knew the man’s true nature.

“Thank God you were there.” Deanna leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, then turned her gaze to Marissa. “Are you okay?”

“I will be. He was so strong…”

“It can seem that way,” Kristy said.

Sir Adrian shifted his stance, glaring at Neil and Dale.

Kristy said, “Marissa, the men need to talk to him. Are you going to be okay with me and Deanna for a minute?”

“What did the other guy do with Kirk?” Marissa asked.

Neil wrapped an arm around her. “I’ll find out,” he said, kissing her forehead.

Adrian stepped up to him again. “This will not take long.”

“I’ll take you home when we get done,” Neil told Marissa, squeezing her arm. He met the Templar’s grim gaze. This can’t be good, he thought.

“We’ll watch her,” said Kristy, wrapping an arm around Marissa.

He leaned forward, pressing a kiss on Marissa’s head, and running a hand down her cheek. His finger burned where he’d touched her, and he stared into her eyes for some sign that the gesture meant as much to her as it did to him.

Marissa reached up and stroked his hand, and as he pulled away she kept a grip on his fingers. He caressed her palm, and Marissa smiled at him as he squeezed.

“Be just a minute,” he said, and reluctantly let go of her hand.

Kristy and Dale exchanged the kinds of glances that married people did, the ones that spoke volumes, if only to each other.

Dale, Neil, and Adrian headed to a darker corner of the house where the porch light didn’t reach. The other Templar, Liam, the one who’d hauled the vampire off, was waiting for them, a cigar of some kind in his hand, the glowing embers the only tipoff he was standing there.

Neil couldn’t help noticing, though, that Sir Liam didn’t actually smoke the cigar, merely held it in his fingers and twirled it, blowing on it to keep it burning.

“About time,” Liam muttered, looking over his clothes. “Nice costume,” he said, a bit of a snort in his voice.

Neil glanced down at himself—he’d forgotten he was dressed as a vampire—and smirked at the irony of it.

The Knights of Templar had been policing all mythical activity for almost a thousand years, making sure all creatures of the night, fantasy and legend behaved themselves. The Knights protected humans from the mythicals, and on occasion protected the mythicals from humans. For werewolves, vampires, yeti, unicorns, gods, demi-gods, and any other figure of myth that circled the globe, this meant order. It also meant that vampires couldn’t go drain people for no reason, that werewolves couldn’t just change form and attack a chicken coop, or that the Loch Ness monster couldn’t gallivant onto the shores and start eating people.

Laws were created for the mythicals, and unlike man’s judicial system, punishment from the Templar Knights resulted in a quick and sometimes painful death.

So it was within the best interests of all mythicals to follow the Balance Mandate, the code the Knights of Templar lived by.

And most of the mythicals did.

Neil reached down and scratched the inside of his wrist, a habit he’d acquired when he’d been tagged. His finger felt the tiny chip inside his wrist that connected him to a massive global tracking system so that he, like any other registered mythical, could be found at any given time. The positioning devices were one of the concessions mythicals had agreed to via the Balance Mandate.

Unfortunately, not all mythicals followed the laws.

Which brought out the Templars.

Adrian ignored his partner’s comment. “Since when do you have parties and invite vampires?”

He grimaced. His kind didn’t fraternize with vampires very often. Most of the time, vampires stayed away from werewolves—one of the truths human mythology actually got right. However, the two breeds of mythicals were not at war.

The Templars didn’t allow it.

Though many, from both breeds, had certainly tried over the centuries. Legend spoke of an epic battle between one of the oldest vampires and a pack of wolves that even now influenced some mythical prejudices.

Dale cursed. “Believe me, if I had realized, he wouldn’t have been invited.”

“So he has not always been a vampire?” Liam looked bored, his attention was focused on his cigar.

“He wasn’t the last time I saw him three months ago,” Dale said.

“He is young, eight weeks out of the ground,” Liam didn’t bother to look up from his cigar, using a slang term, since most vampires really weren’t buried when turned.

“Anything else?”

Liam did turn his head this time, his dark eyes meeting Adrian’s. “We should ash him now.”

Though Dale was head of their pack, he tended to repress his violent tendencies, preferring more diplomatic solutions to outright violence. “Is that necessary? I mean, I’ve known Kirk a long time. Hell, he dated Marissa for a while. He may not be the nicest guy, but he’s not…”

“He broke the laws,” Neil countered. Were he not such a trusted friend of Dale’s, his very contradiction could bring forth a challenge against Dale’s leadership—something that even a pacifist like Dale wouldn’t take lightly. And he had never been quite as forgiving as Dale.

Especially considering that Kirk had attacked Marissa; Neil’s protective instincts flamed at the thought of letting Kirk walk away from what he’d done.

“What he was is irrelevant. What he’s been doing, is.” Liam said.

Neil stared at Sir Liam. “You don’t mean the killings, do you?”

“Most of those cases have happened in the last few months. By unregistered mythicals,” Adrian said.

“Naturally,” Dale grimaced.

By law, all mythicals who even considered turning a human into a mythical had to get permission from the Templars. It was a complicated process, but it served a purpose —not many law-abiding mythicals would dare turn a human. Many humans couldn’t mentally adjust to their new mythical status, and wound up going crazy—the last known case was a woman in the south who’d been turned a little over a century ago. She went insane, killing over twenty human males before being caught and killed by the Templars.

That was the last known case of a mythical turning a human before the Knights began meticulously monitoring the turning process.

Liam raised his brow at Dale, a challenge in his eyes. Liam was probably one of the scariest Templars—the man knew things just by looking at a mythical.

Keeping any kind of secret from Liam was not a good idea.

“My brothers are meticulous about safety and precautions,” Dale snapped.

“Not completely.” Liam’s gaze rested on Neil.

“What are you talking about?” Neil snapped.

Adrian produced a piece of paper from his pocket. “Where were you on October first?”

“Locked up, like I always am.”

The Templars exchanged glances. Liam didn’t say anything, just shifted his position so he was facing Neil fully.

Adrian held up a piece of paper. “We have you outside your shelter, here.” The map was covered with a red track, showing the travels of a registered werewolf, in animal form.

“That’s not possible,” Neil shook his head. Could he actually be getting out at night? They took all the necessary precautions! The compound was secure—no one could get in or out once lockdown started.

