  Their meal finished, Forge walked Blair back to his office. Blair unlocked the door, and at the same time, Forge was doused in another wave of lust and something he could only describe as partnership. Most vampires experienced this sort of bond and empathy for one another during their initial mating. He’d understood the ability to feel each other so strongly diminished after one of them was marked. For them it seemed to increase. This was all new territory for him, and he was discovering how much he liked it, wanted it, and looked forward to it. Forge was indeed a very lucky man. Blair used his hand on Forge’s chest to shove him through the door. He shut it behind them softly. One of Blair’s hands cupped the back of Forge’s neck, and Blair pulled them together, kissing Forge slowly, then slipping his tongue into Forge’s mouth, his fangs nipping his lip. Blair wasn’t usually the aggressor, and Forge adored it when he was. He put one hand on Blair’s ass and held him close, kneading the firm flesh of Blair’s buttock slowly. All too soon Blair broke their kiss. They leaned against each other, panting. Blair trembled. “I have a late class,” Blair whispered. “Will seven be okay?” Forge pulled in a deep breath, kissed Blair’s forehead, and nodded. “I’ll be there.” One more sweet kiss to Blair’s lips and Forge added, “I’ll call you later.” He dipped his head at the door and at the same time cupped Blair’s face, running his thumb lightly over his cheek. “Keep them in line. I’d better get back to work.” “Bye,” Blair said quietly, and Forge thought he sounded a bit wistful. “Keep the streets safe.” By the time Forge started across the parking lot again, he was whistling. He reached his car and had his fingers on the latch when something in his peripheral vision made him turn. The parking lot, cars, garden, and fountain were gone. They’d been replaced by dense woods and thick underbrush. Forge started when someone touched him with gentle fingers, brushing over his shoulder blades. It was a touch that had become familiar to him centuries ago. His clothing scratched at his torso and legs, and moist dirt and moss provided a soft base under his feet. The air was humid and hot. It smelled of decaying leaves, flowers, and berries. Boggslake settlement, 1800s “I remembered it being cooler this far north, ma moitié.” Forge turned toward Declan’s deep, rich voice. He wore lightweight breeches, a white shirt, and a deer hide overcoat. Declan’s thick, dark hair was pulled back and tied, with a leather cord braided through it. The end brushed between Declan’s shoulder blades. Declan stopped walking and moved his rifle from his shoulder to hold it in front of him. Something was off. There was an odd scent in the air. Forge stumbled when Declan put one arm across his chest and forced him back as Declan stepped in front. “What are you—” “Quiet,” Declan hissed. He’d switched from English to French. “Be still.” The strange odor grew stronger, and Forge put his hand on Declan’s shoulder, gripping hard. He swallowed and froze when the source of the odor became apparent. Without warning an invisible wall of cold radiated out from Declan. Forge knew when Declan did that it was very frightening to anyone or anything within a circumference of a dozen yards. The exception was Forge since that wall was never intended for him. A small river lay ahead. What stood in the river, teeth slashing and tearing through a deer, alternately fascinated and frightened Forge. At first glance it looked like a wolf, but no wolf Forge had ever seen before. Even on all fours, the thing stood tall enough to reach Forge’s elbow. When it looked at Forge, it seemed to use its eyes to bore straight to his soul. They were a piercing bright gold. A voice, deep and guttural, called from somewhere deeper in the forest, and Forge thought it said, “Jackson.” The creature turned its head toward the sound. For a second it looked back at them, lifted its lips in a silent snarl, then spun around and bound off across the river. Declan’s gaze shifted to the evening sky. “The moon will be full tomorrow. We should stay in town for a few nights.” Forge nodded. The town was three buildings in a clearing. One of those buildings had rooms for rent. Normally Forge would be excited by the prospect of a real bed where he and Declan could lie wrapped in each other’s arms. The projection of coldness and belligerence from Declan dissipated. Declan tapped Forge’s shoulder. “Let us get to Boggslake.” As Forge followed, he glanced back at the now-vacant river. He finally found his voice. “Babiche, what was that?” “A werewolf. He was young, barely more than a boy. This area is rife with them.” Declan reverted to English. “These woods aren’t going to be safe, even for us, ma moitié.” Boggslake, Present Day Something cold and hard pressed against Forge’s back. He felt a presence. Simultaneously realization filtered into his head that the woods had evaporated, replaced by a concrete parking lot. He was braced against his car. Forge turned around, fumbled with the lock, got the door open, and nearly dove into the car. He sat in the car, gripping the steering wheel, gasping for air. “What the hell? What the fucking hell?” Click on a banner to find more books!     Comments are closed.
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