Raining Kisses (The Opeth Pack Saga Book 2) Page 5

  Shrinking back, Katarina sniffled. “You’ll…”

  God damn it. Once again, the pull of her energy in his mind coaxed him to let her rummage around and poke holes in his defenses. Well, poke at, rather. The walls he’d built up to protect against magic went into place long before he'd left the pack, just shortly after the murders.

  She sniffled again. “I can heal you if you’ll let me.”

  Not wanting to go all holistic healing shit, Nicholaus turned away. He forgot how easy she was to upset and wondered for a moment why the goddess decided to hate Katarina.

  She had to if she put such a delicate, beautiful flower with a weed like him.

  Her sniffles grew into full blown sobs. “You don’t even love me enough to acknowledge my help.”

  His pulse raced, heart thundered loudly against his chest. No magic could control him while the rage built inside, made him start to see the world in a red hue. He hated when anyone picked at him, tried to push through the walls he’d thrown up to secure the world from his demons. “Fuck, what the hell do you want, woman?”

  Then he stopped, inhaled a deep breath and stared at her.

  “Look, I’m here and as long as I am here, I will protect you both. We’ll get her back, okay?”

  She wiped her eyes and stepped back from him. “You have a home here, Nicholaus. You have a place here in our hearts. Whatever you see in your head is wrong.”

  “How do you know that? How can you be so certain, Katarina? Because I can’t be. And I should know me. I am,” he knew it’d sound ridiculous, “me. Not you. I’m in my head all the time. It’s a dark place, turned out even darker after the incident I shan’t speak of. So how can you be sure I’m not what I think I am?”

  “Because my heart tells me your truth, drágám.”

  “And Krystyna’s?” He already knew the answer. In this stage of the game, he was certain she’d reject him too, once she found out who and what he really was, if he ever let that demon out of the bag.

  “She…” Katarina turned her head away.

  Of course Krystyna would hate him. She would show it too. Between the three of them, her foul temper had landed her in more trouble than not, while Katarina wouldn’t waste time or words on hateful things. It often led to her crying on Nicholaus's shoulders. “I thought so. It’s time for bed.” He glanced out the window; night had descended rapidly on the village. The moon would hang high soon, his lupine senses attuning once again to the time difference and humming energy of the land beneath his feet. Yes, things all around felt familiar, and that thought alone scared him.

  “I didn’t think so. Listen, do you have any idea what happened?”

  She looked away, cast her eyes downward. “No.”

  “Anything out of the ordinary happen around here except for the obvious?”

  “Other than Józsi forcing the males into the city and tourist parts of this area for work, no.”

  Shit. That left him with nothing really. He sniffed the air couldn’t scent her, but he did pick up the bitter smell of lies. Katarina wouldn’t mislead him, would she?

  No. Never. She didn’t have it in her to be the type of creature who misled people.

  He let the thought go for a moment while he looked around. Yup, same old dirt roads and village style architecture. Nothing had changed.

  “When again was the last time you saw Krystyna?”

  She looked up, her beautiful hair falling over her eyes. She moved strands back and looked through him, rather than at him. “I…it’s been a few days.”

  He sighed. “Seriously? No one has gone out looking for her if she’s one of the more important people in the pack? What the fuck is wrong with these wolves?”

  “Truly we are struggling to rebuild.”

  “Rebuild my ass. You should high tail it the hell out of here.”

  “But Lukina, Ilona and Józsi are trying to—”

  “Fuck what the wolf princess is trying to do with her Alpha. This whole thing is a cluster fuck.”

  “That’s not for you to say since this isn’t your home anymore,” she growled and raised a fist at him.

  He caught it and shoved her back into the door, trapping her against it with his body.

  She felt warm, inviting. Her softness against the perfect hard spots on his body made him realize he'd been too rough with her but he wasn’t about to release her.

  She shook, struggling to free herself from his grip. “Let me go, Nicholaus! Let me go!”

