Half-breed’s Bargain by Samantha Wolfe
20
VAN
I lean my arms down on the wooden railing in front of me as I stare unseeing across the inky waters of the Unity River as it oozes past me on its inexorable path to the ocean far to the south. The fishing pier is empty now, unlike during the day when it’s swarming with fishermen and tourists. I find no comfort tonight, like I usually do when I come out here. Not even the soothing sound of the water lapping against the pier, the cool breeze caressing my face, or the sliver of moon high above me do a thing to ease my distressed mind. I’m consumed by thoughts of my father and the fae who ended his life and ruined mine.
Miguel Cabrera was a good man. He didn’t deserve to be used and tossed aside like he was by my mother. He was a good father who loved me and took care of me, and I worshiped the ground he walked on. But none of that mattered to Móira. I knew she seduced him all those years ago when I was conceived. I guess I just always assumed she did it on a whim to amuse herself, but now I know the truth. It was all part of her plan to create the perfect weapon she could use and abuse as she saw fit. Me. A fae werewolf half-breed. My father’s life didn’t matter. He was just a means to an end.
Rage seethes through me. I’m livid with Móira and want her to pay for what she did to him. I’m angry at myself for putting Harlow into yet another position to be used, even if I objectively know it isn’t my fault. Will she hate me when I tell her? That’s the reason I came here, when I should have sought her out first instead. I need to tell her, but I’m not ready to see that horrified look on her face when she finds out that she’s that manipulative fae bitch’s pawn now just as much as I am.
My anger fades in the wake of my guilt, leaving me feeling empty and raw inside. I came here to brood and wallow in my misery, hoping to get it out of my system and settle my mind. Instead, I’ve been riding an emotional roller-coaster of anger and guilt the entire time I’ve been here. It’s a waste of time. I sigh, then turn to head back to my car. It’s time to pull the bandage off. Even if Harlow hates me for it, she has a right to know, regardless of how much I don’t want to tell her.
The drive to her apartment building isn’t anywhere near long enough, and before I know it, I’m stepping into a small lobby that looks like it was decorated decades ago. The tile floor is clean, but dated, and the bland beige wallpaper is peeling a bit at the seams. I stride across the entryway toward the intercom system that’s set into the wall next to a glass door that leads to the elevators. I call up to Harlow’s apartment and wait for her to answer with a sick feeling in my gut.
“This better be fucking good,” she snarks out, her voice sending a shiver of longing through my body. “It’s three in the goddamn morning.”
“It’s Van,” I say, my lips twitching with the ghost of a smile despite my reason for being here. “Can I come up?”
A long, interminable moment passes as I await her reply. Is she angry at me for basically kicked her out of my house earlier with little explanation? I wouldn’t blame her, since I deserve it.
“Sure,” she says, her strange tone telling me she’s anything but sure about it. My heart sinks. Yeah, I fucked up and I’m about to make things even worse.
A second later, the lock clicks and I pull the door open before walking through it and over to the elevator. I get in and ride upward with a strange amalgam of dread and eagerness filling my head. I reach her door and lift my hand to knock just as it swings open.
I suck in an unconscious breath at the sight of her, taking in her delicious scent as my gaze slides down her body. She looks gorgeous and adorable in a pair of soft red plaid pajama pants and a tight black tank top with the words, “You looked better online,” emblazoned in white letters across the front of it. Her glorious golden blond hair is piled atop her head, exposing the long delicate lines of her neck. My mouth waters with the urge to bite her there as lust surges to life inside me.
There’s something oddly guarded in her expression as she eyes me up and down. “Do you always go traipsing around in a suit at three in the morning?” Is it me or does she seem almost guilty about something?
“Only when Móira summons me,” I answer with a frown, my shoulders slumping. I’m so relieved to be here with her, even if I’m about to tell her something horrible.
Her eyes soften in sympathy. “Are you okay?” She grimaces. “Shit, I really need to stop asking you that.” She takes a step back and beckons me through the door. “You’re lucky you didn’t get mugged outside the building with the way you’re dressed. Don’t be shocked if your car gets vandalized while you’re up here.”
“I don’t care about the car,” I say as I step into her apartment.
Her scent hits me hard, all warm and sweet, and my libido gets worked up even more. I glance around the room as I pace back and forth across the small but clean space, hoping it will distract me from lusting after her. Both the walls and carpet are a bland beige, but the quirky hodgepodge of secondhand furniture and the pops of color in the decor and wall art make up for it. The kitchen is tiny, just a sink and stove combo with a pittance of counter space and an old humming refrigerator next to it. It’s homey though, and I like that. It reminds of the few shabby apartments I lived in before my business took off.
“Are you going to stop wearing a hole in my carpet and tell me what that bitch did to get you this worked up?”
I stop to face her. She’s still standing by the now closed door, her arms crossed and a frown on her face. I run a hand through my hair, not ready to tell her and ruin what little of a relationship we have. No matter what, I care about her and don’t want to upset her, but she deserves to know.
“Móira knows about us,” I blurt out before I lose my nerve as I motion between us. My voice falters as Harlow’s entire body tenses. “She… she knew from the start.”
At my words, she walks almost listlessly over to the worn sofa and sinks down onto it with wide eyes and her back ramrod straight. Well, that’s not good. I follow and sit next to her, feeling overwhelmed by guilt, but force myself to continue describing my conversation with my mother as my body continues aching for her. When I finish, she’s just as tense, but now her eyes are vacillating between horror and anger. I’m half expecting her to take off in a panic just like she did last night.
