His She-wolf
Ropes, guns, secrets—and one overprotective hit man. Sometimes, only life-
changing sex will do.
It’s nothing personal, it’s just sex. At least that’s what I thought, meeting Seth. You
see, I have a personality problem every full moon. My shifter genes urge me to hunt.
And to mate. It’s an itch I can’t scratch during business meetings, obviously. What I
want is my name on a lucrative contract, but this is where my life really takes a turn for
the worse. The last thing I need is a hero, risking his life to save mine, but that’s exactly
what I got.
Seth, hit man-cum-journalist, is on the run after securing a crucial piece of evidence
against a known kingpin. Still trying to figure out how Candace is involved, he is even
more puzzled at her strength, fast reflexes and appetite for sex. But he’s ready and able
to save her—even if he has to tie her up to make her see reason—and heal her heart
along the way.
An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
His She-wolf
ISBN 9781419927737
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
His She-wolf Copyright © 2010 Amy Redwood
Edited by Mary Moran
Cover art by Syneca
Electronic book publication March 2010
The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in
part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing,
Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.
Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of
this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or
print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement
without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and
a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print
editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your
support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales
is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
H
IS
S
HE
-
WOLF
Amy Redwood
His She-wolf
Chapter One
The moon was already rising in the east—the tingling in my bones was a telltale
sign—and the last rays of sunlight flickered like flames into my small apartment. I
squirmed on my desk chair, my shifter genes willing me on to hunt and prowl and
mate. Especially to mate. While I had mastered the urge to shift involuntarily—
mostly—I was helpless to the unquenchable desire within me each full moon.
Embarrassing but, thank goodness, preventable.
I brushed my index finger over the top of a picture frame, removing a thin layer of
dust. “Miss you, Tim,” I whispered, almost hearing him say Love you, honey. Looking at
his blue-eyed face, I expected my heart to hurt, but the pain was muted, less sharp.
Sighing, I opened the desk drawer and retrieved a small paper sachet from its
depths. I made a mental note to stock up tomorrow, ripped the sachet open and poured
the finely ground powder into a full water glass. Stirring with my finger, I stifled a gag
as the faint aroma of rotten fruit reached my heightened senses.
If given the choice, I’d prefer to be tied down to rail tracks with a train approaching
before I was caught without my drink on a full moon night.
Still, I eyed the glass warily—it needed to steep for full potency—and fished a
praline from the open box sitting on my desk. I’d made them yesterday. Coated pecan
in white chocolate. Closing my eyes, I savored the buttery crunchiness while the loud
humming of my outdated computer drilled a hole in my head.
Drink in one hand, mouse in the other, I clicked the browser window shut, which
had educated me about the maximum sentence for arsonists, and tried not to think
about the gasoline canister hidden in the basement.
If tonight’s meeting went well, I wouldn’t need to follow in Nero’s footsteps—not
that my conscience would ever let me do it anyway.
5
Amy Redwood
After opening my email account, I switched on my laser printer then hit the print
button. Clicking softly, the needle printer got busy. Lowering my forehead to the desk, I
listened as the printer gave an unhealthy cough. The smell of paper burning wafted.
I jerked my head up. The display flashed red, and no matter how hard I tugged, the
e-invitation to tonight’s entrepreneur meeting was stuck. Counting to ten, I resisted
hurling the printer out the window.
Violence was never the answer.
One floor below, the sound of a doorbell rang and carried over fifteen crooked steps
and through the two paper-thin doors that separated my shoebox apartment from my
shop. The day had gone by without anyone buying a single anything, so I jumped to my
feet and made my way down the staircase to greet my first, hopefully buying customer
of the day. Placing my drink carefully next to the register and smoothing down my hair,
I made an effort to smile as I stepped into the storefront that held all my hopes. And lots
of unsold chocolate.
Instead of the face of a paying customer, I stared right into the barrel of a gun.
“Don’t scream.”
Why would I? Nevertheless, my stomach did a somersault, but I kept my mouth
shut. Baffled, I glanced along the cold, glinting metal and up an arm, over a broad chest
under a navy shirt, and then found the face behind the gun.
Like a sudden sugar rush, delirious pleasure spread through me.
“You?” I whispered, my heart beating in my throat as I gave him another quick
once-over. He was fetching in a hard, square-jawed, dark-eyed brooding way. Hard
was the operative word, I thought—and was thinking it not for the first time.
“You,” I said again, balling my fists, ignoring how lust welled in my body.
Recognition sparked in his dark gaze. He lowered the gun and murmured a curse, a
vein throbbing in his temple. As if he had made up his mind, he took a step back and
raised the weapon again.
6
His She-wolf
Yes, he remembered me all right. Probably even remembered how he had dumped
me, even though he was a step ahead, because he knew why he had dumped me in the
middle of a date, leaving me to pick up the check. That night, he had injured more than
just my pride.
“Seth, wasn’t it?” I asked, knowing damn well his name and ignoring that he still
held the gun trained at my heart. “Should I call the police or will you leave on your
own?” I couldn’t even begin to guess what went on inside him, but then his features
smoothed into a poker face.
“You mistake me for someone else.”
“Ha, right.” Granted, it had been dark that night, but not that dark. Bet he hadn’t
figured on bumping into someone who knew him while he… What exactly was he doing?
“Are you trying to rob me?” Laughable. Naked women had no pockets, so to speak.
“Calm down,” he said, obviously thinking I was about to lose it. After squinting at
me, he glanced over his shoulder at the street.
“Um, listen, buddy,” I said, calculating how high the chance was that the gun
contained silver bullets. “I don’t have a lot of money in the register but anyway, if I
were you, I’d pick another store to rob.” I gave him what I hoped to be a convincing
glare. “Get lost or I will beat you up.”
His answer was a snort, as if my threat amused him, which was bad judgment on
his part.
After another look over his shoulder, he pushed past me and dived—cursing—
behind the counter and out of sight. “Listen, honey,” he said quietly, “close the front
door and lower the blinds. And mind that the gun is pointed at your ass, so behave.”
“Don’t you ‘honey’ me,” I muttered, thinking of Tim and how he used to call me
“honey”, my gaze drawn to the street.
Two guys built like brick walls headed toward my shop. They moved with a certain
grace, like cold-blooded predators. As if someone walked over my grave, sudden dread
7
Amy Redwood
came over me. I wrapped my arms around my middle, skin itching just looking at them.
Taking it up with Seth hiding behind me, yes, anytime. But these two I didn’t care to
cross.
Before I could move, the door swung open.
“Afternoon, miss,” Brick wall number one said while number two stood facing the
street.
“Afternoon,” I said, forcing a smile. “Coated pecan pralines are on special today.”
“DEA.” Brick wall flashed a square piece of plastic—too fast for me to read. “You
didn’t happen to see a man running by your shop? My height, dark hair, navy shirt,
somewhat shifty?”
“What did he do?”
“Sorry, that’s confidential.” He stank of dishonesty from every pore. His ID was
probably as fake as a porn star’s boobs. “But he’s dangerous.”
“Goodness, now you’ve got me scared.” Nose tingling, I rubbed my hand across it
to get rid of his body odor. “I better close shop for today.”
He gave a curt nod, saying, “If you see anyone suspicious, call,” and offered me a
business card. “There’s a reward for any information that will help us catch this guy.”
“Sure thing.” I took the card and locked the door behind them. Through the
window, I watched them making their way across the street. I lowered and closed the
blinds, shutting off most of the light, and switched on the light above the register.
“So,” I said, flicking the card into the paper bin, “a simple thanks will do.” I placed
both hands on the countertop, leaned over, expecting to find him hiding behind the
counter. Besides a piece of lint skittering across the polished wood floor, nothing. Warm
breath hit my neck just beneath my ear.
“Thanks,” he whispered, sending a shiver of goose bumps along my back. The
shivers stopped abruptly when he pressed the gun against my spine. Exasperated, I
8
His She-wolf
slowly turned to face him. If it weren’t for the barrel now pressed into my stomach, the
sight was actually a pleasant one.
“I just covered your ass,” I pressed through my teeth. “Put the fricking gun away.”
It sure as hell would hurt if he pulled the trigger.
As if he was sorry to have bothered me, he lifted both arms.
“Sorry, some habits die hard,” he said, pocketing the gun in an ankle holster. He
took two steps away from me, giving me another opportunity to check out what the
wind had so suddenly blown to my doorstep.
“What’s going on?” I said. “Why were you running from them?”
“Trust me,” he said. “It’s best you don’t know.”
About six-foot something of lean, muscled male met my gaze. His stance was
relaxed, feet hip-width apart, his legs clad in snug jeans. I resisted working my hand
through my hair. Another shiver worked its way over my skin from the soles of my feet
upward to my center, sending a jolt through my clit. I bit my lip to refrain from
moaning. Licking him over the face and then working my way down to his cock seemed
like an excellent idea.
Shit.
I needed my drink or I’d eat him alive, or worse, I’d beg him on my knees to fuck
me for the rest of the night, or—
“Listen,” he said, interrupting my out-of-control thoughts, “this is how it will
work.”
“Work?” I replied, and dragged my focus back to the situation at hand. “Do you
remember at all that we met twenty-three days ago at—”
“Don’t remember,” he said, walking up and down the room as if he had trouble
standing still. “You’ve kept count?”
Dark eyes met mine with a mischievous expression.
9
Amy Redwood
“Very funny,” I said, blood rushing to my cheeks. No, I hadn’t kept count, or maybe
I had, but I remembered the evening rather vividly.
“I need to crash here,” he said, all playfulness forgotten, and I got a glimpse of the
man I’d thought he was when I first met him—an honest, sensitive, courteous, quietly
strong man. Boy, had he fooled me. “For a few hours, until tomorrow morning tops.
Agreed?”
“Certainly not.”
“You don’t have much of a choice, honey.” He raised his eyebrow, probably
referring to his stupid gun.
“Call me ‘honey’ one more time,” I said, pointing my finger at his face, “and you’ll
suffer a violent death.”
“Sure, pumpkin,” he said, grinning. “But I am pretty much having a perfect day
today, so excuse me that I won’t let you spoil it.”
“This is what you call a perfect day?”
I caught his gaze, noticing his dilated pupils—he was high on adrenaline. My gaze
slid lower to examine his body language. He was practically vibrating with restlessness.
Finding the distinct outline of his hard cock pushed tight against the denim didn’t even
surprise me—no wonder he was oozing sex appeal. All that suppressed male energy
trapped in my tiny store. If I’d been wearing a skirt today instead of a pair of pants,
then I could have hiked it up and bent over the counter, presenting him with my bare
backside—surely, he would know how to carry on from there. I sucked in my lower lip,
reveling in the idea of his hands wrapped around my hips while he pounded into my
pussy from behind.
“I need my drink,” I whispered, which brought a quizzical look to his eyes.
“You all right?”
“No, not really.” Shaken, I slid on top of the counter, my panties uncomfortably
damp.
10
His She-wolf
He stepped between my legs, leaning in. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?” He
lifted his hand to rest it against my cheek, a sudden gentleness in his gaze.
His touch zinged across my skin. There it was again—the same chemistry I’d felt
toward him before. In my current condition, it was increased tenfold. Fuck, I needed my
drink, but instead stared transfixed into his eyes, fearing he would kiss me.
“Despite appearances, I’m very glad to see you again.” He cupped my jaw, lifting
my head, his breath feathering over my lips. “Really sorry about the gun. I got carried
away in the moment. Anything I can do to convince you I’m harmless?”
That’s bullshit, I thought. He was so high on adrenaline, I could practically hear it
coursing through his veins. He would definitely not mind some hot and heavy sex to
celebrate his perfect day. I placed both hands against his chest.
“No,” I said, shoving him two steps away. “Hell, no.”
He cocked his head as if weighing his options. “Well, I guess that was a rejection on
several levels.”
I watched him walk up and down the length of the room while he was scanning
every shelf and corner, as if checking for deathtraps.
He looked even more delicious when he moved but that was hardly the point. I was
the master of my body, not the beast inside me. Fucking armed strangers of
questionable character wasn’t an option. Thoughts of Why the hell not? floated up in my
mind and an embarrassed flush tingled over my face as I realized I had deliberately
delayed what must be done. My drink solved two problems at once—it put a damper
on my increased libido during full moon and helped me stay human.
Sliding from the counter, I grabbed a bar of milk chocolate from the shelf and tore
into the wrapper. Biting into the bar, I reached out to grab my drink while the chocolate
still coated my taste buds. And grabbed hold of nothing but air. I gazed at the spot
where the glass had stood and went dead cold.
Turning my head, I saw him lifting the glass to his mouth, his Adam’s apple
moving as he deeply drank.
11
Amy Redwood
“Nooo!” I yelled, voice breaking.
“That water was rotten or something.” He spit to the floor, holding the glass in his
hand, and brushed the back of his hand over his mouth. He looked dizzy, as if the water
clouded his senses, which, come to think of it, it definitely did.
With a whimper, I snatched the glass from his hands and drained the last drops of
liquid, swallowing and licking up every droplet I could reach with my tongue.
It wasn’t enough.
“What the…” Astonishment was etched across his face.
I lowered the glass. “That,” I said, a growl vibrating in my throat, “was a mistake.”
“Mistake?” He clutched his stomach. “You poison guys just for fun, or—”
Slumping forward, he fell into my waiting arms.
After one heartbeat’s hesitation, I half carried, half dragged him up the stairs and
toward my bedroom.
12
His She-wolf
Chapter Two
God, I’ve killed him.
He looked utterly out of place on top of my purple bedspread. I slumped down on
my desk chair, keeping my gaze on his still face, but couldn’t fail to notice the gentle
rise and fall of his chest. Okay, so I didn’t kill him outright.
Still, I felt like giving it another try.
I could count on one hand what I knew about him. He was a journalist for the local
paper, he had really bad manners, he carried a gun, he was on the run from people who
made my blood freeze. And even unconscious he was sexy as hell.
I jumped up and gave him a nudge against his foot with my knee. “Hey, you, wake
up.”
He didn’t do me the favor of course.
I moved to the headboard and placed the tip of my index finger against his temple.
Steady pulse, searing-hot skin. Frying eggs on his forehead wouldn’t be a problem.
Flicking the first two buttons of his shirt open to cool him down, I considered
forcing some acetaminophen against the fever down his throat. But who knew how that
would interact with the drug mix he’d just downed.
After throwing the window wide open and getting a cold, wet towel, I came back to
the bed and blotted his forehead. His breath came steady and deep, despite his fever.
Placing the towel on his forehead, I tried hard not to notice the dark chest hair curling
from the top of his shirt. Such a male thing, chest hair, I thought, flicking open another
button. Then another. Surely, allowing cold air to reach his skin would soothe the fever.
The last shirt button slid through its hole. My hands shook when I tugged the shirt
wider until he was bare-chested. Holding my breath, I placed my flat palm against his
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Amy Redwood
muscled flesh. His heart beat steadily, but his skin was still too hot to the touch. Tearing
my gaze away from his small, erect nipples playing peekaboo in his chest hair, I went to
get another dripping-wet towel.
Sitting next to him again and sponging his feverish skin, I traced the tip of the cool
towel across his abs and along an uneven scar underneath his rib cage. It looked like
someone had tried to cut out his liver.
“So male,” I whispered, dropping the towel and tracing my fingertip lightly over
each rib and then his stomach.
My finger hit the edge of his pants and I gave the copper-colored jeans’ button a
tap. Leaning forward, I placed my mouth on his flat stomach, just underneath the scar
and licked. The sexual surge gripping me was so sudden and intense, I let out a small
moan. I sneaked another taste of his skin with the tip of my tongue, circling his
bellybutton.
God, I was so fucked.
He arched against my touch, and I scrambled off the bed, landing on my ass.
Holding my breath, I waited for him to wake up and demand an explanation of why I
was feeling him up, but he remained silent.
On all fours, I backed up to the wall to increase the distance to him in a last effort to
stay in control of my human body. Outside the window, the blaring of a police siren.
Were they looking for him? Oddly enough, I’d heard police sirens when I first laid eyes
on Seth…
It had been one of those evenings out, I thought. Just us girls had been the motto.
When I had arrived inside the dimly lit movie theater’s lobby, dressed in comfy pants
and a baggy sweater, I was cheerfully met by my two friends—and their two husbands.
Two couples—so much for just us girls. I had forced a smile, but a feeling of betrayal
lingered.
A police car had raced past the movie theater, the car’s siren powerful enough to
reach inside the foyer, and I wished it would take me along for the ride, anywhere
14
His She-wolf
where I wouldn’t feel like a fifth wheel. Then—holding six movie tickets in his hand—
he stepped to the uneven numbered group and made it an even one.
It wasn’t the first time my wellwishing friends tried to fix me up, so my surprise
lasted only seconds. But they didn’t know that there had been only one for me—and he
was gone.
Tim, I thought. God, I miss you.
Then I took another look at him, met his dark gaze and my throat had gone dry
while the police siren’s blaring faded.
“Seth,” Jenna, best friend and traitor, chirped, “I’d like you to meet Candace. She
just opened her own shop!”
His handshake was firm, warm, pleasant. “Nice to meet you, Candace.”
“I make chocolate,” I blurted, because I somehow had expected he would ask what
kind of shop.
His eyebrows rose, his mouth twisting to a smile, and he still held my hand.
“Really,” he said, and then he cocked his head to the side, giving me a quick once-over
that had my cheeks burning. “Maybe you can tell me more after the movie?” A quick
squeeze of his hand and he let go to turn to Jenna’s husband.
Jenna placed a hand on my shoulder and leaned in. “Seth just moved here,” she
said, not whispering, but she kept her voice quiet. “He’s an old college buddy of
Michael’s, never met him before. But he’s cute, isn’t he?”
I made a noncommittal sound. Cute wasn’t the word I’d have used to wrap up my
first impression. That I’d felt a spark passing between us when he looked at me still left
me befuddled. “Why did he move here?”
“He said he accepted a job offer downtown, journalist.”
“Jenna,” I said quietly, “I just want to watch the movie tonight. I mean, look at me.”
I tugged at my old sweater. “I wish you had given me a word of warning.”
15
Amy Redwood
“You look great,” Jenna said, looping my arm through hers. “And it will be fun
watching the movie together.”
