A Wolf's Unbridled Lust Ch. 02

"Angel," a furious and deadly voice came from behind the man's massive form, "I believe the Lady said she wished to leave."

The dark haired man's eyes fell shut with a groan and he breathed in deeply, lifting his head from Liesel's neck as he did so and looking like he'd just received a bad headache.

"Angel," The stranger warned, "Let her go." It wasn't a request, it was a command.

Liesel winced softly as the grip the man had on her arm tightened, before he released her and stepped back, rolling his eyes like a teenager who'd just found out they were grounded for the week. Liesel's eyes dropped to her feet and she clutched the glass of champagne tight to her chest, frightened and confused over what had just occurred.

"Yes, sir." The man, Angel's, condescending voice came from somewhere above her, before he whispered softly in her ear, "I really do hope we'll have the good luck of meeting again, querida." She listened to the sound of his malicious silky laughter and retreating footsteps as he walked back amidst the oblivious crowd.

She was still looking down, too nervous to lock eyes with the man who'd just admittedly rescued her, before the same deep voice now coloured with concern asked her softly, "Are you okay, did he hurt you Liesel -- Uh, I mean Ms. DuBorque?"

She recognized that voice all to well... Her eyes flitted up to his face, the same face she'd been day dreaming about constantly for the past week, and a feverish blush spread across her pale cheeks.

"You!" she exclaimed in surprise, her violet eyes widening.

"Yes, me." He said, chuckling softly and giving her time to once more appraise his god-like body. His tall, muscled frame was dressed in what seemed to be the popular ball room style in the mid 1800's. His black formal coat was open; the stylish white cravat tied loosely, giving him a rakish look. His raven black hair had been combed back, but it wouldn't stay. It fell over his temples and about his neck. His expression thrilled her.

He was shocked about her appearance, no doubt about it. She'd been shocked as well, so she understood why he could do nothing but stare. But after a few moments of awkward silence, his eyes hungrily travelling up the length of her body, she cleared her throat uncomfortably.

"Well..." she began, slowly bringing her eyes up to his, "Thankyou."

He laughed and smiled crookedly down at her, the sight made her breath catch in her throat. He was too damn beautiful to be real.

"You're very welcome. But you haven't answered my question, are you okay?"

"Um, sure. I mean yeah, I guess. As fine as anyone could be after an experience like that." She laughed awkwardly.

He suppressed a low growl in the back of his throat, looking down at her in concern, "Are you sure you don't need anything, anything at all?"

"What?" the question startled her, and a million different things, all involving deviously sexual acts of what she wanted, no needed from him, rushed into her mind.

Blushing, she quickly answered, "No, no. I'm fine, really. I actually had better be going..." she trailed off, raising her eyes to his before laughing nervously.

"Bye, and thankyou again Mr. Black." She stuttered, blushing furiously and cursing herself for being such a fool. Feeling light-headed she quickly turned from him and began walking back into the crowd, wobbling slightly on her feet from the encounter as every fibre of her being screamed for her to turn back around.

****

Raphael watched her leave, his protective stance still evident in the way he stood. He could smell her fear, taste it in the air. And something else, something metallic that he couldn't quite place.

He'd never felt such an overwhelming rage and need to protect something before in his life. But when he saw Angel, Angel, leering so suggestively over the, in comparison to the hulking vampire of Demetrius's coven, tiny woman, he'd completely lost it. He'd wanted to tear out the stupid bloodsucker's neck right then and there, and be damned what human saw him change, saw him rip apart Angel's throat for trespassing on his property.

For that was what she was, his property.

Nobody else could touch her. If he could have it his way, nobody else would even look at her. The way he saw it, she was his and his only.

Mine.

The thought crossed his mind as he watched her deliciously formed derriere moving slowly and seductively away from him. He licked his lips, closing his eyes and fighting the urge to let free his beast, to take her and complete the ceremony to bind her to him forever.

His eyes snapped open just in time to watch her tremble on her feet; she leaned precariously closer towards the marble floor as her legs began to give way. His body moved with inhumane speed and had her enveloped safely in his arms right before she hit the ground. Her stunning amethyst eyes were startled, like a deer caught in headlights, and her jaw slackened slightly as she looked up into his eyes in surprise.

