Call of Temptation

Chapter 2-1

Chapter Two

“Where is that b***h?” James O’Connell frowned, narrowing his eyes as he scanned the long balcony overlooking the sea. He breathed hard, sniffing the air as the full moon threatened him with a shift. Being a natural-born lycanthrope, he was ruled by the full moon but not controlled by it. More than that, he was called to the sea, for the moon controlled the tides just as it controlled the stirring of his blood. The sensation of power was like a d**g and it caused many of his kind to live by the water.

His senses enhanced by the nature around him, he scanned the shadows along the wooden deck. A crisp breeze came off the Atlantic Ocean, stinging his nose as he tried to pick up on Meghan’s elusive scent. Under his breath, he swore in frustration, “f**k!”

He couldn’t have lost her again, not after finally tracking her down on the somewhat remote island twelve miles off Rhode Island’s mainland. Luckily for him, Meghan wasn’t exactly the “camping-out” type and he didn’t have to search the seventeen miles of shoreline to find her. All he had to do was go to the fanciest hotels and resorts on the island until someone recognized her photograph. It didn’t take long. With Meghan’s jet-black hair, tanned skin, generous breasts and penchant for wearing revealing clothing, she stood out in a crowd of humans like a walking goddess. Too bad this goddess was deadly.

Thinking to catch the barest hint of her scent, he began jogging along the deck. The beast lurking within him was fierce and always ready to unleash itself, but it was worse on the full moon, it was worse when it came to hunting Meghan. The b***h had nearly killed his oldest brother, Ian, future king of the O’Connell clan, and Ian’s sea-swept bride, Ceana.

Technically, Ian was next in line to rule upon the death of the lycan king, their father, then James and finally the youngest, Roark. But, since they were immortal, unless some horrific event occurred, it was unlikely that any of the brothers would ever rule. James was fine with that. He would much rather have his family than a crown.

Roark, like James, had his own duties to the lycan clan. They were hunters, bringing justice to the rogue wolves—like Meghan—who broke their laws, meager laws that they were. She had betrayed the clan and tried to kill Ian when the oldest O’Connell didn’t choose her as his bride and future queen. Though Ian and Meghan had a century-long affair of the flesh, James was very glad to know Ian hadn’t tricked himself into thinking he loved Meghan. The b***h would no doubt have plotted to kill the king if she’d been next in line for the throne.

Meghan’s crimes didn’t end with her betrayal. After the assassination attempt, she had laid low for a while, ending up in Las Vegas where James was first able to track her down. Only after getting there did he realize she’d been a busy little lycan. She’d been killing showgirls and leaving their mutilated corpses in dark alleyways, as if taunting him with her misdeeds. When James got near and stopped her game, she’d been livid. Meghan had gone on a killing rampage, leaving a trail of human female corpses across Nevada, Idaho, Oregon and Washington. Some in the clan believed she’d gone up to Canada, but in truth, she’d merely tried to throw them off her scent, becoming more discreet about hiding her victims’ bodies, as she turned her attention south, zigzagging a haphazard pattern across the United States.

Feasting on mortals was f*******n. It was one of the oldest of their laws. Lycans were an ancient people, their race as old as the humans’, growing with the humans from a time when mortals knew of all the supernatural races. They used to be hunted, condemned as evil by the church. Sure, times were wilder in the early days, but so it was with all the races—mortal and supernatural. Just as humans no longer roamed the countryside pillaging and wielding swords so did his people no longer uncontrollably wield claw and fang.

In present times, humans denied their existence, which suited most of the supernaturals just fine. But their denial led them in circles when it came to Meghan, searching for a killer who could not be caught by their mortal means. With Roark newly married, it was up to James to find Meghan and punish her. It was a task that weighed heavily upon him, as she was proving to be a cunning adversary. And with each new victim, she seemed to grow stronger and more elusive.

Lucky for all, her killings had yet to result in a human being turned. Death came much easier to mortals than a changing. Not only would it be an embarrassment for the clan, since James was expected to prevent such a thing, it would be another burden James did not need—taking care of a young one. Circumstances had to be right, the bloodline perfect and the moon full for the bite to take effect. It fell into natural order that if attacking humans was against the law, so was trying to turn them. A lycan could attack fifty mortals and possibly only one would start to turn. Reason dictated that if one was turned, the odds were that many had been attacked. Even then it didn’t guarantee the mortal would make it through the horrifically painful process.

“f*****g cunt!” James leapt over the stairs leading down to the sandy beach. The slippery footing didn’t halt his progress as he sprinted along the shore. Stars spread out, punctuating the cloudless sky. Despite the cold sea air, that really didn’t bother him, it was a perfect night. He would have preferred rain, as the foul weather would surely keep humans indoors. Though the beach appeared abandoned where he was, he could detect human voices in the distance. It prevented him from shifting and catching Meghan all the faster.