“That fucking cunt had your father killed just so she could enslave you?” she says with a scowl, the anger winning out. It pleases me it’s on my behalf, even if I probably deserve to be the focus of it. “And now she’s going to use our connection to suck me into the fucked up bargain she tricked you into accepting?”
“I’m sorry,” I say in a soft voice. “I never meant for you to get caught up in this.”
She huffs in exasperation. “Don’t you dare apologize. This isn’t your fault. It’s hers.” She curls her lip up in disdain. “God, I hate that fucking bitch.” She shakes her head. “Maybe it’s not such a bad thing I never knew either of my parents.” It’s the most personal information she’s shared with me so far and it pleases me, even if finding out she’s an orphan breaks my heart. It’s no wonder she’s so tough and resilient. She had no choice not to be.
I sigh. “I know my father would’ve been better off if he never knew me.” I pull my gaze away from her. “You certainly would’ve been better off if you had never met me.”
“Stop with the guilt,” she says in a softer tone as she reaches over to lay a hand on my knee. It sends a jolt of want and need throughout my body. “Let the blame lie where it belongs, not on you. You did everything you could to keep me off her radar.”
Unable to help myself or deny my need to touch her, I place my hand on hers. Dios mío, it feels good… right, like I never should have denied myself the pleasure of it or of her. It accomplished nothing. What I feared most happened anyway, and now Móira owns us both.
“We’re going to find a way out of this,” she says, her blue eyes glittering with conviction as she twines her fingers with mine. “If I can break free of Viktor Bravas, then we can surely free ourselves from Móira too, especially if we work together.”
Together. I like that word pertaining to us far more than I should. I want this woman far more than I should either, but the reasons for denying it seem less and less important with each passing moment I sit close to her, touching her. Fighting the physical pull between us seems like a wasted effort now. Móira got what she wanted anyway, so why can’t I get what I want for once. I’ve spent the last seventy-five years being denied so many things in my life because of my mother, and I’m so very tired of it. Why shouldn’t I give in to this one thing that I want?
I stare into Harlow’s eyes and stroke my thumb over her skin, breathing in her luscious scent and admiring her beauty. “I’m tired of someone else dictating what I do with my life. I’m tired of denying myself the things I want the most.” My voice grows husky with emotion, as much as from the lust singing through my veins. “But most of all, I’m tired of being alone.”
She studies me for a long moment, a host of emotions ghosting across her face that I can’t keep up with before her lips stretch wide into a wicked smile. “Well, if we’re stuck in this fucked up mess together, then we might as well enjoy the parts we can,” she says as her eyes flick down to my mouth and dilate with desire.
“Are you sure?” I ask, tightening my hand around hers as the scent of her blooming arousal reaches my nose. I tremble with the need for her that arises inside me, but if this isn’t what she wants, then I’ll find the will to control myself if I have to do so again.
“Will fucking me give your mother anymore leverage over me than she already does?”
I shake my head. “No, anam amháin doesn’t require sex to form like a werewolf mating bond does. It bound our souls the moment our auras touched.”
“That’s what I thought,” she says, not surprised or upset by my words like I thought she might be. Then she reaches out to grip my shirt in her fists and asks, “So why are we still just sitting here?” She yanks me closer, her eyes hooded and dilated with lust, then presses her soft lips to mine.
Now that we’re not fighting the bond, our auras touch and meld together the moment our lips meet, turning the kiss scorching hot. The lust that’s been simmering inside me since the moment I laid eyes on Harlow days ago boils up and inundates every part of me. My body sings. My skin tingles with awareness as I wrap my arms around her. We kiss deeply for long, wondrous moments, our lips and tongues moving together in a glorious dance of want and need. I can’t get enough of her taste, the way she presses closer, the way her hands clutch at my clothes as if she fears I’ll get away if she lets me go. But I’m not going anywhere. I never want to leave her side again if I can help it.
Eventually, mere kissing isn’t enough anymore. I want to feel our bodies touch like our auras already are. I want to feel her under me as I press deep inside her, to be connected with her body and soul until I can’t tell where I end and Harlow begins. I take control and push her back onto the couch cushions, and keep kissing her until she goes limp beneath me. Then I pull back to study her dazed and drunken eyes. I did that to her, and the surge of masculine satisfaction that comes over me makes me feel invincible.
“Van,” she moans out with a slow smile, her gaze hazy and her body languid. “More.”
Oh, I’ll give her more, alright. I’ll give her everything that I am. Instead of leaning in for more kisses, I reach for the hem of her tank top. I’m tired of the cloth barriers between us. I want it gone. I yank her shirt up and over her head as Harlow hums in approval and raises her arms to help me. I grab the waistband of her pajama pants next and pull them down her long toned legs, pleased to see that she isn’t wearing any panties as she lifts her hips to help me remove the rest of her clothes. Then I just stare down at her gorgeous body laid out like a feast before me, lost and mesmerized by her sweet perfection. I gaze at her, admiring her slender neck, the hard peaked nipples of her perfect little breasts, the flare of her hips, and the long line of her toned legs. Even her adorable feet and toes call to me. I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman in all my life, never felt drawn to anyone like I am to her.
I look back up to her face and lose myself in her crystal blue eyes, this time reveling in it instead of fighting it and wondering why I ever thought I needed to deny our attraction. Yes, this is right where I belong, with my woman, my soul mate. The animalistic surge of desire that hits me at that realization wipes all conscious thought away. I gladly embrace it this time, and it feels so good to give in, to not resist the pull between us. And for the first time in seventy-five long years, I truly feel free. My mother’s bargain be damned.