He almost laughed at her beatific expression, so innocent and confused; he absentmindedly stroked a tanned thumb against the perfect alabaster complexion of her cheek. She was so soft... So very soft...

She coughed slightly, and wriggled in his arms as though she was trying to find a way to get down. After finding her attempts futile to break free from his iron hold, she looked up at him furiously, letting her breath out in a huff.

"Are you going to let me down or what?" her voice was stubborn, unyielding, and incredibly endearing with that subtle, sexy accent.

He chuckled softly, suppressing a wicked grin as he replied, "No thankyous? I did just save you from a fall, you know."

Glaring at him, her eyes sparkling angrily she growled, "Thankyou. Now please, this is ridiculous. Let me down."

"No." he answered simply.

"No? What do you mean, no?!"

"I'm fairly sure the meaning of that is comprehensible to you, Ms. DuBorque."

He was teasing her and she knew it, glowering up at him in an incredibly sensual way as her lips pouted in a luscious moue.

He felt an urge to bit down on that lip, run his tongue along her mouth before he tasted her... Pulling his eyes from the temptation, he glanced down in shock at the delicate trickle of ruby-red blood making its way slowly down her collarbone.

How had that happened?

Angel. Of course. Barely contained fury swept through his body, his dark eyes morphing into a feral yellow as he scanned the huge ballroom. He must have left right after his little snack, because Rafe couldn't sense him anywhere. Thankfully he'd only pricked her with his tooth, just a small taste. Why he hadn't bitten her Rafe had no idea. Nor did he care, as the majority of his concentration was frantically trying to make sure she was otherwise okay.

"Are you feeling alright?" he questioned her, his eyes filled with unhindered concern as he whipped out an ivory handkerchief from a pocket inside his coat, still keeping his arms wrapped tightly around her, and began to dab tenderly at the slight gash at the joint between her neck and shoulder.

"Why wouldn't I be?" she grumbled as his eyes wandered over to the far side of the ball room.

"You're bleeding." He stated simply, his dark brown eyes still searching for something in the crowd.

"Oh." she whispered, her voice coloured with confusion as she raised a pale hand to her neck, pulling back and staring at her blood-stained fingertips with a perplexed expression on her face, as if wondering how it had gotten there.

His eyes darkened briefly in disappointment before he straightened up suddenly, his arms wrapped tightly around her. Her gasp filled his ears as she clutched to him, bewilderment streaking across her face at the sudden gain in height.

"Let me down right now or... or you will regret it!" She threatened, and began to fidget uneasily in his arms, attempting once more to remove herself from his grip.

He did grin at that, settling her more comfortably in his embrace and carrying her like a bride across the threshold towards a steel door at the far end of the room. It was labelled, 'Private: Do Not Enter."

"Um, are you blind as well as deaf?" she asked him as they neared the surreptitious room, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She struggled to get down as he cleared a way through the dancing crowd, "That door is clearly marked 'Do Not Enter'."

"It just so happens," he replied, rolling his eyes as he swerved past a group of dancers gyrating against each other, "That this is my family's hotel. Now stop fidgeting, I'm only making sure that you're okay, Ms. DuBorque."

"I'm fine." She grumbled.

"Then explain to me," He laughed sarcastically, "How you managed to black out just then?"

"A freak accident."

"Ah, I see. Well then, I'd better make sure you don't have another 'freak accident' then, shouldn't I?"

"No." she answered blatantly.

He wasn't sure if he loved her stubborn, frank attitude, or was extremely annoyed by it.

"Well that choice is not up to you to make."

"Why do you even care?" She burst out, "Why are you even here?"

He ignored the first comment, not because he felt no need to answer it, but because he was fairly certain that the truth of why he cared, even deeper then she could imagine, would frighten her. Instead he bent low to whisper in her ear, "Fate." And felt as a shiver ran down her spine, her heart fluttering into a frenzy.

His body warmed at that, and he felt a similar heat rush through her skin. Raphael reached the steel door, turning the handle awkwardly as he carried her and pulled her through the door.

"Honestly, I appreciate what you're trying to do but I am fine."