Yet in the back of his mind, he remembered the dreams.

They’d finally started to ebb a bit, but they were still there. The attack on a woman. By a vampire.

“So someone cut open your wrist, stole your tracking bar, ran around with it, and stuck it back in your wrist all while you were in animal form?” Liam replied.

Dale snagged the map, studying the location. “And there was an attack here.”

Adrian nodded, a curt jerk of his jaw.

“So what are you going to do, ash me too? I didn’t attack anyone!” Yet the dream still stained his brain.

What if?

What if what they said was correct?

Stars, what else could he have done while in that form, unable to control his impulses? It couldn’t be true—there’d been cases of maulings and attacks all over the city for months. Surely they had to be wrong.

The two Templars exchanged a look before narrowing their eyes on him. “The vampire already confessed to that attack. The woman who’d been attacked kept talking about a dog defending her.”

“Almighty Zeus,” Dale muttered, running his hand over his face.

“Zeus will be the least of your problems if you don’t get your pens fixed,” Adrian said. He met Neil’s gaze. “Liam needs to do his thing.”

Neil nodded. He didn’t want to—not for anything in the world, but all of them had to know what happened. How he’d gotten out, and what had happened to the woman.

Liam stepped closer and Templar let out a breath as he grabbed Neil’s arm.

Everything went dark.

As if an inner light had been ignited, his memory opened. His thoughts, his, but not, consumed him. Animalistic, powerful, he surged forward. Slamming against the window in the pen, one, two, three, then the window opened, the cold air of night hit, and the animal was loose.

Running, powerful legs working at speeds he couldn’t quite comprehend, pushing him forward, almost flying across the ground.

Then the smell hit him. That horrid smell of blood and decay littered the air.

Leaping forward, what was left of the man inside him registered the vampire attacking a woman. The animal and the vampire fought, primal and horrific, snarling and beating on each other.

Another thought registered, animalistic in nature, but true nonetheless: the vampire wasn’t strong in the traditional sense. A newly-turned. Easy prey.

Then the vampire, showing his cowardice, had flown off into the night.

The animal faced the woman, sitting on the ground. She stared at him, stroked his nose.

Neil shuddered as Liam released him. “Marissa,” he whispered as his knees faltered. Dale caught him, holding him upright, Liam’s mindreading trick making him weak.

Yet the smells.

He could still smell them in his mind.

The hunt, the blood.

The floral.

His face paled. Everything came back to him in a flash.

Liam raised his brow. “You knew the woman?”

He shook his head. At least in the moment, he hadn’t known her. “I thought it was a dream, something not real, nightmares plaguing me.” he said, and froze. The woman’s image stained his brain, and for a second, he saw her clearly in his mind’s eye.

Marissa!

It was Marissa. He’d saved her. The smell… why hadn’t he put it together? She was the woman he’d saved. He remembered everything. Her petting his snout, the way her body smelled of rich floral and death. He knew it.

It had to have been Marissa. If she was the one he’d saved, she was the one he’d been looking for. She was the one who wasn’t afraid.

The fated one.

Neil started walking away.

“Hey,” Adrian called after him. “We’re not done.”

“I have something I have to figure out,” Neil said, not bothering to turn back to the Knights.

*

Neil burst into the house and grabbed Marissa’s arm. “Let’s go.”

She jumped at his sudden appearance. She’d been watching the door ever since Neil had gone outside. No matter that Kirk had disappeared with the big SWAT guys, she still fidgeted. She wanted to be near Neil. He made her feel safer than she’d felt in years.

Even Deanna and Kristy’s reassuring presences were not enough.

She should have known, though. She’d practically felt him come back inside. She’d written it off as wishful thinking, but suddenly, there he was, right in front of her just seconds after she’d thought she felt him coming.

“Uh,” she said, but she didn’t get more out as Neil wrapped his arms around her and inhaled her in a kiss. The searing of his lips to hers felt like she’d combust in his arms.

Neil forced her lips open, and his tongue stabbed into her mouth, desperate, needy, and ravenous.

She moaned as her own tongue met his in a frantic dance of exploration. Her tongue found his long canine, and she hesitated in his arms. Neil’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her into him, and her body screamed for release.

Neil broke the kiss, growling as he did. “Come,” he said.

She licked her lips. “I almost did.”

Neil cocked his eyebrow up. “You have not discovered what it truly means to come.” His voice was thick as he started to pull her toward the door.

Deanna grinned at her and Neil. “Go get a room you two. And wear a condom.”

She smiled back at her friend. “Hopefully several.”

Neil’s firm grip as he tugged her out the door sent waves of arousal through her body as they were met by the night sky.

“I hope you parked close,” she said as he escorted her down the walkway, almost running toward a small black sedan that sat at the foot of the driveway.

“Always,” he said, and opened her door for her, but before he let her get inside he placed another kiss on her lips, this one a bit softer, but nonetheless sending the same waves of intense pleasure through her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dale still talking with the two SWAT guys. Even though Kirk wasn’t anywhere in sight, tension made her hesitate before getting in Neil’s car.

“What is it?”

“Kirk,” she whispered.

Neil gestured to the SUV parked in the street. It rocked as if someone was getting it on in the back.

Or someone was trying to get out.

“They’ve got him well contained,” Neil said. She nodded, climbing into the car. She thought she should question Kirk’s detainment, but she didn’t. One of the SUV’s rear doors had a red iron cross on it, not terribly large, but big enough to be noticed. For some reason, the gothic symbol comforted her as they passed the vehicle.

Neil took off like a shot through the side streets, his hand laying lazily on her thigh, stroking her back and forth, slipping closer and closer to her center with every stroke.

God. Had she lost her mind? This was so crazy. She didn’t know this guy, she didn’t have a clue who he was, and yet, here she was, letting him take her home.

And probably screw her senseless.

Yet her whole body screamed for him to do it. She wanted this, she did. On the most primal level—that part of herself spouted out directions to her house.

However, her voice choked twice as his hand slid toward her middle.

Neil only smirked. As they turned into her residential area, he slowed the car. “I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” he said, his hand resting on her knee, the caresses stopping.

She felt like she was suddenly unable to breathe. “If you leave me hanging tonight, Neil, I’ll beat you within an inch of your life.” She blushed at how heady her own voice sounded.