“No,” a breathy whisper caught his attention. He started to ignore it as he filtered through the voices to find Meghan, but something in the way the word trembled kept his attention. “Get off me!”

James focused his thoughts, not breaking stride. The sounds of a struggle ensued, the unmistakable sounds of a fight. Light grunts pitted against an evil laugh. He’d been around too long not to recognize what happened. A mortal woman was caught in Meghan’s grasp and, by the sound of it, she was putting up one hell of a fight. Amazement filled him at the mortal’s stamina. Not many could stand up to a lycan, especially when being attacked.

“Ouch!” Meghan’s voice swore. A loud smack followed the word. “You stupid, f*****g cunt, you broke my rib! Oh, that’s it. Playtime is over, you mortal piece of shit.”

Meghan! James yelled, directing his thoughts toward the lycan woman. He used the telepathic link lycans shared to yell at her. Stop!

“Stay back.” The woman’s yell sounded closer than before, but it was still a long run down the beach. It was only by focusing his lycan hearing that he managed to catch the words. James shivered at the soft quality to her voice, even as she yelled at her attacker. The blood pumping in his veins made it easy for his c**k to stir at the sound. “I don’t know what you want or who you think you are, lady, but I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

“You, hurt me?” Meghan laughed harder.

“I will if I have to. I know how to defend myself. Just walk away,” Meghan’s victim answered.

Again James was amazed that the woman stood up to a lycan. He could detect Meghan’s anger by the way her loud breath pierced the night. Mortals would not be able to detect the sound but he could with his enhanced hearing.

You have a choice, James. Save the girl or catch the queen. Meghan’s voice whispered through his thoughts. I admit, I wonder which you will try to do.

Meghan! James warned.

“What’s wrong with your face?” the mortal asked, gasping. “What are you?”

“I’m your queen, b***h! Bow down to me!” Meghan yelled. James could hear her leaping into the air, heard the soft thud of her body hitting flesh and imagined the piercing of Meghan’s fangs into a tender throat. James ran harder. He had to be close now.

“Stop, please…ow.” The woman’s words lost some of the fight.

Meghan! What are you doing? he demanded. Leave the mortal be and come with me. I swear, if you do, justice will be met.

Justice? Meghan spat out. You mean your justice, not mine. What justice is there in denying our inner natures? I had forgotten how freeing it is to drink of blood and partake of s*x as I see fit. Why do we deny ourselves our birthright? Why suffer ourselves to save mortal sheep? When I want to f**k, I find a hard c**k and f**k—whether the man be willing or not. When I wish to drink, I take my drink where I please, from the neck of whichever sweet, young beauty captures my notice. I’m growing more powerful, James, and I’ll keep killing so long as you chase me. You won’t stop me. No one will stop me and, someday, I will have my own clan, my own warriors underneath my rule and there will be a great war between us, the naturals who do what we were always meant to and you unnaturals who would deny lycan nature and live the lives of monks.

You will kill if I don’t stop you. James ran faster, instinctively going where the mind-link grew stronger.

True, but this way it’s your fault another pretty, young mortal will die. She laughed. Mmm, why must we always fight, James? All these centuries and you’ve never liked me. Why is that, James? Is it because I f****d your brother and not you? Is it jealousy? I’ll admit I miss the strength of a good lycan prince’s c**k. How about it? Will you shift and f**k me, James? How long has it been since you’ve ridden a real lycan woman? How long since you’ve ridden anything at all? Perhaps you like being a monk.

James hated how his c**k instantly lifted at her words, pressing hard against his stiff denim jeans. It had indeed been a long time since he’d felt the soft velvet of a p***y squeezing him, and the combination of the hunt, the moon and the ocean only urged the primal, instinctive lusts to course through his blood.

Was that a moan of interest, James? Even in his head, Meghan’s voice was thick and sultry. Should we call a truce just for tonight? I can let this one go. She’s weak but she might live yet if I let her go now. Would you do it, James? Would you f**k me to save this one’s life? How about later? Would you be my king and f**k me every night, James? Would you spray your hot c*m all over my big breasts? In my hot, wet p***y? In my tight, luscious a*s?

James nearly howled at the imagery. He hated Meghan with more passion than anything else in his immortal life, and yet she knew how to tempt their kind, knew what to say, how to send images of her words into his mind. A flash of a tanned a*s, cheeks spread, came into his mind, the tight rosette right there as if waiting to be taken.

Or would you prefer my mouth, James? The words purred and whined at the same time, followed by the image of perfect bowed lips around a thick lycan c**k. Should I suck the poison from your thick wound? Would you like that, James? Would you like to punish me for my crimes with your big, hard, thick, pounding sword? You could take me here, on the beach with the smell of the ocean and this mortal’s blood in our noses. I feel the beast in you, it’s the same one I carry. The beast is thirsty. He wants a drink, doesn’t he, James? I won’t tell anyone if you indulge this one, little time. Promise.