Carnal Appetite cd-1 Read online

  “Seven years ago, I was on the force, heading up the case of the Necro-ripper.”

  “I remember when that happened. I was in college, we were all terrified.”

  He nodded. “We thought we had him tracked down to the swamp. Had every available officer out there scouring the area, set up a perimeter and road blocks, the works. He wasn’t getting out. He’d taken another girl, you see....”

  He turned his gaze to her, watching her reaction. “My partner, Jim, and I had discovered some tracks. I never got to radio the finding in. Something fell from a cypress, slashed into my back. My left arm was nearly severed in the struggle. The last thing I remember was seeing Jim’s head floating next to me in the water, and then blackness.”

  Clara looked about to speak, but Raoul held his hand up, stopping her. “I woke up in the hospital a week later. They’d found the Necro-ripper. Put about three dozen bullets in him. But the damage had already been done to me. I ... changed the first full moon....”

  She looked confused, unsure of what to say. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, wringing the bottom edge of her blouse. “I ... I don’t understand.”

  Watching her steadily, he held her rapt with his gaze so that she couldn’t look away. “I was infected, chere. By a very rare virus. So rare, it’s become nothing but a myth, or a tale to scare children.... Lycanthropy ... a werewolf.”

  * * * *

  Clara laughed. What he’d said wasn’t the least bit humorous, but the horror he described, the conviction in his voice.... Her body hurt as though she’d lived through it, and her gut reaction was to bleed off the fright in the only way she knew how. She was disturbed to hear her hysteria so plainly, but she couldn’t help herself. After only a moment, she went quiet, confronted by his dead seriousness, his silence.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, ashamed at her lack of control. It had been a hell of a night. She rubbed her eyes with her fingertips, covering her face with her palms, unable to bear meeting the condemnation she knew he bore her. What she’d done was unforgivable. She’d been brought up better than that. But how could she have suspected he would tell her something so ... so outrageous and impossible to believe? She expected any minute some cameraman would jump out and surprise her with the knowledge she was on Scare Tactics.

  “It’s understandable, chere.”

  That only made her feel worse. Worse still, her gut told her he wasn’t lying. She couldn’t believe that he would lie about something so horrendous--not when his voice held the pain of truth. Not when confronted with the evidence of his extensive scarring. There had to be some explanation for it, but at the moment, she couldn’t fathom what it could be.

  “This is crazy,” she said finally, her voice muffled by her hands, still cowardly trying to hide her shame.

  “Don’t make me show you, Clara. I don’t want you to fear me.”

  Dropping her hands to her lap, she looked at him, struck by his tone and words. He was just as beautifully masculine to her now as when she’d first seen him. Hearing his admission, however crazy it sounded, hadn’t changed her desire for him, her desire to know him. It was insane to have such strong feelings when she didn’t know him, but he provoked a powerful response in her that she’d never encountered before.

  “I would never fear you,” she said with conviction, feeling it to be true. Obviously he was attuned to action, but as a foil for violence, not an aggressor. He’d been a police officer before. It that was true, it would explain much.

  “You can’t know the future.” He looked into the fire, his jaw hard.

  No, she couldn’t, but she knew her feelings of the moment. She wanted to go to him, to soothe his torments, but she dared not right now. He seemed ... distant, troubled. So she did nothing but sit there, watching him. He excited her, but he didn’t scare her, intense as he was. Still, there was one inconsistency she hadn’t considered. “If you’re a ... lycanthrope, how can you wear that?” She indicated the ring in his right nipple. “Isn’t it silver?”

  He smiled darkly. “I like a little pain mixed with my pleasure.”

  The low timbre of his voice vibrated along her nerves like an electric current. Heat flooded her, pooling between her legs. She shook herself mentally, trying to get a grip on her emotions. It was frightening how easily he could play them. Maybe he was more dangerous than she realized ... just by sheer potent sexuality....

  “I know you don’t believe me. You needn’t worry. I will still protect you from Danior.”