* * * * *
In the already-darkened cinema, the opening credits were running over the screen. I
sank into the red upholstered chair, sucked in my breath, but not because Seth took the
seat next to mine.
Digging my fingers into the plush armrests, I leaned forward, trying to catch
Jenna’s gaze two seats to my right.
“What the hell, Jenna!” I asked, and was instantly shushed by dozens of people.
“Sorry,” Jenna mouthed, and had the grace to look it. “The guys weren’t up for
romcom. But Dawn of the Werewolves is already considered to be a classic.”
Seth also leaned forward, catching my gaze. I nearly jumped out of my skin when
he wrapped his hand in a supposedly calming manner around my wrist.
“Sorry, I thought everyone had agreed to the movie choice. Didn’t you see the title
on the ticket I gave you?”
I snorted, not bothering to dig out the ticket from my back pocket. “No, I didn’t
because—”
“Lady, get your ass out of here or shut the fuck up,” a guy a seat row behind me
said.
Blood prickled with a hot rush into my face and I shut my mouth. I hated when
people talked during a movie—apparently, I was now one of them.
Seth turned in the seat next to me and my breath caught in my throat when he
stood.
Whatever he did, I couldn’t tell, but the guy said, “Okay, okay, sorry,” and then I
heard him get up and move a couple of seats over.
“I didn’t ask you to get all protective,” I whispered through my teeth, even more
mortified than before. “That was entirely inappropriate and unnecessary.”
16
His She-wolf
“I disagree,” he said, and his hand wrapped around my wrist again.
I turned my head to him and met his gaze. There was a hard edge in his dark eyes,
a grim line around his mouth, but then his features shifted into a smile I couldn’t help
but answer in kind.
“You got a rough deal tonight, didn’t you?” he asked quietly. “What’s worse?
Having me as your date or watching the horror movie?”
“You’re not my date,” I whispered back. “I just met you.”
“Let’s not kid ourselves,” he said, leaning forward, a hint of his aftershave reaching
my nose. “They are trying to set us up.”
I nodded, a witty reply on the tip of my tongue, but was suddenly sure my nostrils
were flaring. His scent completely threw me, not just his aftershave but something so…
I inhaled deeply again, deciding he smelled like wood and leather and something
utterly male.
“You okay?” he asked, his hold on my wrist increasing.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I held his gaze, drank it in, wondered why he held on to me
so tight, as if afraid I’d run away, and wondered why I didn’t mind how his fingers dug
into my skin. At the pit of my stomach, a peculiar feeling spread. Crossing my legs, I
drew in my breath sharply as my skin erupted in goose bumps and my nipples
puckered, straining against my bra. It took me a moment to figure out what my body
was trying to tell me. Something must have shown on my face because his eyes
narrowed and his gaze dipped to my mouth. Afraid he could read my mind or sense
my arousal, I broke eye contact and leaned back in my chair.
I ground hard on my teeth as the first images of a full moon and a forest appeared
on the screen. Great, absolutely fucking great. I sat beside a guy who turned my pussy
into a hot, liquid mess while on the screen the first of probably many victims suffered a
violent and graphic death.
My stomach turned, my mind reeling to take in all the fake blood that looked so
horribly real and the wolflike were-creature who was being butchered.
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Amy Redwood
“That is all wrong,” I pressed through my teeth as the wonders of CGI transformed
the creature into a torn-up human. I slapped my hand over my mouth, my stomach
revolting. People were laughing in the cinema, but I failed to see the humor. I jumped
up, tripped along my row and stepped on toes and popcorn—I had to get out of the
movie before I threw up.
When I came out of the bathroom where I had washed my hands and rinsed my
mouth, Seth was leaning against the opposite wall, waiting.
“That bad?” he asked, and I searched for signs of laughter in his eyes, but he
showed nothing but sincere sympathy.
“I’m a movie lightweight.” I could hardly tell him that half my disgust came from
how Hollywood loved to slice and dice werewolves, and the other from the gore itself.
“If you’re here to convince me the movie is great and all the blood just fake, forget it.”
“I’m here for you.” He pushed off from the wall and stepped toward me until I had
to gaze up. “I really did ruin your evening, didn’t I?” Lifting his hand, he brushed a
strand of hair behind my ear.
The breath caught in my throat. “Only if you picked the movie,” I said after a
breathless second.
“Guilty as charged.” His gaze dropped to my mouth, making me wonder if my
lipstick was smudged, then remembered I wasn’t wearing any.
“Then you’ll have to make it up to me.” As soon as it was out of my mouth, I
realized how raunchy it sounded. I bit my lip, seeking his gaze. When I found it, I took
a step back from the intensity in his expression.
“I will,” he said quietly, his voice sending another shiver along my skin. His hand
settled at the small of my back. “Come on,” he said, “let’s get a drink in the bar across
the street. The others can join in after the movie.”
I opened my mouth to tell him no, to tell him I needed to go home and be alone, but
his touch felt warm and sure and so good that I swallowed away my reservations. I fell
18
His She-wolf
into step next to him, realizing that we must look like a couple to the casual observer.
When I had settled into the booth at the sports bar, he came back, carrying drinks.
“A water, a soda and a beer,” he said, sliding the two glasses and a bottle in front of
me. “And some fries. I didn’t know what you wanted.” He sat down across from me
and took a swig from his own beer. “Tell me about your shop.”
“Sure,” I said, hyperaware his knee touched mine under the table. “I opened it—”
His cell rang and he held up his hand, taking the phone out of his jacket. “Let me
just quickly switch that off.” Then he took a look at the screen and his brow furrowed.
“I’m sorry, I’ll have to take this,” he said, looking at me, and then flipped the phone
open. “This better be important.”
While he listened, I got up, heading for the bathroom to give him time to finish his
call. Staring at my pale reflection in the mirror, I wondered what he saw in me to give
me all that attention. Wetting my fingers with water, I worked them through my hair to
tame it, wondering if it was safe to return to the table. I didn’t want to leave the
impression that I was trying to overhear his phone call. I rolled my eyes at myself in the
mirror, wondering why I even cared what he thought.
When I returned to the booth, he was nowhere to be seen, just the barely touched
beer bottle showed that I hadn’t imagined him.
Nibbling at the fries, I had waited for an hour for him to return before a waitress
seemingly took pity and informed me he had left through the back.
I had paid for the drinks, my cheeks hot with embarrassment, and walked home to
spend a sleepless night going over each word we exchanged and what had caused him
to dump me and why I felt so crushed beyond reasoning. When Jenna had given me a
call the next day, I hadn’t felt like sharing. For a couple of days afterward I had fooled
myself into thinking there had been some kind of emergency. But he never called, even
though it would have been easy to ask Jenna for my number.
And now he was in my bed.
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Amy Redwood
Swallowing, I rubbed my bottom where I had hit the floor and leaned my head
against the wall. My own ragged breathing sounded odd in my ears, but I couldn’t
deny it anymore—my self-control was slipping fast.
What if he were in my shoes?
Would he undress and touch me? Wrapping my arms around my middle, I tried to
suppress the violent shivers running up and down my skin. Stopped rocking my hips
when I noticed what I did. What if it were me half naked on the bed, utterly helpless,
while he touched and rubbed and kissed my swollen pussy, making me insane with
need, making me do whatever he said, making me suck his cock, tying me up,
spreading my legs forcibly, and then…and then…
I bit my lip, thinking hard, but the sexual scene in my mind came crashing.
Fuck.
I couldn’t even have a rape fantasy, my mind rebelling at this unlikely event. If he
tried to force me into anything, he simply wouldn’t stand a chance if I resisted. He was
just a normal human; I was…not.
A low groan from him had me snapping back to attention. Sliding my spine up and
against the wall, I slowly rose. Damn, I still had him lying sick in my bed while I almost
got myself off without a single stroke of my hand.
“Hey, you,” I said, annoyed with my own horniness and him in general. “Wake
up.”
Of course he didn’t.
A quick glance at my wristwatch told me I was in danger of running late for my
meeting tonight. I had to call an ambulance. But if I called an ambulance, they were
bound to ask questions…
Pacing up and down at the foot of the bed, I caught sight of myself in the mirror
and stopped dead cold. Drab pale face, dull brownish hair, nervous red spots on my
cheeks, yellow eyes with slitted pupils.
20
His She-wolf
I am so fucked.
I slapped my face. Hard. Pain bloomed across my cheek, but my eyes shifted back
to a color widely acknowledged as normal—lackluster brown. Nothing but a little pain
to remind the beast inside me to stay put. But without my drink, it would claw its way
into the open. Soon. No matter how hard I hit myself.
“Who the hell are you to ruin my life,” I yelled at his still features, anger bubbling
to the surface like hot milk in a pot. “What kind of gun-slinging journalist are you?
What kind of asshole?”
I kicked the bedpost, stubbing my toe.
After one thorough body and pocket search—two passports, spearmint gum,
something that looked as if it could be attached to the gun, cell phone, gun, money, no
credit cards but a black, worn-leather notebook—I had to sit down because my knees
were shaking. One internet query for his full name later—five hits—I skimmed over the
black on white answers on the screen. Seth Chase, six-one, one hundred and eighty
pounds, wanted by the DEA, person of interest…withholding information…call Simon
Parker… And even in his mugshot, he managed to look friendly, innocent and sexy.
A disbelieving laugh tore from my throat. Looked like Brick wall had been speaking
the truth after all… Then the full implications hit me. He was a person of interest and I’d
helped him escape…
Was it too much to ask to for a favor in return?
No, it was perfectly reasonable.
“First things first,” I murmured under my breath, drumming my nails on the desk.
“Seems you’re a dangerous guy…” I swallowed my laugh, ignoring the twinge of regret
that the roles weren’t reversed. “Stands to reason that I have to tie you up to protect
myself.”
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Amy Redwood
Chapter Three
Seth swallowed away the dry feeling in his mouth, opened his eyes and stared at a
ceiling, cracked with old paint. Blinking against soft darkness, he tried to lift his head,
which weighed about a ton. Not my bedroom… Fog clouded his brain as he tried to
reconstruct where the hell he was. And why he was lying flat on his back on a bed
smelling of lilacs. When he attempted to stand, coarse rope bit into the skin of his wrists
and ankles. Jesus.
The floorboard was squeaking, the bed shook slightly, and he scrambled to get his
wits together. Someone was with him in the room. Think, man, think… First the failed hit
then the stroke of pure dumb luck. Fuentes’ dogs hot on his heels, and then… Candace.
From all the places in this town, he had to pick her store to hide. And he had been so
good in staying away from her for the last weeks…
“Fuck,” he groaned, remembering the rotten water. She had smelled of lilacs—
“Oh, you’re awake, that was rather quick after all.” Her voice came from the foot of
the bed. “How do you feel?”
“Like shit,” he said, and groaned as his stomach cramped violently. “Word to the
wise, honey—”
Soft and deadly silent, something slammed into the cushion next to his head. The
dull sound nevertheless rang in his ears like the bells of Notre Dame. The smell of
singed cotton reached his nose. Instinctively, his entire body jerked in an effort to seek
shelter.
“Call me ‘honey’ one more time and the next bullet has a rendezvous with your
shoulder.”
“Are you fucking nuts,” he yelled, real panic rising because his body refused to act
to the danger at hand.
22
His She-wolf
The ropes were laughable, but he could not move. The only part on his body
working properly seemed to be his brain. Apart from a tingling in his legs and arms, it
was as if his muscles had turned to mush. The water must have contained some kind of
poison.
“So, that was a silencer,” she said, and he heard her disassemble the gun he’d had
in his ankle holster. “You can hardly hear it going off.”
“That’s the fucking point,” he yelled then took a deep breath. Again, he tried to
move. It felt like swimming through wet concrete.
“Why do you carry a gun?” she asked. “Seems unsafe. I’ll hang on to it for now.”
“When I come around again, hon—” Goddammit. Eyesight adjusted to the dim light,
he lifted his head a couple of inches. There was a desk in one corner, a dresser in the
other. A reading light on the desk lit up the room. “When I come around again, we’ll
have a serious and very painful physical discussion about what you did to me,
Candace.”
“Ah, now you remember me, don’t you?”
He inhaled slowly, cursing himself. “Yes, of course I remember you. But I’m sorry
to say my first impression of you was wrong. You aren’t exactly the shyly sweet girl I
took you for.”
“You fail to live up to my expectations too.”
Fighting a stab of embarrassment at his past actions, he wished he could tell her the
truth. “Believe me, I had good reasons for walking out on you that day. In fact, it was
more to protect—”
“I don’t need to be protected,” she icily interrupted him. “But I don’t mean that
day,” she said, now sounding huffy. “I mean today.”
“I’m happy to leave—if you’ll take off these bloody ropes!”
“Right now,” she said from his left, and he swiveled his head in her direction but
couldn’t see her, “that is not an option.”
23
Amy Redwood
“And why’s that?” Keep talking, honey. The silencer was lying next to a red blinking
laser printer. Did she still hold the gun? The curtains were drawn, but moved in a
breeze. In the distance, faint traffic noise. If she shot again, someone might hear. Not
that it would help having the police swarm this place.
“By the way, what kind of poison was in the water?” he asked, hoping against hope
that she would give a villain speech and reveal at the same time where she had the
fucking antidote.
“I know that stuff tastes horrible.” Her voice came from his right. “But it’s not as if I
forced you to drink it.”
His mind did a double take. No, indeed, she had not…
The mattress gave way as she sat next to him. “Here, this’ll help. Open up.”
Something pressed against his closed lips and forced its way inside. Creamy chocolate
melted on his tongue. His first reflex was to spit it out, but the sweet taste banished the
memory of the rotten water. Almost thanking her, he shifted on the bed, trying to find
an upright position to have another look at his captor.
“And, how was it?” she asked. “It’s one of my own recipes.”
Unbelievably, it seemed as if his strength seeped back into his muscles. Maybe it
was simply the time going by or it really was the chocolate, but the feeling of being
paralyzed evaporated. He gave a tug against the ropes. Hmm… In maybe an hour, he’d
have her over his knee, screaming for mercy.
“It’s very good, Candace,” he said, figuring it paid to keep her happy.
“Call me Candy.” A smile played around her mouth. “I went through your stuff
while you slept. Hope you don’t mind, Seth.”
Irritated, he swallowed a curse. “Listen, Candy, I don’t know why—” He sucked in
his breath as cold metal traced its way over his chest, skin tingling as his nerves jerked
back to life. “You’ve undressed me,” he said after he found his words again, now
noticing how the wind from the open window chilled his bare flesh. “Where are we?”
24
His She-wolf
“Above the shop, in my apartment,” she said lightly. “Do you like it?”
Under other circumstances, he’d have loved being in her bed. Not tied up spread-
eagle though.
He’d passed out after drinking that water, that much he knew. But who had helped
her carry him to her bed? No way in hell had she carried him alone. He judged her a
gorgeous but ultimately weak-muscled, one hundred and thirty pounds, and five foot
and some insignificant inches. She was most definitely not strong enough to carry
someone like him even a few feet. It would be wise to learn more about her motive
before he… Damn it! He didn’t want to kill her, but he really wanted to punish her for
her actions. Preferably while she was naked and tied up. Fuck. She might just decide to
blow off his head before he had his full strength back.
“So,” he said, buying time, “any specific reason why you’re doing what you’re
doing?”
“As I said, you made a mistake by drinking my water. It’s something like medicine
and without it, I do stupid things.”
“You don’t say.”
“Yes, but you see, I have an important meeting tonight. However, in my current
state, I can’t show up. I’m a mess. This is where you’ll have to give me a hand, so to
speak,” she laughed, a throaty and very inappropriate laugh.
She’d haunted his nights since the evening they’d met; her laugh made him
envision what he would like to do with her if their roles were reversed.
“Yeah,” he said, fighting the image of loony Candy naked and roped on the bed
while he licked her cunt until she begged for his cock, “you’re thinking your behavior
inspires me into helping you?”
The tips of her dark hair tickled his chest.
“Oh, you’ll be a great help,” she whispered, her voice oddly a notch deeper than
before. A wave of lilac found his nose. Rope bit into his skin as he strained to get closer
25
Amy Redwood
to her, to wrap his hand in her hair. Her heart-shaped face cast in shadows, she touched
him again, her fingers tap dancing across his stomach, tracing over his hip. Reflexively,
his muscles tensed as her hand rested on his thigh.
“So,” he said, “care to tell me what’s on your mind?”
“I need you.”
“How come?” he answered cheerfully because he sensed his body springing back to
life. “By the way, you remember the part where you’ll have a problem when my
strength comes back?”
“I’m not afraid of you.” Mona Lisa-like, she smiled a strangely secret smile, as if she
knew something he didn’t.
For a moment, panic gripped him, panic that she indeed had stripped away his
strength, that he would be in this state forever—paralyzed. Then he gave the ropes
holding his feet a tug and pushed out the air he’d been holding. No, he’d be fine, just
fine.
She stood, the sudden movement catching him unaware and he tensed. She was
dressed in dark jeans and a proper button-down blouse, which she started to undo from
the bottom up.
She was a nuisance, but she started turning into an interesting one.
When he first met her, he’d wanted to cuddle up with her on the couch and hear
her talk, now he wanted to push her up against a wall and fuck her senseless.
“I think,” she said, and the blouse sailed away with a flick of her wrist to the top of
the dresser, “I will have to show you what I mean.”
Movements, not teasing but merely practical, she unzipped her pants and shrugged
them off. Her white bra stood in stark contrast with a pair of blue panties. Not the kind
of lingerie that normally turned him on, but he grew hard all the same. Christ, he
thought, at least his cock was doing its job even if his muscles still failed to fully
operate.
26
His She-wolf
She returned to his side, sitting next to him on the bed, and the swell of her breasts
underneath the bra had him swallowing hard.
“What?” she asked, her gaze running over his body. “Are you not up to it?”
Oh, he was up to it all right.
“You want to fuck me?”
He expected her to recoil after his blunt question, but she leaned forward.
“Yes,” she whispered, “it’ll take the edge off.”
She started exploring again, her fingers tracing over his rib cage.
“Edge of what? Would you mind not talking nonsense—”
“We have about an hour,” she said, and her gaze found his.
She unclasped her bra, her breasts bouncing free.