  He dropped his head down, sealed his mouth over hers and forced his tongue between her plump lips.

  She stopped fighting him and let herself acquiesce into his kiss.

  Nicholaus took his time nibbling, pulling from her sweet little mewls and moans while her body moved against his. If he kept this up she’d probably have an orgasm.

  He almost didn’t care.

  She sucked in a breath and kissed him back, her limbs going limp in his embrace before he pulled back and stared at her, smelling the lust coming from her.

  The two of them stood in comfortable silence for a moment, aware everyone else in the village had gone to sleep.

  “It’s time for us to rest, drága. Come.” He took her hand in his, unable to stop the unconscious gestures from happening.

  “Please promise you won't leave us again?” She sniffled and tugged him toward the front door.

  Chapter 3

  Nicholaus stepped inside with her, looked around at the furniture and dressing of the living area and kitchen. Faint moonlight shone through the tiny window above the sink, casting a pale glow on the few dishes in the rack. Of course the old wooden table he and Katarina and Krystyna had sat around was in the center of the dining area. Three chairs, if memory served, and one of them had claw marks beneath the seat from when Nicholaus twitched nervously over what he’d done.

  Katarina and Krystyna had spent days sitting with him, holding his hands, stroking his hair, just trying to calm him down. And for a while, it had worked

  He hated that reminder of what they could have had.

  But the truth was, he couldn’t give her the guarantee she wanted. At least not tonight. Not when he wanted to go back to his loft in New Mexico. “I won’t leave without rescuing Krystyna.”

  Katarina nodded. “Thank you. I guess it’s all I can ask for.” She reached for his hand.

  He took the offered hand and let her lead him into the house. They walked further inside and instantly, the familiar scents of childhood and his teenage years hit him. Spicy paprika, garlic, hearty sausage simmering, it all brought back memories of being loved and cared for. His stomach grumbled, but his heart sank when he saw Agí stirring a pot of stew.

  Dressed in old maids rags, brown skirt and top, her graying hair had been tied back and held in a bun. “Evening.” She didn’t bother to look up. “Food is ready if you’d like to eat. Even for him,” she pointed a wooden spoon at Nicholaus, still averting her gaze.

  Nicholaus tightened his grip on Katarina’s hand. The crazy ass old aunt of Katarina's still lived. If he had to guess, she'd probably outlived God. “Good to see you too, old witch.”

  “Evening, Agí.” Katarina smiled sweetly.

  “Bah. Deserters like you should starve. But we are Hungarian gypsies and wolves, hospitable to those in need.”

  He studied her wrinkled face. She had to be in her late eighties by now. “Igen. I always did have a soft spot for the gypsies among us. What are you doing up?”

  Her eyes narrowed, emphasizing the wrinkles even more. “I heard she was coming back tonight and going to look for Krystyna. I had no idea she’d be bringing you. Oh well.” The old woman turned to face him, a mixture of anger and despair on her face. “I hope you can do what they say you can do.”

  He straightened, crossing his arms over his chest. What the hell did they say he could do? And who was they anyway? “What do they say I can do?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t pay any mind to prophecy shit any more than t
he next fellow. But you’re taking care of my Katarina and helping her get back what belongs to her. That’s all I care about.” She turned to stir the stew once more. “Serve yourselves. I’m going to bed.”

  “Night, old bat.” He growled.

  “Húzz a picsába!” Fuck off!

  “Agí!” Katarina scoffed at the old woman but it didn’t matter. She’d already wandered down the hall and slammed her door shut.

  “I’m surprised the old bitch is still alive. Or has nobody told her that she’s been dead since before I left?”

  Katarina’s jaw dropped, eyes widened. “Nicholaus!” She slapped his shoulder.

  He couldn’t stop the hearty laughter from bursting out even with Katarina’s glowering expression told him he shouldn’t have laughed.

  “Food, then we retire.”

  “Yes. And I’ll talk of anything but the obvious.” Why had he said that? She had to know he had no desire to discuss their relationship.