  She felt better moving on to a different subject. It allowed her to gain control of her libido--before her brain was fried. Better not to dwell too long on his disease ... or her reaction to him. “Who is he?

  He watched her a long moment before finally saying, “He is a vampire.”

  Clara shivered, unexpectedly chilled by this admission. She should have known better than to ask. She was reminded of that eerie wind that hadn’t touched him, how he’d seemingly vanished. No, it just couldn’t be. Still, Raoul’s contempt made her curious. “You say that like you hate ... them.”

  “I do, as do all of my kind.”

  She couldn’t fully believe him--it was just too far past the realm of believability--but suddenly she was fascinated. The paranormal had always captured her imagination. She’d spent more hours than she cared to remember reading horror books through the night. “Why?”

  “They seek to control, to drain us. Our blood is like a drug to them, addictive, potent, rare. I have never met a natural born shape-shifter, but even those who were once human are scarce. Men rarely survive their attacks--women, almost never.”

  From a scientific standpoint, it made sense, just based on old legends and stories. Lycanthropes were like superhumans. It stood to reason that their blood would be more powerful, and highly prized by a vampires, who subsisted on blood. And also that it would be difficult and painful for a human to survive such vicious attacks, which would account for the rarity of such a race, to the point of lack of evidence to support their existence in modern society. She supposed most who were attacked were ... eaten. Clara swallowed hard, ill at that possibility.

  Still.... “Then I’m not the target. He’d want you, if what you say is true.” It seemed like sound reasoning, based on the information he’d provided and her own deductions. And if they were enemies, it was only natural to fight it out. They were men, after all, even if all the paranormal mumbo jumbo could be believed. Oozing testosterone and highly territorial.

  The look on his face told her something entirely different. His brows drew down as he frowned at her. “You felt dizzy in the alley when he was near? Like you would faint?”

  What did that have to do with anything? And how could he know? She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Yes. Yes, there was this horrible buzzing--”

  “You have two marks on your body, do you not?”

  She nodded slowly. How could he know about that? A chill ran up her spine, forcing goose bumps to rise on her skin. Despite wanting to believe the contrary, she was beginning to doubt conventional reasoning.

  “He has given you the first two marks of what is called the triad: the mind, body, and lastly, soul. Anyone with the knowledge can invoke the spirit in three hallowed areas of the body and bind it to their own ... for a time.... It can weaken or strengthen, depending on the match.

  Danior has been preparing you for his new ... companion. Surely you’ve heard the old legends: on the third night of blood-letting, a human dies. And the next night, they are reborn a vampire.”

  Clara raised a tentative hand to her neck, feeling the small wound, and the new one beside it. It couldn’t all be true ... this was just ... too much to believe. The memory loss, the fatigue--was it possible? She felt like she’d entered the twilight zone, and Inferno had been the gate into hell.

  “I can’t remember what happened two days ago, not yesterday either....”

  “He rolled your mind to make you forget. Easy enough to do once the mind mark has been invok
ed.”

  “I feel ... tainted somehow. Dirty.” She shuddered, rubbing her arms rapidly for warmth. The thought of someone invading her mind and making her forget horrified her. She hated losing control.

  Raoul stood and offered her his hand. “It’s late. I’ll show you to your room.”

  She took his proffered hand and rose, but shook her head at his suggestion. “No, I’m not ready to sleep. I ... I need to get warm. To feel clean again.”

  “The bathroom is up those stairs, to the right. You’ll find everything you need in there.”

  A tense moment passed between them while he held her hand, and she thought he would kiss her rather than let her go, but finally he released her. Walking away from him, it took effort not to turn around, but her neck prickled and she knew he watched her go.

  She was thankful he didn’t follow, but disappointed too. She needed time to think about what he said, about the implications, and yet she also craved comfort and security. The kind she could only have in a man’s arms ... in Raoul’s arms.

  Finding the bathroom just as he described, she entered the cavernous space. A whirlpool, cast in black marble, encompassed one entire corner of the luxury bathroom. In another, a huge shower stood that could easily have accommodated half a dozen people. Shower heads dotted the glossy marble walls. Plush black towels hung within easy reach on silver bars just outside the glass doors of the shower.

