was fear in the Castle, but there was beauty, too.
A good, quiet feeling settled over her. She’d been through hell that night, but she’d reclaimed huge pieces of herself. She never need fear Belenos again.
Even better, they’d caught the Hunters. Darak had personally delivered Maxim and Mikhail Rostov to Detective Baines. It had been Talia’s choice. He’d offered to tear off their heads. Just part of the service, he’d said.
Let the police have them. As bad as her emotional wounds were, the Hunters owed justice to many, many families. She would testify. But her moment of truth had come when she’d finally faced her father in the tunnels and helped put an end to his reign of terror. Maybe her brother would have a chance to heal now.
There was more adding to her contentment. She had friends who didn’t care what species she was. No one was forcing her to do anything against her will. She had something to fight for—she’d realized she cared for Fairview and the people in it. She had a job here. It was home.
Plus, she had Lore.
Talia’s mood dimmed. The question was how long she got to keep him. The pack was going to want him back.
Chapter 34
Lore kept talking with Connie and then again with Mac, who wanted to set up security arrangements in Fairview for the rest of the night. The hellhounds and werewolves were battle-weary. Omara was sending some of her personal guard to keep New Year’s Eve civilized in Spookytown.
It was important, but Talia couldn’t think straight anymore. She was happy to leave this one to the others.
With no signs of Lore’s conversation winding down, Talia retreated to run a bath and get the blood and everything else off her skin. The water was blessedly hot, the soap and shampoo standard brands that she could buy at any drugstore. She lay back in the tub, trying to keep her bandage dry, and let her eyelids drift shut.
Lore. Daydreams aside, did she have a future with him? Would he be forced to choose between her and the rest of his people? She couldn’t replace all the bonds that tied him to his pack, nor should she. A person was supposed to grow by falling in love, not lose by it.
Take her parents. Her father was a Hunter. Her mother wasn’t. They’d been miserable, her mom cut off from everything she’d ever loved. Taking Lore from his people wouldn’t be much different—even if she adored him.
She remembered Osan Mina’s words about the Alphas and their reincarnated mates: Strong hounds find them. The weak die alone. Alphas must be strong. Finding mate is test.
Talia hadn’t had a moment’s breathing space to dwell on what the old woman had said, but now the words bit hard. Did Lore have a soul mate? Shouldn’t he be looking for her?
Mina was insistent that Lore mate one of their own. Apparently their collective reproductive cycle depended on it. The Alpha had to get it on or the pack got another Alpha in a bloody, violent fight.
She refused to be the cause of that.
Talia got out of the bath, her heart heavy with unease. Giving him up might be ethical, but it would be awful.
She’d lost so many things in her life, most recently Michelle. Her death had taken away the only family who had welcomed her as a vampire. Talia had lost the last good connection to her old life.
But then Lore had made her feel like a person instead of a void. His simple kindness, the fact that he’d accepted her help, the fact that he’d introduced her to his friends—that had made her feel like herself again. She’d been crushed down to nothing, but Lore had shown her that she was worth finding and forgiving.
How could she not want to keep him?
She could be selfish for a little while longer, couldn’t she? After all, they had defeated evil that night. That had to buy some karmic credits.
She looked at herself in the mirror, pale and thin, her hair clinging in damp tendrils around her face, a big bandage on one arm. Not exactly centerfold material. She picked at the bandage, loosening the tape Lore had so carefully applied. Slowly, she peeled back the gauze pad.
Since she’d arrived at the Castle, her wound had tingled. Something in the place had neutralized the magic that had allowed the silver knife to wound her. Now her Undead healing abilities were at work. The wound had already scabbed over, days of healing done in a matter of hours. She patted the bandage back down, happy that at least her body was in one piece.
Her need for blood had also eased, apparently another benefit of the Castle.
If only her heart could be as easily cured.
She left the bathroom, drying her hair in a thick, thirsty towel as she went. The bedroom was empty. Lore’s absence gave her a twinge inside, part emptiness, part relief. If he wasn’t there, she wouldn’t feel guilty for loving him.
But then he came through the door wearing no more than a towel around his hips and a hungry look in his eyes. Obviously, he had gone next door to shower. She could only stare at him, stunned by a rush of desire.
“I want you,” she said. Even—especially—if there’s not going to be a lot of time for us.
Her body ached for him. It wasn’t that he was familiar—they hadn’t been together enough for that. It was the loss of never having the chance to know him, to learn all the things he liked. That took the luxury of hours for exploration. Hours they’d never have after he took a hellhound mate.
Lore was still damp from the shower, drops of water sliding down his biceps where the towel had missed. One little towel has to work hard to cover that much male. Talia delicately licked his skin, catching the drops with the tip of her tongue. She could taste the soap, a plain, simple brand.
I want you to come home every day, dirty from a hard day’s work, and shower with that soap. I want the taste of you in my mouth every night.
She took his mouth, teasing his lip with her teeth, being careful not to draw blood. There would be time enough for that later. She touched her tongue to his, fencing a little as he drew her into his mouth. He had used the same minty toothpaste as she had, his taste echoing hers.
The mundane detail made her throat ache with the anticipation of bereavement. Stop it! Stop it. You’re not there yet. She pushed it out of her mind, determined to not let sadness destroy the moment.
He used his size to crowd her against the wall, pressing her close. The roughness of the terry towel she wore rubbed against her nipples, her arousal amplifying the sensation to maddening heights.
“How do you want me?” he said, his voice little more than a growl.
“Sunny side up?”
He gave her a scathing look. “Are you never serious?”
“I’m very serious about this.” She slid her hand between their towels, teasing his hard length with the rough cloth.
He caught her wrist. “Don’t end this before it begins.”
With his other hand, he tugged at the knot she’d made to hold her towel closed. It came apart easily and he backed away just enough to pull the cloth away. It dragged across her thighs and backside, its roughness giving her a pleasant shiver.
“That’s better,” he said, running a possessive hand down her bare flank. “You’re so beautiful. Like the starlight.”
How can you say that?
A moment later, he dropped his own towel with an impatient flick. It pooled around their feet, warm from the heat of his body. He pressed close again, his enthusiasm fully evident. Cupping her face with his hands, he kissed her eyes, her cheeks, her ears, taking possession of her an inch at a time, marking all of her with his lips. Making her feel as beautiful as he claimed she was. Finally, he dropped his mouth to her breast, rolling the nipple with his tongue.
Talia made an inarticulate noise, burying her fingers in his thick, dark hair. He finally released her, his