Neil grinned, the streetlights highlighting his long canines. “As you wish.” His fingers darted under the hem of her short skirt.

She trembled in the seat. “Here,” she said, pointing to her little brick ranch house.

Neil pulled into the driveway. “Nice place,” he said, his fingers grazing the straps on her garter belt. He mumbled something akin to a growl as he stroked her skin at the top of the stockings. He withdrew his hand to throw the car into park and turn off the engine.

Then Neil reached over to her, pulling her to him, and a noise deep in his chest emerged as he stuck one hand in her hair, bringing her to him for another searing kiss.

She moaned and quivered as he slid his free hand back up under the edge of her skirt. Their tongues fought each other as they kissed, both of them rocking their heads side to side, frantic in pace with the kiss.

Neil’s hand grazed her curls hidden beneath thong underwear. He came off her lips and traveled down her neck, nipping and biting.

“So wet.” He pulled his hand away from her center and brought it up her body, stroking her breasts, and her nipples tightened against the sensation.

She arched forward into his hand, moaning as he ran his thumb over the hardened peak.

“I want you,” she said.

Neil growled as he lowered his head to the front of the silk camisole and nipped at her breast.

She pushed up on him. “Inside,” she whispered, “now!”

Chapter 5

Barely inside the door, Neil yanked Marissa’s lush body against him. He covered her mouth in kisses, then shooting down her neck with nips and bites as he ravaged her throat with his tongue.

Marissa cried out as he pulled her jacket open and palmed her breasts, feeling the hardened peaks under the silk material. He leaned down enough to take one in his mouth through the fabric; he licked and bit at it, and Marissa’s legs started to buckle underneath her.

He picked her up. Placing a hot kiss on her lips, he felt her moan as he situated her in his arms.

“Where’s the bed?” he growled at her.

“There,” Marissa pointed toward a hallway, one arm wrapped around his neck, the other caressing his face. “Second door on the left.” She licked and nipped at his throat.

He almost ran to the bedroom, bursting into the room; forcing himself not fling her on the bed like an animal. Marissa sighed as she lay down on the unmade bed and stared up at him.

He started pulling at his costume, trying to get the damned thing off, and he heard laughter coming from the bed.

“Here,” Marissa said, standing up and starting to help him with the clothes. She undid the cape knot and helped him get the medallion off.

“Thanks,” he whispered, smiling at her. “I can get the rest,” His body screamed for him to just rip the clothes off, to strip them away and then rip off hers.

“Let me.” Marissa said, putting her fingers on the buttons to his shirt. Neil tried to stop her, she was taking her sweet time opening the buttons, but she batted his fingers away. “Stand still.” She undid the top two buttons, her hand slipping inside his shirt.

The feel of her hand against his chest made him shudder, her fingers threading through the hair on his chest, tugging on the dark hair, and he felt himself start to throb.

He let out a growl as she released another button, reaching for his nipples, the scant nails she had scratching at him.

Marissa leaned forward and licked a trail across his bared chest. “I knew you’d be hairy.”

“I hope that’s not a problem,” Neil said.

She let her tongue wind through the hairs. “Not in the slightest.” Her slow pace must have been getting to her, because she quickly finished the rest of the buttons, her hands roaming all over his chest, flicking his nipples, down his stomach. Her fingers swirled in the hair, pulling on the black strands as she traced a path down his stomach toward his pants.

She made quick work of his pants, and Neil put his hands in her hair, tugging on the pencils tucked into it. Her locks tumbled down her back, surprising him at how long they were.

Marissa started to kneel in front of him, but he stopped her.

“No,” he whispered, his pants loose, though his cock remained firmly covered. “Lie down,” he told her.

Marissa pouted at him. “But I wasn’t done.”

“Yes, you are,” he said. His body throbbed so hard, one touch and he’d explode all over her, and on her chest, although appealing, wasn’t where he wanted to explode.

He wanted to be inside her.

Ravage her.

Make her scream.

Marissa lay back down on the bed, her hair fanned out around her, a shiny chocolate color that made her look like any man’s wet dream. He lay down next to her, leaning forward enough to smell her warm skin—the scent that had him lost—and pressed kisses against her throat.

She moaned and purred as he licked the flesh under her ear, sliding his hands down her body and over her breasts. Pulling on the flesh, he felt her shake and grabbed the edges of the thin top and pulled it over her head.

Marissa cooed when he returned to her breasts, licking the edge of her bra until he felt her buckle, her body quivering against him.

“Lord, Neil,” she cried as he slid his hands behind her and unfastened her bra. She pulled the barrier away and tossed it onto the floor. He took his first taste of her skin and growled as he clamped down on her, his mouth on one breast, his hand fondling the other.

Marissa arched into him, shoving her breast deeper into his mouth.

“Amazing.” He released the one, sliding over to her other breast. His hands slid down her sides, finding the edges of her skirt and tugging at the clasp to loosen it.

Marissa helped him shove the skirt off to reveal her garter belt and tiny panties, and he paused to examine the sight.

“Oh, Zeus,” he muttered, his hand sliding down the edges of her garter belt and across her almost non-existent panties.

Marissa’s hips bucked.

“You like?” he said, placing a kiss on her stomach.

“Ughn.”

Neil worked his way down lower, feeling every part of her.

She was amazing. Breathtaking. Incredible. He could feel her heat and moisture through the soaked fabric, her hands rubbing against her breasts as he slipped a finger inside the edge of her panties. His finger grazed her center, then her clit, then back, sliding up and down, a slow rhythm she started pumping her body against.

“I need you now,” Marissa moaned. “Now!”

He nodded, a moan of his own escaping. He stood to shuck his pants, pulling a condom out of his wallet, while Marissa struggled with the garter belt and panties.

“No,” he said, rolling her over, then grabbing the edge of the thong and sliding it out of the way. He poised himself in her entrance, and tested the space with a soft nudge.

Marissa cried out as he entered. Her cry sent him over the edge, losing all control of himself, and he slammed into her, hard and fast.

Unintelligible words came out of Marissa as his pace increased, his body beginning to shake as he felt himself closing in on orgasm.

Marissa continued to scream with every thrust, her face down, almost buried in the pillow, muffling her shouts. He held onto her hips, pounding so hard he thought he would fly apart.