“Candy,” he said, surprised to hear that his voice had turned hoarse, “I won’t need
an hour.”
“Neither will I.”
27
Amy Redwood
Chapter Four
When I ditched my bra, the cool air making my nipples stiff, I wanted nothing more
than revel in the feeling of skin against skin. With each breath I took, his male scent
intruded into my senses and increased the aching need to feel him inside me.
“Candy, I won’t need an hour.”
“Neither will I,” I said, his hoarse voice sending thrills of pleasure along my spine. I
slid on top of him, wishing he’d take me into his arms and whisper something sweet.
Stupid wish. Grinding my hips against his, I found his erection. I moved against him,
rubbing my breasts against his chest, wetness gathering between my legs.
His was hard and hot, but I wanted to play with him longer before I slipped out of
my panties. Straddling him, I raked my fingers over his stomach before I moved lower
and settled on his thighs. Reaching out, I curled my hands around his cock.
“I guess you like to be on top,” he said dryly, his eyes full of laughter.
Apart from his incredibly thick and erect cock, he wasn’t showing signs of arousal. I
stroked him, one long caress after another. If not for the missed drink, I’d have felt self-
conscious under his scrutiny, but I simply enjoyed how his velvet-skinned erection
moved smoothly through my fist. When I met his gaze, I could see the heat in his dark
eyes. His cock twitched and he groaned deeply as I rubbed my thumb over the drop of
liquid glistening on the head.
Licking my lips, I leaned forward.
“Stop,” he said. “If you do that, I’ll come so fast you won’t know what hit you.”
I paused.
I needed him inside me, stretching and filling me until I found release.
But I also needed to taste him.
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His She-wolf
“Well,” I said, “you’ll just have to be a man about it.”
I closed my mouth around him, swirling the tip of my tongue around the smooth
head, loving his taste, how he felt inside my mouth.
When I placed my palm flat on his stomach, he groaned “Ah, fuck” so quietly, I
wouldn’t have heard if not for my heightened senses.
Underneath my palm, his hard stomach muscles trembled. His hard breathing was
music to my ears. I hoped that he fought damn hard not to come. Taking him as deep
into my mouth as he could go, I was stunned at the control I had over his lust. And
more stunned at the lust it created in my own body while sucking his cock. His hips
pumped, and I was sure he’d spurt his come into my mouth any second if I didn’t slow
down.
When I withdrew, he shuddered.
“Don’t stop,” he growled, his cock resting on his stomach, engorged and glistening.
“Now there’s a changed tune,” I said.
Pleasuring him had spiked my arousal to an excruciating level. My pussy clenched,
and I pressed my thighs together, hoping to delay the inevitable longer, but my own
need rose with primal force. Wet and spicy, I could smell my own arousal and it mixed
heavenly with his musky scent. I stood from the bed and stripped off my panties,
making sure he could see me.
“Let me taste you,” he said, his half-hooded gaze on the triangle between my legs.
My main interest had been his thick cock, but now I glanced at this mouth. He had
a good mouth. Full and sensuous. The urge to taste his lips, to kiss him nudged at my
mind.
“No,” I whispered, and wrapped my arms around myself, growing dizzy.
My gaze drifted to the picture frame on my desk. Timothy. Tim had been the only
man I’d craved to kiss, and I owed it to his memory that he remained the only one.
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Amy Redwood
“Let me taste you, Candy,” he whispered again, his deep voice luring me as if I
were a shy mare.
“This is just sex,” I hissed at him. “I will not kiss you.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Did I ask you to?”
No, of course he had not. Angry, I stalked over to the desk and flipped the picture
frame facedown. There was love and there was sex, and I sure knew how to tell the
difference.
I rolled my head, spine popping. All it took was a thought, the absolute will to shift,
and I’d find myself on four paws. Tremors shook me as I fought the urge to flee my
body. A soft growl rose from my throat. If I wanted to stay a human being tonight, I
had only one option left.
Without my drink, there was only one way to keep the beast at bay—giving in to
my increased sexual urges. It was as if sex helped my body to remember I was human,
as if it calmed the animal inside me. It wasn’t as foolproof as the drink, but I had run
out of options.
“If you don’t come back right this second,” he said, “I’ll come and get you.”
“That’s highly unlikely,” I said, parading in front of him, his heated gaze resting on
my skin like an embrace. I walked around the bed, checking his restraints. The rope had
reddened his skin, but he didn’t complain. My gaze wandered over his naked body,
and I couldn’t help admiring the raw, masculine beauty I held prisoner in my bed. A
sharp jolt spiked through my pussy as I found his still-hard cock waiting for my
pleasure.
“I’m going to fuck you now,” I said, keeping my voice even, even though my breath
hitched. “But it’s not personal, it’s just sex.”
“You don’t have to convince me,” he said, a laugh in his throat. “I’m just along for
the ride. But I fear you’re all talk.”
30
His She-wolf
I bit my lip to keep from smiling. Damn. He shouldn’t make me smile, he should
only make me come. I slid up the full length of him, amazed how well our bodies fit
together. My hip nestled against his, and his chest hair tickled my nipples. Opening my
mouth, I bit none too gently into his shoulder muscle and drew a surprised shout from
him.
He bucked, nearly throwing me off the bed. “I prefer your tongue over your teeth,
Candy.”
I laughed softly, licking over his shoulder and down to his chest, reveling in his
scent. Feeling his cock nudge against my wet pussy, I circled one hard nipple with my
tongue. Hopelessly wishing I could feel his arms around me, I ground my pelvis against
him, coating his cock with the wetness between my legs.
“You’re so wet,” he murmured. “I wish you’d let me taste you.”
I took a sharp intake of breath as he moved his hips with me, rubbing his erection
against my pussy, increasing the pressure on my clit.
Sliding my hand between our bodies, I took hold of his cock. He froze as I guided
the broad head to my opening, pushing past my swollen lips. Slowly, with more
restraint than I’d have thought I possessed, I eased his cock into my pussy. Inch by thick
inch, he stretched me wide. When I held still, a wave of pleasure running over my skin
at the sensation of him filling me, he swore and thrust up deep, drawing a gasp from
both of us.
“Don’t hold still,” he whispered roughly, his gaze hard.
His harsh tone made my muscles twitch, and I squeezed his cock deep inside my
core. I straddled him like a cowgirl riding a bull, and moved my hips, taking him in and
out in long, slow strokes. Riding him, I bit my lip to keep from screaming out as I
fucked him, feeling his thick cock stretching me to the limit.
“Touch your breasts, sweetheart,” he said, his gaze heated. When I hesitated, he
whispered, “Now, Candy, or I swear I will do it for you.”
31
Amy Redwood
Briefly, I wondered why his threat sounded so sincere then wrapped one hand
around my breast, pinching my nipple for him, the other slid between my legs, circling
my clit. I tipped my head back as the first waves of my orgasm tingled through my
pussy.
“Good girl,” he whispered, and moved against me, thrusting his cock deeper, and I
could feel the pleasure building while he told me how he loved how tight my pussy
was, how beautiful I looked on top of him, how he wanted to come hard inside me, how
he wanted to hear me scream when I came.
Hearing his coaxing words, I moved faster, taking him deeper until his cock hit
something good. Feeling with my fingers where we were joined, his cock to the hilt
inside my pussy, I worked my clit harder. Clamping my muscles hard around his cock,
I slowed my movements, seeking that sharp point where a white-hot glow of pleasure
flooded my entire body. My orgasm slammed into me hard and I froze for a second,
crying out. He thrust up into me until I heard his rough shout, his cock throbbing as he
came, taking me over the edge once more, less intense but enough to let white stars
erupt behind my closed lids.
Seth caught his breath.
Candy all but collapsed on top of him. She rested her forehead against his chest, a
strange limbo between embracing him and holding her distance. Then, with the
smallest of sighs, she got off the bed.
“I’ll take a shower,” she said, “don’t run away.”
She laughed, breathlessly, and he watched her walk into the adjoining bathroom.
She probably thought she’d made a joke by telling him not to run away.
He never dreamed it was possible he’d enjoy being tied up, but she had presented
her case quite convincingly. Now all he wanted was to haul her back to bed, spank her
for misbehaving and then tie her up and fuck her into submission. But, if she had
32
His She-wolf
enjoyed herself, he wasn’t going to hold a grudge. Besides, he had come so hard in that
sweet, tight pussy of hers, he almost blacked out.
But he still didn’t know how she’d managed to carry him all by herself… He fought
the warmth from the mattress and heavy sleepiness. Shit, a man deserved some rest
after being fucked by a wildcat, but sleep wasn’t in the cards.
He took another deep breath, closing his eyes. The shower started rumbling and he
pictured himself joining her under the water, soaping that lush body of hers all over,
taking extra care of her breasts. Damn, he’d wanted to weigh her breasts in his hands,
caress each fat nipple. Giving the ropes a small tug, he stretched, his muscles reacting
and strength sparking along his bones. He was as good as new.
She’d fucked him back to life. It would be bad manners to ruin her illusion. He
would stay put until she left for whatever important meeting she had. Then he’d get his
ass away from her—at least for the next couple of days—since she proved to be too
much distraction. He’d go see Simon tomorrow, and once everything was in the clear,
he could pay her a visit, explain and say mea culpa.
The water stopped and he imagined how she’d towel her arms, breasts, stomach,
thighs dry. The thought alone made his cock twitch.
Light filtered from the bathroom and he glanced up when she stepped into the
bedroom. Hair lay in wet ringlets around her face, brushing her shoulders. She’d
wrapped herself in a white towel and shook her head like a dog would after a swim.
Drops of water sprayed from her hair onto his legs.
She worked her fingers through her hair and draped the wet towel over the bed’s
footboard. He watched her as best he could from his limited viewpoint. She had fucked
him with a wild abandon, and she moved through the room as if he were just her house
cat. She had to be the most unselfconscious woman he’d ever been with. No shy glance,
no blushing cheeks, but she’d fucked him as if it were a chore rather than pleasure.
There was something rather odd going on, but he was damned if he could put a finger
on it.
33
Amy Redwood
“I’ll be back in two hours, I think,” she said, and started to get dressed.
“I guess you want me to wait for your safe return?” He adjusted his posture on the
bed to keep an eye on her. She dressed as efficiently as she had undressed herself.
“The night isn’t over yet.” A pair of black panties hugged her bottom and a black
bra held her breasts. “I’ll have need for you later.”
The phrasing made him laugh. “That’s very sexist of you.”
Never before had a woman ordered him around and told him she had need for him.
He itched to get up and throw her onto the bed just for the fun of seeing her reaction.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll tell you if you tell me why you were running? No? Thought so.”
He leaned back deeper into the mattress, enjoying the show while it lasted. Even
watching her get dressed was a turn-on. When she was done, she looked like a prim
and proper bank clerk, wearing a sensible skirt and blouse combo, and he had to focus
hard on her mouth to see the woman who’d had his cock between her lovely lips.
She threw stuff into a shoulder bag and then turned to face him.
“I guess I can make it back sooner than two hours.”
Her eyes had a haunted glaze he didn’t like—as if something tormented her—and
he suddenly wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and hold her tight.
“Candace, whatever happens, I want to see you again, wanted to see you again for
the last three weeks.” He held her gaze, willing her to trust him. “But there are some
things I have to deal with first and in order to protect you—”
“I don’t need to be protected.” She shouldered her bag and the door swung shut.
He waited another five minutes to be on the safe side then flexed his muscles and
jerked on the ropes. The wooden headboard gave way as did the footboard. Wood
splinters littered the bed and floor as he untied himself. His skin was chafed raw, but
nothing a few hours wouldn’t heal. He had at least an hour until she came back, enough
time to take a quick shower and find out more about sweet Candy.
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His She-wolf
After he climbed out of the shower, taking a sniff at her shampoo, he dressed and
made a turn around the small bedroom, opening her dresser, looking in her wardrobe.
He stopped in front of her desk, switched on the light and picked up the facedown
picture frame. A fresh-faced blue-eyed guy grinned at him, and next to him, Candy. So,
wildcat had a boyfriend?
A rush of anger flooded him and he let the frame drop to the desk. What did he
care if she was a cheat. The printer was still flashing red and he tugged at the stuck
paper, heard it tear. It was an invitation addressed to her, but the name that stood out
made his blood freeze.
With two large steps, he was at his clothes, picked up his jacket.
The notebook was gone.
He kicked the wooden bedpost and sharp pain shot through his bare foot. “Shit,
shit, shit.”
She had taken the book and, if he wasn’t mistaken, she was returning it to its owner
right this minute. He should have killed that bastard when he’d had the chance. He
grabbed the gun and holstered it.
She had screwed him in every way possible.
Why, he didn’t know, but, hell, he’d find out.
35
Amy Redwood
Chapter Five
I stepped onto the bus, clutching my bag. The bus driver gave me a toothy grin as if
he knew me; he probably did. In an effort to save, I’d sold my car three months ago and
regularly used public transport. The money from the sale had covered my last two
months’ rent.
After giving the bus driver the exact fare, I sank into my seat. While I could run
faster than the bus drove, I couldn’t turn up to the interview all flushed and
windblown. On top of it, a sprinkle of rain had set in, threatening to turn my hair frizzy.
When I’d checked the time after I got up from the bed, my entire body in heavenly
lightness, I had been shocked to see that I’d spent more time in bed with Seth than I’d
planned. The image of him lying naked on my bed had burned itself into my mind.
Across the bus aisle, a gangly teenage boy slumped in his seat, eating a burger. I
heard how his teeth sank into the juicy meat, saw his jugular moving as he swallowed,
heard his heartbeat. I’d given up eating meat years ago in the hope it would cure my
bestial instincts. I smelled the fat and juice, the lingering sweat and body odor of the
people who had taken the bus today. Stomach revolting, I fought the instinct to knock
the burger from his hands.
I lifted my hand, observed my steady fingers and listened to my slow heartbeat.
The calmness was deceitful; it wouldn’t last.
But for now, my muscles were relaxed, and I brushed my fingertips over my
forehead, finding it smooth. As I’d hoped, my orgasm had calmed me enough to get
through a meeting without shaking fingers and the urge to bite through someone’s
throat.
I opened my bag and took out the book I’d found in Seth’s jacket. After I’d gone
through his stuff, I’d packed it into my bag. I just wanted to give it another look. He
36
His She-wolf
would never know. I’d return it when I came back to him. Flipping the book open, I
found again the sharp handwriting and tried to decipher the apparently Spanish words,
interrupted by small but beautiful doodles of flowers. Seth had a knack at drawing, but
the sketches had such a girlish slant to it that it made me uncomfortable. I stored the
book away in my bag, mindful not to bend any pages.
Stop after stop, I drew closer. The teen, pulling out another burger from a brown
paper bag, exited the bus with me at the same stop. When he accidentally brushed up
against me, I emitted a low growl and snatched the half-eaten burger from his hands.
“Hey,” he said, staring at me out of wide eyes, “what—”
“Get lost,” I said quietly, threw the two limp buns and pickle away and stuffed the
beef patty into my mouth. I stalked across the street, ignoring that traffic was in full
flow. A sane voice in my head shouted for attention, pointed out the screeching tires
and angry car horns, but I simply didn’t care. I chewed the meat, swallowed and licked
my lips.
The five-star hotel rose in front of me like a shining beacon against the dark sky.
With any luck, my homemade chocolate and fudge would soon rest beautifully
wrapped on top of Egyptian cotton sheet pillows. With any luck, I’d snatch the contract
to be one of the suppliers to deliver goods to Mr. Fuentes’ hotels all over the world. If
not, well, I’d rather not think about it.
I licked my fingers and searched my bag for tissues to wipe my fingers and mouth
clean. Smelling like fast food wasn’t an option, so I crammed a stick of spearmint gum
between my teeth and chewed.
Perfumed air enveloped me as I walked into the huge lobby, my heels sinking
deeply into an oriental carpet. Before I could ask for directions, I spotted the event
signage. The entrepreneur meeting was set to start at seven sharp inside conference
rooms next to the hotel bar, where I, as the invitation had spelled out, could enjoy a
complimentary glass of champagne. More than half an hour late, I quickly followed the
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Amy Redwood
signage leading away from the main entrance, heels now efficiently clicking over
hardwood floors.
According to the schedule, I’d missed the introduction. But the important part was
my eight o’clock appointment. The membership for Entrepreneur Today was hefty, but
tonight would make it all worth it. I’d spent three weeks preparing my business model.
When I’d been selected as one of the few to speak with Mr. Fuentes, after paying a
fortune for the opportunity, I spent an entire week basking in hope and plans. If only I
could snatch the contract, if only… My bank would extend my credit and I could stay
and invest more in my endeavor to slowly take over the world with my chocolates.
First, one hotel at a time, and then, maybe, selected department stores…and then the
rest of the world.
“Candace Walker,” I said, stopping in front of the reception, crossing my fingers no
one would ask me for the actual printed-out invitation.
“Glad you could make it, Ms. Walker,” replied the woman behind the desk,
wearing oversized earrings that seemed out of place next to her sensible pantsuit, and
handed me a nametag. “You’re next on my list for the chat with Mr. Fuentes. But I
guess you have enough time to have a drink or a bite to eat if you like.”
“Is that him?” I asked, indicating the man in the meeting room behind glass walls.
“Yes,” the woman said. “He’s really great to talk to, so no need to be nervous,” she
said with a glance at my shaking hands.
“I’m not nervous.” I clasped my hands together, the room making a spin in front of
my eyes. Damn. I had about an hour before I’d start growling and howling at the hotel
guests.
I sauntered through the room, ignoring the steaming food at the buffet, and kept
my gaze locked on the meeting room. Inside, a small-shouldered man dressed in an
immaculate pinstriped suit held court, and even though he wasn’t a large man, his
narrow face and his gray eyes behind rimmed glasses showed sharp intelligence and a
38
His She-wolf
certain strength. He was shaking the hand of another entrepreneur who had his hopes
in his hands, and then, finally, it was my time.
When I walked into the room, he rose to shake my hand.
“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Ms. Walker,” he said by way of
greeting.
“Candace, please,” I replied, shaking his hand.
“Angelo,” he said, and I took a seat in front of his desk and produced my wrapped
samples. “I’m aware you’ve read my business plan, but I thought you might want to
taste what I am all about.”
