Chapter 9

Charlotte Sanguinite

I usually pride myself on being quite level-headed.

I try not to get into situations that could be troublesome or dangerous. My self-preservation instincts are quite honed by now. However, it seems that whenever a certain wolf Alpha comes into the picture, I always make the wrong decision.

I never meant to go to dinner with him.

I never meant to get drunk around him.

And I certainly never meant to be standing here like this, in my kitchen, with him looming over me.

He's not trying to threaten me. Whatever instinctual fear that passed through me when Robert opened this line of questioning has faded away into something darker, hungrier. His hands are on either side of me, caging me against the kitchen counter, his hard-muscled body pressing into my softer one. My nipples are painfully hard, and my breathing is ragged.

I can't think with his mouth against my neck, his teeth grazing my skin. I should be scared, but each time I feel the edge of those dangerously sharp teeth, my panties grow wetter. He hasn't done anything to me for my reaction to be this extreme, but his touch is addictive, even more so than the taste of his blood was.

I hear the marble of the counter crack behind me, and I'm jerked out of the haziness of my growing arousal.

"R-Robert?" I stammer, suddenly alarmed.

His voice is husky when he speaks a few seconds later. "I'm losing control. Charlotte…"

Suddenly, the feeling of his teeth grazing my neck takes on a whole other, ominous meaning. I place my hands against his chest and push.

"Don't do that," he growls. "He doesn't like it."

His wolf.

He's referring to his wolf.

There's no doubt in my mind. Something is causing Robert to lose control of his animal. If he bites me, if he tears through my neck, I won't survive.

Letting out a shaking breath, I reach up and place my hands on his cheeks. Anything to get his mouth away from my neck. He doesn't resist my touch, and when I turn his face toward mine, he moves willingly.

His eyes are an amber color. His wolf is looking straight at me.

A strange sound leaves his chest as his wolf stares at me through Robert's eyes. I don't know what I intended to do, but my lower muscles tighten in need when he takes one of my hands and licks the center of my palm, all the while holding my gaze.

I tremble, my eyes fluttering shut.

He leans forward, and when his mouth presses against mine—roughly, desperately—I give in, as if it is the most natural thing in the world.

My lips part under the pressure, and his tongue darts inside, tasting me, licking and exploring. My lower body is on fire, needing something.

Robert lifts one hand and pulls out the chopstick that is holding my bun in place. As my wild curls bounce loose, he winds his hand in them, his fingers seizing a bunch of my hair in a tight, dominating grip and pulling my head back so that he gets better access to my mouth.

I've never been kissed in this manner. As he plunders my mouth, I can't form a single straight thought in my head. All the fear and concern are out the window. All I know for sure is that I want this man's hands on my body. I want more. I need more.

All self-preservation instincts seem to have packed a bag and left on vacation. My hands lower to his chest, digging into his shirt as I moan, helpless against this assault of his mouth on mine.

That's when I feel Robert's hand under my shirt.

A groan escapes my lips as his fingers leave a trail of fire wherever they go. His sharp nails make quick work of my bra, my breasts spilling into his hands, at his mercy. He squeezes them, torments them with just one hand.

There is a very small voice, somewhere in the back of my head, warning me against all this, but it's easy to shut it up. The buttons of my blouse fly off with a little help from Robert's strength, and his mouth leaves wet, open-mouthed kisses along my jaw, my collarbone, until he has one of my nipples in his mouth.

I've only been with one human, and that experience cannot compare to what Robert is doing to me. He takes his time, lavishing wet attention on one nipple and then the other. When he bites down on the pink nub, I cry out, rubbing my legs together.

My juices are now dripping down the inside of my leg. I know he can smell them, but he doesn't touch me there, the one place I desperately crave his attention.

"R—Robert!" I gasp, but when he nibbles the plump part of my chest, his chuckle is dark. I feel one of his hands inching lower, and without thinking, I spread my legs for him.

"That's my girl," he whispers roughly against my neck now, his pleasure at my willingness radiating through me, making me even more wanton. His approval drives something in me, as if I need it.

Apparently, he doesn't believe in undressing me when he can simply rip my clothes off. My favorite pair of jeans face the same treatment as my blouse. I can hardly bring myself to care as his fingers push aside the edge of my simple cotton panties and thrust into my wet pussy.

"Fuck," he groans into my ear. "How are you so wet?"

At his words, my inner muscles clench his thick fingers, and I bite my lower lip at the feeling of them gliding inside me, touching every nerve and setting them on fire.