Gods, she was still arguing. Why couldn't she just act demure and aloof as normal women tended to do?

Because she's not normal, a small voice whispered in his head.

He agreed with that, she wasn't normal. She was special. She was his.

He tightened his grip on her as he led her up a spiral of cramped, metal stairs; refusing to let his eyes feast on her in case the temptation grew too strong. He wasn't sure if he trusted himself with her alone.

"At least let me walk?"

The question was a reasonable one, but he loathed having to relinquish his hold on her shapely form. He chose to ignore her.

"Hellooo...?"

He took a deep breath in; she was riling him up alright. Growling low he continued his way up the never ending staircase, pretending to be deaf to her insistent bickering.

After a short while they reached another door, this one locked. Raphael drew out a small card key which he flashed through the lock before the door pinged open. He carried her into a large room, decorated with dark mahogany wood, steel and black leather. It was some kind of board room, with a large wooden table in the centre, surrounded by stylish leather chairs. A few well-cared for pot plants stood by the towering wall length windows on the far side of the room, beside a comfortable looking sofa which he was now leading her towards.

He set her down gently, finally able to appreciate her body as his eyes ran down the length of her, seemingly glued to the rapid rise and fall of her chest. The corset she was wearing looked too tight, constricting even, and although her breasts were not large, it seemed as though they were about to burst forth from the fabric.

He glanced up and hesitantly met her furious, icy violet eyes with his own dark brown ones. She had her arms crossed, a delectable scowl on her breathtaking features.

He reached out slowly and brushed a stray strand of hair from her eyes, his fingers lingering against the creamy alabaster of her cheek. He felt a soft shiver run through her body, and she quickly flinched back from his hand, her eyes lowered shyly. He suppressed a grin at that, knowing perfectly well what he'd just done to her senses.

"Wait right there," he ordered her, standing up as he did so and raking a tanned hand through his dark hair, "I'll go get something for that... scratch."

"I told you," she grumbled sullenly, that adorable scowl back on her face, "I'm fine."

He rolled his eyes and ignored her, walking towards a door at the other end of the room. He knew full well that a vampire bite was intended to dull the senses, even a tiny prick of the venom had to be affecting her at least a little. The bright fluorescent lights of the small bathroom blinded his eyes for a second before he crossed to the small mirror, opening it up as he rummaged for the first aid kit. He kept his ears sharply alert to the sound of Liesel's rapid breathing and the fluttering of her heart, his own warming to the steady, rhythmic sound.

"Ah," he mumbled to himself, "Got it."

He grabbed the pack and turned back to the large room, just in time to watch Liesel make a dash to the closed door.

"Oh no you don't." he was blocking her path before she could even reach a hand out to turn the knob, wrapping his arms tightly around her from behind, his chest pressed into her back as she wriggled desperately in his grip.

"Let -- me -- go!" she wailed as he tightened his arms around her, tugging her back towards the sofa and sitting down beside her as he did so.

"This will only sting a little," he murmured as he reached into the first aid kit resting beside him.

And that had Liesel turning toward the door again. Raphael reached out and caught the back of her collar and yanked her into his lap instead.

"Try that again and you can spend the next several hours right here." He said, wrapping his arms around her so tightly she could barely move.

She couldn't get loose, but that didn't mean she was going to stop trying. Wiggling about in his lap, however, was probably the worst thing she could've done. The position was much too sensual, producing lascivious thoughts of what he'd like to do -- no, would do if there was no chance of interruption. Stripping her clothes off slowly, running his hands leisurely down her slender curves, nibbling on her shoulder as he drove into her...

Oh good Gods, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to rein in his beast for much longer, if she continued to bounce on him like that.

She must have realised her efforts were useless about the same time he realised he couldn't stand the wiggling and bouncing of her bottom on his thighs and loins anymore without becoming quite obvious in what she was stirring up. She groaned, yet to him it sounded more passionate than frustrated and had him dropping her as if he'd been burned. Gods, she shouldn't be affecting him this strongly. He had to get it under control.

She'd fallen to the floor, but immediately scrambled up on the opposite side of the couch, farthest away from him, and began jerking up her dangerously low corset, dusting off her many layers of skirts and avoiding eye contact as best as she could.