Marissa let out a wild scream as she shook and convulsed around him. Her spasms squeezed him in just the right way, and his own growl erupted from his chest as he toppled over in orgasm, slamming into her with four hard thrusts.

Marissa, still lost in waves of release, managed to turn her head to see Neil as he erupted. His head tipped back, and as the howl came out of him, for a second, she saw a long snout on his face, his whole body darkening, and her hips felt the piercing of sharp nails.

She blinked at him, then looked again. Neil looked like Neil.

As he finished his orgasm, he dropped forward on top of her, covered in a sheen of sweat, and he nuzzled her neck and shoulders, panting.

“Wow,” he whispered.

Marissa nodded. “Yeah.”

Chapter 6

Marissa lay next to Neil a little while later, after they both had hopped in the shower and cleaned up; of course, that led to more sex, which made her thank God she lived in a house and not an apartment where some neighbor could have heard her screams.

Never had anyone taken her to such heights during sex. Neil truly amazed her. And for the first time in a long time, she curled up to him in the bed, glad to have the physical contact. She’d never been a cuddler, and in the last three years she’d really never wanted to touch anyone more than she had to.

Neil, though, seemed to change that idea. He made her want to curl up to him, to let him hold her, to keep her safe and secure, something she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

She glanced at the ceiling, and her mind wandered; for a second, she remembered exactly what night it was, and her vow, and she felt herself growing nauseated.

Neil, who she’d thought was asleep, mumbled at her. “What is it?”

She faked a smile, though her back was to him. “Nothing,”

“You have that smell again,” he whispered.

“What smell?” Marissa asked, sniffing her arm. She didn’t smell anything weird.

“That mourning smell,” he mumbled, pulling her harder up against him and kissing her neck. “What do you mourn?”

“There’s a smell to mourning?”

“Answer my question,” Neil said, nuzzling her shoulder, “and I’ll answer yours.”

She let a smile flutter across her mouth, his teasing soothing her, if only briefly. The darkness that welled in her chest pounded, and the urge to run started to overpower her, but as if Neil could sense it, he held her tighter.

“It’s okay,” he said.

Hot tears burned her cheeks. “I killed my parents.”

She half expected Neil to pull away, to ask what kind of psycho she must be, killing her parents and all, but he didn’t. His fingers grazed her shoulders, waiting for her to go on.

In her mind, she wondered if she should. The truth stained her mind; she didn’t want to think about it, she didn’t want to feel it, only to be lost in it. Speaking of it made it so much more real, so much more clinical, and she wasn’t ready for that.

Yet here, in Neil’s arms, she felt like he’d protect her from anything.

After all, he’d protected her from Kirk.

Still, she didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t want to relive those moments in her mind. She rolled over, facing Neil, placing a kiss on his lips. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Neil arched his eyebrow at her, stroking a finger down her cheek. “It torments you,” he said. “Release it. Only releasing it can you find healing.”

She closed her eyes. “It’s not your burden to bear. You didn’t kill them.” She could hear the squealing of tires, the crunch of metal against concrete in her mind, the sounds, though only what her mind created, held a resonance that made her shudder.

“And I doubt you did, either,” Neil said, stroking her face, wiping away the rogue tear on her cheek.

“How do you know?”

“Because you’d be in an orange jumpsuit behind bars if you’d killed them. And I doubt orange is a good color for you.”

Her heart shuddered, the pounding so strong, she swore it was an external sound. “I didn’t pull a trigger,” she whispered, her eyes shut. “But I might as well have.”

“I doubt that.”

She could see them clearly in her mind, right there, painted in her brain, the image of the last time she’d seen her parents. On Halloween they’d dressed as the odd couple—Dad, a devil, and Mom an angel; Mom’s halo glittering, her face covered in glitter powder, and Dad, armed with corny red horns and a pitchfork.

It was the last time she’d seen them, both smiling, both laughing, and they were ecstatically waving at her, wishing her well.

“They were at a teen and adult Halloween party. The kids downstairs watching scary movies, the adults upstairs,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She opened her eyes and looked at Neil, who only nodded for her to go on. “I knew Dad was drunk, I could see it in his eyes. And I knew… I knew he’d drive home.”

Neil stroked her arm. “I’m so sorry.”

“I should have stayed,” she said, remembering how she’d wanted to get to her own Halloween party, get away from the teens and the coupled adults, get to her own friends and have some fun.

“It’s not your fault,” he whispered.

Marissa shook her head. “It was! I should have stayed. Instead, I had to get to my own party, my own friends, because I was too cool to hang out with my parents and my brother. I had guys waiting for me… I killed my family because I wanted to get laid,” she whispered, staring at Neil. “And here I am, desecrating the day they died by doing the same thing.”

“Marissa,” Neil whispered. “You’re not desecrating their memory.”

She scooted farther across the bed, away from him. “I think you should go. You shouldn’t be here,” she said, rubbing at her arms. She had to get the feel of him off her, the sex off her skin.

A shower. She needed to scrub her skin, scrub off the sex, make it go away.

Neil reached forward and pulled her up next to him, his strength incredible, and he wrapped his strong arms around her, holding her to him.

“No,” he whispered, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Get off me! Get out!” she cried, her voice losing some of its strength as his body kept her held tight against him.

Tears burned in her eyes. “I can’t, I can’t allow any happiness on this day,” she said. “This day, I can’t be happy.”

Neil stroked her hair, feeling her body tremble against him, and he wanted with every fiber of his being to calm her down, to ease her pain, but he couldn’t find it within himself to do so.

He didn’t know how.

Her tears burned like acid on his chest.

“Shh. It’s going to be okay,” he said.

“It’s not okay,” she said through her tears, her voice harsh. “It’ll never be okay. My family is dead! It’s my fault! I was selfish, and now they’re dead!”

“You didn’t give your dad the keys. You didn’t tell him to drive. He made that choice. He took responsibility when he got behind the wheel.”

“If I had been there,” she cried against his chest, “then… then… maybe, maybe I could have…”

He pulled her face up to look at him. “Would he have even let you take his keys? I can’t imagine too many dads allowing their little kid to drive them home.”

“But I could have tried! I could have been there!”

