Mystic Valley: Moonshine

The world was alive with sensation, with passion, caught in the exhilarated place she always went as she shifted. Instincts she'd repressed and ignored for years awoke, shuffling her timid humanity aside as she was reminded that this was what she was at heart: powerful, magical...amazing.

Lars' voice tickled her senses, but she couldn't understand his words anymore. Words were a human thing, anyway, and she wasn't interested in humanity right now. His presence scraped her raw nerves, and she recognized him as both a challenge and a danger. A temptation. Someone against whom to test her strength. It would be nice to win, but so good to lose...

Her knees went weak and she slid down the wall, her hand still wrapped around the sleeve of his jacket. He hoisted her up, pressed her to the wall and growled softly. His face went to her neck, and his breath skated across her skin like fire, making her shudder.

She curled her fingers into his hair and dragged his head back, baring her teeth in a warning that was completely undermined by the way her body rubbed his. Her nipples were so tight it was painful, and a growing ache built between her thighs--an arousal so strong the only word for it was need. She wanted him with a desperation that defied description. She craved. Yet she would never simply submit. With her teeth still bared, she snarled at him.

He barked out a laugh at her challenge and pulled her hair, hard. He growled and scraped her jaw with his teeth. Then he bit her neck, deep enough to bruise. Pleasure and pain mingled together with primal satisfaction as she yielded and melted against his body for several heartbeats. Then she growled again and bit his ear, reminding him that she wasn't weak or submissive. If he wanted her, he had to work for it.

The initial rush was starting to fade, only to be replaced by a persistent tingling. The world moved more slowly, except for Lars. He raised his mouth to her ear and growled, "The moonshine makes you do shit you didn't even know you wanted to do."

It was true. The nagging desire that had been impossible for her to explain to her ex was clear now. Her instinct wasn't to submit--it was to find someone strong enough to make her submit. It was a dark, shameful realization, but there was no room inside her for shame. Not when it felt so right. Anyone who couldn't claim her didn't deserve her.

"What do you think I want to do?" she asked in a low voice, wondering if he sensed her desire as easily as she recognized his.

"You want to fight," he rasped, using one of his thighs to move her legs apart so he could grind his hips against hers. "And you want to lose."

For one brief moment, she hated him for saying it aloud, for making it real. Then the feeling was gone, lost in the tingle of the moonshine and the rising desperation of her arousal. She swung at him out of instinct, catching the side of his head with her hand and raking her nails down his neck.

When he moved, it was with such speed it was painfully obvious he'd let her scratch him. He caught her wrist and dragged it to his lips. He sniffed a little, then bit her hand. "You smell like disinfectant. Death."

Lost in the rush of drugs, the truth spilled out before she could stop it. "I was at the hospital with my ex. I hurt him."

Lars just stared at her, his face inches from hers, his blue eyes burning like fire. "Did you, now?"

"He's just a human," she whispered, unable to tear her eyes away from his. "It was the first time I was in control of the sex. I broke his collarbone."

He made a chiding noise. "You've got to know how to handle them during sex. Humans." He dragged his tongue across her cheek. "If you do it right, it's hard to hurt them. Trust me, I've tried."

"Why did you try to hurt them?"

His head fell back a little, and a growl rumbled up from his chest. "Because they asked nicely."

She did it before she could stop herself, before she even realized she was moving. She found the exposed skin of his neck with her teeth and closed on it. His growl morphed into a low yelp, and he yanked her head back. "Play nice," he warned her hoarsely.

Claire stared up into his eyes and panted. She didn't bother to hide the challenge in her gaze as she whispered, "Make me."

He snarled and pulled her hair harder, then lowered his head and snapped his teeth on her skin, biting her just as hard as she'd bitten him. The pain disappeared in a wave of instinctive satisfaction. She groaned and clutched at his arms, her fingernails digging helplessly into his jacket. With magic singing through her veins and his body pressed against hers, she knew exactly what she wanted, what she needed.

So did he.

"Come home with me." He whispered the words, hot and demanding, against her ear.

Claire didn't even think about it. She just agreed with a jerky nod and a whispered, "Okay."