Stray Prey Ch. 02

"Your wound" Rosaline murmured desperately against the heat of his lips. "We need to ... we really should ..."

He only pressed harder against her, his mouth attacking the tender flesh of her neck, tasting her skin, devouring her aroma, shaking her body with sensations and need that threatened to overwhelm her young, inexperienced mind after all the excitement of the night.

She shivered against him, clinging to his arm, overcome by the need to feel him close, feel his warmth and desire mingle with hers until there was nothing left but a single burning entity of lust, uniting them, combining their passion into something different, something new, an alien feeling of belonging neither of them had ever experienced before.

"Please ... please, "she whimpered against his lips again, not even sure anymore what she was asking for.

He kicked the door of her small studio apartment shut behind them, pushing her forward in the darkness, right up against the wall. Her scent and heat had him intoxicated with desire, her innocent pleas a heady aphrodisiac for his masculine pride.

So responsive, so wanton, so confused. He could taste it all on her breath. All because of him. The idea sent a shiver through his body, his roaming hands tightening around the gentle curve of her hips as he pressed into her, the warm, humid juncture of her thighs welcoming his rigid heat in its soft niche with a womanly caress.

Rosaline's eyes popped open in the darkness as she felt his stiffness against her thigh, pressing forward, unrelenting, right under the gentle curve of her jean-clad mound. Even through the layers of clothing she could feel him, hot, pulsing, twitching, slowly pealing her body open for his delight, sending her into a frenzy of sweet agony. She twisted her hips, pushed at his shoulder, wanting, needing something desperately, something just beyond her reach, her pretty pleas a welcome music in his ears, urging him on, driving his rigid bulge against her softness, again and again.

The light came on suddenly and Rosaline found herself thrown aside with the same fierce vehemence the stranger had attempted to conquer her lips with only moments ago. He stumbled backwards as well, overcome by a sudden and unexpected bout of nausea.

"Not like this ... it shouldn't be like this," he murmured under his breath looking a little lost himself for the first time.

"What? ... I ..." The moan of protest died on her swollen lips when her passion hazed eyes opened to catch a glimpse of his ashen face. With regret and disappointment weaving their spell around her heart Rosaline had to take a few deep breaths to clear her mind enough to compose a coherent thought.

"It's alright. Nothing bad happened." She tried to reassure him probably just as much as herself.

His nod seemed automatic, his thoughts obviously far away. The wall behind Rosaline's back started to feel suddenly very cold along with the light of the switch she should most likely feel pressing into her shoulder for quite some time. Wrapping her arms around herself protectively she stared into his blank face for long moments.

The spell of the moment had been broken, leaving both of the feeling bereft and confused.

"We better have a closer look at your injury," Rosaline concluded finally, trying desperately to steady her voice.

He watched her lips part slightly and move, nodding his mute consent once again without much of a coherent thought. Those well-kissed, pleasantly puffy lips sent a surge of male pride through his wary heart. She had looked so utterly perfect right there, up against the wall. A heady mixture of innocence and desire that still had his loins throbbing passionately for all what his instincts told him this delightful little creature could provide. Warmth, softness, excruciating longing, acceptance and a silent promise of belonging that seemed to elude him for as long as he could remember.

Why then? Why did he push her away when all of his dreams felt almost painfully near?

But then again, none of his dreams were perfect, he reasoned. Even in his tormented nights, when sleep would finally claim him after long hours of struggle, even when he felt that painful longing tugging at his heart, calling out to him from afar, uncertainty made him pause, made him doubt the inner voices he had grown so reluctant to follow.

Nothing was perfect in this life, especially not his wild dreams.

He fiercely hoped though that he had not hurt her, fragile little thing she looked for sure, especially compared to his tall frame. His body was hard, tendons straining against sun tanned skin, muscles built for fighting and survival, to conquer and overcome by the most ancient law of nature, sheer force alone.