He ran his fingers down her cheek. “We can live our lives wondering ‘what if’ for as long as we are breathing, but that’s not living, Marissa. That’s just existing.” He let out a sigh. “Do you really think your parents would have wanted you to merely exist after they left? Or would they have wanted you to live?”

Marissa buried her head into his chest and cried. She wailed, then she would sob; a soft weeping sound eventually replaced the sobs, until her breathing leveled out, and she’d cried herself to sleep.

Neil still didn’t let her go, a few tears slipping down his cheek.

*

The dawn cut into the bedroom window, and Marissa found herself stroked and prodded awake in the most sensual and gentle ways possible.

She couldn’t quite remember everything from last night, at least after the coupling, except that she’d cried a lot. And Neil had held her to him, letting her cry. Though she did remember telling him about her parents, and now she felt lighter than she had in years.

Could he have been right? Could just opening up have been what she’d needed all this time? Her heart still ached for her parents, but something about the way the sun shined in the room, it was a new day, and a new beginning for her.

She couldn’t thank Neil enough for that.

She glanced at her body, seeing him pressing kisses on her stomach.

Okay, maybe she could think of a few ways to thank him.

She fully awoke, her body flaming in desire as Neil knelt between her legs, running his lips over hers, her body quickly running toward release, throbbing and insistent as her climax shook her, her hips rocking hard into his face.

Neil growled against her as he sucked, only making the shaking climax shoot higher and higher.

When she finally ebbed, Neil crawled back up her body, his erection pressing against her inner thigh, and it moved as if it throbbed as much as she did. She shifted her hips so his hard cock was poised at her entrance.

Neil ran a hand down her cheek, pressing a soft kiss against her lips, the lingering scent of what he’d just done made Marissa even hotter.

“And you’re waiting for?” she asked him, shoving her hips up against his.

The corner of Neil’s mouth quirked up at her, and he reached over her shoulder to the small jewelry box that sat on her nightstand. Flipping it open, he pulled out a condom and in a second was sheathed, ready to dive in.

Neil pushed her hip to roll her over again, but Marissa shook her head. “No,” she said. “I want to see you when you come.”

Neil closed his eyes, and nodded his head. He entered her very slowly; his body tight and restrained.

His pace was excruciatingly slow, and Marissa tried encouraging him to speed up, to release that animalistic power he’d had before, but he wouldn’t do it.

He kept his pace slow and steady, like a metronome keeping time.

She caressed his skin, his arms, his chest, anything she could think of to push him harder toward climax; as she licked his shoulders, he growled and pushed her down away from him.

“Neil?” she whispered. “What’s wrong?” Panic filled her. Was he repulsed by her? Did he hate her, and was doing this out of pity? Did he not want to be here anymore?

“I…” His voice sounding like he held back every part of himself, trying to keep himself together.

“You can let go.” What happened? Why was he afraid to let go, like he did last night? Did she do something wrong? Did she make it too hard for him now?

“I can’t.”

“What are you afraid of?” she stroked his face.

He turned into her hand, kissing her palm as she slid her fingers away from him. “I don’t want to frighten you.”

“You won’t. You can’t do anything to frighten me.” She stroked his chest, her fingers threading through his chest hairs. She almost added that she felt safe with him, but she stopped herself. Too much too soon.

“I’m not like other men,” he said.

“And I’m not like other women.”

Neil’s head went down, and he placed a few kisses on her neck. “No, you’re not, you’re amazing. And I can’t...” he said, rolling away from her and getting out of bed.

“Neil? Neil! Get back here!”

“I’m going to hurt you,” he said, grabbing for his pants.

“You are hurting me. Please don’t go,” she said. She’d never begged a man to stay with her in her life, ever. Yet seeing him climb off her, getting out of her bed, any pride she had disappeared, and she wanted him to stay.

Please, you have to stay. I need you! She couldn’t handle him leaving her.

“If I stay, and I tell you everything, I will hurt you.” He fastened his pants.

“Oh, God,” she whispered, every horrible possibility running rampant through her mind. “You’re married?”

Neil laughed. “I wish. That would be believable.”

She shook her head, her chest tight, anguish pouring out of her. “I don’t understand. Please don’t go.”

Neil said nothing and picked up his shirt.

“God, tell me you’re gay, tell me your married, something!” Anger shot through her. How could he? How could he just up and walk away? Now? What was wrong with him? What was wrong with her? “Give me something to write you off with! Anything! Don’t leave. Don’t leave me knowing that I’ve never felt safer with anyone in my life, and you’re going to walk away?”

Neil tipped his head back and howled. Not scream, not a cry, a howl—rich, animalistic, primal, and not human.

Her eyes widened, and she scooted across the bed, the noise piercing her heart. In a flash, she saw Neil’s jaw extend, his skin darken, and no longer did he look human, but like a large monster. A monster!

She screamed at the sight of him.

Neil faded back to himself.

“No!” she pulled the covers up over her body, cowering against the back of the bed. She reached for something she could use, some kind of weapon, but she had none.

He was a monster!

Neil’s green eyes flashed at her, and she stopped shaking.

“I’m a werewolf,” Neil whispered, and turned, leaving the room. A white card fluttered from his fingers as he walked out. “Forgive me.”

She stared after him, watching Neil leave, hearing the front door shut, and she continued to stare.

She didn’t move for a very long time.

Chapter 7

November 7th

Shadows hung under Marissa’s eyes, her long hair bundled up into a ponytail, and her skin pale.

She stared at herself in the glass while she waited for the door to be answered. She looked ill, like she hadn’t been eating. And she hadn’t. Every time she closed her eyes, she could see him.

But not as the man she’d met or slept with. She saw him as the monster, as the werewolf that he was, and it frightened her.

The howl he’d bellowed still pierced her heart, for she could feel the sorrow in the sound, and she knew he felt it as much as she did.

Still, he’d run away.

No different than anyone else.

Marissa touched her sunken cheek. He did this to me, she thought. Neil.

The wooden door behind the glass one opened, ruining her reflection, and Kristy stood on the other side. “Marissa,” she said, smiling. Then she looked at her. “Oh God.” Like she knew everything. And something about that was even more upsetting.

Kristy escorted her in. Where Halloween decorations had been a week ago now hung garlands of golden leaves and other things for Thanksgiving, including a paper turkey on the fireplace mantel.