Carefully, I placed the handmade box filled with chocolate and fudge on his desk.
“Thank you,” he said, his gaze on the samples and, strangely, an expression of
disgust rippled over his face, his lips pursed. “I do not have a sweet tooth, but, luckily
for you, my guests have.”
I nodded, straightened my slumped shoulders and tried not to feel hurt by his
offhand manner.
“I understand,” he said, “that your business is in dire straits?”
I was lost for words. I’d been careful to make my business sound frugal and
successful, with no word had I mentioned my current financial situation. “How—”
“My time is valuable,” he said, holding up a hand, “so I make it a habit to find out
as much information about my possible suppliers in advance.”
“Well, I wouldn’t call my situation dire—”
“There is no shame in having trouble finding financiers. Traditional banks can be
unreasonable at times.”
Damn right they could. Thinking about my last bank appointment and the still
unopened letters on my desk, I didn’t even want to know what they were threatening
me with. My legs started moving on their own accord, knees going up and down, up
and down. I clamped my palms over my thighs, forcing myself to stop fidgeting.
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Amy Redwood
“Why don’t we make a turn about the hotel, Candace? I have trouble sitting still as
well. Besides, I want to show you what I am all about.”
He rose from his seat, shuffling papers in front of him, and tucked a document
folder under his arm.
“Will you need my assistance, sir?”
My heart stopped short as someone stepped out of seemingly nowhere. The hairs
on my neck bristled as I stared at the man who towered a head over Mr. Fuentes. Where
the hell had he come from?
“Why would I need your assistance?” he answered. “Because you’ve been so useful
today?”
The guy let his head hang like a scolded dog. “It was an unfortunate incident and
I’m sure we’ll get—”
“Go and report to Drake. He needs as many resources he can get.”
“But you’ll be without—”
“One should think that I’m safe inside my own hotel,” he replied, a hard edge in his
voice.
“I won’t disappoint you again and—”
“You’d better not.”
I glanced over my shoulder while walking out of the room, caught the guy’s cold
stare and shivered, suddenly happy the guard stayed behind. Angelo led me through
the foyer and into an elevator, unlocked it with a keycard. “I’m sorry, Candace. There
was a minor disturbance today and my men are still trying to fix that.”
I nodded, an uneasy feeling rising in my stomach, and I doubted it came from the
fast-rising elevator.
At the top floor, we stepped into a narrow hallway with only two doors at each end.
“My guests expect to be treated royally,” he said, heading toward the door to his
left.
40
His She-wolf
When he opened the door, I sucked in my breath. The room was cavernous. I ran
my hand over the dark wooden furniture and admired the high ceilings. “I happen to
think your chocolates might be a great addition to the usual champagne and fruit
basket. I want an extra treat, as so many of my guests expect.”
I cocked my head, listening to his near silent laugh as if he’d made a joke only he
understood.
“I’ll allow you to use your own branding,” he said. “So your name will soon be
associated with the finer things in life. And you know how women are,” he said slyly,
“they can never get enough chocolate. You will see a sharp increase in online orders.”
Maybe, I thought, if only I had a webstore. His tone rubbed me the wrong way, but
I smiled anyway. I wasn’t as stupid as to argue with my potential savior.
“There is a major flaw in your business plan though,” he said, making my heart
stop cold. “You have to think bigger.”
I let go of the breath I’d been holding. “I’d like to think larger, but a small business
must take baby steps—”
“If you want success, you’ll have to make big plans.” He sat down at a round table
in the middle of the room, opening his folder. “Let me show you the contract.”
He had the contract already drawn up? “Ahem, I am not sure I can move this fast—
”
“Opportunities open and close fast, Candace. Only the brave succeed.”
I held my bag in my hand as if it were a lifesaver and approached the table.
“What did you have in mind?”
“You’ll be an independent supplier of all my twenty-two hotels in the States. You’ll
get a low rate loan to expand. You’ll be in total control over your business, I’ll have no
hand in it. Please understand that this isn’t a big deal for me, but I like to take care of
the small stuff as well. And helping promising startup entrepreneurs is one of my
passions.”
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Amy Redwood
“What about the—”
“Money?” he said, smiling. “That’s the easy part. I have accepted the terms you
outlined in your business plan.” He leaned back in his chair and placed a pen next to
the contract. “Take a few minutes to read through it, but I’d like to hear your answer
tonight.” He checked his wristwatch.
I settled down at the table, taking the contract with shaking fingers. It was only two
pages, the language simple, no lawyer speak, no fine print. I’d be supplying my goods
and get paid accordingly. As hard as I looked for it, I couldn’t spot a caveat.
“I’m a bit overwhelmed by the chance you offer me,” I said, the pen poised over the
contract. “And it might sound over melodramatic, but I’d like to thank you for the trust
you’re placing in me and my business.”
He held out his hand and I shook it. “To a successful partnership.”
Hands embarrassingly sweaty, I shook his, wondering why I still felt like a mouse
caught in a trap.
“My associates will be in contact with you regarding the finer details of our newly
forged relationship.”
Heart racing, I lowered the pen to the paper to sign my name on the dotted line
when I caught a familiar scent. How odd. For a moment, I thought I’d caught Seth’s
peculiar male aroma. A violent shiver shook my body. I glanced up to see if Angelo
caught my distress. He hadn’t because he was scribbling something on the front cover
of his paper folder.
I leaned closer, breath caught in my throat. Elegant flowers wound their way up on
the side of the white folder. Angelo’s face was relaxed as if he’d forgotten that I was
present. I cleared my throat.
“You have quite a knack at drawing.”
Immediately, he let the pen drop. “There’s something relaxing in such a mindless
activity such as drawing, don’t you think?”
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His She-wolf
My throat was too tight to answer. There was no way in hell this was a coincidence.
If I was wrong, no harm done. If I was right, I’d know in a few seconds. I opened my
bag, deciding to put it to the test. As soon as I pulled out the black book, I almost felt
how the static changed in the room. When I glanced up, Angelo’s dark gaze was glued
to the notebook. I gave a sigh. “I think I have something that—”
“How did you get that?”
“I found it lying on the street while I headed toward our meeting.”
“Is that so?” he said quietly, retrieved a slim cell phone from his jacket and punched
numbers. “Drake, I want you to abort. Return immediately.”
When he hung up, he held out his hand. “Thank you for your help, Candace. If I
may have my book back.”
“Of course,” I said, but curled my hand around the book’s spine, fighting the
feeling that I made a mistake. I hadn’t ratted Seth out and wasn’t planning to. But
surely it was the right thing to return something to its rightful owner.
* * * * *
Seth approached the hotel in long strides, still clutching the part of the letter of
invitation he’d wrestled from the laser printer. At least he knew where to find her; how
he was going to retrieve the book without causing too much fuss was the problem. He
snapped open his cell phone and hit speed dial.
“What now, man?” Drake bellowed into the phone.
“How well-stocked is the hotel?”
“Badly,” Drake answered quietly. “Everyone is looking on the streets for you. So
don’t hang about tonight and stay clear of the airport, rail and bus stations. And don’t
fucking call me.”
He hung up.
Seth stored the cell phone away, crossed the street to the hotel’s lit entrance, and
kept his head down. He ducked away when one of Angelo’s guys all but stormed
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Amy Redwood
outside. Great. He briefly touched the gun hidden in its ankle holster and entered the
hotel.
He scanned the lobby as he entered. Business as usual apart from the buzz around
the hotel bar. About to advance, he took another step back, hiding behind an oversized
flower arrangement. Candace walked next to the Scribe, apparently deep in
conversation, and vanished behind elevator doors with him.
He gritted his teeth, followed on their footsteps, watched how the elevator stopped
at the top floor. Greeting a couple waiting next to him, he called the elevator down
again and stepped inside, hoping against hope the couple would travel up to the top
floor. They did not. When the couple exited, he pressed the twenty-eighth-floor button
and was prompted for an access code.
Pondering his options, he took out his cell phone.
“Drake,” he said as the other man picked up, “elevator code.”
“This is the last time, Seth,” he said. “You know I risk my ass by helping you.”
“Your ass would be pushing up daisies if not for me,” Seth reminded him quietly.
“Besides, do you really mind if you need to look for a new employer?”
Drake swore and gave him the combination.
Seth punched in the numbers and the elevator whisked up. Unbidden, Gabrielle’s
ashen face turned up in his mind, how she had clutched at the gun wound in her
stomach. He had come too late that night.
The same night he first met Candace.
The phone call had reached him too late to prevent the hit on his brother-in-law—
and then they had shot his sister instead. Inside sources—not worth a damn most of the
time.
When Simon arrived just a few minutes after him, he had found his bleeding and
passed out wife on the kitchen floor. With Seth at her side, gun in hand. Of course
Simon had drawn the wrong conclusions…as always.
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His She-wolf
And Seth had known if he wanted justice, he couldn’t rely on Simon and his
straitlaced ways. So, he had run from Simon and his useless procedures and questions,
and sworn he would bring down whoever ordered the hit.
That was almost a month ago.
The elevator stopped, and when he stepped out on the top floor, his steps quieted
by the deep carpet, he immediately heard Candace’s voice. He advanced to the ajar
door and paused to listen while he fitted the silencer to his gun.
“Thank you for your help, Candace. If I may have my book back please.”
“Of course,” Candy answered with a rasp in her voice.
Seth curled his lip, pushing away the friendly feelings he had for her. If she worked
for the Scribe, she wasn’t a woman he’d ever touch again. But did she work for him? It
just didn’t seem to add up. He quietly nudged the door wider with his knee, creeping
inside the suite, and his gaze fell on them sitting at a table, paperwork scattered across
the polished wood.
Lifting the gun, he aimed.
45
Amy Redwood
Chapter Six
Again, I sensed that peculiar scent I associated with Seth and glanced over my
shoulder. For the second time that day, I stared at him holding a gun. Next to me,
Angelo let out a surprised yell. And I knew that in my next intake of breath, he would
shoot my last chance at a secure future.
“This is for Gabrielle,” Seth said.
Reflexes taking over because my brain was too slow to compute, I jumped up. A
scream shot from my mouth, ringing in my ears, and something punched me, hard.
Coming down on my knees, I clutched at my shoulder. The fabric of my blouse was
torn and my fingers became slippery. Confused, I lifted my hand to my face, and then
grimaced.
Seth gripped my chin and turned up my head. He stared with hard eyes down at
me, his face ghostly white. “Can you get up?” he asked, and then his gaze shifted on
something behind me.
I turned, the movement making me catch my breath. Fuck, my shoulder hurt like
hell. Blood rushed into my head, making me dizzy, as I found Mr. Fuentes lying on the
thick carpet, a hole punctured in his chest. Blood bloomed like a flower on his white
dress shirt.
Dead.
Then I caught the faint sound of his heartbeat, weak but steady. The metallic scent
of blood seeped into my nostrils.
A phone rang in the silence, and then I heard Seth saying, “Thanks, Drake.”
“Who is Drake?”
Strong fingers dug into the flesh of my forearm, making me wince.
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His She-wolf
“Did you work for the Scribe?”
“Who is the Scribe?”
He yanked me to my feet, grabbing the book from the table with his other hand,
and dragged me after him. “Move, you can’t stay here.”
Anger crawled its way to the surface of my mind, numbing the throbbing pain in
my shoulder. “You shot me!”
“You’ll be fine,” he said so dismissively I bristled.
Of course I’d be fine, but until then, my shoulder damn well hurt. “He needs an
ambulance,” I said, grounding my heels into the floor.
“He needs a coffin,” he replied, and gave me a slap against my shoulder. “Walk.”
The soft slap almost made me faint but also set my legs in motion. When we left the
room and entered the hall, I jabbed my elbow into the glass of the fire alarm enclosure
and pulled the lever. A siren broke the silence, making me want to cover my ears.
“That was stupid,” he pressed through his teeth, pulling me close to his face, and
for the first time since I met him he scared me. He pushed me against the wall, making
me see stars. “Do you want to get us killed?”
Blinking away tears of pain, I pushed against his chest. “I want an explanation.” I
wouldn’t let him drag me off as if I had done something wrong.
“Later.” He wound his fingers into my hair, the expression in his eyes changing,
making me wonder if he was about to hit me, when he leaned closer still and brushed
his mouth over my lips. “In a few moments, this place will be swarming with his thugs.
What do you think they’ll do to you when they find you here?”
I bit my lip, feeling every hard ridge of him pressing into me while my shoulder
was throbbing, and remembered Mr. Fuentes cold-eyed bodyguard. What would he do
if he found me next to the shot hotel owner?
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Amy Redwood
Seth gave me a small shake. “I don’t want anything happening to you, but you’re
holding me up.” The metal of his gun pressed hard against my rib cage. “So, honey, I’m
going to get your sweet ass safely out of this hotel now, understood?”
A fool would have understood the threat in his hushed voice. I certainly
understood it. He’d already shot me once, how high where the odds he would do so
again? I didn’t care for more pain tonight. I palmed my shoulder and flexed my
muscles. Already the pain was subdued and no fresh blood showed between my
fingers. He accepted my silence as agreement and wound his fingers through mine,
mindless of the blood that clung to my fingers. He pulled me toward the fire exit and
through two heavy steel doors.
Above the sound of the siren, I heard voices and footsteps as hotel guests, mindful
not to use the elevator, filed into the concrete staircase leading out of the hotel.
Seth shrugged out of his leather jacket and cloaked me in it as a lover would do so I
wouldn’t feel cold. He did it so no one would notice the blood on my clothes. By the
time we reached the first floor, I was in a group of morose-looking people who clearly
thought they were caught up in an unexpected fire drill.
Taking a deep breath as I stepped into the alley behind the main entrance of the
hotel, I heard fire trucks liven up the night with their horns. Seth wrapped his arm
around me but didn’t put any pressure on my injured shoulder, and led me away,
making slow steps that nevertheless ate a lot of ground.
“Who’s the guy in the picture on your desk?” he asked suddenly, startling me. He
kept his gaze trained upward, as if he expected an attack out of the night sky.
“That’s Tim,” I said quietly.
“Sibling?”
I snorted. “I’m an only child. He was my boyfriend.”
“You have a picture of an ex on your desk?” He sounded mortified.
If only, I thought.
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His She-wolf
“He died two years ago in a car accident. I survived. I’d prefer him to be alive as my
ex any day.”
He was silent.
“Sorry,” he said finally.
The back alley grew narrow and deserted, dumpsters lining the house walls to our
left and right, the perfect playground for rats and drug dealers. When he stopped, I
realized that he wasn’t looking out for an attack, but for a fire escape ladder.
“Up,” he said, letting me lead the way onto the first metal mesh landing.
“What are we doing here?” I followed him up two more flights, wondering if he
lived here.
“We need to get off the street tonight.”
When he pulled open a half-closed window and disappeared inside, curiosity won
and I followed. As soon as I stepped inside, lavender wallpaper greeted my gaze.
Clothes littered the floor around the bed and the kitchen was well-stocked with cereal
boxes. A faint smell of perfume lay in the air. He took a chair from a desk and crammed
it under the door handle.
Not his apartment.
“In case the woman returns, we have enough time to leave,” he said with a nod to
the open window. “But I need to stay put, at least for a few hours.” He walked up and
down the small apartment, five long strides and he’d covered the expanse. He looked
just like he had in my store a couple of hours earlier. It was as if he was checking for
booby traps.
I leaned against the wall closest to the open window, trying to make sense of what
had happened and came up short. His jacket emitted his earthy scent, making me too
hot for comfort. Shrugging out of it, the pale face of Mr. Fuentes floated up in my mind,
the scent of his blood. My stomach heaved and I clasped my hands to prevent them
from shaking. Seth’s heavy jacket hit the floor with a dull thud.
49
Amy Redwood
He’d killed my future, tried to take a life.
I glanced up, trying to see the cold-blooded killer in him, but then again, how did a
killer look? Fearing he’d see the look of despair on my face, I rubbed my eyes.
Slowly, he came closer and braced his hand against the wall next to my head. “Take
off your blouse.”
“Certainly not.” I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “Who helped you take off
the ropes?”
He snorted softly and leaned into me, opening the buttons on my blouse. “Why did
you do that? Why protect him?”
“Why shoot him?” Hands clenched to fists, I gave him a hard shove. He tumbled
back two arm lengths and fell on his ass, wearing a satisfyingly stupid expression.
He rubbed his chest, his eyes two dark slits.
Damn. Mustn’t use my strength, mustn’t use my strength, mustn’t use my—
“You’re a strong gal,” he said quietly, and my heart sank. “So, you had no help after
all carrying me up the stairs and into your bed.” He moved closer again, caution edged
into his forehead. “Let me see the wound.”
“Why?” I huffed. “Proud of your handiwork?”
He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, which hit my face when he exhaled. “I
didn’t mean to,” he said quietly. “You jumped up so damn fast… I’m sorry, I hope you
know that.”
I raised my eyebrows at his lousy excuse. He’d shot me—feeling sorry was the least
I could expect from him.
“Let me have a look at it,” he said, nodding toward my shoulder.
“I’m fine,” I said. One look at my naked shoulder and he would know what I’d held
secret for most of my life. “But I’d like to hear your explanation now.”
Again, a frown rippled over his forehead. “Do you work for him?”
“Who’s him?”
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His She-wolf
“The Scribe.”
“If you mean Mr. Fuentes, I only just met him today.”
He gave me a long, hard stare that seemed to go straight into my heart.
After another second, he said, “Why give him the book?”
“Why fucking shoot him!”
He grimaced, shaking his head. “It’s not your concern, but you can’t return to your
apartment. They know where you live.”
“You know where I live,” I shot back. “And you’re the one shooting people. Mr.
Fuentes was my only chance to save, to save—” My throat tightened and I choked on
the words. “I was just curious about the book, about the drawings and the odd
language and—”
“Mr. Fuentes is called the Scribe,” he interrupted me. “The DEA has been watching
him for months, compiling evidence. This little black book is like the inside of his
mind.” He bent and picked up his jacket. He took the book from the pocket and flipped
through it. “Recently, an agent took pictures of the pages and, after weeks, they were
able to decipher the code. He’s the head of a large drug cartel and once the DEA has the
book, they’ll be able to nail him. Well, he’s dead, which is actually the better scenario,
but the book will help to bring down his associates.”