  She frowned but made her way into the tiny kitchen. She stretched to retrieve a few bowls from the cupboards, giving Nicholaus a view of her round ass and the line of her body as it stretched. He couldn’t stop his cock from hardening but he could control himself enough to remain focused on eating. It had been a long day and his stomach’s rumble made him pay more attention to it than the desire to slake his lust in her warmth.

  Katarina wiped hair back from her eyes, filled the two bowls and set them down on the table. She then filled two wine glasses half full and set one before him. “Eat. Drink.”

  Carefully, Nicholaus pulled the chair back from the table, scraping it across the hardwood floor. The smells and sights of dinner made him long for things he couldn’t have. He cooked for himself back in America but the meals were usually spiceless, and fairly tasteless dishes designed to fill his stomach rather than stimulate his senses. Oh, he drank the finest, smoked the best cigars, but took no pleasure in eating.

  Not like he had when he took his first bite of stew.

  “You like?”

  With a nod at Katarina, he continued to spoon food into his mouth as though his senses awoke with a vengeance. Instantly, the nourishing herbs and spices flowed through his body in the form of energy, pure essence of existence. He had no idea what the hell Agí did to make the food taste so good. Maybe it was just longing.

  Or homesickness.

  “You needed the nutrients, drága. You don’t eat like this back home?”

  “No,” he took a sip of wine, set his glass down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The feral look in his eyes reflected in Katarina’s irises.

  “You already look healthier. Why do you not take care of yourself?”

  “No reason.” That was a lie. He let his self-care go because if the demon inside him reared out, it could do major damage but not if the physical body remained in a weakened state. Again, more protection for the world around him, rather than concern of his wellbeing.

  “We will feed you, drága.”

  He spooned the last bit of beef and broth into his mouth, found the napkin Katarina tossed at him and wiped his mouth. Yes, the spices cooled his temperature; let his mind stop swirling so fast. In fact, exhaustion began to weigh heavily on him, forcing a yawn from him.

  “Come, let’s go to bed.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Indeed, we should go straight to bed.” His voice dropped a few notches.

  Katarina frowned. “Nicholaus, please?”

  Not like he had the energy to fuck her anyway. The filling effects of Agí's stew settled in along with the magic it provided to refill him. Nothing had done that to him in years. “I know. Let’s go, szeretõm.”

  She stood, took his bowl and hers, waiting for him to finish his wine. Then she set the dishes in the tiny sink and washed her hands before extending her hand.

  He took it, his grip around her slender fingers loosely at first, unsteadily walking with her toward the bedroom. His gut churned, stomach danced wildly at the prospect of sleeping in their bed again.

  No.

  Her bed.

  Never his. Never again. He’d ceded that right when he left. But a taste of what he couldn’t have was cruel, wasn’t it?

  “Why are you being cruel to me, Katarina?”

  She ignored his whispered plea to end his torture.

  In her bedroom, Katarina moved a pile of clothes off the bed onto a beat up rocking chair and pulled the covers back. Using low level magic, she lit the several candles around room and provided just enough light to see. Stripping to panties and a tank top, she crawled into bed and patted the space beside her.

  Nicholaus’ mouth watered at the very sight of her oh so feminine body. Candlelight spilled off luscious curves and hidden valleys of her round breasts and flat tummy. She stretched out, slowly moving long, slender legs while she undid the braid of her hair and shook it out.

  She looked up to see him staring at her. “Please behave. I can't bear to destroy what we have and can have again, nor can I act with such bravado as to betray those who love me.”

  The desperation in her voice tugged at his heart, irritating him and adding to the reminder in his head of things he couldn’t do. “I will.” Crawling into bed beside her, he rolled onto his side and draped an arm around her. Fingers interlocked with his, he tucked their hands beneath her breast.

  She adjusted herself, pressing her ass against his hard cock.

  “You keep doing that and I can't guarantee I'll behave.”

  Katarina turned to face him, her eyes filled with the flames of desire. It wouldn’t take but a few kisses to ignite those flames.