She sat on the older couch, Kristy bringing her a glass of water and offering her some food, but she hadn’t been able to eat for days. Everything around her had taken on a bizarre stain, a sheen of unbelievability.

Nothing seemed real.

Even food.

Kristy sat down, chattering about how much fun the party was, telling her about other hook-ups and such that had occurred at the party, and something about the punch bowl being spilled later in the evening, and her having to scrub for an hour to get all the red out of the carpet.

“Oh, and I thought you might like to know.” Kristy brought her glass up to her lips to take a sip before going on. “Kirk’s been, uh, arrested.”

“I didn’t want anyone to press charges.”

“Not for what he did to you. He confessed to those slayings that have been going on. He’s, uh, being detained now.”

“Those SWAT guys have him?”

“Who, the Knights? Yeah,” she said, smiling. “He’s being questioned about a few other things before sentencing is passed.”

“I can’t believe Kirk would do that kind of stuff. He could be rough, but I can’t imagine him…”

“Well, you’d be surprised.”

Kristy certainly had a point—after what she’d seen with Neil, she pretty much was ready to believe anything. Maybe not believe, but comprehend. Though even that seemed like a farce—believing that monsters walked the earth? That all those fairy tales really could exist?

Even that Neil had saved her from Kirk.

A monster had saved her.

It wasn’t the first time in recent history. She seemed to be saved a lot by animals. Whether they looked human or not didn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things, did it?

Marissa’s mind whirled, and she felt herself sliding down into the same abyss she’d been in for the last week.

Instead of letting the abyss take her, she concentrated on the glass of water Kristy had given her, the way the ice danced around, moving just a tiny bit every time her hand shifted. She hadn’t been to work all week, using up a good chunk of her vacation. She couldn’t deal with what she’d seen.

She’d unplugged her phone and turned off her cellphone, barricading herself in her house. She’d showered seven times after Neil left, trying to get the smell of him off her, but even now, days later, she could still smell him.

The monster.

Who had saved her from the man.

Which was worse?

She didn’t even know why she’d come to Kristy’s house. She probably could have called, but she’d needed to see her face.

She needed to know this wasn’t a dream.

“Have you talked to Neil?” Kristy asked, the sentence breaking through the fog of her brain.

“No.”

“You should call him. I’ve never seen him like that over anyone before. I’m surprised he hasn’t called you,” Kristy said, her tone casual. Kristy did that—spoke casually, let conversation ramble, until the other person was ready to speak. She supposed it was to ease the person’s confidence.

Right now, it only irritated her.

“Do you know what Neil is?” she asked pointblank, studying the blonde’s response.

Kristy froze for a moment, her face paling in the light from the window. But it lasted a mere moment. Kristy let out a sigh and bowed her head, running her fingers through her short spiky hair.

“Yes.”

“How could you?” Marissa asked, her voice hoarse. “How could you let him take me home?”

“Because I know Neil, and I know he’d never hurt you.”

“No, a monster wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Neil is not a monster!” Kristy countered. “A werewolf is not a monster!”

“Last time I checked,” Marissa said, “they rank right there with vampires. All are monsters, haunt little children in their sleep, eat humans, and all are not supposed to exist. And he does!” A tear pooled in her eye.

“So do all the mythicals,” Kristy said. “And we live in harmony with them, and have for centuries. So what?”

This was not what she expected. She hadn’t expected such nonchalance to the concept. Damnit, doesn’t anyone around here find it weird or freaky or scary that monsters walk the streets next to us, every day? “He’s a monster.”

“There are monsters and monsters.” Kristy took her hand and squeezed. “Nothing in this world is as we expect. We’ve lived for centuries, millennia, with creatures of the night in our homes, in our neighborhoods, and we don’t have to fear them.”

She glanced up at Kristy’s face. Her friend, who she’d pretty much considered a casual acquaintance for the most part, made sense in a surreal way. There was nothing she could do about the existence of monsters. It wasn’t like she could hunt them down; she’d never know where to begin.

And this went well beyond the realm of just believing in them. This was bigger—so much bigger—than that.

“If I believe you, then everything I’ve ever known is wrong.” She buried her face in her hands. She didn’t want to see her face, because Kristy might bring her to the breaking point with whatever she said.

She thought of Neil, of the way he protected her from Kirk; of the passion he had, of the heat of his stare, and her heart lurched. How could she? How could she even consider such a monster a friend?

Yet in the back of her mind, she knew if she ever needed him, Neil would come running, and that very thought was what kept her up at night.

Not that he was a monster.

That he was her monster, and he would always save her.

“It’s not wrong,” Kristy said. “It’s just more than we ever thought possible.” Kristy’s eyes slipped to her and Dale’s wedding picture, framed in a black lacquer frame.

Her words struck a chord, and for a brief second of clarity, she knew Kristy spoke from experience. Her mind traveled backward in time, and she realized every time Dale had ever been “away for a business trip” it was right on the full moon.

The joke had been that the only normal thing to happen on the full moon was Dale’s scheduled trips.

Her eyes widened.

Kristy seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. “It’s not all bad,” Kristy said. “Once a month, I have the house to myself to do whatever I want, have a girl’s night, whatever. I get a lot of deep cleaning done that day.”

“And where does he go?”

“The compound,” she said. “The Brothers constructed a compound on some land outside of town, and he goes there. They have some kind of cell or something that he stays in for the night. Everything’s really well organized. I hear they play poker until it’s time to lock up.”

“I really want to believe you, I do, it’s just so…”

“So crazy?” Kristy said. “It’s a bizarre world out there. I agree. I’m just glad I have Dale on my side, you know?”

She finally asked what she really wanted to know. “Weren’t you scared?”

Kristy’s eyebrow went up. “We’d had sex by then, so I wasn’t really that scared. Shocked a bit, but not scared. I thought I’d dreamed it.”

The change. She’d seen the way Neil had shifted slightly when he’d climaxed, his animal side coming out. But that hadn’t been the first time, had it? She’d seen the same thing just before he broke Kirk’s nose. She’d thought she’d dreamed it too.

“So what do I do?” Marissa asked.

“Up to you. But let me tell you one thing. When a werewolf chooses a mate, it’s for life. Neil will never cheat on you, he’ll never hurt you, and he’ll never leave you.”