I ran his words over in my head a couple of times to stomach his tale. “You’re
DEA?” I finally asked, the disbelief in my voice audible even to my ears.
“No, I’m a hit man.” He paused for a moment. “Retired.”
“Ha!” I said, thrown off balance for a second, and then caught myself. “You suck at
your job. Mr. Fuentes is not dead.”
“Of course he is—”
“No, hit man, I heard his heartbeat, and I’m sure someone got to him in time to
help.”
A puzzled frown crossed his face. “You heard his heartbeat? How did you—”
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Amy Redwood
“Never you mind,” I said, lifting my head, because he towered over me as if he
were about to rip off my head. “And tomorrow, hit man, I’ll try to clear my name with
him. If I’m not mistaken I saved his life by stepping in the way of the bullet and
activating the fire alarm to call for help.”
His palm hit the wall next to my head. “Silly woman,” he said, his warm breath
hitting my face, and I licked my lips. “Didn’t you listen to what I just told you?”
“You’re just full of shit.” He was messing with my head. If what he said was true,
then I had no hope left to save my broke ass. And I couldn’t give up the hope, I just
couldn’t. If I had to choose between a well-respected and world-renowned hotel owner
and a self-proclaimed hit man, the choice was an easy one.
“I don’t trust your little tale.” I had to get the book back. If only to find out if he
spoke the truth. If the DEA was really looking for it, one inquiring phone call was all it
took. And then I could return the book to Mr. Fuentes and hopefully he wouldn’t hold
the incident against me. I poked my finger against his chest. “I don’t trust you. It was
stupid that I came here.”
“You’d be dead by now if you hadn’t.”
“I want to leave.”
“I won’t let you.”
All I needed to do was bring up my knee and hit him where it hurts and I’d be out
the window and gone in a flash. I took a deep breath, filling my senses with his scent.
My chest brushed against him and it was difficult to keep a clear head. I shimmied
against him, a pretend struggle to break free of his hold. My breath caught in my throat
as he leaned harder against me, my shoulder blades pressing into the wall.
“Does that turn you on?” I whispered, lifting my head to find his dark gaze. I slid
my hand between us to stroke my index finger over the front of his jeans, the denim
rough under my fingertips. I could feel him against me, hard everywhere. “Holding me
against my will, fucking me against my will?” I laughed when his eyes turned darker,
his erection pressing against my crotch. “Do you want to roughen me up, just a little?”
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His She-wolf
He swore and took a step back. “Believe me, it’s only for your best intersts if you
stay here with me. I’m not going to hurt you, if that’s what you fear.”
He was flustered. I could tell by the way he dodged my gaze. I took a step after
him, rising up to the tips of my feet. “I want you to try it,” I whispered, which finally
earned me his gaze. The lust I found in the depths of his eyes made me take a step back,
suddenly unsure who pursued whom.
He reached out to trace his finger along my jawline. My heart made a somersault
when he started to unbutton my blouse until the fabric slid from my shoulders to the
floor. He sucked in his breath.
It was a relief to stop pretending and I met his gaze with a newfound calmness. The
bullet had gone straight through my flesh, but the wound was gone and only dried
blood and a fat purple bruise remained. But I wanted him to know, sick of acting as if I
were frail and weak and in need of protection. Sick of pretending he could hold me
against my will.
“Don’t fuck with me, Seth,” I said. “I’m not what you think I am.”
He was silent as he brushed his thumb over the area where the bullet had hit my
flesh. “I think you are beautiful.” He leaned forward and kissed my shoulder, his lips
cool against my skin.
Struck speechless by his reaction, I wanted to push him away again, but couldn’t.
Desire, which had simmered below the surface, unfurled. He kissed up my neck,
murmuring something unintelligible that sounded like my wild thing, which was a
stupid thing to say, but his hoarse voice nevertheless turned me on. Hell. He bit gently
at my earlobe, sending shockwaves between my legs. Hardly something I wanted to
fight. He tugged at my clothes. I let him. If able to, I’d have purred, but I still didn’t
trust him.
Later, I’d struggle with my conscience.
53
Amy Redwood
Chapter Seven
A deep rumble in her throat told Seth she wouldn’t push him again. He had heard
the same guttural sound when she’d swayed naked on top of him, giving in to her lust
without a trace of shame. Something else lurked beneath her human skin, something
wild and strong. When he kissed up her neckline, seeking her full lips, she turned her
head. The message was clear, no kiss for him.
“Trust me,” he whispered against her ear. “Just one kiss, just one.”
She shook her head, a stubborn streak around her mouth.
Irritation gripped his gut. He slid his hand behind her back to unclasp her bra. She
folded her arms over her head, crossed wrists and closed her eyes. She gave herself up,
but only offered her body, not her heart. He clamped his hand, hard, over her crossed
wrists, putting more of his strength into it than he would have done with any other
woman. Her eyes shot open and he gave a low laugh at the stunned look on her face.
“Come on,” he whispered against her mouth, “try to get free.”
She bucked against him, undoubtedly to break free of his hold in earnest, and not
just that titillating wiggle she’d taunted him with a moment before. He shifted his entire
body against hers, holding her against the wall. Need wavered up in him, the need to
possess her, to be inside her, take her by force. He cupped her breast. Heavy and firm, it
fit his hand perfectly. Her heartbeat drummed against his palm. Feeling her nipple
tightening beneath his fingers made his erection painfully hard. He crushed his mouth
on hers, sneaking his tongue between her lips, getting a taste of her sweetness. And for
three fast heartbeats, her full mouth yielded under his lips.
Then her teeth bit into him with more force than he could endure.
He jerked his head back, swearing softly, and licked away a drop of blood from his
bottom lip. He let his arms drop to his side, giving her every chance to make a run for it.
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His She-wolf
As if answering his thought, she fingered his jeans, her long lashes painting shadows on
her cheeks. He could feel her hands shake while she pushed his jeans and briefs down
his legs.
He rid himself of both items, his cock heavy and taut against his stomach, and then
took his time to shrug out of his shirt while she watched his movements like a cat afraid
her mouse would disappear. He bent to bury his face against her breasts, hiking up her
skirt until it crunched around her hips. Tasting the flushed texture of a hard nipple, he
drew a soft moan from her as he sucked gently.
When she closed her fingers around his cock, he groaned, feeling himself thicken
against her palm. He wanted to thrust into her until she cried out his name. She
wouldn’t of course. Still, he had to be inside her. Her fingers closed around his and
guided him between her legs.
“Touch me,” she said, guiding his hand over her folds. Slick wetness met his
inquiring fingers. She was as ready for him as he was for her, but he wanted to draw
out the pleasure.
He dropped to his knees, taking in the scent of her arousal. When he touched his
tongue to her center, she tunneled her fingers through his hair. He again licked over her
swollen clit, hearing her moan her longing. She gripped his shoulders to steady herself.
He cupped her ass in both hands, kneading her flesh and tilting her hips toward him.
She would be a tight fit around his cock, he remembered only too well, and he groaned
thinking how he would soon be thrusting into her. But first, he kissed her, down there,
plunging his tongue deep between her swollen lips. Swearing softly, she dug her
fingers into his shoulder muscles. He welcomed the pain, welcomed any proof she was
enjoying herself as much as he was.
He paused, hearing the clicking steps from a high-heeled woman walking past the
apartment door. Candace relaxed her grip on his shoulders, but her muscles flexed as if
she made herself ready to flee.
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Amy Redwood
He feared he’d hear a key in the lock, but the steps faded into the distance and were
gone a second later.
Relieved, he drew in a deep breath. What the fuck was he doing? He was buck
naked. If the woman had come into the apartment they wouldn’t have had enough time
to dress and leave through the window. His gaze found his clothes, the gun somewhere
in the pile, the small book in the inside pocket of his jacket. Still, he couldn’t turn away
from her heat. He kissed her inner thigh, her skin soft and smooth and quivering under
his tongue. Taking his time wasn’t an option anymore.
Kissing his way up over her stomach and the dip between her breasts, he rose.
Holding her heated gaze, he knew better than to kiss her again. Instead, he grasped her
hips and lifted her, his cock sliding between her legs, coating him with her wet juices.
She snugged her legs around his waist, a whoosh of breath coming from her mouth as
he slammed her hard against the wall. She moaned, and for a moment, he feared he’d
hurt her, feared he was too rough with her after all.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, seeing tears in the corners of her eyes. “Should I stop?”
His breath stopped at the idea he’d hurt this wild creature.
Candace gave a sob, causing him more alarm. Her fingernails dug into his back,
and she tipped her head against the wall, meeting his gaze. Then she moved her hips,
rubbing her folds and clit along his cock. It was almost enough to make him explode.
Groaning, he tilted her hips toward him, the head of his cock prodding at her wet
entrance.
He slid into her with one long, hard thrust, filling her to the hilt with his cock. He
already knew how well they fit. He slowly pumped inside her, her cunt tightly clamped
around his shaft. Short, gasping moans tore from her throat, and he circled her mouth
with his finger, wishing she’d allow him to kiss her. When she took his finger into the
warmth of her mouth, sucking, he felt his balls tighten. He studied her face—the lust in
her dark half-lidded eyes, the way she sucked in her bottom lip, her blushed cheeks. All
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His She-wolf
mine, he thought, and fucked her harder, knowing he was about to come deep in her
eager pussy.
He slid his hand between their bodies, finding the swollen bud of her clit. Pressing,
rubbing her there, he pumped into her wet heat, his cock aching for release. Her head
tipped back, a small thud against the wall.
“Harder please,” she whispered, bucking her hips against him to emphasize her
demand. “God, Seth, please.”
The emotion in her voice sent a shiver through him, his self-control slipping.
Wrapping his hand in her hair, he pulled her close. Without giving her a choice, he
plunged his tongue inside her mouth, taking her breath, swallowing her surprised cry.
Then her hand was around his neck, her mouth hot on his, her kiss hungry and hard.
Her body trembled under his hands as he slammed into her, nailing her against the
wall, fucking her in rough strokes that made him gasp for breath as her cunt convulsed
around his cock as she came. With a shout, he thrust deep into her, burying his shaft in
her to the hilt, coming in hot spurts inside her, feeling how her muscles milked his cock.
She leaned her head against his shoulder, her breathing slowly calming. He slid out
of her tight hold when she lowered her feet to the floor. “Candy,” he began, but she
twisted from his grasp, shaking her head. His heart grew heavy just looking at her
slender back, the fast movements with which she put her clothes on. Why she’d worn a
mortified expression before she turned her back, he couldn’t comprehend.
Giving her some space, he went to use the bathroom. Probably contrary to her
belief, he wasn’t interested in the physical only. The wildness inside her resonated with
him, stronger than he would have ever imagined. She was like him, only better. A
thought that would have made him nuts if she were a guy. But she was all female, soft,
lush, wet, yet she possessed a primal strength. He’d wanted her before, but now he was
falling hard and fast.
He walked back to her, intended to figure out a way to gain her trust.
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She stood at the windowsill, one leg perched on top of it. She wore his jacket.
Instinct made him growl, a sound that made men flinch. She merely raised her
eyebrow. The sight of her calm smile sent his heart jumping into his throat and, a split-
second later, hot anger hit his gut. The book was inside his jacket, which she
undoubtedly knew.
“I’m sorry, Seth.” She pointed his fricking gun at his heart. “This isn’t going to
work.”
Feeling like shit, I said, “I can’t let you destroy my future.” I’d had sex with him for
the sake of it. I hadn’t needed it as such. I might have managed my shakes without an
orgasm. Maybe. But now I was calm, eerily calm. I’d needed him the first time around,
but the second had been wrong. I’d just wanted so bad, wanted him with every fiber of
my body. The thought was like a punch to my heart. I’d sworn on Tim’s grave I would
never want a man like that again in my entire life.
“You’re in the process of destroying it,” he said, and stretched out his arm. “Lower
the gun and—”
“You’re not telling me what to do.” I had to get away from him. “Don’t follow me
or I’ll shoot.” My hand hurt from holding the gun so tightly. I tried to relax my fingers
and climbed over the windowpane, my foot finding a hold on the fire escape landing. I
held the gun trained toward his direction as I pulled my other leg over the windowsill.
He didn’t move but rage pooled deep in his eyes. His powerfully built body stood at
full attention, every muscle flexed. He looked like a runner prepared to sprint at the
sound of the starting gun. Once I turned my back on him, I would need to be fast.
I lowered my feet onto the landing, taking in a deep breath, making myself ready to
turn and jump and run.
A hand clamped with an iron-vise grip around my neck, lifting me to my toes.
“Look what I’ve found,” a malicious voice whispered against my ear. “You, bitch,
were easy to track.” Something, someone, sniffed at my neck like a bloodhound.
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His She-wolf
I inhaled a whiff of stale breath, grimacing as fingers dug deep into my skin.
Reflexively, I curled my hands into a fist. The gun went off in the softest of sounds,
which nevertheless rang like a bell in my mind. A scream shot from my throat as
someone pulled me against a hard-muscled chest, and then my world went upside
down.
Colors rushed past my eyes. I hit solid ground. Air went from my lungs in a hard
gasp. Something inside me cracked, a bone maybe. It didn’t hurt. I tried to lift my head
but couldn’t. Licking my dry lip, I groaned. Fuck. It did hurt. I stared up into the night
sky. Sounds of glass shattering. Doves took flight from the roof, frantically beating their
wings.
The guy had thrown me off the fire escape. I’d planned to jump down. Planned to
land neatly on my feet and hit the ground running.
“Still alive, bitch?”
Pain bloomed behind my eyelids as a kick aimed at my chest reached its goal. I
sucked in my breath. Another bone snapped. Ah, definitely my ribs. I kept my eyes
closed, training my senses on the movements of my attacker. He shuffled around me
but didn’t kick me again. Probably thought me half-dead anyway and not worth his
attention. Judging from his gravelly voice, he wasn’t the one who had thrown me off
the building. Two guys, I thought, and I was flat on my back. All in all, I was a complete
failure. I curled my hands, wondering where the gun had landed. With my luck,
nowhere near me.
Swallowing hurt. And so did the realization that Seth was in shit-deep trouble.
Probably because of me. Curling into a ball, I came up on my knees and then lifted my
head. My gaze settled on the broad back of the guy who’d kicked me. He didn’t notice
me standing; his gaze was trained upward and to the fighting sounds inside the
building. Harsh groans echoed through the night air.
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Amy Redwood
Panic gripped my gut as I recognized Seth’s voice. It sounded as if someone was
beating him to a pulp. I straightened, my rib cage aching. A soft sigh of pain escaped
me and I clutched my stomach.
Rough laughter made me snap up my head. “Ah, we’ve got ourselves a fighter.”
“DEA, my ass,” I said quietly, trying to remain calm.
I’d feared Brickwall when he’d stood in my shop asking for Seth. Now, with his
cold, dark eyes fixed on my face, with no way to hide, my body and mind willed me to
shift and go for the throat.
Only I mustn’t.
I didn’t know how many nameless faces were pressed against windowglass,
watching the scene while hopefully speed dialing for the police. I mustn’t shift while
someone was watching. I’m human, I’m human… I told myself over and over until I
heard Tim’s soothing voice in my mind. You’re a woman, honey, a human, don’t give in to
it, don’t allow the beast to come out.
I drew in a deep breath and lunged forward, aiming an upward blow against the
guy’s throat.
His feet hit my stomach in a kick to prevent my fist from reaching its goal. I landed
on my ass, a few feet away, gravel digging into the palms of my hands. I licked my lip,
tasting the metallic taste of blood. Bastard.
“Run home, honey, you have no business in this,” Brickwall said, but there was a
hard line around his mouth and his eyes held a sadistic gleam.
“No, I don’t,” I replied.
He grinned, showing white teeth, and came toward me. Another kick and he hit my
jaw. Stars erupted behind my closed lids. The guy moved so fricking fast, I couldn’t
expect his next move.
“Come on, get up, bitch,” he said above my head. His boot caught me in the
stomach. I flexed my muscles to prevent the worst, but it still hurt.
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Run home.
Exactly what I’d planned to do just a few moments ago. I wondered how long it
would take the two guys to pay me a visit. Not the point, Candace.
I hadn’t sunk so low as to tuck my tail between my legs and run.
They would kill Seth. I knew that and it didn’t matter if he’d been right or wrong,
didn’t matter if he was a thief or thug or something else.
I came up on my knees, hearing Brickwall’s laughter, and brushed away a strand of
hair clinging to my split lip. He aimed his fist at my face. Blocking his punch, I threw up
my knee and hit him in the groin. The guy’s grunt swished over my face in a harsh
exhalation. Then something hit me with the force of a battering ram.
My shoulders and head slammed into a wall, the impact driving all the air from my
lungs.
“Cunt,” Brickwall muttered.
A ripple ran down my back, raising all the hairs on my body. Shift, my mind
whispered. Go for the throat. I adjusted my stance, rapidly breathing in fresh oxygen,
ready to block his next punch. I didn’t know how much longer I could fend him off. He
was freakishly strong. Seeking his gaze to anticipate his next move, I took a step
forward in surprise. He had seemingly lost interest in me. His gaze was drawn to
something on the ground. Following his gaze, a thin wail escaped my lips.
I propelled myself from the wall.
He lunged forward.
Cold under my fingertips, I grabbed the gun first. Two-hundred pounds crashed
into me with deadly force. Twisting away, I came up, lying on the ground. He loomed
over me, knee shoved into my rib cage, one hand closed around my throat, the other
around my wrist holding the gun. I felt my eyes bulge, darkness invading my sight as
he choked the life out of me.
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I closed my eyes, focusing all my power in a single move. I threw up my arm,
breaking his hold, and pulled the trigger.
He didn’t die easily. Or silently. Clutching the wound in his chest, he toppled over,
gurgling as he tried to breathe. Shock made his eyes wide, but only blood foamed from
his lips as he tried to speak.
I turned my back on him. Blood scented the air. A strange sound rang through the
air. A howling and clucking animal noise that sounded very much like insane laughter.
The sound had come from overhead. Goose bumps erupted all over my body. Seth
fought his own battle and, if I wasn’t mistaken, he no longer fought against a man.