My blood is humming in need and desire and wanton lust. My mouth descends on his neck, and I can feel my own teeth sharpen. Robert laughs huskily. "Going to bite me now, little vampire?"

"N—No," I whimper as he slowly pulls out his fingers till the very tips are left inside and then thrusts them back in harshly. I'm standing on my toes, my nails digging into his chest, my mouth against his neck, as I fight the urge to bite him, to share this pleasure with him.

My head is filled with white heat. All I can feel is the way he's slowly pumping his fingers inside me, driving me to the edge, driving me mad.

I should have pulled back then.

That would have been the smart move.

Because the second Robert pushes me into a blinding orgasm, my teeth sink into his neck.

His whole body goes still as I take one mouthful of his blood, and then he shudders. I'm still coming all over his hand as he pulls out, grabs my hips, picks me up, and puts me on the kitchen counter. I don't know what's happening; my mind is in shambles as a result of the orgasm that still has me in its throes.

But when he pulls my knees apart, dragging me to the edge of the marble slab, I see him reaching for his pants with his free hand, and I know.

I don't want to stop him.

So, I don't.

His cock springs out, and the sheer girth and size of it has me staring in shock. That can't fit inside me. I know it can't.

But Robert is moving, and he guides his cock to the entrance of my pussy and begins pushing his way inside. It's an uncomfortable fit. It's too thick. But I find myself falling back on the counter, supported only by my forearms, my lips apart.

I can feel it.

As it drives deeper inside me, I can feel every inch of it. The pain and pleasure are intermixed, and I feel so helpless and needy as he drives his way in. My pussy is swallowing that huge monster, and I make a broken sound.

When I feel the slap of his balls against my skin, I realize he managed to fit.

"R—Robert," I moan his name. "Please…Please move."

I'm so ridiculously full, but I crave the sensation, the burn and the pain, and that wild pleasure that's just on the cusp.

He does move, and a scream leaves my mouth as he pulls out and slams back inside me. There is no gentleness, no soft words, no reassurances. He's fucking me like a man on a mission, and I just open my legs wider for him.

I won't be able to walk tomorrow.

As he pistons in and out of me, my eyes roll to the back of my head, cries spilling out of me. Three pumps and he has me orgasming. He doesn't stop, fucking me through it.

"Harder," I moan, wanting him to be rougher, needing more contact with him.

He seems to know what I'm craving because he scoops me up, cock still in me, and brings me over to the kitchen table, which is wider. Positioning me on my back, one hand now in my hair again, he yanks my head, making my back arch and reaching a spot inside of me that I didn't know existed.

This heat between us is explosive.

"Robert!" I sob.

"Fuck, you're tight," he groans, his mouth on my chest, my nipples.

He's biting my skin aggressively, and I can smell my blood where he breaks the skin. But the pain drives me on. It makes me wilder. My legs wrap around his neck, my nails scoring his back, his arms.

I can smell his blood as my nails do their own fair share of damage.

I feel his body tense, and in a fit of passion, he pulls me forward, his teeth sinking into the side of my neck. The pleasure is intense, and my hips are moving against him as I let out a wanton sound. He unloads inside me, and the sensation of him coming has me falling over the edge once more.

My body goes limp as the aftershocks of the orgasm radiate within me.

I feel Robert's arms around me, and we're moving, but I feel hazy now, my body having been driven to the brink of exhaustion. I've never experienced anything this intense, and it's almost as if my body has decided to shut down for a while. Try as I might, I can't keep my eyes open.

At some point, I feel him running something like a wet cloth over my naked body, but then I'm warm again, his body pressing against mine, and I let myself pass out.

******

My body is aching when I wake up.

Groaning, I turn onto my side and curl into a ball. Mano chooses that moment to jump on my hip and start making biscuits.

"Dude," I complain. "Mano, no. Get off me!"

But no amount of protesting gets Mano to stop. She's purring loudly, and her claws are digging into my hip with each press of her paws. When she realizes I'm not going to move, she decides to take another approach.

Suffocating me by sitting on my face is one of her favorite tactics to get me to wake up.

"Fine!" I shout hoarsely. "I'm up! I'm up! Will you stop trying to murder me?!"

Her mission accomplished, Mano jumps to the bedroom floor and waits for me. I push the bed sheet off, only to find myself completely naked and bruised from head to toe.

For one brief, horrifying moment, I come to the worst possible conclusion. Then, as my eyes raise to survey the room, I see a small, dainty-looking basket of flowers lying on my dressing table.

It takes me less than a second to recall everything from last night, and I feel the blood drain from my body.

Oh, dear God.

What have I done?