The last words stung, because that’s exactly what he’d done. He’d left.

*

Marissa barely made it home when someone started pounding on her front door.

“Go away,” she muttered, but couldn’t help herself from going over to the door. Deanna’s persistence knew no bounds—even when she’d ignored her friend’s calls, it hadn’t stopped Deanna.

Maybe she should have, because then she wouldn’t have Deanna standing on her porch now.

She yanked open the door, ready to berate Deanna, but stopped cold.

Standing outside were the two SWAT guys from the party. Though this time, they didn’t look as much like SWAT team members—they had on typical clothing. Typical enough, anyway. Tee-shirts and jeans.

Both of their dark gray tee-shirts had the same red iron crosses on the upper left shoulder.

“Yeah?”

Neither waited on pretense, and walked right into her house. The blond went past her and the other, his hair dark and very short, shut the door.

“You know, this is my house. I get to say who comes in,” she spat at them. “Don’t you all have to have permission to come in?”

“That is a vampire,” Liam said. “Though more human folklore than truth.”

The blond glanced at her, his brow arched, and took a seat on her couch. “We could do this on the porch if you want, but I doubt you wanna share this with your neighbors.”

The dark-haired one stood up against the door, his arms over his chest, as if daring her to try and bolt past him.

“Fine, let’s get this over with,” she said, dropping on the couch. “What do you want to know?”

The men glanced at each other. “My name is Sir Adrian, and this is my partner, Sir Liam. Formalities were missed at Dale’s party.”

“Marissa,” she muttered. “And you guys are the SWAT guys who hauled off Kirk. Is he going to jail?”

“What was your relationship to Kirk?” Adrian asked.

“Dated him a few months ago. We’d been together a while, but he was a jerk, messed around and stuff. So we broke up.”

“And you hadn’t seen him around since your breakup?”

“No, not that I remember.”

“Had he tried to contact you since the breakup?” Liam asked.

“Sure, a little bit. Kirk’s a control freak. Didn’t like that I’d broken up with him. So he did pursue for a while, calling every few days, but then he stopped. Didn’t hear for him for a couple of months. I figured he’d given up, at least until the other night.”

Adrian nodded. “You were attacked outside a bar a little over a month ago.”

“You guys are good, I didn’t bother telling anyone about that.”

“We were the ones who found you,” Adrian replied.

“How do you think you got home?” the second one asked, making her jump. She’d practically forgotten he was there.

She ran her hands through her hair. She didn’t like this, not one bit—after all, these guys were the ones who found her? After everything she’d been through, this was almost too much to handle. “Who in the hell are you guys? Police or something?”

“That’s what we’re here to talk to you about,” Adrian replied. “We are the Knights Templar, and we police the activities of mythicals in this area.”

“Mythicals?”

“Vampires, werewolves, and about any other mythical creature you can think of. We protect humans from the mythicals.”

“Well, you’ve just done a bang-up job in my case,” she snapped at him. “Seems like I’m frigging surrounded by them.”

The two men exchanged glances. “So Neil told you,” Liam said, coming across the room to sit in the large recliner in the corner, though he didn’t really sit back in it, more on the edge of the thing.

“He told me what he was,” she replied. “And I haven’t seen him since.”

Liam ground out some kind of curse, though it wasn’t anything she’d ever heard.

“Do you plan on seeing him again?” Adrian asked, his eyes warm with compassion.

“I don’t know yet. This is really hard for me to take in, ya’ know?”

“This type of situation isn’t how we like to see humans introduced to the mythical world. However, there’s not much we can do about it.”

“What…are there, like, classes or something to introduce a human to these monsters that walk among us?”

“No, though that’s probably not a bad idea. There are protocols, however, and usually, a mythical, when he or she wants to tell a human about what they are, there are special steps that are required.”

“Like watching ‘Underworld’ or something before they can tell the human?”

“Not exactly. But usually, we try to speak to the human, to determine how they will handle the information before they know,” Adrian said.

“Though it doesn’t always work that way,” Liam added.

“So what do I do? I mean, I’ve slept with Neil. Do I have to get special shots or something?”

“Did you use protection?” Liam asked.

She nodded.

“Then you’re fine.”

“Well, good to know I can’t get rabies,” Marissa replied.

Adrian glanced at Liam, and for the briefest of seconds, it looked as if Liam might have actually smirked.

“Listen, we can’t tell you how to live your life. And we can’t tell you if you should or should not have anything to do with Neil. That’s up to you.” Adrian shifted on his seat. “But know this. We have vowed to protect humans from mythicals, and if, for any reason, you feel as though you’re in danger, you need to contact us immediately. Mythicals aren’t like humans. They’re stronger, they’re faster, and far more dangerous. It’s not your job to protect yourself. That’s our job.” He stood up and handed her two business cards, both identical, instructing her to put one by her phone and the other in her purse in case she needed it.

She accepted the cards as the two men headed for the door.

Then Liam stopped and spun around, his hands resting on the back of her chair, his strength making her shift as he leaned over it to speak.

“Neil Drigan is a good wolf. He’s strong and competent. And he will always protect you. All wolves will fight to the death for their mates.”

“I’m not his mate,” she said.

Liam touched her shoulder. Everything went hazy for a second, but then he let go. “Are you sure?”

*

The Starbuck’s coffee house was dead when Neil walked in. Of course, it was about dinner time, and he would have figured on a Saturday night the place would have been hopping, but it wasn’t.

He was also fifteen minutes early, so he ordered a grande coffee and took a seat near the back, away from the door and other prying eyes.

Marissa’s message had been cryptic. Only instructing him to be here at six.

He hated himself.

He’d never lost control of the beast the way he had that morning. He could blame it on the full moon, but it didn’t have anything to do with the moon anymore than it did with the shade of her blue bedspread.

He’d shown her. He’d shown her the monster. No matter how many times that side of himself had been a benefit in life, at that moment, he’d never been more ashamed of what he was.

The fear in her eyes had scarred him deep within his soul. If Marissa never wanted to talk to him again, he’d understand. She’d had no warning, no preparation for what was about to come.

He’d just flashed.

It made his stomach roll.

He’d been beside himself all week, barely able to focus on anything at work, and unable to eat properly. He’d only managed to stay awake because of coffee.