Stepping into the shadow of a dark corner, I shrugged out of the jacket, retrieved the
book. I couldn’t take my human body any longer. It hurt, body and soul.
I stripped naked, the taste of the blood on my lips, and folded my clothes into a neat
pile on the ground, hid the book underneath it.
Letting the tight reins of my control slip, I gave up. As my bones shifted and my
skin wavered as if molten, I threw back my head. My own howl rang strange in my
ears. My bones mended and pain disappeared, leaving nothing but the most blissful
feeling. Fear made way for confidence. I’d almost forgotten how good it felt.
Climbing and jumping up the fire escape ladder, I hoped that Seth was still alive.
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Chapter Eight
Seth circled his attacker, spine throbbing from the fall through the dingy coffee
table.
“Where’s the book?” the guy asked him quietly. “That’s all I want.”
Seth needed to focus on his opponent, look for a weakness to pounce on.
Undoubtedly, the guy did the same. As if his lack of clothing wasn’t enough, Seth
thought. But at least he had a weapon. He closed his fingers harder around the
splintered table leg, wishing he could shove it into his attacker’s face.
“You shouldn’t have killed the woman,” Seth said, grabbing the wooden table leg
harder.
The other man regarded him coolly, his body askew.
Seth wondered if he had managed to dislocate the man’s shoulder. He kicked a
toppled lamp out of his way, careful where he placed his bare feet. Window glass
littered the floor. The fight should have been a short one.
The coffee table—glass top, wooden legs—had given way when he smashed
through it. Instead of giving in to the white-hot pain, he hurled himself at Candace’s
killer. Gripping the splintered table leg, he rammed his attacker a few feet backward
and through the window onto the fire escape.
That was where his advantage ended.
The guy bled from a wound under his right eye and a glass splinter the size of his
palm stuck in his right thigh. And he didn’t seem to care.
It’s all in the eyes, Seth thought, trying to read his opponent. It was like trying to
read a marble statue. Glass crunched under his bare soles. Adrenaline pumped through
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his veins. His own right eye was almost completely swollen shot. And he knew with
dead certainty he would lose this fight.
Still, his attacker circled him, a wary expression on his face. Guess he hadn’t figured
out Seth wasn’t holding back, that he wasn’t saving some strange secret weapon. Ah
well, maybe one last trick.
Seth let his head and shoulders slump and the pain he felt show on his face. It was
easy. Candace was dead, tossed from the apartment like a rag doll. The image of her
lying dead on the ground, dead because she was at the wrong place at the wrong time,
dead because he had run into her shop and asked for help, would haunt him forever.
All his fault. His heart hurt as if a thousand glass splinters were stuck inside.
If he couldn’t kill the guy outright, he wanted to cause as much damage as possible
before he went down.
A shift in the air was all the warning he needed. The guy charged at him, sensing a
weakness. Seth went for the throat, bringing up the ragged edges of the splintered table
leg.
A blow hit his face. Losing balance, Seth grasped for a hold, but his hands found
only air. His shoulder crashed into the floor. Rolling into a crouch, he looked up to
anticipate the guy’s next kick.
It never came.
The guy clutched at his throat, and for the first time, pain blossomed over his face,
blood coated his fingers from the broken table leg. When he crashed to the floor, Seth
felt a flicker of relief. Edging along the wall, he made his way to the broken window,
keeping his gaze on his wounded attacker.
The fight was over.
The guy looked up, his eyes deepening to black.
Seth froze, watched how the guy threw back his head, revealing his torn-open
throat, howling in laughter as skin peeled away from his hands, arms, face. Pink and
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His She-wolf
purple cords of muscles became visible; eyes sank back into the head. The harsh sound
of fabric being ripped and a stench of urine filled the room.
Seth remembered vaguely that his brother had told him that shifting was his most
vulnerable time, a good time to kill shifters. If he had a gun, maybe, but he wasn’t able
to put his hands on something like that. Seth stared at the half-shifted creature
crouching on the floor, skin and bones changing and shimmering like a blur before his
eyes.
When he looked up, he met the creature’s gaze.
“Damn, you’re ugly,” he said.
The hyena-like creature sat on its haunches and let out a howl that sounded like
laughter.
And not for the first time in his life, Seth wished he were more like his brother. But
he only had the strength, not the gift. The guy had been strong before, but in his shifted
form, however ugly, he was something else. Something much worse. Sweat slicked
down Seth’s back and he crouched, picking up the table leg again. It felt as effective as a
toothpick. He backed up against the wall, holding his only weapon in front of him.
The hyena almost pranced before him, making turns through the room.
Seth moved, trying to make it to the door. He never reached it. The attack came so
fast, he didn’t even see it coming. Saliva dropped onto his face as the hyena towered
above him. Shards of glass scraped and cut into his shoulder blades. Seth wondered
why he was still alive.
His hands flared up but gripped nothing. The hyena was back to prancing through
the room.
“You’re not a fucking cat, are you?”
Seth wondered how long the shifter intended to play with him before he went for
the kill.
A movement in front of the window caught his attention.
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Amy Redwood
A gray wolf loped through the window to land gracefully amidst the broken
windowglass. The hyena froze, head cocked to one side as if to ponder what to do with
the new arrival.
A ghost from the past, Seth thought. “Brother?” he whispered, knowing how
foolish he was. His brother was dead. The wolf met his gaze and he sucked in his
breath. The wolf’s coat was gray and smooth. Its body not as large as his brother’s had
been. Not dark eyes, but warm gold. Not male but female.
The wolf returned his gaze calmly, and then shook her head, as if to clear her
thoughts. A gesture he’d seen before. He exhaled, realization clicking into place, the
final missing piece.
The room spiraled back into focus. Seth’s gaze wandered from the hyena to the wolf
and back to the hyena. As powerfully built as the wolf was, she was a female and about
sixty pounds lighter than the male. His heart lurched and panic crept up his spine.
“Get out of here,” he yelled, searching the floor for something to throw. Something
that would make her leave and save herself. He hurled the table leg at her, giving up his
only weapon. She ducked smartly, a look of outrage in her golden eyes.
“Leave,” he whispered, balling his hands.
A howl erupted from the hyena, the insane laughter scraping at Seth’s nerves.
Candace’s head snapped around and she crouched, bared her fangs and leapt. The
hyena met her halfway in the air, their bodies slamming into each other with deadly
force.
Seth jumped up, screaming as his battered body erupted in pain. Cursing, he hurled
himself forward, knowing how stupid and senseless it was, but he preferred to die
while protecting Candace and not as the chew toy of a shifter.
The sickening-sharp sound of a snapping bone was unmistakable. The force of a
dead body falling made the floor vibrate under his bare feet.
Seth fought down the feeling of his own inadequacy and slumped to the floor.
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Candace had snapped the shifter’s neck. Just like that. Shivers ran over his skin,
cold enveloping him as the rush of adrenaline that had kept him fired up left his body.
When he was able to speak, he said, “Hey, you,” feeling how a smile worked its
way over his face. He couldn’t believe they were both alive. “Would you mind coming
over to me?”
Muscles moving underneath her fur, she took a step away from the dead shifter
toward him. When she settled next to him, he let out the breath he’d been holding. He
sank his hand into her fur, her body wonderfully warm under his fingers. She laid her
head across his legs, closing her eyes.
“My wolf girl,” he whispered, feeling how slowly but steadily his strength returned
to his body. “You’re so beautiful.”
A tremor shook her and she lifted her head. When he met her golden gaze, he
wondered what was wrong. Candace looked hurt and confused and, a heartbeat later,
she’d vanished through the window and into the night.
* * * * *
I ran home in a mad dash, but not before taking my pile of clothes into my mouth.
People on the street were probably still calling animal control, because of the large dog
they had seen darting down 25th.
Shifting back, I let myself in through my open bedroom window. The missing
bricks in the wall of the building made a good a makeshift ladder if one was strong
enough, but I had scraped open my hands and knees as I climbed up.
My bedroom came as a shock—bed messed up, ropes left carelessly on the floor. I
ran my fingertips over the wood, feeling the splinters. It looked as if he had just stood
up, breaking my bed in the process. I’d thought perhaps a knot had come loose. But
he’d used brute force.
I took clean jeans and a shirt from the dresser, slipped into them. My gaze hit the
book next to the keyboard, the one I’d taken out from the library.
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“Rome in Ashes,” I read.
My life, I thought, is in ashes too.
I gazed at Tim’s face inside the frame. He looked strangely distant, almost like a
stranger, as if I had never known him at all.
A ripple went through me and I pulled my head up. I grabbed the keys from the
desk, opened the small door leading downstairs and headed toward the basement.
* * * * *
Where else would she run except home?
Seth climbed up the building’s wall, her scent giving away she had taken the same
route, and stepped inside her bedroom, taking a deep breath, feeling her scent wrap
around his senses like a blanket. His gaze fell on the pile of bloodied clothes on the
floor, the black notebook peeking out from beneath it. Candace was nowhere to be seen,
but the quiet seemed treacherous. She was here somewhere, he was sure of it. Taking
the book into his hands, he was tempted, for half a second, to leave again.
After all, he had everything he wanted now.
Then he placed the book on the desk and began searching for his wolf girl. The soft
snick of a door reached his ears and he followed the sound. On the balls of his feet, he
snuck down the stairs, her scent leading the way.
When he found her in a small storage room, smelling of sugar and cocoa
and…gasoline, he tensed, suddenly sick to his stomach.
“Candace, no,” he said quietly, fearing to startle her, but also fearing if he didn’t
speak up, she’d throw the torch made of what looked like a wooden chair leg with linen
wrapped around it. The torch flickered in the darkness, throwing shadows against the
walls.
Her shoulders hunched as if someone had slapped her hard.
“This is none of your business, hit man,” she said, and he was surprised how much
insult she could pack into the word. “Leave.”
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He made a silent step toward her that nevertheless had her swiveling around so fast
her hair whipped around her face. He liked neither the strange glimmer in her eyes, nor
the way her mouth twisted.
“Leave,” she said again, raising her hand so he had trouble seeing her features
through the flames of the torch. “One step closer and you can burn as well.”
He shook his head. “I won’t let you kill yourself, Candace. I won’t allow it.”
She laughed, a sound that made him ball his hands when he heard the sadness that
lingered in her tone. He wanted to wrap her into his arms and kiss her until she felt
better. But he realized that her situation might just be too complicated to be solved by
offering a calming kiss on the forehead.
“Why would I want to go through so much trouble just to kill myself,” she said,
nodding at the carefully crafted torch and the room sprinkled with gasoline. “You
almost killed me today yourself. Then this asshole beats the shit out of me before I pull
the trigger on him. Not a sight I’m likely to forget soon. And that’s not even the worst.”
She rubbed her fist over her mouth, a gesture he was sure was done unconsciously. “It’s
not that I ever lacked nightmares.”
She’d killed a man tonight. No, she had killed two. And she had done it for him.
No wonder she hated his guts.
She’d lowered her hand again and he found himself staring into her dark gaze. She
looked haunted and hurt, and he wanted so much to help her so she could be carefree
and happy and free of nightmares.
But he definitely couldn’t let her torch down the neighborhood, she’d be never able
to forgive herself. He lifted his head, finding her gaze, remembering the terror and
confusion that had rested in her eyes as a wolf.
“Candy, we both know you don’t want to do this.” Why did she want to do it? Was
she trying to cash in on her insurance policy? Was she broke? He lifted his hands in a
calming gesture and stepped toward her.
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“Don’t you fucking dare start patronizing me.”
“Honey,” he said, “let me help—”
Fuck, he thought, as he saw her squinting at him with outrage. He shouldn’t have
called her “honey”.
She flicked the torch over her shoulder.
The heat hit my face like a blazing punch. The torch had fallen to the ground in the
farthest corner of the small storage room and flames licked at the wooden shelves that
rose from the ground up all the way to the ceiling. Frozen, I stared as the flames spread
to the finely woven linen bags emblazed with my shop’s logo. Hundreds of them lined
the shelves, still in their cardboard boxes. I’d planned to give those bags away to my
loyal customers. Now the flames started licking at them with gentle tongues.
My throat went tight and I coughed. The smoke curling in the air made it harder to
breathe. I should get the fuck out of the house, but somehow my legs wouldn’t move.
Seth had run off though. Clever guy. I’d have knocked him out cold if he’d tried to stop
me. I glanced at the sprinklers. They wouldn’t come to the rescue; I’d taken care that
they wouldn’t. Amazing what the inquiring mind could learn online.
I lifted my shirt away from my skin, sweat beading down my back. And still, I
couldn’t move, watching how the flames spread.
Despite the flames, I grew cold, started to shiver. I was doing it all wrong, all
wrong. My cold-blooded strategy, out the window. This fire wouldn’t fool any
insurance. Like the people who used lighters, who set the gasoline on fire instead of
letting it explode, I had made mistakes. Using a torch, what was I thinking? I’d read
about it, read that this was why people got caught, got sent to jail.
Stupid, stupid me.
Maybe, I thought, he’d been right. Maybe I wanted to die. What was the point,
anyway? Tim’s life ended, everything ends. Maybe I end here.
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I took a step toward the flames.
The hissing sound of something made me jump, and when realization hit, hot fury
grabbed hold of my body. I spun around, a growl in my throat, when an ironlike grip
curled around my shoulder and squeezed. Nerve-numbing pain caught my breath and I
turned my head, air whooshing out of my lungs, my gaze settling on Seth and the fire
extinguisher in his hand, and then everything went black.
* * * * *
Cold needles pricked at my face, a roaring in my ears.
I licked my lips, trying to drag my eyelids open against a world full of pain, and
swallowed a mouthful of water. Blindly I reached for the faucets, but hard hands
clamped around my wrists, holding me in place.
“C-c-c-cold,” I said. “Stop it, stop.”
“Not yet,” I heard Seth’s rumble of a voice, “the shower will do you good.”
But the water hitting my face and slicking my clothes against my body turned a
notch warmer. Eyes still closed, I blindly aimed a blow at Seth.
“There’s nothing like a cold shower,” he said, catching my wrist before I could hit
him, “to bring you back to the living.”
“I wasn’t dead,” I said, flicking wet hair out of my face to seek his dark gaze. “You
shouldn’t have touched me.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have,” he said, his hands still around my wrist. “But it’s all I
want to do.” He stroked his hands up my arms and settled around my shoulders. “I
won’t let you set fire to this place. It’s wrong, and in your heart you know it is.”
I wanted to hit him for speaking the truth, but my shoulders slumped, shame rising
in me for what I had done. If he hadn’t stopped me…what if the fire had hurt other
people? My body started trembling, hard, violent shivers that let my teeth clash
together. Only a freak would do something like that, I thought, only a monster.
“How bad—” I swallowed. “How badly did I damage the basement?”
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“Nothing a lick of paint won’t fix,” he said. “The shelves are ruined though. The
smell of smoke is moderate. In this neighborhood, I doubt anyone alerts the fire
brigade. What were you thinking, opening a shop in this desolate area?”
I groaned, having asked myself the same question more than once. He started
massaging my shoulders, and I let out a sigh when he found my knotted muscles. The
dead guy’s face flashed before my inner eyes. I clutched my stomach, fighting the
nausea. Like an avalanche, images came pouring into my mind.
I licked over my lip, remembering how the hyena’s neck had snapped between my
teeth. Another shifter, I thought. I’d killed another freak just like me. Killed him,
because of Seth—a stranger. And what could I do?
Nothing, as usual.
I could do nothing as Tim died under my hands in the car wreck, nothing as Seth
shot the man who was supposed to save me. I could do nothing. Not even cry.
Opening my mouth, I turned toward the water spray and rinsed my mouth. When I
reached for the faucets, he didn’t stop me. Teeth chattering, I let out a sigh as the water
turned hot. The shakes stopped as my body fought the scalding-hot spray from the
showerhead, but I bit down on my teeth, enduring the searing pain the water created on
my skin. I wanted to feel clean again, and if that meant I had to almost boil myself, so be
it.
What was it Tim always said to me? I tried to conjure up his face in my mind. I blinked
against the billowing steam rising in my bathroom. Seth had taken a step away from
me, but he was still so close and I couldn’t remember what Tim had said…
Ah yes. You are a human, Candace.
Keeping my mind firmly locked on this thought, I all but burned my face off.
I’m human, I thought. Tonight was just a bad dream.
I shrugged out of my shirt and let the water hit my breasts and stomach. It still
wasn’t enough. I had to wash away the stink of animal, wash away every disgusting
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memory of blood and the crack of bones between my teeth. I tried to peel off the pair of
jeans.
“Shit.” My fingernail broke as I opened the zipper. “Shit,” I cursed again, the wet
denim so tight against my legs it wouldn’t peel off.
“Let me,” he said, startling me. He tugged the wet fabric slowly but steadily over
my hips and bottom. “Lift your foot,” he said, and I did, first one then the other until
my jeans landed with a wet flop on the floor. “Better now?”
Blind eyed, I grabbed the loofah and worked it over my arms, brushing the hard
spongelike material from my shoulders to my hands. Skin turning a violent shade of
red, I wondered what it would take to make me feel clean and whole again. What it
would take to make me feel less like a beast.
And no matter how hot the water, no matter how hard I brushed, the feeling of
being wolf—the strange sense of smell, the taste of blood, stuck.
A heavy hand landed on my shoulder. “You’re breaking my heart, do you know
that, sweetheart?”
“Why is that?” I asked, lifting my head and feeling his gaze as hot against my skin
as the water.
“There is no need to punish yourself.” He reached out and ran his hand through a
dripping strand of hair. “You did nothing wrong.”
“What do you know,” I whispered, “about how I feel? How it feels to be me, this
freak.” You’re beautiful, he had said to me. My wolf girl. How dare he find beauty in a
freak like me? With a flick of my hand, I switched the water off. “I’m sure you never get
nightmares, you never wake up screaming because you dream of hunting and killing
and the sound of things dying and the blood and the need—”
“You never did anything wrong, Candace,” he said, holding me tight around the
shoulders. “You cannot fight it. It’s your nature.”
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His mouth brushed lightly against mine, a strange comfort. When he flicked his
tongue against my bottom lip, I pressed my mouth into a thin line. How could I kiss
him when I’d just killed someone? It wasn’t right, it wasn’t normal.