I sink back on the bed, the bruises, the aches, everything making much more sense. Why didn't I slam my head into the wall before I let Robert Montgomery anywhere near me yesterday? Why did I even let him into my apartment? I wasn't that drunk when we got here!

I turn my head to the right and see that the sheets are crumpled, as if somebody has been there.

He slept here?

I bury my face in my hands. He didn't get dressed and go home? He decided to spend the night?!

How is this situation progressively getting worse?!

When Mano puts her paws on the bed and nudges me with her head, impatiently, I look at her tearfully. "Do you mind? My life is falling apart here."

She gives me a judgmental glance before slinking back to the floor and trotting away. Seconds later, I hear the sound of her steel food bowl clanging on the ground, as if to tell me my problems don't trump her breakfast time.

I force myself to sit up, swallowing my cries as my body aches in new ways. When I see Mano peeking through the doorway, I mutter, "I love you and all, but dang, you can be a bitch sometimes."

The response is another meow, which is probably her insulting me right back.

I don't know how I get to my feet. My legs feel weak, and I nearly fall down twice. I have to grip the furniture to walk, my lower body hurting like anything.

"I should have knocked him out with a frying pan," I mumble to myself. "One smack and none of this would have happened. Should have tossed him out on his ass. Oh, God, he's going to kill me!"

I grip the door frame, my chest feeling cold with dread now, remembering how I drank from him.

I slump to the floor, the recollection of this little tidbit of information sapping me of all strength. How am I still alive?

I, a vampire, drank an Alpha's blood. My head shouldn't even be attached to my body right now.

When Mano comes over to investigate why I'm not responding to her little tantrum, I let out a strangled sound. "I don't think you'll have to worry about me feeding you anymore, Mano. I'll probably be dead by tomorrow."

To an outsider, it may seem like I'm being overdramatic, but wolf shifters never let vampires drink from them. I don't know why Robert didn't react the way any other wolf shifter would have. Why did he let me do that? Why am I still breathing right now? And where is he?

I look around. The apartment seems to be empty.

Using the door frame to get to my feet again, I make my way into the kitchen.

That's when I notice the covered dishes on the kitchen table. And the crushed portion of the kitchen marble. There is a small note on it that says "Someone will come to fix this at one o'clock this afternoon. Make sure you're home. Sorry."

I glance at the wall clock.

It's eleven in the morning. I missed my morning shift.

I can't even pretend to care right now as I sink into the chair, grabbing Mano's food container. I don't have the strength to walk all the way over to where her bowl is, so I just put a fistful of her dry food on a corner of the table. She jumps up and eyes me as if I have done her some great injustice, but I point to the kibble and say, "I'm dying, Mano. Not everything is about you today."

I swear if my cat could roll her one functioning eye, she would.

Fortunately, she begins eating leisurely, and I turn my attention to the covered dishes. My eyes widen when I see the contents. Pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs, waffles, and I'm pretty sure those are fresh, handmade sausages. My eyes swivel toward my stove. It looks clean, the way I left it yesterday morning. There is no way Robert cooked all these things without me waking up.

But he left this for me.

I stare at the food.

Would a man who wants to kill me get me this much food? Maybe this is like a last meal before he rips my head off…

If that's the case, I should dig in.

The food tastes perfect, almost as if it were made by a professional at a cafe or a breakfast spot.

He probably thinks he did a good job of hiding the takeout boxes, I muse to myself, staring at the trash can across the room from me. I can see the white edges of the paper containers poking out.

I don't normally eat so much, but today, I've got a massive appetite. By the time I finish, I would lick the plates clean if my cat weren't staring at me with such disdain.

"You really need to work on your attitude, y'know," I tell her, piling the empty plates together. "Because I might die tomorrow, or even today. Be nice to me."

She puts her tail in the air and walks out of the room.

"She loves me," I remind myself under my breath. "She's just emotionally stunted, that's all."

The food in my belly goes a long way toward calming me down. It's quite likely that Robert is not angry at all. He left me breakfast, and he's sending somebody to repair the damage he caused. That doesn't sound like someone who plans to kill me.

I spend the better part of the next hour making myself a cup of soothing chamomile tea and trying to walk without crying.

I manage to find my cell phone, and I wince when I see all the missed calls from the cafe. I leave a quick message for Jazz telling her that I'm not feeling well and promising to show up tomorrow, on time. I hope she's not too pissed at having to deal with the morning rush all by herself.

At one o'clock sharp, there's a knock on the door. It's a wolf shifter. My first instinct is to slam the door in his face, but he quickly says, "Alpha Montgomery sent me."

