Shattered Circle

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Johnny turned to Celia. Her eyes were wide and glassy.

The shock in her expression cut through his rage and he realized he was roughing up a woman. Though he tried to console himself that Aurelia was a wærewolf and could tolerate it, guilt flashed through him.

“You . . . you have a child?” Celia stammered.

She had heard Aurelia. He knew how badly Celia wanted a child. The fact that wærewolves couldn’t breed was her greatest pain in life. Because he and Erik had been best friends up until a week or so ago, he also knew that Celia struggled with a secret resentment over Seph getting custody of Beverley.

Now a child had fallen into his life as well.

“Yes,” Aurelia answered, her voice raspy. “The Domn Lup has a human son, a child born out of wedlock to his high school sweetheart, conceived in all likelihood a matter of days before he was made wærewolf.” She slowly climbed to her feet. “If you acknowledge him, John, if you bring him into your world, he will forever be in danger.”

Johnny turned back to Aurelia. “How do you know about him?”

She straightened her outfit. “We’ll discuss that later.”

“No.” He shook his head. “You will fucking answer me right now.”

“How isn’t important.”

Johnny pointed at the indentation in the paneling. “If you don’t answer me, we’re gonna find out what it takes to put you all the way through.”

She sneered at him. “You wouldn’t dare.”

He didn’t even hesitate.

He grabbed her, lifted her, and the first thrust broke through the paneling and cracked the structure’s framing beneath. The second sent Aurelia and various bits of wood, insulation, and siding across the yard.

Johnny exited by the door. As he stepped onto the grass, Aurelia began to laugh. She slowly picked herself up. “The Rege did far worse to me for lesser reasons. It’ll take more than throwing me through walls to make me talk.” The wind tossed her hair about and she tore off her jacket and threw it down as if ready for a fight. She held her long hair out of her face. “C’mon, John. Put your hands on me again.”

The copper-sweet tang of blood filled Johnny’s nostrils. A quick scan revealed a gash on her forearm. She seemed unaware of it. Still, his mouth watered. “I’m not the Rege.” He’d heard the sadistic bastard had tormented her in many ways; she’d risen through the ranks because she was not only worthy, but she didn’t break under the damage he dished out.

“You’re not so different. I could always feel his beast. I could feel it rouse, feel it yearning for things. I felt your beast as I got close to the trailer.” She laughed softly again. “You’re on the edge.” She wiped her hand over the wound, covering it with blood. Then she rubbed her hands together and waved them in the air between them. “Lust. Anger. Violence. And now . . . blood.”

Fresh and warm, the blood glistened wet on her fingers. The building breeze wrapped the scent around him, swathing him in heaviness that weakened his knees. Penetrating that scent was another: the heady aroma of her arousal. That perfume of her sex reached through the blood-scent cloaking him and, like a silken lining, slid cool and smooth against his flesh.

Its touch was light, but far from subtle. It breached his skin like a sigh passing through a screen. Once underneath, it warmed as it passed over each sinew, each muscle, stroking and saturating his body with a savage craving previously unknown to him.

Aurelia’s pouty lips curved as she stepped out of her dress shoes. “Touch me, John. If you can.” She turned and ran.

Unable to resist chasing her, wanting that scent, that sensation, to remain, he kicked off his slick-soled shoes and followed.

She ran into the cornfield, avoiding the grove. It wasn’t long before her bare feet were bloodied, and he could smell each drop as the air lifted the fragrance to his nostrils.

The transformation stirred within him, fiercer with each step. He’d been outpacing her, but as he threw off his clothing, pausing desperate seconds here and there for the removal of each article, she increased the distance between them. When he was fully naked, he let the change claim him. In fact, he welcomed it—certain that he could cover the ground quicker on four legs.

With a howl that split the night, he was complete and raced into the dark.

His nose was more efficient like this. All the smells that had enticed him mingled into a mesmerizing medley. His pricked ears were also better. The sound of vegetation crunching under Aurelia’s hurried steps and her panting breaths thrilled him, urged him on.

