The Empath Read online

  What really bothered Nicolas?

  Chapter 11

  Sunshine speared through the opened wood blinds the next morning. Maggie awoke, drowsy and feeling replete. One hand splayed over Nicolas’s muscled chest, her leg hooked over his hard thigh. A Nicolas pillow. She moved slightly, wincing at sore muscles and a deeper soreness between her legs.

  The musky scent of sex, spicy maleness and fresh air filled the room. Maggie snuggled deeper into the Egyptian cotton sheets. An hour’s more sleep couldn’t hurt.

  “No. Time to rise, caira.”

  Dark brown eyes blinked sleepily, as he smiled at her. Maggie felt a sense of peace at his husky voice.

  “Are you risen?” Impishly, she grabbed him. A strangled groan fled him.

  A squeal erupted as Nicolas rolled her over, straddled her body. A hank of dark hair hung down on his face. Desire darkened his eyes. Stubble shadowed his taut jawline. He looked dangerous.

  Just as quickly, he slid off her. “You’re too sore,” he murmured, tracing a line on her cheek. “I can wait.”

  “I can’t.” She rolled atop him, surprised at her strength. Now that she’d acknowledged her wolf, everything seemed heightened. Strength. Hearing. Smell.

  Nicolas’s unique masculine scent of woodsy pine and green meadows…

  Maggie kissed the line of his jaw. He stroked a line down to the base of her spine. She explored, rolling him onto his stomach and caressed his thick, silky hair. Nicolas made a muffled sound of pleasure.

  She lifted the hair at the nape of his neck. Nicolas stiffened.

  “Don’t.”

  Maggie ignored him and studied the small black mark she’d spotted earlier. The eagle soared upward, but tiny black droplets dripped from its talons. Inked on his neck, the tattoo looked intricate and mysterious. Almost like a gang symbol.

  The thought disturbed her. She kissed the tattoo as if she could remove the anguish she sensed it caused him.

  Nicolas jerked away as if her lips were hot irons. He rolled over and mounted her, kneeing open her thighs. His gaze was dark and fierce.

  She lay submissively beneath him, sensing aggressive male tension coiling inside him. He pushed inside her in a single hard thrust. Silently she endured, feeling hot pleasure as his muscled body slid over her soft one. Maggie spread her legs open, and hooked her hands around his neck.

  The hard look of cruel lust on his face faded. Nicolas stared down at her, something flickering in his gaze. She pushed into his thoughts as he pushed his body into hers. Joining them intimately as flesh to flesh, thought to thought.

  Scaring her. Maggie. No. Be gentle, not rough. What the hell am I doing?

  Maggie moaned and strained toward him, pulling him closer.

  I’m not scared, Nicolas. I’m tougher than that, she whispered into his mind. Give me all you have and release it.

  He did.

  ———

  So tight, warm and silky. A wet, hot glove squeezing his cock. Nicolas braced himself on his hands and thrust deeply. Ah, Maggie, he said silently. My Maggie. She took all he gave and met him equally.

  He felt her inner muscles tense around him as her grip about his neck tightened. He delved into her mind, the friction heightening to an explosive crescendo. His balls ached and drew up. Nicolas felt her emotions, thoughts and essence begin to flow into him like a trickling dam even as his cock swelled inside her. Maggie’s sheath clamped down like a vise in exquisite pleasure.

  It was happening, he realized in excited wonderment. The mating lock. Something inside him drained, flowing out of him. He threw up a mental gate, barring part of himself from entering her and allowing in only a thin trickle of her essence.

  Then he felt her loosen slightly around him, as if she sensed his mental withdrawal. Nicolas raised himself up on his hands to lock gazes with her as he felt his climax approach.

  “Come on, caira, sweet Maggie, come for me, come for me, yes, you can do it, you can do it,” he said softly.

  She gave a soft cry beneath him and her sheath squeezed him as her body shook. Nicolas let himself go, a guttural groan grating from him as he climaxed with her.

  Like soft raindrops splashing onto cold metal, he felt a trickle of her gentle essence filter into his spirit. Nicolas lowered himself atop her, panting heavily. Sweat slicked their bodies together.

  “Incredible,” he murmured.

  She blinked in drowsy satisfaction. “You were.”