He doesn't look too pleased about being here, either, and as he makes his way into the kitchen, he casts me a curious look. No doubt wondering why his Alpha sent him here to fix a vampire's kitchen.

He spends a couple minutes assessing the damage, then scratches his head. "I'll have to put in a new counter surface. Do you want the same marble design, or do you want something different?"

I shrug. "Whatever you think is easier."

He looks around the kitchen and scratches his head once again. "You've got this marble on every surface. If I change this, I'll have to change it all. It'll take me a day or two to locate this particular marble, but you'll have to be prepared. If I can't find it, I'll have to do an entire rehaul of all your surfaces. That's going to take up to a week or so. The Alpha said you work on weekdays, so how am I supposed to get in?"

I press my lips together. That is indeed a concern.

"I have cameras everywhere in the apartment, so you can be here by yourself when I'm at work. I'll leave food and drink for you in the fridge. I'll also leave a copy of the key with the security guard downstairs. He can let you up. How much is all of this going to cost?"

"Nothing," the man replies slowly, once again giving me that same curious look. "By the way, if you don't mind me askin', how do you know Alpha Montgomery?"

I don't really know how to answer that question.

"He owes me a favor," I blurt out, not knowing what else to say.

The shifter seems to take my explanation at face value, nodding seriously. "Yeah, Alpha Montgomery always returns his favors. Okay then. I'll need your contact details. I don't like calling; I prefer messages, so keep an eye on your inbox. I might bring my son to help me finish the job faster, so don't freak out if you see two of us in those cameras of yours. He's a redhead, like you."

I nod.

"Name's Tommy Decker." He holds out his hand. "You don't have to worry about me, Miss. I don't have a problem with bloodsuckers if they don't have a problem with me."

His blunt manner of speaking has me smiling. "Charlotte Beaumont. It's nice to meet you."

He shakes my hand before pulling out his phone and taking pictures of the marble design. He also pockets some of the broken pieces.

I see him out and lock the door before collapsing on my couch and staring up at the ceiling as if it has all the answers for me.

I just went from keeping a ten-foot distance between me and any wolf shifter to having them roaming around in my apartment.

This cannot possibly end well for me.

******

Robert doesn't call me, nor does he drop by.

I'm incredibly grateful for this. I don't really know how to face him just yet. My memory of our night together is a little too fresh, and I think I might just spontaneously combust if I have to look him in the eye and remember everything he did to me.

I do manage to get back to work the following day.

Jazz was slightly irritated, but her irritation has morphed into curiosity now when I refuse to tell her how my "date" went.

"Oh, come on!" She hands me the clean cups from the dishwasher as we start setting up early in the morning. "Give me something. If you just went home after dinner, then why didn't you come in yesterday?"

"I told you, I had food poisoning," I say unconvincingly.

"And food poisoning made your throat all scratchy, huh?" She gives me a knowing smirk.

I ignore her.

"Just tell me," she needles. "He hasn't come in, you know. Since he took you out. What happened? Did things work out between you two?"

I give her an annoyed look. "Jazz, do you remember me playing Twenty Questions with you when you came to work a few months ago and were all jumpy?"

I glance down at her lower area meaningfully, and her eyes widen. "You noticed?!"

"What do you think?" I ask dryly. "You scared half the customers that day. Now, I didn't pester you with questions about what happened with your ‘friend,' so butt out, please."

Jazz doesn't get offended by my words, grumbling instead, "Damn it. Fine. I told Marcus it was a bad idea."

"It really was," I chuckle, recalling that particular day. "Anyway, I don't want to talk about Robert, so let's just give it a rest, okay?"

Jazz, nosy as she is, is also a friend. She gives me an apprehensive look. "He didn't cross a line or anything, did he? Because we can ban him from the coffee shop. That's easy."

My lips curve into a warm smile. "I really appreciate the sentiment, but everything's fine. Let's just focus on work. I have to be at the animal shelter tonight, so it's going to be a long day for me."

******

It's my second day back at the cafe after my unexpected holiday, and it hasn't escaped my notice that Robert has not been showing up like he usually does. One of the reasons I don't want to discuss this with Jazz is because a very small part of me feels a little insulted.

Tommy Decker has begun repairing the marble. He found the same design, and he's going to be at it for at least one more day. However, there has not been a single peep from Robert himself. I don't know what his absence means.

Did he simply want to get me in bed? And now that he has managed to do so, he's done with me? In an ideal world, that would be the best possible scenario. At least, for me, the less involved I am with Robert, the safer I am. But at the same time, whenever I think about this particular possible motivation of his, my heart hurts. I don't know why.