Once more, his eyes moved down her form, seemingly of their own accord. He couldn't help it really, she was far too delectable to even describe. The straining of her breasts against the amazingly tight corset made him want to rip it off, to free her of the burden and to free him of the downwards spiral of complete obsession he had with this girl. Maybe if he took her, just once, he'd be able to forget about her. Just like all the other girls he'd so easily forgotten in the past, until their names and faces blurred together.

You know that wouldn't work, an irritating voice in his head whispered, rebuffing his sudden decision. She's different. This is different. You've never felt like this before and you know it.

He groaned softly, before realising Liesel's eyes were trained wearily on his, waiting for something.

"Come here." He whispered, his voice lowering huskily as his dark eyes turned sensual.

The change in her was immediate. First she was flustered, a rose-coloured blush rushing across her ivory cheeks, with anger, astonishment and nervousness close to follow. Her body reacted differently to the way most women did when he used his eyes like that. Instead she seemed to shrink away from him, her arms folding tightly across her chest as if she were afraid of him.

"Why?" she asked suspiciously, her lilting voice wavering fearfully.

The beast in him felt ashamed at that, that he could scare this woman so. Someone he'd rather be loving than hurting. He immediately changed his approach, his voice lightening playfully as he lifted up a packet of antiseptic wipes and a roll of bandage. "You know, so I can fix that cut on your neck?"

"Oh." She answered, her voice coloured with relief as she let out a sigh of breath, sliding hesitantly across the sofa towards him.

He dabbed delicately at the soft, ivory skin on her neck, cleaning up the dried blood and watching as she winced slightly as the alcohol came in contact with the gash. He was dangerously close to her now, close enough to count each nervous breath, taste the delectable scent of her skin...

Looking down, he caught her eye and softly stroked his thumb against her jaw, breathing in her aroma deeply as his eyes bore into hers.

"There," He murmured softly, his dark eyes burning sensually, "All done."

****

Liesel's breath caught in her throat and she swallowed awkwardly, raising her eyes to his. He was staring at her in that dark, sensual way of his again. The way that made her want to rip off each garment of clothes he was wearing and press her body hard against his.

His skin was feverishly warm; she could feel the heat pouring out of him as his fingers idly stroked her neck, sending eager shivers down her spine. Slowly, far too slow for her liking, he lowered his face to hers, pausing as if testing her reaction right before her lips. Did he think she was going to stop him? Not a chance. Not with the way he was making her feel, the overwhelming erotic sensations he was swirling up inside of her.

Just as the doubts began to creep back in -- she barely knew the man! -- Rafe dipped his head and pressed his lips softly against hers. She tried to resist, she really did, but all she could do was forget every single reason why she shouldn't be kissing him. In fact, she wouldn't be surprised if her first kiss with Raphael was going to be the most fantastic kiss she'd ever get, that she'd never find one as powerful or sensual again. Which didn't actually surprise her, she'd never even felt a tenth of the attraction she had for this man towards anyone else before. She should have stopped what he was doing instantly, before she got a good taste of him. It was going to spoil her for all time, she was sure. But ending it was the last thing she wanted to do at the moment. She couldn't muster the willpower to do so, when her every sense was being manipulated so expertly, when all she wanted to do was wrap her arms around him and never let go.

"Gods you taste good," He groaned.

She'd been thinking the exact same thing. His lips were so velvety soft, perfect. Or maybe it was hers that were soft and the combination of the two meeting made for a perfect meld. His breath wasn't fumed with alcohol at all, rather heady in scent. His taste was exotic, almost animal. Beyond her capability to describe. And she was feeling things other than the kiss, delightful sensations, all new to her, all highly pleasant.

He'd pushed her back onto the couch so he was almost lying on top of her, one of his legs had slipped between hers. The pressure there was exquisite because he wasn't keeping his leg still; he was moving it against her loins in the most erotic way. And he'd gathered her so close, holding her to him as if he weren't already pressed fully to her, one hand behind her back, the other cupping her derriere, actually pressing her even harder against his thigh. Heat was swirling madly there, about to explode...