  Clara stripped off her clothing, dropping it in a pile on the floor. She was reluctant to wash the comforting smell of him off her skin, but needed to cleanse her body and spirit of the taint holding her mind. That man had enthralled her. She couldn’t deny it, no matter how much she wanted to. She didn’t understand how it was possible, but she did know Raoul had saved her.

  Stepping into the shower, she closed the door behind her then turned on the water, running it until heated. It took her a few minutes to figure out exactly how to use the shower, but after several tries, she finally managed to turn on just the overhead faucet.

  The water was almost too hot as it rained down on her, but the heat banished the chill that had settled in her marrow. She stood there several minutes, just soaking up the heat and wetting down her body.

  Grabbing a nylon loofah, she squirted bodywash on it and began lathering her arms. There was a soft click, and cool air flooded the space as the steam was sucked out. She turned slightly and glanced over her shoulder, surprised to see the shower door open ... and Raoul standing inside it.

  Chapter Four

  Raoul closed the door as he stepped fully inside--too close for Clara’s mind to continue functioning as it should. The enormous space shrank around them, until he stood mere inches away from her. The water seemed cool compared with the heated look he ran in a lingering pass over her body with deliberate thoroughness.

  Her skin tingled from his leisurely once over, as if his hands stroked her curves. Clara forgot to breathe. Her heart stalled a moment, and then its pace quickened to a raging tempo. Thought fled along with all the reasons why she shouldn’t get involved, shouldn’t give in. It didn’t occur to her to try and cover her nakedness. All she could do was stare at him.

  Naked, his skin glistening from the escaping steam, he was more magnificent than she’d ever imagined. She’d always been able to admire a well honed body but had never really been aroused by looking at nudity. Raoul inspired instant lust.

  The muscles of her sex clenched as a rush of liquid desire saturated her labia. An ache started low in her belly, an ache that could be cured only one way.

  The nipple ring drew her eyes, and she was reminded immediately of what he’d said--and how it had made her feel. Hot. Hungry. Ravenous to taste him and tug his nipples with her teeth. She drew her eyes down his wide chest. A few scars curled around his ribs. His scars were a part of him, a savage badge of power. Her fingers prickled with the need to caress them, to touch every hard muscled inch of his body. She resisted, wanting--no, needing to see all of him.

  A trail of dark hair traveled down his rippled stomach, guiding her to his cock. His erection was impossible to miss in the well trimmed thatch of hair surrounding it. His rigid member was thick, standing straight out from his body, and long enough she could easily wrap two fists end to end around it. Veins bulged along its length, his skin stretched impossibly tight. The cock head was swollen and large as a plum, it’s color a deep red that looked hot to the touch. And she wanted that heat deep inside. She grew thoroughly soaked gazing on him, imagining him ramming his cock into her.

  Raoul moved toward her, and she tore her gaze from his erection looking up at his face. He smiled, as if he knew she approved. Silent, watching her with unmistakable heat in his amber eyes, he reached slowly for the loofah, treating her like a skittish doe, and took it from her lax hands. He dropped it to the bed of the shower.

  Taking her hands, Raoul pressed her palms against the heated marble. She watched as he squirted soap into his hands, and then he moved behind her where she couldn’t see, out of the water. He slid against her, his body as wet now as her own, nestling his hard chest and stomach against her back until his cock pressed intimately into the crevice of her buttocks.

  Clara bit her lip at his contact, craving more. She dug her fingers into the marble until her knuckles turned white with the effort not to turn around and jump him. Eager to know what he would do next, she held still, waiting with tensely.

  He kissed the curve of her shoulder, and she tilted her head to allow him easier access. Nipping her with his teeth, he moved soap slickened hands up her braced arms to her breasts. Her nipples tightened unbearably as his palms skimmed over them, making her breasts feel heavy and swollen. She squirmed under his teasing touch, and he grunted low against her neck, cupping her breasts. Slippery with soap, he massaged them firmly, pinching her nipples hard between his fingers.

