Falling to Pieces (14 page)

He shook his head furiously. “No, Teagan. You can’t. You’re under house arrest until your trial.”

“What?” I rubbed the back of my neck with an absent mind, my eyes flicking around the room. They were still going through with that shit? I had to get the answers. I just had to find out who Gabriella was to Marc, and whether I was going to die or not. I needed that information.

“I—I—just don’t understand?” I had leapt up off the bed and was pacing up and down the room nervously twisting a lock of my messy orange hair. I stopped mid-stride and covered my face with my hands, whipping them away after a moment.

“Why? Why did they let me go then? Why didn’t they just finish me off there and then?” I screeched into Alex’s face as anger consumed me.

He turned away, his eyes bulged at my evident rage. “Bartholomew decided and forced the other’s hand. He insisted you deserve a trial.” Alex dipped his head, his eyes staring at the crimson carpet beneath his boots.

“Well, that was very fucking kind of him,” I hissed, placing my hands on my hips and tapping my foot. The heat rose to my cheeks. The rage bubbled inside me as I strode to my walk-in wardrobe.

Alex was hot on my heels. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to see Marc,” I said trying to level out my ragged breathing. I pulled the tartan nightshirt up over my head.

“You’ll get us killed, Teagan.”

“How so?”

“Because we agreed to deliver you back to The Assembly as soon as you woke. I think Bartholomew wants you. He won’t be happy he insisted that you be spared for a trial if you just, well, go.”

I pulled a midnight blue t-shirt over my head.

“Don’t you think I should have the chance to say goodbye to him?” I leaned closer to his face with closed eyes so I couldn’t see the pity on his features as I begged. “Please, please, please, ple—”

“Ok, stop!” He raised a hand and stepped back. “Hurry up, Teagan,” he said, wincing.

“Thanks so much.” My voice sounded strangled with emotion. “I know you don’t owe me a thing, but thanks. I already owe you so much as it is.”

“Just hurry up. You wouldn’t want our heads on the block too, would you,” he said as a statement rather than a question.

I pulled on black jeans and a black hooded top, tucking my hair inside. “Thanks,” I said once again, not giving him the chance to change his mind.

I whooshed down the stairs, stopping abruptly in the hallway realising that one of The Assembly might be watching the house.

I hurried through the door on my left and towards the French windows. Pulling them open, I exited onto the balcony, which jutted out from the back of the house. I peered to my right seeing that the house next door had the same ledge.

I leapt from one balcony to the other for five houses in a row. I reached the last house on the block and scaled the thick black drainpipe secured to the side before I found the flat rooftop of the house.

Lying flat on my stomach, I leopard crawled to the front of the building before peering down on to the street below. I inspected the inside of each car parked alongside the curb opposite. They were all empty. I took my time sweeping my gaze from left to the right over the foreground, middle ground and distance. I exhaled with relief. No one was watching.

I thought that a little odd, but I trusted I’d done a good security check. I leapt down to the sidewalk from the top of the building and sprinted along the quiet streets until I reached a main road still humming with traffic. I kept my head down and slumped my shoulders to protect my identity as much as possible until I could hail a cab.

I was half way to Mayfair when a vacant taxi pulled over for me.

I stood in front of his house within five minutes, paying the driver out of the stash of cash I’d stuffed in my pocket.

The pounding of my heart along with my erratic breathing was all I heard as I stood at the door. I raised my hand to the buzzer several times, but I couldn’t bring myself to press it.

“Come on, you can do this,” I muttered to myself before depressing the buzzer for a second in length. Footsteps responded quickly to the chime. I held my breath, squeezing my eyes shut. With the click of the latch, they flew open.

The sheen of his soft skin stretched out over hard muscles made my mouth water instantly, one hand was keeping a towel around his waist.

“Teagan.” He breathed my name as if he couldn't believe it was me. He craned his neck to get a closer look, as though he were making sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him. He tucked the edge of the towel in so it would stay put as he seemed to process the image of me.

Obviously, he was satisfied that it was me and not some figment of his fevered imagination. He threw himself at me, wrapping his arms around me in a tight embrace as he lifted me up. He pushed me against the doorjamb after kicking the door closed with his bare foot.

“I thought—” He stumbled on his words, his breath tickling my nose as his eyes melted into mine, glowing brighter with each passing moment.

“I was told you were dead,” he whispered. He reached out a huge hand and smoothed it down the side of my face. I nuzzled my nose to his palm, taking an immense, delicious breath of his scent.

“You’re real aren’t you?”

I nodded in reply. I couldn’t yet speak because my throat seemed as though it was contracting, strangling me from the inside. His hand dropped away from my face to my hand, and he led me into his bedroom. The covers had been thrown back and lay crumpled on the bed.

Every question I’d had prepared dropped to the back of my mind as he slumped down on the bed pulling me beside him, the towel falling away as he sat.

He ran a hand through his thick dark hair, slow blinking at me as if I might disappear with each flutter of his eyelids.

“Do you remember what you said to me?” I croaked, my throat suddenly dry. I licked my lips and swallowed hard.

“Yes—”His chest rose and fell erratically as he searched my face. “I do love you,” he said softly as his gaze dropped to our entwined hands.

My skin tingled and ached for more of his touch. For his mouth to be on mine. I needed to feel whole again. I’d only ever been whole when I was with him.

“That’s all I needed to hear.”

I tilted my face up, cautiously leaning towards him, stretching up and tracing my freshly wet tongue along his clenched jaw. He gasped as I kissed my way down the outer line of his throat, the throbbing arteries in his neck forcing my fangs to elongate.

I shifted my position so I was opposite him, kneeling down and never taking my mouth away from his biscuit coloured skin. I placed my hands on his thick thighs and tasted the goose bumps covering his body. I kissed, nipped and caressed every inch of his broad chest, lingering over his nipples, erect and round beneath the assault by my mouth.

