He walked into my trap just a half-day ago. In fact, he willingly offered himself up to me in exchange for his brother’s life. I’d say it was an honorable move, but I know better. There is no honor in the still hearts of vampires.
My gaze remains transfixed on my quarry. Virius wears a t-shirt featuring the Sioux warrior Crazy Horse. On his strong thighs, he wears cowboy chaps over the jeans that are molded to his form.
I take my time as my gaze takes in his package. Not because I find his form pleasing. I find the whole get-up offensive. Cowboys and Indians, really?
My father’s people are of the Tohono Oodom tribe. My mother hails from the ancient Maya of Central America. It’s not my indigenous tailfeathers that are ruffled. What flutters through my head like a butterfly flapping its wings on its nascent flight is how the man’s chest fills out his shirt.
With each inhale, the hem of the t-shirt rises up higher and higher, giving me a view of the man’s eight-pack. There is a tiny dusting of dark blond hair that extends from his belly button and disappears down the waistband of his jeans. The bulge there is clear through the fabric.
I’m supposed to make a baby with him.
The thought makes me cross my legs where I sit on the edge of the cot. The thought and the sight of the bulge in his pants are overwhelming. Yes, Virius Serrano is a very, very big boy.
I wouldn’t call myself petite. But beside this golden-haired lion, I might as well be a house cat. I have no idea how this will work.
Yes, of course I know how sex works. I grew up around animals. I read a couple of romance novels. And I have Wi-Fi on my cell phone, though the little screen doesn’t allow as much detail as I would like.
I know the mechanics of the textbook, step by step instructions. But I haven’t followed the steps yet, mainly because none of the boys I grew up with would dare come near my sacred womb—or rather, my magical pussy as I started calling it after reading romance novels.
I place my hand over my flat belly. In just a few days’ time, a baby will begin to grow in there. A child with even more responsibility than me. My womb is the vessel to break a curse.
I thought I’d had a rough time, being part American Indian and part Indigenous Mayan. Being raised with the traditional values of my people while lending an ear to modern feminist values. Being a human female with an animal living inside of her.
My unborn son will exist between two worlds as well. But his existence will be in the middle of two supernatural worlds. My son will be part jaguar shifter and part vampire.
There has never been such a pairing. It is completely unfathomable. But it was prophesied, and that prophecy is due to come to fruition in just a few nights.
In just a few nights, I will have to take this big man into my body. Have him move inside me like I’ve seen animals do in the field, pictures in textbooks, couples in movies.
I huff out an impatient breath. I’ve waited twenty-two years for this moment. All this build-up for nearly two decades. Then, in a matter of a couple of days, it will be over in a few moments, if the animals’ couplings have taught me anything.
As though he could hear my thoughts, Virius jolts awake. His gaze immediately tracks to mine. Those honey-colored eyes hold me in place, leaving me in a situation I have never faced in my entire life. His gaze makes me feel as though I am the caught prey.
Which is ridiculous. He’s my captive. He’s about to bend to my will.
And then all I can think of is bending. Him bending me over and taking me from behind as I’ve seen it done in nature.
Virius’s blond brow lifts. In amusement? In challenge? In acceptance?
I have the presence of mind to blush. Vampires can get into people’s heads. Has he seen what I’ve been thinking about him?
His lips part. The top one, shaped in the bending curve of a heart, loosens from the lush bottom one. That bottom lip looks like the plumpest pillow I’ve ever seen. I want to lay my mouth against it—that is, until I see the bright gleam of fangs.
I shift on the cot, crouching into a fighting stance. A dagger is in my palm.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
His voice is like the low grumble of a lion. I would have thought he was roaring at me before charging and taking me with those pointed teeth. The more shocking move is that I hold still.
Not because I want him to bite me, but because I’ve never before heard the words he’s said; definitely not from a male.
“Did you just apologize?” I ask, not lowering my blade.
Virius takes a deep breath. He rubs his hands over his face, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. His jugular is exposed. He’s presenting the most sensitive part of himself to my blade as though he isn’t in the least afraid of me. When he pulls his hand away and straightens his head, the fangs are gone.
“I would never do anything to harm you, Zahara,” he says.
It’s the first time he’s said my name. The way he forms the Z makes it trill like a string pulled on a guitar. It hums through me, making me vibrate until it reaches the R in my name. That becomes a caress that pulsates all the way down to my fingertips and toes.
He holds me still once more with those eyes. They shine so brightly that I can see everything in him. Does the man not know how to shutter his gaze? The eyes are truly the window to the soul, and he has left the door wide open for me.
Or maybe