I have always tried to make decisions that would benefit me. I've always known that I have to be smart and look out for myself because nobody else will. I should be happy. I should be relieved, in fact. Robert avoiding me is a good thing.

But my eyes keep staring at the door. And every time a customer walks in, I feel disappointed that it's not the person I want it to be.

As the third day passes, I finally come to terms with the fact that I was indeed just a notch on Alpha Montgomery's bed post. Maybe he wanted to see what a vampire was like in bed? My mood plummets at the thought, and there's a burning sensation in my chest.

It's fine. Not like it's the end of the world. So I got manipulated into bed by a wolf Alpha. At least he left me alive and in one piece. I need to be grateful for the small things and focus on my life.

But I find myself dabbing my eyes every now and then, an unfamiliar sting in my heart.

As the evening rolls around, and the number of customers drops, I wave goodbye to Jazz, who is heading to the library to work on her thesis.

Shelby is going to come later today, so I have the cafe to myself for a while. It's almost seven now, and I'm munching on the sandwich I brought with me from home today. Recently, my appetite has increased. I'm hungry most of the time.

The door opens, and I look up.

The customer who walks in is someone I didn't expect.

Straightening up, I give the woman a surprised look. "Angie? What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you." She walks toward me. "Can I get a coffee?"

She rummages in the small crossbody satchel by her side, but I shake my head. "I'll pay. Don't worry about it."

She frowns. "I don't want to get you in trouble."

I chuckle. "I won't get in trouble if I pay for it. So, what's up?"

She leans on the counter as I prepare her a chocolate latte, knowing how much she likes sweet things. When she doesn't answer me, I look over my shoulder only to see her watching me intently.

This time, a nervous laugh leaves my mouth. "Seriously, Angie. What is it? You're freaking me out. This is the first time you've ever come to my place of work. Did you see something?"

Angie shakes her head. "I just wanted to talk to you."

My eyes meet hers, and I know she's not being straight with me.

"Angie…"

She sighs and reaches into her bag, bringing out the deck of tarot cards she showed me a few weeks ago. She spreads them across the counter and says, "Touch the cards that draw you."

"That what me?" I echo, confused.

"Close your eyes," she orders, "and reach for the cards that draw you in. You'll be able to feel it."

I stare at her for a full minute before sighing and wiping my hands on my apron. "Alright. Let's do this, then."

Moving her drink to the side, I close my eyes and start touching random cards. The third card I put my finger on produces a tingling sensation in my fingers. I'm opening my eyes when Angie snaps, "Keep your eyes closed!"

I flinch. "Okay. They're closed."

"Do it again."

I begin touching the cards randomly again, and I let out a startled sound.

"This one?" Angie asks tightly.

"Y—yeah."

"Keep doing it," she says.

By the end, when I'm allowed to open my eyes, I see that she has separated four cards and is studying them. I recognize three of them as the same ones she showed me before, that day in the park. However, the fourth one is new. I can't make out the picture.

Angie puts the card back down, her expression troubled.

"Angie?" I'm beginning to feel worried now.

"I never pick four cards," she mutters to herself. "This never happens."

I tap her shoulder. "Want to tell me what's going on?"

She takes a couple of breaths to compose herself. I press the hot drink I just prepared for her into her hands. "Here. Drink this. You'll feel better."

She's shaking, so I round the counter to help her to one of the empty booths. I've never seen her behave like this. She's always so calm and together.

"I've been having dreams," she suddenly says. "The scythe, the grave, and the unknown. I keep seeing the visions I had when I picked those cards. But lately, I've begun seeing you standing at a crossroads, both directions tempting you."

"Which card did I pick, Angie?" I ask slowly. "What does it mean?"

"The mask," she says, heavily. "Duplicity. Lies. Someone is lying to you. Someone isn't who you think they are."

"Are you—You must be referring to Robert," I finally say with a shaky laugh. "Don't worry. I don't trust him—"

"Not the wolf Alpha," Angie says abruptly. "Whenever he comes to mind, it's this card that comes forward." She lifts the card with the question mark on it. "His presence in your life has changed your future. I believe the crossroads I saw in my dream are because of him."

My chest tightens, but I try to keep it light. "He and I had a brief thing, and he got what he wanted out of me. He's gone now."

Angie lifts her head to meet my gaze, her eyes burning. "Don't think he's going to walk away so easily. Your fates are entwined. And wolves don't give themselves to others as casually as humans. He's not gone, Charlotte. He's waiting."

My mouth turns dry at her grim words.