  “Why don’t you sleep naked like the rest of us?”

  He stroked her thigh. “You’re wearing clothes.”

  “I’ve always went to bed semi dressed, silly. Or don’t you remember?”

  No, not on purpose anyway. Nicholaus ran his fingers through her long red curls. He recalled the nights he’d slept over with Krystyna and Katarina. One slept partially clothed, the other completely nude. Something about how the clothes made her feel sexy against her naked lovers. “This falls under the category of things we don’t discuss. Now, close your eyes and get some rest. We’ll be up in a few hours.”

  She settled into his body. “Okay. Szeretlek.” I love you.

  Despite the lie he’d told her, Nicholaus pulled her closer, inhaling her scents, enjoying the play of sandalwood filling his nose. He had no choice, really. The plan would be simple. He’d caught Krystyna’s scent loose in the night air, could probably find her if he concentrated. But he was damned if he was going to let Katarina get involved. Closing his eyes, he realized the world he lived in was about to get a wakeup call, shaken by the events happening now.

  That meant if he didn’t resolve this situation quickly, he’d end up being the head enforcer of the Opeth Pack, and he had no desire to do that.

  The nightmares had stopped only months ago, but the dreams still existed. Faded, but still too loud to ignore, the dreams placed him at the right hand of some tall wolf with long, dark hair, ice cold blue eyes and two mates. He commanded and things happened but no words could be understood in the dream. Just silence and an overwhelming sense of dread filled him when he woke, alerting him to the changes coming.

  You’d think he’d pay attention to the signs on the wind.

  Even from six thousand miles he could smell the shifting tide in this world. But to what avail and why?

  And why him?

  Why would you want to have an enforcer who had violent tendencies? Why make a murderer your right hand man?

  As usual, more questions than answers.

  Fucking prophecy.

  Nicholaus felt something brush against his shin, startling him from an almost dreamless slumber. Reluctantly, he lifted his head, saw nothing in the darkness, other than Katarina’s lush body. Stillness in the village at this hour meant everyone was asleep and he could focus on the one thing needed to track Krystyna.

  Her scent.
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br />   It carried on the wind, remained strong in the village. He hadn’t alerted Katarina because she’d want to go out now and he couldn’t afford that. Sure she'd probably have smelled it too but her worry and the travel kept her from focusing one hundred per cent on it. She’d get hurt, especially with how wounded she’d been acting. Yes, he was leaving once he did what he promised, but he wasn’t about to put either of them in more danger than necessary.

  Quickly, quietly, he slipped out of bed and through the house. Agí’s snoring became audible. Slipping through the front door, he stood on the makeshift porch where a few hours earlier he’d fought with Katarina about returning to his ‘homeland’ and his promises not to leave them.

  He could have kicked himself.

  With nothing to work with, all he could use to find Krystyna would be her lingering scent. Even years later, he could discern it from the lake, the flora and fauna.

  The thought of how after all these years, he’d still remembered her, still irritated him.

  He had no idea if she was being held by a large army or whether it was just a few guards, but he’d sensed her presence nearby last night. He thought Katarina would have too, but at the first mention of bed, she passed out. He supposed the time change and jet lag affected her more than it had him. Her falling asleep was definitely for the better. He didn’t need her to complicate things further. It was already going to be a pain in the ass dealing with whatever challenge he’d have to face in order to rescue Krystyna.

  Nicholaus made his way through the streets and toward the outskirts of the village, heading west. Dropping his human illusion, he moved quickly through the forest toward the plains region of Hungary, away from the lake.

  After roughly two hours, he stopped running. The scent remained strong. Being several miles from the lake, he’d held onto her scent but he also picked up the dirty stench of other wolves in the area. Damn, did they smell putrid.

  Well maybe putrid was a strong word but they sure as hell weren’t Opeth Pack wolves.

  If they had anything to do with Krystyna’s abduction, he’d rip them limb from limb, consequences be damned.