The memory of drinking his blood surged through me, enticing a gush of wetness in my panties. The desire to crush my naked body against his overwhelmed me.

I removed a palm from his thigh and popped open the button of my jeans, while running my hot tongue between the ridges of his stomach muscles.

His excitement was evident as I lapped up the salty residue from the head of his shaft.

I dipped my fingers into my panties and shimmied my legs further apart allowing better access to the sweet spot. Meanwhile, I shifted my other hand from his leg to his throbbing shaft, holding the base to allow me better control.

When I took him into my mouth fully, a long low growl escaped his throat. I sped my fingers up, rubbing my nub harder and faster. Knowing how much I affected him caused a throbbing in my core, a throb that begged to be released. He was the only person that had ever made me ache with such longing.

I sped up, taking him deep into my mouth, stopping to swirl my tongue around his tip before sheathing him with my mouth over and over in a delirious rhythm.

The excitement and intensity had built so furiously, the air around us seemed to crackle with raw electricity making my fangs run out, I was so lost in him, I didn’t realise. My sharp incisors dragged over his manhood making him hiss with pain, pulling me out of my trance.

I leapt back taking my hands and mouth away from him. “Fuck, Marc. I’m so sorry.”

Sorrow washed over me for a moment. I couldn’t do anything right. I was sick of hurting him.

“Don’t fucking stop,” he growled. “What you are doing is wonderful. Don’t. Stop. Please.” His words were strangled with need, drenched with desire.

I licked my lips as I knelt and moved back to him. A sheen of sweat coated his quaking body. He was hot, so damn hot. All his muscles had tensed, his eyes were closed and his head lolled back. He was ready for the finish line, and I was the only woman that could get him there.

I took control of his thick rigid pole again, relishing how undone he’d become by my touch.

I pulled my jeans and panties down my legs until they rested at my knees. I plunged my fingers into my opening and back to the nub of flesh, teasing the raw nerve ending as I tantalized him with my mouth, experiencing the eruption building, and beginning to pinpoint my orgasm.

I sped up working on his length, running my clutched fingers up and down in unison with my mouth until I couldn't hold back any longer. I let go shuddering with pleasure, the moans from my mouth vibrating through his shaft. He whined loudly as I moved my mouth away, hot creamy liquid cascading from the head as I drove my incisors into his inner thigh, still milking him as I did.

My fingers continued working on my clit, the orgasm still ripped through me as his blood poured into my mouth.

Then the vision came. I floated on a fluffy cloud, cool and damp on my skin. The sun blinded me, so I placed my hands over my eyes, the twinkle of the sun shining through them.

The tug on my hair dragged me from my fantasy all too soon. I whipped my fingers out of my panties.

“Sorry,” I whispered, a little disorientated, slumped on the floor, my shoulder against the bed.

“I thought you were going to bring the house down you were moaning so loud,” Marc said breathlessly.

He lay back on the bed, and I moved to join him after kicking off my jeans.

“It’s not the bite that bothers me so much. In fact, it turns me on. It’s the way you are when you’re feeding, as though you’re unstoppable,” he said softly, as though he needed to say something without hurting my feelings.

“It turns you on?” I asked, laying my head on his chest.

“Well, yes. I don’t know why, but it does. But, it’s like you’re ravenous, like you can’t stop. Does that happen every time you feed?”

He’d pressed his point, and I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I changed the subject.

“What’s the situation between you and Gabriella?” I asked pointedly while throwing a possessive arm over his chiselled stomach muscles.

He let out a long sigh making me flinch. “So, there is something.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Well, I have time. Try me,” I said, leaving out the fact time was something I
didn’t
have. If I were to meet my final death, I wanted to greet Hell knowing the reason why I was there had been worth it.

I loved this man to the very depths of my soul, a soul I didn’t even know I had. He’d found it and set it free, and if I must die because of having met him, because of loving him, then so be it. To know he felt the same about me would make my death seem somehow more worthwhile.

He sat up lifting me with him. “Come on, let’s get a drink.” His words were low and direct. We cleaned up quickly and got dressed before climbing the stairs to the moonlit living room-cum-kitchen. He flicked the spotlights on as we reached the top, casting the room in a romantic glow.

“Red?” He gestured to the kitchen spanning the length of one wall.

I nodded and gave him a polite smile.

“Make yourself at home.” He waved a hand towards the sofa.

I took a seat, noticing his slow movements and slumped posture. He was taking his time with whatever he had to tell me.

I glanced around the room, smiling at the huge painting dominating the room with rich and vivid colours. The meaning was clear to me then, where it hadn’t been the first time I’d appreciated the beauty on the canvas. The room’s décor seemed to be based on the work of art. The black object in the centre of the painting shaped like a wolf stood bold and brave.

His feet dragged across the wooden floor and he thrust a glass of red wine in front of me before stretching out on the sofa next to me, cradling his own glass of burgundy liquid.

Marc kept his eyes forward as if he were watching something on the black screen of the wall-mounted television.

“So, you were going to tell me about Gabriella?”

“Yes.” He sucked in a breath and blew it back out slowly. “We are promised to each other.”

“What do you mean?” I squeezed my eyebrows together and sat up a little straighter.

“That is what wolf packs do. They promise the eldest son and the eldest daughter to each other before their children are even born. From different families of course.”

“Fuck. Why though?” I asked, the creases of my frown becoming deeper. I took a gulp of wine.

He sipped his, swallowing slowly. “Because only the eldest son and the eldest daughter of each wolf family are the ones that can breed. Gabriella is the eldest daughter, but not the eldest child, so she can’t turn without a full moon, but she can produce Were children if she mates with me.”