“Make it go away,” I whispered. “Make me forget.”
“I can’t do that,” he said, lifting his shoulders in a seemingly helpless shrug. “You
are a wolf. Stop fighting it.”
“Make me forget,” I said again, surprised to hear the edge in my voice. “Make me
feel human.” Reaching out, I grabbed a fistful of his shirt with one hand, and reached
with my other between his legs. “You are hard,” I whispered, tracing a finger over the
ridge of his erection.
“I’m hard because you’re a wolf, because you’re a girl, because you are you,” he
growled, giving me a shove so I smacked my back against the shower tiles. “I’m not
fucking you so you can forget that even for a second.”
Frustration and anger battled down the thrill his last words sent through me. I had
killed for him, and he wouldn’t even try to make me forget the pain it caused me?
“Make me come, make me come, hard, until I stop thinking.”
“No.”
“You owe me,” I said, and saw his head snap up, his jaw jutting out. I had him by
the throat, had him square but not fair.
I backed away at the anger glinting in his dark eyes until my spine lined up against
the tiles. His stomach muscles moved as he stripped off his shirt, zipped open his pants.
I licked my lips as his erection sprang free. He kicked off his shoes, pants and briefs,
stepped into the shower, turned on the water again. Turning his face into the spray, his
hair turned darker, slicked against his head.
Seeking the heat of his mouth, I leaned forward. He turned his head, my lips
landing against his jaw. I found no laughter in his eyes, no playfulness. I turned,
pressed my cheek against the cool, wet tile. But I couldn’t look into his eyes, not when I
had bullied him into the act and it so clearly showed on his face.
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“Turn around,” he said, his hand gripping my shoulder. “Look at me.”
“I want it like this,” I said, rubbing my ass against his groin. “Do me from behind.”
Arms wrapped around my middle, his palms covered my breasts and then his lips
touched the side of my neck. “This is officially the last time I allow you to tell me how
you want it.” He kneaded my breasts until my nipples puckered. “The next time, you’ll
do as I say. Deal?”
If there ever would be a next time… “Deal.”
His erection rested thick and hot against the crack of my ass. His hands slid down
my stomach, cupped my mound. My moan drowned out his hoarse groan as he found
me swollen, ready. His mouth brushed my spine as he dropped to his knees. Tracing a
finger between my butt cheeks, he said, “It’s hard to stay angry at you when your ass
has the cutest freckles I’ve ever seen.”
He kissed me there. Silly little kisses that made my heart ache because I’d been
prepared for harsh words from him, harsh touches. I wasn’t prepared that he was
gentle, still took his time, still went to his knees to kiss me.
And even in our first rose-colored, sex-crazed weeks, Tim had never mentioned
once that I had freckles anywhere. Who did Seth think he was, noticing something Tim
hadn’t? “Damn you, Seth,” I pressed through my teeth. “It’s not what I wanted.”
“What is it you want, wolf girl?” he asked, straightening again.
“Stop calling me that.” Closing my fingers around his erection, I swallowed a moan
as I pumped him, his cock jerking against my palm. “I want this.”
His hand slapped against the wall next to my head, making me jump, giving me
pleasure knowing I was able to shake him enough so he needed to brace himself.
“Whatever you want,” he said, “I will do for you tonight.”
I wished he would just take me, without asking, without waiting for my approval,
in whatever way he wanted. I lifted my arms above my head, crossed my wrists. “Tell
me you tied my hands.” For a breathless moment, I feared he would laugh, would reject
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my wish for play pretend, then his hand wrapped around my crossed wrists, pinned
me to the tiles.
“Your hands are tied,” he whispered against my neck, increasing the pressure on
my wrists just a notch to make his point. “Don’t fight it or I’ll have to punish you.”
Chills erupted over my skin, eyes fluttered shut. “Yes,” I whispered, savoring his
last words, which had shot straight to my pussy. “Spank me if I don’t behave.”
He nibbled at my shoulder with his teeth, just enough to hurt, just enough to bring
pleasure. “Anything else I can do for you,” he murmured, catching my earlobe between
his teeth.
“Put your fingers between my legs, touch me, tell me how it feels,” I whispered, my
heart hammering against my ribs, and tensed as he slipped his right hand between my
legs while holding my wrists against the wall with his other.
“Swollen,” he said roughly, and then pushed a finger inside me, “and hot, wet.” He
slipped out of my pussy and rimmed my ass. When he pushed his finger inside, he
choked out, “Christ, you are so tight.”
“Please,” I moaned, bucking against him when he worked his finger in and out of
my ass then slipped another finger inside my pussy. In and out, he moved,
excruciatingly slow, almost detached. “Please stop,” I begged, and drew in a
disappointed breath when he did just that.
“What else do you want?” he asked, his fingers trailing up the side of my rib cage,
tickling me.
“I want your cock in my mouth,” I said, wondering how it would feel if he held me
by the nape of my neck and ordered me to suck his cock.
“Your hands are tied,” he said, amusement ringing from his voice. “Sorry, you can’t
turn around or kneel before me.” He increased the pressure but I wriggled one hand
free only to yell out in pain as he spanked me with his flat hand so hard on the ass that
stars danced before my eyes. “Behave, wolf girl,” he said roughly, sending my pussy
into a spasm of contractions as the pain grew into sharp pleasure.
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“Please,” I moaned, moving my hips against him, seeking his touch, not caring if he
spanked or stroked, anything, but I needed the release. As if sensing my condition, his
fingers found my clit, working me in lazy circles. “Faster,” I breathed, “do it faster.”
This time, I knew what I wanted when I wriggled my hand free.
Pain spread from my ass to my pussy as his hand landed on my ass, the smacking
sound making me aware how loud my own breathing had become. “Do it again,” I said,
craving the heat his spanking created, the high the pain left me in as it slipped into
arousal. I crossed my wrists again over my head, hearing him swear under his breath.
“Don’t scream like you are one breath away from getting off…” he said behind me,
and clamped his hands around my hips. His cock slipped between my legs, rubbing
over my pussy, prodding against my clit.
“Now,” I said. “I want you inside me now.”
He pushed inside, pushed all the way in. I pumped against him, seeking the stretch
and feeling of intrusion his cock created in my pussy. The heat. He adjusted his stance
behind me, tilted my hips. He began to fuck me in earnest, all play forgotten. Long,
hard strokes hammered me toward climax, and when my hand slipped between my
legs, he didn’t stop me. He clamped his hand over mine, following the strokes I gave
myself, as if trying to learn how I stroked my clit.
“Now,” he whispered when my hands fell away.
My orgasm hit me in violent shivers and I screamed out, bucking against him.
He shuddered, his cock jerking inside my pussy as he spilled his come. When he
didn’t stop stroking my clit, I tried to wrangle free but he held me in front of him,
working my sensitized flesh until another climax erupted, shocking in its intensity.
When my knees gave way, he caught me round the middle.
“I want to lie down, I think,” I said, barely noticing how he hauled me into bed, still
wet from the shower. Curling up on the bed, I heard him moving through the room and
it dawned on me he might be thinking about leaving. “Stay, please,” I heard myself say,
voice small. “Stay the entire night.”
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“I can’t, Candace. I have to—” He stopped, drawing in a hard breath. The mattress
gave way as he slid on top of the bed. His arm wrapped around my chest as he pulled
me against him. “Forget it. Sleep,” he murmured against the nape of my neck.
“Only if you promise not to sneak away if I do,” I said, feeling his mouth twist to a
smile against my skin.
“Sleep, wolf girl. Everything will be fine, I promise.”
“Liar,” I whispered, but he stroked my back and pulled the sheets up, his body
warmth enveloping me until I sighed with contentment and gave in to the illusion he
would be staying, and protect me—from myself.
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Chapter Nine
I woke with a start. Reassuring myself he was next to me, I reached to my side.
The bed sheet was cool underneath my palm, not even a trace of him lingered. And
nothing felt remotely fine.
So much for promises. Sitting up, tears stung in the back of my eyes. The black
notebook was propped up on my nightstand, a handwritten note stuck to the cover.
I picked up the note, read it. Read it again. And again because it wasn’t making any
sense. Underneath a phone number, he had scrawled, Call Simon Parker and tell him
everything. You can trust him.
P.S. Don’t burn down the house.
P.P.S. You look cute asleep.
The note fluttered from my fingers as I got out of bed.
Stepping in front of the dresser mirror, I pulled my hair away from my face into a
small ponytail and secured it with an elastic. My dark eyes seemed huge and I critically
observed the dark circles, the fine net of wrinkles etched into the skin underneath my
eyes.
I took Tim’s picture into my hands, looked at his smiling face. “Goodbye,” I said,
kissing the cool, glass frame. I wrapped the picture in an old t-shirt of mine and stored
it in the box where I kept our other pictures. Then I taped the lid shut. I’d never forget
him, but I had moved on without ever intending to. It wasn’t fair to me, not fair to his
memory if I ignored that I had fallen for another man.
And it didn’t matter that Seth had left me, taking with him all the warmth and joy
I’d felt when I had fallen asleep in his arms. He’d left me alone to deal with my
confused feelings, with the budding hope he was also feeling a connection that went
beyond sex.
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And he’d left me alone to deal with the book.
Simon Parker, I thought. The name was familiar… The DEA guy from the website.
Quickly I booted my computer and loaded the bookmarked site. Seth stared at me from
the mugshot, looking sexy. Why in all hell did he want me to call the guy who was hot
on his heels? And why did I still want to protect him? But I wanted answers and they
were just a phone call away.
I picked up the note from the floor, grabbed my cell phone, punched the string of
numbers before I changed my mind. Drumming my fingertips on the closed book, I
heard a brisk, “Parker, how can I help?”
“This is Candace Walker,” I rushed out. “And I have information about Seth Chase
and about a certain notebook. In fact,” I closed my fingers around the worn leather
binding, “I’m holding the book in my hand.”
Dead silence greeted me on the other line then I heard something clatter in the
background as if a chair had toppled over. I allowed myself a small smile, wondering if
they had started tracking my phone to locate me, like they did in the movies. Then I
heard someone let out a long breath. “Ms. Walker, please call me Simon, and do exactly
as I say. Don’t move away from your phone, stay on the line and tell me again what you
hold in your hand.”
Despite everything, I laughed. “Simon,” I said, “call me Candace. I am in the
possession of Mr. Fuentes’ notebook.”
“If this is the case,” he answered, “I will be your best friend for the rest of your life.”
* * * * *
Exactly sixteen minutes later, I opened the door for Simon Parker and two SWAT
teams.
They swarmed my place without regard for my personal space, without showing
me a search warrant, without even sparing me a glance, except for one wiry man
dressed in dark slacks and a crisp gray shirt with rolled-up cuffs.
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It had been easy spotting Simon, who was the only one not wearing black or
carrying a gun and because he greeted me with the words, “The book.”
“Why the National Guard?” I replied, but gave him what he asked for.
He carefully leafed through it, and it was as if a weight dropped from his shoulders,
the sharp furrows on his forehead suddenly smooth. He barked out a genuine-sounding
laugh—which lasted about three seconds—then he yelled at someone named Drake and
dropped the book inside a plastic bag. The SWAT team filed out of my shop and
apartment in the same efficient way they had streamed into it.
“Very well,” Simon said, “and now we have time to chat.”
“You’re not going to arrest me?” I asked, only half joking.
Simon shrugged. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here,” he said, taking me by the
elbow, throwing a glance around. “Anywhere where we can sit?”
I nodded to the staircase. “Upstairs,” I said, and began climbing the stairs.
He followed, his footsteps sounding hollow. Deep unease settled over me and it
wasn’t easy to shake off the notion I was somehow guilty as sin. Last night flashed in
front of my eyes. I had killed two men. Tell him everything, I thought, thinking about
Seth’s note. Was he insane?
“Sorry for the mess,” I said. “I think I’d like to have a tea, if you don’t mind. Want
some too?” I vanished into the kitchen, heart racing.
When I came back, I settled down on the bed with a hot mug in my hand while
Simon sat at my desk, his face again inscrutable and no trace was left from his previous
joy. I must have imagined it.
“What happened here?” he asked. “A fight?”
I followed his gaze, noting the torn-up bed, the ropes, torn clothes on the floor.
Seth trusted this hard man whose features weren’t unpleasant, far from it, but
everything about Simon Parker screamed that he saw the world in black and white,
good and bad, guilty and innocent. I somehow doubted that he allowed for gray areas.
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“Why would Seth ask me to tell you everything?” I asked quietly.
“I have no idea, Candace,” he replied. “I didn’t even know you knew him. But why
don’t you start at the beginning and stop with when you gave me the call?”
“Off the record?”
“Sure,” he said, kicking off his shoes as if to show me he wasn’t on duty.
“How long have you known Seth?” I asked, wondering how many had fallen for
this shoes-off-see-I’m-off-duty trick.
“I’ve known Seth since I married into his family.”
When I stared at him for too long, my mind still trying to compute his remark, he
said, “Seth was the best man at my wedding. I’m married to his sister and he is my
daughter’s godfather.
“Whatever you have to tell me,” he said, leaning forward, “it will stay in this
room.”
“Seth told me to trust you.”
“Then why don’t you?”
And in a leap of faith, I did just that.
* * * * *
An hour and a half later, I got up from the bed to tip my cold tea into the sink.
Stretching my legs, muscles stiff, I felt utterly exhausted.
Making myself a fresh tea, more to give myself something to do than anything else,
I tried to collect my thoughts. Simon had declined every offer for food or drink, and still
sat with his crossed legs at my desk. Now he stood and proved that he was only human
too when he stretched his arms, joints popping.
“Bottom line, Candace, the streets are safer tonight because of you.”
“What happens next?” I asked, taking a sip of tea and burning my tongue.
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“I’ll write my report, the Scribe will get a life sentence once he’s back on his feet,
and my wife is scheduled to leave the hospital in two days. As far as I am concerned,
life is good.”
I shared a smile with him, seeing the stars in his eyes as he mentioned his wife. For
a man like him, I thought, it must have ripped his heart apart that the killer sent for him
had found a cruel new mark in his wife Gabrielle.
“In your report, how big a role will I play,” I said, and added, “or Seth?”
He gave a sigh. “Candace, you turned in the notebook. You are at the front and
center of it. Seth, however, won’t be.” There was a hard edge in his voice.
“But Seth was just the first at the scene when Gabrielle was shot,” I said, trying to
catch his eye. “You never honestly believed he shot his own sister?”
He made an impatient gesture. “Of course not, but he had inside information he
wasn’t sharing. Then he vanished completely. I had to put him on our wanted list.”
“But not anymore?”
“Well, we’ll see about that,” he said. “If you hadn’t told me what happened inside
the hotel, I’d have never guessed. The security tapes are gone and will stay gone
knowing Seth. I wish he hadn’t taken things into his own hands.”
“But he was successful,” I said quietly. “Without him, you wouldn’t have the
notebook.”
“You forget who I am working for. I am perfectly aware of my brother-in-law’s
questionable past, and it is only for the benefit of my wife that I overlook,” he nearly
choked on the word, “his past. But allowing him to take justice into his own hands is
not something I will allow. Not if I already had undercover agents and informants
drawing the net tighter and tighter.”
“But your wife was shot,” I whispered, trying to understand his cold logic when
Seth’s actions had proven to be successful—if a tad on the unlawful side. “If it had been
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one of my loved ones…” I didn’t finish the sentence because I believed in an eye for an
eye.
“And this is why I represent the law, and not you or Seth,” he said coolly, making
me swallow and hope I’d never be on his Most Wanted list.
To his credit, he hadn’t even blinked when I’d told him I’d shot the first guy and
then stuttered to a stop to explain the death of the second. “It appears,” he’d said, “that
you were in a state of severe shock and acted at all times in self-defense. It is not
uncommon to hear cases of victims who suffer some kind of blackout.”
“Well, it’s not that I’m having amnesia,” I said, the thought sitting wrong, “it’s
more the way how—”
He held up his hand. “I was at the hotel yesterday. I saw the crime scene, saw
pictures. And I was at the second crime scene. One guy was shot in the chest, another
died of a broken neck including,” he lowered his voice, “severe teeth marks as if a dog
had him by the throat.”
“A dog,” I repeated flatly.
He raised his brow. “I am not here to judge, condemn or condone, but to find the
truth. However, you were just at the wrong time at the wrong place and acted at all
times in self-defense, and you promptly contacted the appropriate channels.”
“Yes,” I said, perking up because it sounded like I was off the hook. “I did.”
“Rest assured, I will do everything to protect you from further investigations. You
are a rare breed of woman, Ms. Walker.”
That was when I knew that he knew. I balled my hands, feeling sweat coat my
palms. “You know—”
“And this is why,” he interrupted, “my report will make mention of your severe
shock resulting in partial memory loss.”
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I nodded, accepting that while he knew, he didn’t want to be told. “If Mr. Fuentes
isn’t the respected businessman I thought him to be, why was he offering me a business
deal? Was it all a scam?”
“He probably scoped you out beforehand, looking for skeletons in your closet.” He
shook his head. “He did have a solid reputation in some circles. He laundered drug
money by investing in legit businesses like yours. He liked to surround himself with
rather special people, not unlike yourself,” he said, raising his eyebrow. “If you had
signed the contract, you would have been in his pocket. Add to that the threat of
spilling personal information about you. If he had blackmailed you, trying to employ
your unique skills, what would you have done?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered, sick to my stomach.
“Thank you, Candace,” he said, and stretched out his hand, which I shook
hesitantly. “If I have more questions, I’ll be in touch, so please don’t leave the city for
the foreseeable future.”
“I won’t,” I said, “but I can’t stay in this house anymore.”
“Reason?”
“Broke.”
To my surprise, he gave a short laugh. “Well, one more reason not to vanish from
my radar. There’s a check heading down the road, and if procedure isn’t questioned
along the way your name will be on it.”
“A check? What do you mean?”
“Candace, while you were innocently attending the entrepreneur meeting, you got
caught up in a running investigation against a known criminal and you were able,
while fighting for your own life, to secure the crucial evidence that slipped through the
cracks of my own planted undercover men,” he said, taking in a deep breath. “And you
turned it in the next day after your initial shock subsided. I am happy to tell you that
there is a reward on the Scribe’s head for anyone helping with the arrest.”