  Clara moaned, pressing into his hands, desire uncoiling in her belly. She was more than ready for him, could feel her juices tickling her nether lips. “Please,” she whispered, begging as she rubbed her ass against his cock. His hard erection twitched against her sensitive cheeks.

  “So soon, chere?” He sucked her earlobe into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue before kissing the hollow behind her ear.

  “Yes. I want you inside me. Now.”

  She felt him smile against her neck.

  “I’m afraid I can’t accommodate you just yet, petit. I’ll end your torment soon. For now, you must keep your hands on the wall,” he said in a voice that brooked no argument.

  Clara groaned in frustration but obeyed him.

  Raoul moved down her back, dragging his teeth and tongue over her wet skin, licking up the water droplets that collected on her body. His hands moved down her ribcage to her belly, lathering her and teasing unbearably with his nearness to her pussy, fingers massaging just above the hairline. He reached the top of her buttocks with his mouth and pressed kisses across the top, at the base of her spine.

  Clara startled when she felt his tongue slide down the cleft of her buttocks, then jumped in shock when he nipped the underside of one cheek. He sucked at the tender skin, and she felt something building inside her at the odd sensation. It was a forbidden area--she’d never allowed a man to ... kiss her there. She hadn’t known her cheeks could be so sensitive. She shook at the feel of his sharp teeth grazing her neglected flesh.

  He broke away and nuzzled her nether cheeks, his breath hot against her. “Spread your legs for me, Clara,” he demanded, his voice hoarse, hovering on the edge of control.

  Clara trembled and moved her legs slowly apart. Something wet and hot pressed firmly against her taint while he slipped one hand down to massage her inner thigh. She felt as though she was being groped by two men, handled everywhere she wanted most. She jerked as his fingers slipped through the hair covering her pussy, teasingly slow, just shy of where she wanted to be touched the most.

  “Raoul, please...,” she said hoarsely, unable to bear the torment.

  H
e flicked his tongue against her and delved deep with his fingers until he found her swollen clit. Clara moaned, biting her lip as he rolled the small nub between his fingers, moving his tongue higher up her slit, until he plunged the liquid smooth length inside her depths.

  A gasp tore from her throat, and she pressed her forehead to the wall, tilting her ass toward him, unconsciously begging for more. He pushed his tongue further inside, curling it in her tight passage, then withdrew to lap at her juices and the sensitive edges of her hole. His fingers found a tempo with her clit, alternately rubbing and pinching with faster and faster thoroughness.

  A pulse beat in her sex, climbing with each stroke. He broke away from her cleft, and she felt the loss with aching clarity.

  “Ma doux ... my sweet. You taste so good,” he said, his voice muffled against her inner thigh. He sucked at her labia, pulling at the outer lips and moving toward her thigh.

  Sliding his fingers down, he plunged two inside her, keeping his thumb rubbing hard against her clit. Clara shook as he moved in and out of her, bucking against his hand. She was going to cum. She could feel the orgasm build with every stroke, trembling on the edges of her climax.

  It took her with a suddenness she hadn’t expected. Her inner muscles gripped his fingers. As the orgasm ripped through her, she felt his teeth sink into her thigh. Clara screamed, the pain and pleasure mixing as one.

  Sated and gasping, she collapsed against the wall. Slowly, her breathing returned to normal, though her cleft still spasmed. He stood behind her, kneading her ass cheeks.

  “I’m not finished with you yet,” he growled softly.

  “No,” she said weakly, “I don’t think I can take any more.” The orgasm had left her weak and her appetites appeased.

  “You can. And you will.” Kissing and suckling her neck, he turned a knob and the wall units of the shower came to life, spraying the length of her body. The water massaged her breasts and belly, sensually bringing her back to life and washing away the evidence of her arousal. Guiding her, he moved them both until a jet of water sprayed directly against her sex. She moaned at the liquid assault to her sensitive flesh.