  Part of him felt disappointed they hadn’t achieved it yet. Perhaps later. Sometimes raw, frenzied sex brought on the mating lock. Maybe when she learned to embrace her wolf and not be afraid. Perhaps a little of his strength had flowed into her, enough to teach her to go beyond her fears.

  In the meantime, they just had to keep trying. Nicolas rolled off her, trembling with spent passion, and smiled inwardly.

  He greatly anticipated trying again, and again.

  ———

  A while later, Maggie decided love wasn’t quite enough. Nicolas had been content to absorb energy through lovemaking, but she’d lived too long as a human. Breakfast was necessary.

  Nicolas hunted through the refrigerator and shut the door. He parked a lean hip against it. Maggie watched him, arousal rising already at the firmness of his body, the bands of muscles showing through the tight T-shirt.

  “What’s after breakfast? A drive into town?” she asked.

  “No. We’re going to fight.”

  “We just made love and you want to go to war?”

  “Training. Fighting. Mastering the skills you need as a Draicon warrior to fight Morphs.” He pulled a chair close to her, straddled it and rested his forearms across the back. “One reason why I brought you here, caira. This cottage is temporarily protected from Morphs finding us. The more magick we use, the thinner the shield becomes. We have a week at the most before the protection dies out entirely.” His bright gaze burned into hers. “Including a mating lock. Just as your parents did before you, Maggie. Did they ever teach you about sex among our kind?”

  “You mean the birds and the bees?”

  A roguish grin touched his mouth. “More like the canis and the lupus. Just like real wolves, caira. Only in our kind, it’s necessary to exchange magick powers.”

  Unbidden memories surfaced. “It’s about sex,” she recalled.

  “I can see I’ll have to start at the beginning,” he muttered. “Millennia ago, our people grew too powerful and decided to divide ourselves and halve our powers. When we find our mate, it’s literally finding our missing half, the missing half of our magick. This is why you and I can communicate on a telepathic level, Maggie. When we achieve a certain sexual fulfillment, our bodies will lock together and we’ll exchange powers. Two becoming one again, as it was in ancient times.”

  He leaned closer, enough for her to smell the faint scent of soap, and clean skin and his familiar woodsy, very male scent. “Biologists call it a copulatory tie in wolves. It already began when we made love,” he said softly.

  “I thought it was just from absorbing energy through sex.”

  “No, it’s more.” Nicolas cupped her face in a tender gesture. She smiled at him.

  “So you’ll inherit my healing abilities, which is my magick, and I’ll receive some of your strength and courage. What else will I get in return?”

  He pulled back, looking cautious. “Most couples share the same magick, and the mating lock merely strengthens their powers. Not us. You’ll inherit my ability to fight, sense and smell when the enemy approaches. Kill them swiftly.”

  Acid soured her stomach. “I don’t want to kill.”

  Turbulent emotions flashed on his face. “You must. Maggie, something happened to make you block out everything you are, everything you’re meant to become. You and I are a mated pair because we each balance out the qualities we both need. Your gentleness and healing, and my ability to protect and defend. You were born with the instinct as wolf to fight. Yet you lost it somewhere in childhood.”
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br />   Lost in thought, she remained silent. The memory was there, flickering close to the surface like a grainy movie image. Letting it surface proved too dangerous.

  “If it’s any easier, think of the Morphs as germs. They’re hurtful and will harm you.”

  Big, toxic human germs that bled bright red blood. Blood, flowing, oozing onto concrete…staining…

  Maggie closed her eyes, opened them. “I can’t. I won’t.”

  “You will,” he said quietly. “I’ll teach you. Simple, basic techniques. Knives are best. In hand-to-hand combat you can kill them by stabbing them in the heart.”

  “Teach me self-defense techniques.” Maggie pushed back from the table. “I will not pick up a knife to hurt someone.”

  “You don’t need a dagger,” he said softly. “You’re Draicon. All you need are your fangs. Those can sink into flesh and your jaws can snap a man’s neck instantly.”

  Maggie wrapped her arms about her, shuddering, as he stalked out of the kitchen. The door banged behind him.

  ———

  “I can’t do this!”

  “You can. Try again.”

