The Zillionaire Vampire Cowboy's Secret Werewolf Babies - Chapter Six

Rock groaned, delving even deeper into Buffi's mouth, clutching her damp body to his with a fervor that left him breathless. It was a good thing he was already undead, because her sodden form combined with his sub-freezing body temperature was a recipe for a major head cold.

But no matter. Even if he'd been susceptible, he would have risked it all, just for the opportunity to have Buffi in his arms again.

Rock thrust his fingers through her thick, soft hair, suckling on her earlobe, breathing in the soft scent of gardenias, tuberose, and… blood?

Gagging, Rock stepped away, slapping a hand over his nose and mouth to block out the smell. His gaze raked Buffi's body, trying to find the source. Where was she bleeding?

Then a soft growl somewhere around his ankles drew his attention. Looking down, he saw the two little dogs – wolves – boys – whatever tussling over a slab of raw meat. He swallowed hard against the nausea rising in his throat as blood dripped on the floor.

Buffi stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment, her blue eyes hazed with lust. Then she looked down at the little ones as well. Snapping out of it, she clapped her hands together for their attention. "Vlad! Ivan! I was saving that for dinner!" Shaking her head, she leaned over to tug it out of their gnawing, sharp-toothed mouths. Blood oozed down her wrist, and she lapped it off with a shrug.

Rock could feel his eyes roll up in his head as he crashed to the floor.

***

"Rock! ROCK!" Buffi stared in horror at the unconscious man lying prone on her hardwood floor. One minute he was kissing her with all the passion and desire she'd dreamed about for years; the next, he was toppling over like one of those big trees on that Discovery Channel reality show. She winced as she noticed the dent his head had made in the flooring. Hopefully it wouldn't be too obvious once he got up, or she'd have to get a throw rug to cover it.

She knelt down next to him, reaching out a hand to check his pulse. Then she pulled back, first because he wouldn't have one anyway, and second because she still held the chunk of beef in that hand.

Raw meat. Of course. She shook her head. How could she have forgotten his aversion to blood?

Rising to her feet, she loped to the kitchen and deposited the steak in the fridge. It was a little worse for wear, but nothing to put her off her meal. Then she washed her hands and returned to the living room.

The sight that greeted her brought a sudden rush of tears to her eyes. Vlad and Ivan, worn out from all the excitement, had curled up on either side of their father, snuggling up to his unconscious form. Their glossy black pelts were a stunning contrast to Rock's pallid skin.

She bit her knuckle, trying to hold back the wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. Maternal pride. Fear that she'd done the wrong thing in keeping his children away from Rock. Regret at the lost years. And threaded throughout it all, a current of desire and a deeper, stronger emotion she refused to name. It was over between them. It had to be. Rock had to leave.

But first, he had to wake up. Tiptoeing past Vlad – or was it Ivan? – she bent down next to Rock and shook his shoulder gently. "Rock," she whispered. "Wake up."

A rush of relief swept through her as he shifted slightly, though he didn't wake up. At least he wasn't more undead than usual after his fainting spell. She gazed at him, memorizing the lines and angles of his face. He was so strong, so handsome, so manly. He was everything she'd ever wanted in a mate. Well, except for the aversion to blood and the whole not-alive thing. Giving in to temptation, she ran her fingers through his hair, brushing the strands away from his tightly-closed eyes. "Rock," she whispered again. "Oh, Rock."

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. With a gasp, he awoke, his eyes staring into hers. Startled, she pulled back, inadvertently treading on Vlad's – or was it Ivan's – paw. With a yelp, he jumped up and ran across the room. Ivan – or was it Vlad – joined his brother moments later, both of them growling at the interloper, their hackles raised.

"It's all right, boys," she said, stepping forward, but she was stopped by a hand on her arm.

"What happened?" Rock's voice was more gravelly than usual. "Why am I on the floor?"

"You passed out," she said. "There was some, uhm, blood…" Her voice trailed off as he grimaced.

"That never would have happened if that damn vampire hunter hadn't attacked me with a stun gun," he growled. "Thanks for that, by the way."

"Me?" Buffi yanked her hand out of his grasp. "What did I have to do with it?"

"Oh, please." Rock stood, weaving a little on his feet. "I know you're behind it. You'd do anything to protect this winery."

"How dare you!" She crossed her arms over her still-damp chest. "I resent that insinuation!"

He leaned down until they were nose to nose. A vein throbbed in his forehead. "And I resent your very presence here. This winery will be mine, and no lying,
backstabbing, bedhopping shapeshifter is going to keep it from me!" With one last glare, he shoved his Stetson down tightly and stomped over to the door.

"This winery will never be yours, Rock, never!" Buffi strode across the room and pulled the door open. "And neither will I!"

The reverberation of the slamming door behind him followed Rock all the way to the end of the driveway.

To.
Be.
Continued...Chapter Seven

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