As he watched her shrug out of the light jacket and move about the small studio apartment he couldn't help but feel drawn to her anew. Her movements, quick and effective, reminded him of a frightened little rabbit, her lithe grace of a majestic deer, posing and enticing its hunter, practically inviting him for a chase. And then there were her eyes. Warm, uncertain, giving, in such sharp contrast to his own vibrant stare that kept following her around, no shuddery breath of nerves, no shaky fingers escaping his attention.

She was growing afraid of him again.

Now that the fog of desire was slowly clearing from her mind, her human instincts and natural fears were surfacing once more. She was alone after all. She had invited a stranger she had barely met into her home and now they were alone. In her apartment, in her own little sanctuary, in the middle of the night.

His nostrils flared as he finally took the seat indicated at the small kitchen table, the heady aroma of her fear drifting to him once again.

"It is not my first time in case that helps," she offered with the barest hint of a playful smile.

She had noticed him eying the bowl of lukewarm water and the first aid kit she was about to open suspiciously. Meeting someone with nosophobic tendencies was not much of a news for her though and she was determined to ignore her second thoughts and focus on putting his mind at ease instead.

He was not there to hurt her. He was the man who came to her rescue when she was in danger, Rosaline reasoned. If he had wanted to harm her he could have done so in the park.

"You mean you have a history of inviting complete strangers to your place?"

She glanced up from the bandage she was about to unwrap with surprise at his words and teasing tone as delicious pink flowers started to bloom in her cheeks. He licked his dry lips absentmindedly, wishing again for the sweet taste of her lips under his own, longing to feel of the heat against his scruffy face that had her cheeks illuminated so enticingly.

"No, that was not what I meant!" Rosaline replied, cursing her fair complexion once again.

His smile was utterly disarming and self satisfactory enough to make her lose her train of thought.

"No?"

"No."

He leaned in close. Their faces separated only by inches, his voice a husky whisper against her trembling bottom lip.

"Did you mean perhaps, that you don't make it a habit to succumb to strange men in the darkness of a deserted park? For some, it might seem like an invitation you know, a pretty girl like you, all on her own ... looking so very frightened. Or is it perhaps just an act? Is she parading around? Looking for a cheap thrill, a bit of adventure? Perhaps looking to be kissed thoroughly, to be claimed and taken, hard and roughly, to have her feminine charms enjoyed and toyed with by whomever shall be man enough to handle her for the night."

The cotton swab dabbed in alcohol pressed into the side of his face with a biting sting in reply.

"I meant, I shall be certainly nurse enough to handle you for the night," Rosaline's stated brushing the swab across the side of his face and clearing the wound with limited gentleness.

"Ouch! That bites!"

"If I remember correctly, you could handle biting quite well earlier tonight."

She pulled the neckline of her sweater aside, exposing the bruised column of her neck and sure enough a few faint and less faint hickey and gentle bite marks on her alabaster skin.

Desire and guilt surged through his system at the sight. His. She had been his. Willing and so very compliant in his arms. His desire for her was turning rapidly into a painful longing that could not be denied much longer, her warmth, her closeness, her scent infiltrating his senses and calling to his wild side with ever growing urgency.

There was no way he would make it through the night without having her, without tasting her again, claiming and marking her as his own, he though desperately while watching her tend to his injury in quick and effective ways. He could see the turmoil reflected on her face, the professionalism and moral battling desire and need. He had seen it many times before. The outcome of the battle was not a question for him yet he was surprised with the depth of the attraction he had developed for her in such a short time, mere hours even.

She gave him feelings he couldn't even remember, feelings he had not experienced for months, at least that much he could tell for sure. There was peace in her arms, safety and fulfillment in her every kiss and a calmness in her gentle touches that seemed to sooth his inner beast without breaking his passion, rather mold his wild desires, focus and bend them until the only thing he could think of was her smile, her scent, her moans, her satisfaction, her joy. In those moments she had become his whole world, the safe haven he had always longed for, the one that seemed to elude him until now.

His home.

***

The glass flew across the room and shattered on the dark hardwood floor, followed by the hysteric shriek of the scarcely clad young woman scrambling to her feet.

"Booze. The only solution known to men."

Golden eyes dilated in surprise and obvious annoyance, an angry fist tightening protectively around the bottle of whiskey.