  Behind the house in the expansive backyard, they worked. A cooling breeze stirred dead leaves, sent the smell of fresh pine wafting through the air. Maggie had twisted her unruly curls into a bun. Sun beat down upon her neck. Nicolas stood back, watching her lunge at a CPR dummy nicknamed Kane hanging from the branch of a tall live oak.

  An hour ago, he’d telephoned Baylor. Baylor assured Maggie that Misha was with him in New Mexico and safe with the pack. Knowing Misha was safe had eased her mind, but practicing at hurting others made her tense all over again.

  Maggie found it difficult to overcome her revulsion at violence. She grit her teeth. If she didn’t learn control, how could she prevent herself from turning into a wolf again?

  “Think of the Morphs attacking Misha. Think of your dog bleeding on the ground.”

  His words snapped something inside her. Hands curled into fists. Maggie rushed at the dummy again, the heel of her hand rising up to make contact with the dummy’s chin.

  Nicolas gave an approving nod. He took a long slug of water. Fascinated, she watched a bead of water slide down his stubbled jaw, his strong throat muscles working as he swallowed. Nicolas backhanded his mouth.

  She stared at her hand, deeply troubled. Her firm vow of nonviolence wavered, like wind touching the glassy surface of a still lake. Maybe fighting techniques like this would have saved my parents. The thought, shared openly with him, haunted her.

  “No, it wouldn’t have,” he spoke aloud. “The ones who killed your parents weren’t mortals. I tracked down the police report from your parents’ deaths. Their bodies were found but no sign was found of their attackers. Except one oddity. Nearby pools of blood were tested and contained unusually high acidic content.”

  She felt a sudden sickness in her stomach as he continued. “Morph blood. When you walked back to your car that night, Maggie, the ones trailing you were disguised as humans, blending in to kill and then drain energy from victims. A blow to the throat would have no more effect than a gnat bite.”

  “Mom and Dad died protecting me.” The surfacing memory haunted her. “They warned me, ‘Run Maggie,’ as the men were hitting them, kept hitting them…and the blood, so much blood on the sidewalk… Dad couldn’t change, he and Mom hadn’t shape-shifted in years because they didn’t want anyone to track us down. His magick was too weak. Magick, they’d always called it, now I can admit that. It wasn’t a carnival trick, but real, living magick. I went back to my father and I tried so hard, my hands on his chest,” she whispered.

  Nicolas gripped her upper arms, his touch firm and anchoring. “What happened to the killers, Maggie?”

  She pressed a trembling hand to her temple. “Please, stop.”

  He gathered her against him, stroked her hair. She rested against him, relishing his comforting touch. Wind caressed the curls spilling from her topknot, dried the tears tumbling down her cheeks. Maggie fisted away her emotions.

  “Let’s try this again,” she said harshly. “I want you to teach me how to control this beast inside me, Nicolas. Control it so I never have to worry about it taking over me again.”

  His gaze turned hooded. “You can’t force yourself never to change, Maggie. It’s part of who you are. Repress the wolf and it will surface again when your guard is down. When your rage boils over and explodes, the wolf will emerge.”

  “Then teach me to leash it, Nicolas. Teach me to keep it at bay. I don’t want to change. Not ever again.”

  Nicolas rubbed the back of his neck. “Maggie, all you see is a beast that threatens to take over you. Your wolf is as much a part of you as your hands and feet. It’s been lying dormant for years and dimmed all your natural senses. When you finally acknowledge your wolf, you open yourself up to all the wonderful powers it offers. Your senses heighten. You feel the call to run wild and free. Your strength doubles. When you willingly embrace your Draicon self, you’ll see the advantages. Your wolf will alert you to danger. You need your wolf now more than ever.”

  She had trouble believing him. Her wolf was a beast that only caused pain and destruction. It clawed to be free and turn her into something she loathed.

  He stepped back with a wary look as the idea raced through her mind. She studied him thoughtfully. No, not a killer. He was strength, loyalty, determination. Some of those qualities he’d endowed her with when they’d made love. Maggie looked deep inside and found a glimmer of strength and courage. She could control her wolf, with his help.