His paw touched fabric instead of earth. Her skirt.

Seconds later, something thinner. His nails punctured it. Her blouse.

She’s naked.

The animal’s yearning redoubled, and with a rumbling growl, so did his speed.

Gaining with each leaping stride, he was soon right behind her, so close that he licked the bloody sole of her foot in the millisecond it was revealed in her step. She gasped and stumbled.

The flavor of her blood rocked him. It hit his tongue and many things happened at once.

He saw her fall and leapt, thinking to catch her.

His transformation began reverting.

And he wondered if Persephone’s blood tasted this good to Menessos.

He sprang forward, and when his body was parallel to hers, he reached human arms down and encircled her waist, twisting so it was his back that crashed to the ground and not her front.

The air was knocked from his lungs by the impact, and again when her body collided atop his.

Aurelia sat up, straddling him.

The erotic sensation of touching a female wære ran through him, interfering with his recovery. He reached out, tried to sit up. “No. Stay flat.” She took his hands in her own and lowered them to her thighs. “Just breathe. A little deeper with each breath.”

Under a starry sky that was slowly being shrouded by the cloud cover steered in by the wind, he struggled to make his lungs work normally. With each inhalation, it seemed, he could bring the oxygen in a little deeper. He found a rhythm in it. The breaths were so shallow it was a quick rhythm, but a rhythm nonetheless.

Aurelia danced seductively to his rhythm. With each of his inhalations, her thighs flexed under his hands and her buttocks lifted off him as she tilted her hips to rub herself along his cock. It made her lean slightly, but the speed made her breasts sway enticingly. As he exhaled she reversed the motion.

As he picked up on the pattern, he reclaimed control of his body. Well, part of it. She—and the tickling arousal—were working in conjunction and having a definite influence he could not resist. He purposely made his next exhale as long and slow as he could manage, reveling in the fantastic feeling of her sex sliding along his growing erection.

Breathing in the mélange of fragrances, staring into her wanton eyes, and feeling the strength of her thighs, he tightened his fingers on her slightly. She had timed his deep breath perfectly and positioned herself at the tip of him, ready to take what she wanted as he exhaled.

But the scent of blood again filled his nostrils . . . and his thought of Persephone and Menessos recurred.

So he held his breath.

She giggled, waiting. Her eyes sparkled.

“No,” he whispered. Johnny bent his knees, bumping her slightly forward and effectively keeping her off his cock.

“What?” The glint in her eyes darkened.

She pitched forward, hands punching down onto the ground on either side of his head. She arched her back, and let her breasts sway close to his mouth. “Don’t fight me anymore.” Her hips gyrated as she pleaded.

“How do you know about my son?”

She stilled for an instant, then she shifted her weight and sat up, running her hands—tacky with drying blood—over his chest.

“There’s a bug in your key fob.”

His thoughts swirled as he thought back over the past few days, over what conversations he’d had concerning Evan. He realized his entire trip as he drove Toni back to upstate New York had been overheard. Then another thought occurred to him. “Who else can hear the feed from it?”

“Only me.”

“So who else knows?”

“No one.”

He wondered if he believed any of that. “Get off me.” When she didn’t immediately move, he added, “Don’t make me tell you twice.”

She unstraddled him and sat on her haunches to the side, but reached to fondle his cock. He rolled away from her and stood. “John.”

He started walking back the way they had come.

“John.” Her tone was pitiful.

He stopped. Over his shoulder he said, “No, Aurelia. I know you’ve fought for rank. I know you’ve groomed yourself to be on the arm of a powerful wære. But it won’t be mine.” He transformed again and loped swiftly away.

He collected his clothes, reversed the transformation, and returned to the trailer. Ignoring Celia and Mountain, who were nailing a piece of plywood over the hole in the trailer, Johnny wordlessly started dismantling his key fob under the kitchen lights.