"Christ woman! Knocking implies the door and not the glass out of my hand! Have you gone mad? What concern is that of yours anyway? It is not like it would kill me, now is it!?"

Long, slender fingers, tapered with deep red fingernails trapped his windpipe in the blink of an eye in an iron grip.

"Mad, my little pet, does not even come close to the full extent of my anger," she hissed into his ear. The pair of bright emerald eyes, surrounded by enticingly long, dark lashes bore into his very soul.

"Get your things and get out of here very fast." the elegant redhead added coldly over her shoulder.

The young woman grabbed her discarded items of clothing in record time. Turning to the door she seemed to hesitate.

"He still owes me."

The questioning look shot her way made her cringe. The lady obviously was not in the mood for long explanations.

"Money," the girl whispered in a soft voice, backing away slowly. "But it is not that much really." she added in a rush.

"Go downstairs, tell Dominic, he will compensate your expenses and make sure you get to your chosen destination safely."

"Oh that ... that is really not necessarily ..." she started to protest.

It had seemed like such a good first deal. The man fit the bill so nicely. Clean looks, fancy clothes and an expensive car to match them. She still dreaded the idea of selling her body but the attraction this stranger had sparked in her instantly helped to overcome much of that fear. Damn it, why did his wife have to ruin it all?! And why would someone hire a girl with a woman like that at home? She just couldn't wrap her mind around it.

"I insist," the lady demanded with a calculated and calm authority that could not be denied. "Leave us. Please. We have much to discuss, Quentin and I."

He heard the door close quietly and cursed under his breath.

"You have misbehaved, my dear. And what is even worse, you have been careless."

"Since when .... is drinking ... a .... crime?" he gritted out when she lightened her hold on him enough to let him speak.

"I don't appreciate denial. I am very disappointed in you Quentin. You know how I feel about jumping unaware girls, my dear. No matter what phase of the moon or how high your libido. We are no animals!"

She tossed him aside with ease that betrayed her glamorous yet perfectly feminine frame and started to pace the room, boiling anger radiating from her every step towards the heap of a man on the floor. The sound of her heels echoed threateningly in his ears.

"Loosen up ... argh ... for Christ's sake Amelia! Would you break my neck over a hooker?"

"Your little prostitute is none of my concerns. Dominic will handle her just fine. Why don't we talk about your more public affairs though? What about that Little Red Riding Hood of yours in the city? The one you tried to jump in the park, surrounded by surveillance cameras?"

She noticed the change in him instantly. Her words had triggered memories that obviously didn't leave the beast in him unaffected. Quentin rose from the floor gracefully, his nostrils flaring and his breathing growing labored.

"Amelia, I am sorry, truly. I swear I meant her no harm. It was just ...the moon ... I couldn't resist."

The desperation in his voice surprised her quite a bit. It sounded so odd, so honest, so unlike the Quentin she knew.

"I know you are. And I know you will be even more sorry. Soon. I don't tolerate such behavior, neither the disrespect you have shown me. The clan has grown weak and decadent in my absence, an example needs to be set for all to see and so a lesson cannot be avoided."

Dropping to one knee in defeat he bowed his head automatically.

"Yes, My Lady."

Her slender fingers stroked the midnight tresses of his hair soothingly, her touch growing more relaxed.

"Quentin, Quentin. You make me wonder if there is ever going to be a woman to tame your wild ways. I for one have obviously failed. It might take more than strengths and power though, perhaps even a mate?"

He caught a hint of her melancholic smile before the authority returned to reign her elegant features.

"As for tonight we have more pressing matters at hand. Here is what you will do. First, tell me all about that foolish live wrestling show you put on with that stray, then get dressed and better keep your pants up while you trace the girl for me."

***

She tiptoed across the hall as quietly as possible. The house seemed even bigger and more of a labyrinth from the inside than she had originally suspected when her customer had driven her up the long drive way. The darkness of the night might have concealed most of the mansion's true extant, she decided while searching for a way of sneaking out, preferably unnoticed by any more enraged wonder women.