  Wind lifted the dark hair from his muscled neck as he stepped forward. With his broad shoulders, lean waist and lethal grace, Nicolas looked the strong warrior. Yet he was much more. She sensed a hidden wellspring of sensitivity inside him.

  He cupped her chin, lifting her troubled gaze to his warm brown one. “Think of controlling your wolf as training a dog. You set the rules.”

  “Does this mean I’m not really housebroken?”

  Nicolas threw his head back and laughed. The deep, rich sound warmed her. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

  ———

  Minutes later, they stood on the long wood porch, at the head of the stairs leading down to the open field bracketing the thick forest. Maggie stripped off her shoes, jeans, thick black sweatshirt and underwear. Cold air hit her naked flesh. Gooseflesh erupted over her body and she wrapped her arms about herself. Nicolas stripped, watching her quietly. He seemed at home in the cold.

  “In time, you’ll adjust as well. Are you ready?”

  She nodded, averting her gaze from him, using all her concentration necessary for the change.

  His muscles tightened as his dark gaze swept over her naked body. Nicolas closed his eyes, fisted his hands. When he opened them again, the intensity had faded.

  “Control, Maggie. It’s all about controlling your body and your emotions. I’ve spent a lifetime mastering both. First you have to allow yourself to shift into a wolf. Give yourself permission and do it while all your emotions are even.”

  Dropping to all fours, she gave him an expectant look. He drew in a harsh breath. “Dammit, this is going to be hard…” He swallowed again. “You don’t have to drop down like that. Just keep the image of a wolf in mind. Will yourself to change, let the beast inside free. Think of running wild, roving over hills, running with the moon. Allow yourself to be free at last. Feel the power of your wolf and let it go.”

  Maggie closed her eyes. A deep craving arose inside her. She thought of letting it loose to run free. Her arms lifted to the air. She embraced the ancient instinct.

  The change happened slower this time. Maggie felt every intense feeling, as if her spirit burst forth. Fur rippled along her arms, torso. Bones lengthened. She opened her mouth to exclaim her excitement to Nicolas. A loud howl came forth.

  Senses sharpened. Maggie could scent ancient rabbit scat, taste the fear of a deer pausing in its grazing in the forest. Nicolas�
��s familiar scent slammed into her. Wolf knew this scent. Good. Familiar. Pack.

  Her mate. She loped over to him as he dropped to one knee. Nicolas stroked her luxurious pelt as she lowered her muzzle. Instinct warned her this was a dominant male demanding respect. Her ears flicked back as her tail lowered.

  “You see, caira? Nothing to worry about. You can control this.”

  She watched as he shifted into his wolf form. He spoke into her mind. Let’s run.

  Maggie followed Nicolas as he raced toward the meadow’s edge. She inhaled a faint but pungent odor of dead raccoon. There, floating on the wind, something stronger, closer. Rabbit.

  Maggie put her nose to the ground and trotted. Nicolas circled around and loped close behind her. Her nose twitched as she scented a rabbit. Ignoring his warning in her mind, she gave it chase. The small gray rabbit zigged and zagged across the open meadow. Maggie bounded after it, joy rippling through her.

  She followed it into the woods until she sensed a familiar scent approach. Maggie turned with a snarl.

  Nicolas nipped her hindquarters in warning. Maggie yipped.

  Never ignore me. When you’re wolf, you pay attention. There are all manner of dangers here. Wild boar. And human hunters.

  The caramel gaze locked with hers, dominant and proud.

  Maggie lowered her head. Nicolas trotted over. She exposed her muzzle to him, resting on his backside. He rubbed against her with great affection.

  Side by side, they loped back to the cottage. Nicolas shifted back. Naked, he stood regarding her. “Now, change back,” he ordered.

  Focusing, she thought of her human form. Nothing. She lifted her head, howled her frustration. Maggie licked the back of Nicolas’s outstretched hand. Taste, remembering the salty, masculine taste of them as they made love….

  She found herself crouched over in human form, licking Nicolas’s hand. Raindrops misted her hair. This time, she barely felt the cold.

  Maggie felt a rising triumph.

  “Nothing to it,” he said softly, his hand reaching up to caress her cheek as she stood. “And when you feel the emotions raging out of control, such as anger, and you’re afraid to let the wolf go, concentrate. Think of something utterly mundane.”