Several in his pack had figured out at once what had happened to him, and they didn’t sympathize, simply because he hadn’t bothered to give them a chance. At the compound, instead of playing the typical poker tournament they had, he’d hidden away in his cell, refusing to speak to anyone.

He could still smell her on him, even now, though he kept trying to smell the coffee, trying to get rid of the aroma that was Marissa. It seemed like wherever he went, he could smell something floral, and it would send a shock of pain through him.

She stained his mind like a window pane he couldn’t touch; an image of beauty and clarity that was not his. He finally knew he had a mate that was made for him, and she was frightened of him.

Him! He’d saved her twice.

Vague images came back to him about that night when he’d been the animal, but he remembered one thing for certain. She’d touched him, stroking his nose, like she wanted to know her savior, and say thank you, but didn’t know how.

Neil pinched the bridge of his nose, yet nothing, even other kinds of pain, seemed capable of easing his anguish.

The door opened, a soft chirping sound alerting the employees, and they spread on their work faces, saying hello to the newcomer. One whiff and Neil knew who it was.

Marissa looked around, her long hair pulled up into a severe ponytail. Her tee-shirt and jeans looked like they’d been pulled off the dirty clothes pile, and she glanced around, seeing Neil in the corner. She hadn’t made herself all pretty for this.

Couldn’t be a good sign.

Marissa smiled at the men behind the counter, ordered a drink, and came over to join Neil.

“Hello,” she said as she sat down.

“Hi.” He clenched his hands around his coffee cup to keep from reaching across the table and grabbing her hand. Waves of desire burst over him, and he knew he wasn’t going to last long. Just sitting across from her, his pulse quickened, and he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anyone before ever.

If only his brothers could see him now—all wound up for a woman. He made fun of them constantly when it came to their mates. Yet here he was, as bad, if not worse, than they were.

Two months ago, he would have called himself pathetic.

One of the clerks brought her a cup of something with whipped cream on top, and she accepted it with a smile, and didn’t speak until he was out of ear shot.

“I have been busy today,” she said.

“Oh?”

“I went to see Kristy,” she said, stirring her drink and letting the whipped cream mix into the drink. “And I had a visit from the Knights.”

Neil blinked. Hell. He knew they’d go see her, they’d said so at the party. And he hadn’t thought about it at the time—he’d figured he’d be with her when she had to deal with them. Instead, she’d had to face them by herself.

It’s a miracle she was here at all now. The Knights could frighten someone just by looking at them.

“And how was that?” he asked, praying they hadn’t tormented her too much

“Enlightening,” Marissa said. She sipped on her drink, wincing at the heat of it, and he grabbed the edges of the chair to keep from running up on the man who’d made her coffee and belting him for making it too hot.

“Is that good?” he asked her.

“I know I’m not crazy, anyway.”

He smirked. “You’re not crazy.” His heart started to pound. Was she possibly considering that he wasn’t a freak of nature? That she might actually…

No, it was too soon to think such a thing.

Too soon to imagine she might actually not be frightened of him.

“I was starting to think I was. Werewolves? And after talking with Kristy, I see they’re not the only creatures of the night that exist.” She stirred her drink some more before taking another sip.

“No, pretty much any mythical creature you can think of are around, in some form or another.” He sipped on his coffee. He didn’t come in contact with too many, just the occasional vampire and other wolf packs, but he knew they existed.

“I can’t say that I understand this, and I don’t know if I want to,” Marissa said, her hands trembling. “Just answer me two questions.”

“Okay.”

“You saved me that night in the parking lot, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he whispered.

She stared off to a spot just over his shoulder. “I petted your nose,” she whispered.

“Yes.” His heart ached in his chest at the faraway look in her eyes. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice barely audible, even for him. Then her eyes flashed at him. “Will you never leave me?”

“Never,” Neil said. “Until I die, I shall be at your side.”

Marissa nodded, and reached across the table. She touched his hand, and he felt his body ignite as she squeezed his fingers.

Chapter 8

December 1st

Marissa sat on Kristy’s deck, the winter a rather warm one. Kristy’s chimanaya was lit, and the two of them stared up at the full moon.

“You know, I never really believed in psychics before, but that one gal, what was her name… The one at the party?” Marissa asked.

“Charlie,” Kristy said. “She’d said she read for you.”

“It took some time to figure out what she was talking about, but she was right,” she said. She’d spent almost every night with Neil since their meeting at Starbucks. They talked about many things, including how the werewolves lived, how their packs were structured, and how the Knights of Templar fit into everything.

“She usually is.”

“I didn’t realize until after your party that Neil was the one that saved me that night in the parking lot. All I could remember was a big dog.”

“And how many times did he have to save you?”

“Three times,” she said. “And he did.”

“Well, what was the last one?”

“He saved me from myself,” she said. And he had. Before Neil came into her life, she hadn’t been able to accept and deal with the loss of her family. Knowing that she now had an extended family of close to one-hundred in his pack brought a way for her to release the demons inside her, the ones that reminded her she was alone.

She sipped on her margarita, the ice sliding down her throat feeling incredibly good, even on the chilly night. “What do you think they’re doing right now?”

“Baying at the moon.”

She smiled.

Off in the distance, a howl could be heard, the sound of an animal, a dog or a wolf, crying out to the moon in the distance.

Marissa glanced at Kristy.

Both women smiled.

It was a good moon.

About Candice Gilmer

http://www.lyricalpress.com/candice_gilmer

Writing is a natural evolution for Candice Gilmer, since she’s been telling stories since she was old enough to speak. What started out as merely reciting the words of Cinderella when she was three developed into a love for stories and story telling that to this day rules Candice’s life.

And like any storyteller, Candice’s stories get bigger with every telling. Lyrical Press is reprinting Unholy Night, originally featured in an anthology, but only after Candice reworked and added quite a bit.

So if you think you’ve seen this story before, you haven’t. At least not like this—the “director’s cut” if you will, of Unholy Night.

Read and enjoy.

Candice’s website:

http://candicegilmer.blogspot.com

Reader email:

candice.gilmer@gmail.com

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Table of Contents

Cover

Back Cover Copy

Highlight

Copyright

Dedication

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

About Candice Gilmer

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