"Ahem."

The sound was so quite, so reserved that she would probably not even noticed the man clearing his throat had she not been listening so intently. It made her freeze on the spot and turn towards the fireplace at the other side of the hall. Sure enough, in the dim light of the dying flames she could make out the form of a person sitting in a nearby chair.

"May I help you, Miss?"

She hesitated, her unease mounting. No matter the calm tone of the voice, its decidedly male timbre made her cringe and take a step back.

"I ... I was just looking for the door. I ... I'm leaving," she stammered.

The man rose form the chair quietly, closing the book in his hand with a loud thud.

"Very well, Miss. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No ... no, thank you. Just the door. I mean, this house is huge ... if you could just show me to the door please ... and maybe call a cab. That would be great."

The polite smile she forced herself to plaster on did probably little to improve her appearance, she knew. He walked closer as he spoke, startling green eyes scanning over her face before traveling lower curiously. She cringed again, painfully aware of the mess she looked with the wrinkled cocktail dress thrown on in haste and the flitery jacket across her shoulders. Her disarrayed dirty blond locks and the smeared make up covering her face left little to the imagination about the nature of her visit.

A deep blush rose in her cheeks at the way the handsome stranger seemed to asses her.

"My name is Dominic Cagliostro. I believe the lady of the house wishes for you to be compensated for the events of the evening."

His politeness along with the compassionate look on his face made the young woman drop her gaze in shame. She had become a whore and obviously it didn't take much to see it. Not even for a complete stranger.

She jumped when he touched her shoulder ever so gently to get her attention.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. I also believe that she wished for you to be seen home safely," he added in a kind voice. "If you wish me to call you a cab I will do so but I have to admit, I would feel much better if I could see you home ... or any other destination you have in mind ... personally."

She looked up at him in surprise, a frown soon darkening her pretty face. Was he insulting her again? Making the offer with ulterior motives?

Dominic smiled at her and simply waited. Watching the wheels turn in her head was delighting. Underneath the mess of paint and the cheap clothing he could still recognize beauty, the beauty of a vulnerable girl that touched the protective strings of his heart.

"I'm Angel .... and ... I really just want to go home, please." She told him finally, her shoulders slumping in defeat under the stress of the night. If he turned out to be taking advantage of her or hurt her, so what? It is not like she hadn't endured and survived such before. For a moment even the thought crossed her mind, that maybe, just maybe everyone would be better off without her anyway.

His smile faded, turning into a stern nod.

"Do you have everything?"

She nodded, clutching Angela's shiny purse to her chest to hide the scandalous cleavage the tight scrap of her clothing provided. She never noticed the end of her hose trapped by the zipper and peeking out though. If Dominic had noticed, he didn't give any indication of it either.

"Good. Please follow me then. The place may seem intimidating at first sight, but don't worry. I know it like my palm."

Through dark corridors and richly furnished halls they made their way into the garage. Well, actually it looked more like an exhibition hall of expensive cars she had mostly only seen in magazines and on TV before, with a group of fancy looking motorcycles completing the show.

Noticing her interest Dominic seemed inclined to make much dreaded chit chat.

"Do you ride?"

Oh, boy. Wrong question. The emotions flickering across her face changed from confusion, over hurt to shame, finally resulting in a stubborn shake of her head.

"Me neither. Those are fancy toys, but I may be too old fashioned for them. I still prefer powerful horses to horse power."

The hint of a smile that touched her mouth made him feel suddenly much better while holding the passenger door of one of the less fancy town cars open for her.

She slid into the fine leather seat with the best grace she possessed, trying to act as normal as possible and be on her best behavior. She wasn't exactly sure why but she wanted to show this man, this stranger that she was more than met the eye. Not a hooker. Or well, at least not only a prostitute.

Most of the drive passed in silence, except for the occasional direction she gave him. She had no intention of letting him drive her home, though that was the only place she longed for. Instead it would have to be somewhere close. The troubled, cheap side of the city she still felt ashamed of, despite having lived there now for over a year.

The cellphone buzzing in her purse brought an unexpected change of plans though.