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“But that’s not me, that’s Seth,” I whispered.
“No, it is not. Because you handed me the book.” Simon gave me a pat on the back.
“Looks like Seth passed on the reward. The DEA is still looking for him, but he passed
on the chance of clearing his name by turning in the book. And he isn’t even the one
who brought down the man who nearly killed his baby sister. Any idea why he would
sacrifice all that?”
“No, no, I really don’t.”
“I’m sure you will figure it out eventually.” And to my surprise, he gave me a wink.
“Good luck, Candace.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, seeing Simon out and then locking the door. “Do I look like I
need saving?” I winced because, evidently, Seth thought so. And he wasn’t half wrong.
I balled my hands and forced a smile. I had my future to plan, and damn it, if I
would let myself be distracted by moping after a guy. Even if I missed hearing him call
me silly pet names already. Leaning my forehead against the door, I wondered what I’d
say if he ever crossed my path again.
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Chapter Ten
“Are you sure you don’t want company? We could order in dinner.”
“I’m fine,” I said, and all but shoved Jenna over the doorstep. “I’d rather be alone
tonight.” For various reasons, I thought, and taped the last moving box shut across the
top.
“Okay,” Jenna said, giving me a thumbs-up. “See you tomorrow. You’ll see, the
move will be a walk in the park!”
I smiled and waved through the glass window as Jenna slid into her car.
A drizzle of rain had set in, the sky a dull gray. Neither stars nor moon in sight,
although I could feel the pull in my stomach. A plastic bag was dancing through the air,
blown up like a balloon by the ever-increasing wind.
With Jenna’s help and two hired hands, we had packed up my professional
equipment faster than expected. Now all that was left were a few odd items in my
apartment, which I planned to pack before the moving truck came in the morning. I
hoped the weather calmed overnight, but either way, I couldn’t delay moving anymore.
Walking up the stairs to my bedroom, I felt as if the last four weeks had passed in a
busy blur—the negotiations with the bank to help with immediate cash problems and to
support my new business plan. If only I had opened their letters to me sooner, then I’d
have known that they were willing to help me, provided I met all their conditions.
But the final piece was still missing—my new retail site. The bank manager had
made it quite clear that it all came down to picking a highly visible, highly trafficked
area. But the properties to lease in those kinds of areas weren’t exactly affordable.
Something I would continue to worry about tomorrow.
I sank down on the mattress, curled my fingers into the sheets and then ran my
hand along the bed’s footend. As always, the cool metal made my palms itch and my
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heart flutter. It was easy to imagine a pair of handcuffs dangling from the thick iron
bars of the foot- and headboard.
The nerve of him, sending me a new bed. I’d been so flabbergasted when I saw the
two delivery guys pack up my old bed, by the time I protested, they just gave me a
customer service number if I wanted to complain and left me with a king-sized bed that
made my bedroom look dainty. I’d slept like a baby for the last four weeks tucked
inside it while occasionally waking up panting because my dreams had taken on a
decidedly erotic edge.
The bed was the only evidence I hadn’t imagined Seth.
The bed…and the check for fifty grand.
I stripped off my sweaty work clothes, prepared my nightcap and stepped into the
shower. After a quick rinse down, I wrapped myself in a towel, looking forward to a
dreamless night. Shaking my head to get rid of the droplets of water clinging to my
hair, I froze. The wind was howling louder than before, as if someone had opened a
window. A cool draft wafted into the bath from the gap underneath the door and
tickled my bare legs. But it was the scent of wood and leather and something utterly
male that made me grasp for hold.
My stomach did a somersault as I stared at the closed bathroom door. I pulled my
shoulders back and looked around for something to wear. There was nothing. Securing
the towel more tightly, I opened the door, thinking I was prepared.
“This is breaking and entering,” I said, crossing my arms so he wouldn’t see my
shaking hands. He sat on the windowpane facing inward. Goose bumps erupted on my
skin, but not because of the cold air streaming into the room.
“Only entering,” he said casually. “The window wasn’t locked.” He shot a look
around the room, lingering on the bed, then on a stack of cardboard boxes.
I’d forgotten how big this guy was, but not that he had a dimple in his chin when
he smiled.
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Flustered, I grabbed the pile of clothes I had laid out for the next day and went into
hiding inside the bathroom again. Trust him to turn up when I came fresh from the
shower. I slipped into underwear, a baggy button-down shirt and a pair of sweatpants.
Not chic, but decidedly better than a towel.
“Why are you moving?” he called through the closed door.
“Not that it’s any of your concern but I can’t afford to stay here anymore,” I said,
smoothing down the shirt as I stepped back into the bedroom.
His brow knitted, a vee-shaped frown on his forehead. “You didn’t get the
reward?”
“It’s yours,” I said, feeling the same rage I had when the check had landed in the
mailbox. “How dare you play the hero by manipulating me into turning over the
evidence? I don’t need saving.” Not quite true, I thought. He definitely saved me from
making the biggest mistake of my life—setting a building, and myself, on fire.He closed
his eyes as if I were being complicated. “I was afraid you would react like that.” Despite
the weather, he wore only a tee and jeans but had a black leather bag strapped to his
back, which he now dropped to the floor.
I waved toward my desk, wondering what was inside the bag. “Go ahead. The
check is inside the drawer.”
“With your name on it,” he said calmly.
“I’ll cash it for you,” I shot back. “And while we are at it, what were you thinking
with that.” I gave the bed a kick, instantly regretting it when pain seared into my foot.
“It was a gift.”
“I tried to return it,” I said, which wasn’t entirely true.
“Now that would have hurt my feelings,” he said, placing his hand over his heart.
“Bottom line,” I said, “it was uncalled for.”
“I broke your old bed.”
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“Well, I already regretted that I tied you to it!” Must stop yelling, I thought, wishing
he would tell my why he’d finally come back to me after all these weeks.
His eyebrow rose and he zipped open his backpack, slipped his hand inside, and I
rose to my toes and craned my neck to find out what he had hidden inside but still
couldn’t see a thing. “Are you angry at me?” he asked, fixing me with a dark stare.
“Why would I be angry?”
“Because I left you so long alone?”
Yes. A lump formed in my throat. “It’s not like I was wringing my hands waiting for
you to show up again.”
“Of course you weren’t,” he said, making me squirm. “But in case you were, I had
to wait until Simon got off my back for good. They also had their eyes on you for a
while.” Again, he started rummaging through the backpack. “And I wanted to wait
until it was confirmed that the Scribe wasn’t going to be set free because of a procedural
error.”
“What’s inside your bag?”
“Nosy much?” he replied, and to my disappointment, his hand emerged empty.
“I’ll show you later,” he said, winking, and I realized he was just teasing me. “So, how
have you been, honey?” He cocked his eyebrow.
“You know I hate being called that, don’t you?”
“But you taste like honey,” he said, his lowered voice sending shivers across my
skin. “You taste sweet all over, but there’s one spot I especially enjoy.”
I wrapped my arms tighter around myself, my nipples turning into aching points.
“Is that so,” I drawled, almost able to feel the sliding friction of his tongue between my
legs. Damn him for turning me into a damp puddle of lust.
“Yes, that’s just so.” He took two steps toward me until his breath feathered over
my face and I glanced up to meet his eyes. “I’ll show you.” Closing his hands around
my waist, he pulled me close.
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“Show me what?” I whispered when his lips brushed against mine. “This isn’t what
I had in mind…”
“You can tell me later what you had on your dirty mind,” he said against my
mouth.
I stiffened when the tip of his tongue touched the center of my bottom lip. The
feeling shot straight between my legs.
“Love your mouth,” he said, and sucked my bottom lip between his teeth and bit
down gently. “Plump and wet and sweet,” he murmured, his tongue tracing my lips.
“Made for kissing.”
His tongue delved deep, taking all. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I rose on
tiptoe and threw myself into his kiss. He cupped my face, breathing hard. “My wolf
girl,” he whispered, backing me up against the wall, seeking my mouth again.
The taste of him, the scent of his skin made me groan in lust. The groan turned into
a snarl and I stepped away from him, chest heaving. My vision wavered as my eyes
shifted, the room spinning.
“No,” I gasped, forcing my nails into the palms of my hand to anchor me in my
human body and to stop the shift. Confused, I slipped away from under his grasp,
wondering why it was as if something in his kiss had woken my inner wolf. Almost as
if he were a wolf himself…
My head snapped up, the thought shaking me to the bones. My gaze flickered to
the tall glass of water standing on my desk. I needed my drink, right now.
I caught him leaning forward, caught his knowing gaze.
Should I carelessly stroll to my desk or leap? He flexed his fingers at the same time I
leaped. My fingertips brushed the cool glass, and then he closed his hand around it.
Freezing on the spot with my arms still outstretched, I first glanced at the glass in
his hand then met his gaze full-on.
“Give that back to me.”
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“Is this what I think it is?”
“Give me back that glass and then get the hell out of my bedroom before I kick your
ass for troubles caused.”
“Now that’s just unfriendly.” He began swirling the water around until it all but
spilled over the edge.
My entire body stiffened in fear but I was drawn to his movements with hypnotic
fascination. I had stocked up on my supply, sure. But all other sachets were securely
stored in a moving box. Who knew how long it would take to find the right box and
prepare a fresh drink while he was in my bedroom.
When he dropped the glass, I shrieked, only to see him catch it before it hit the
floor, miraculously without spilling a drop.
“Whoops, butterfingers,” he said.
“Asshole.” Sweat trickled down my back and I kept my body poised to jump him at
the first opportunity.
“If you jump, I’ll just let it drop,” he said quietly.
Fuck.
“Please, Seth,” I said, hating how my voice broke. “Please.” I stretched out my
arms, never more desperate to taste the foul brew. With it, I could be Candace Walker,
the normal, well-behaved woman who went to bed at ten thirty each night. “I need this,
Seth, please understand.”
“Where did you get that stuff from anyway,” he asked. “How does it work?”
“It’s plant based. I get it from three different pharmacies and mix it myself.”
“Some plants are poisonous, sweetheart, as you very well know. Who came up with
the recipe? You?”
“Tim was a biochemist.”
He was silent, wearing an expression as if I had clubbed him—hurt, dazed, angry.
He closed his eyes, asking, “How many tests before he found a mix that worked?”
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“A few,” I whispered, remembering the pain and the cramps and the pain. “But in
the end it worked. It was worth it.”
“He could have killed you.”
“I need it.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I’ll rip out your throat, you know I can.”
His eyes widened in alarm, and then a gurgle of deep laughter reached my ears.
“Come on, honey, give it your best shot.”
I shook my head, amazed at his ignorance. Did he really think he could stop me? “If
I don’t have that glass back on the desk at the count of three, you’ll lose a valued
member of your body.”
“You wouldn’t hurt a fly,” he said, but backed up to the open window.
“One.”
He held the glass under his nose. “Mmm, smells great.”
“Two.”
“You’re very sexy when you’re upset, have I ever told you?” He swung one leg
over the frame.
“You coward,” I screamed as he swung his other leg over the windowpane in a
clear attempt to flee.
“You forgot to count.”
“You know how I am when I don’t get the drink,” I said, balling my fists. “Why are
you doing this?” Why in all hell would he want me to turn into such a monster if I have
the means to prevent it?
“You’re a smart girl,” he said, lifting his eyebrow. “After two comes three.”
“I think I hate you.”
“I’m hoping for the opposite.”
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I leaped at him, letting out a triumphant yell when I grabbed hold of a fistful of his
clothes. “You will not run away. I am not finished with—”
Even above the howling wind, the sound of glass shattering made me shut up and
my stomach plunge.
Blinking away tears, still holding a fistful of his shirt in my hand, I leaned out the
window. Shards of glass glittered on the pavement.
I barely registered how he swung his legs inside again and dragged me away from
the window toward the bed.
“Sit,” he said, giving me a push.
The tremor started from my hands and crept slowly up my arms, along my torso
and down to my legs. I tried to hold it in but rage and fear fought a battle and fear won.
Once more, I was caught without my fix the second month in a row.
Even if I prepared a fresh drink tonight, he’d find a way to stop me from drinking
it, I was sure.
“Is that what you want,” I asked quietly, “do you want me on my knees, begging
you to fuck me? Is that why you won’t let me have my drink?”
And if that was what he wanted, he’d get it, I thought. I’d rather beg him to fuck me
than turn into a wolf. I sought his dark gaze and saw for a second unease flicker across
his features.
He knelt in front of me, taking my hand. “No, that wasn’t my intention.” When I
still gave him a doubtful look, he crossed his heart. “Hit man’s honor.”
It made me smile, if just a little. “Why then?”
“Because I want the real you,” he said, pushing a gentle finger between my breasts.
“I want you in all your raw beauty. The powerful, passionate and wild you. Not a
drugged, tame and fixed girl.” He rubbed my shoulders until the shiver subsided under
his strokes.
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“And that’s why you came tonight,” I asked, bitterness creeping into my voice. “So
you could turn me into something I don’t want to be?”
“You turn yourself into something you don’t want to be each time you deny your
true nature.”
I felt like covering my ears. “Easy for you to say,” I pressed through my teeth.
“But to answer your question,” he said, and the movements of his hands turned
slow and decidedly not meant to be comforting, “I came to collect a debt.”
“A what?”
“A debt,” he said. “Or did you think I’d forgotten our deal?”
“Deal, what deal?” I watched him get up to slam the window shut and return with
his backpack. When he slipped his hand inside it, it didn’t emerge empty-handed.
Pulling out a roll of heavy-duty power cable, he gave me the most unnerving smile I’d
ever seen.
“What’s that?” Comprehension dawned and I pulled my legs under and away from
him.
“That’s part two of my gift.” He gave the mattress a slap with his hand, making me
bounce on top of it. “It goes along with the bed.”
The cable landed with a heavy thud next to my feet. I gave it a push with my toe.
“No way.”
“I’m tempted to say ‘way’, wolf girl.”
“What happened to silk scarves or ropes,” I whispered, the sight of the thick and
sturdy cable making my heart race.
“Sorry, honey, but you’re a strong girl.”
“Meaning?” I said, deciding to let it slide that he’d called me honey.
“Meaning that you’d rip silk or any other material to shreds, but this,” he lovingly
patted the cable, “has a core of solid iron.”
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I swallowed away the rising tension but couldn’t help noticing that while my mind
still reeled, my body was tingling all over. An iron bed, iron cables—I’d be never able to
break free if he tied me down. I might not even be able to shift. “You want me helpless,
don’t you?” I whispered. “You want to dominate me because I am so much stronger
than you. That’s why you need to tie me down. You want to humiliate me.”
“I’d never humiliate you, wolf girl.”
I rose from the bed, shoving him away with an angry push. “Yes, that’s it, isn’t it?
You came here so you can stroke your ego by watching me become weak and tied to the
bed.”
“What I want is to stroke you,” he said. “And allowing me to take care of you is not
what I’d call weakness. It takes guts to trust someone.”
Balling my fists, my breath coming in hard, fast gasps, I closed in on him, stabbing a
finger against his chest. “You just want to dominate me, admit it.” I would be at his
mercy, for good or bad. I stabbed him again, aware that I all but panted and my pussy
was moist with juices. Maybe it was time to admit that I wanted him to dominate me.
Maybe it was time to trust him, God knows, he’d proven himself enough to me. I
lowered my hands to my sides, suddenly unable to meet his silent stare.
“Yes,” he said, and pulled his shirt over his head in one fluid motion and tossed it
to the floor. “You will submit to me tonight.”
My breath caught in my throat and I reached out to trace a finger along his flat abs
and hard pecs. Flattening my hands against his stomach, I trailed them up his chest and
through the shock of dark hair. So male. All hard angles and corded strength. I traced
my finger down, following the path the hair led until I reached the edge of his jeans.
Rough denim against the pad of my fingertip, I traced over his bulging erection trapped
inside. I longed to feel him against my palm, the smooth hardness of his cock. Longed
to flick my tongue against his shaft and taste his arousal. Longed to lick from his balls
up to the thick head of his cock until I tasted the first drops of his come.
“I want you in my mouth,” I said, fingering at the metal buttons of his jeans.
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“No.” His biceps flexed as he brushed my hand aside. “Tonight,” he said, and
reached out to run his finger along my cheek, “you’ll submit to my wishes for a
change.”
“Make me,” I whispered, knowing I’d uttered an invitation as well as a challenge.
“Don’t worry, I will.” He flicked open the buttons on my shirt, working his way up
from the bottom to the top. “And I’ll make you beg for more.”
My breasts strained against the faded cotton of my sports bra. I wore underwear for
comfort, not to arouse men, but he didn’t look put off as he ran an appraising glance
over my décolletage before he discarded the blouse to the floor.
“Turn around,” he said.
When I did, he unclasped my bra. I pressed my hands over the cups and turned
back to him. He reached out, sliding the straps from my shoulders, his gesture almost
reverent.
“Lower your hands,” he said, and I let the bra drop to the floor, thrusting my chest
out, longing to feel him kiss my breasts.
“Touch me,” I whispered.
He reached to his backpack and pulled a heavy duty cable cutter from it.
“What the hell, Seth?”
He reached out, grabbed the heavy roll of cable and made quick work of it, his
skilled fingers wielding the cutter until he had a several different lengths of cable cut.
“Hands on your back,” he said, closing in on me, holding a cut-off piece of cable
between his fingers.
“My hands?” I asked, taking another step away from him. A vision of myself bound
and helpless and at his mercy turned up in my mind. My breasts tightened, my entire
body felt heavy, and the idea alone sent a spasm of lust through my pussy. “Make me.”
He pulled me hard against him and thrust his tongue between my lips and deep
into my mouth. Taking his time, taking my breath, he ignored my attempts to struggle
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out of his tight embrace. I gasped for air, my body turning liquid under the strokes his
tongue gave me, my heart speeding up to an alarming rate. The beast inside me lifted
its head and started growling for more, much more. My fingernails prickled with the
need to elongate into claws to rake down his back. Drawing strength, I pushed him
away with all my might. “Enough!”
He flew across the room, slammed hard into the wall.
I let out a harsh breath, stifling a scream. “Oh my God,” I whispered, horrified I’d
used my strength in a way that had caused him harm.
He stood with his head lowered back against the wall, his chest rising and falling
rapidly, and he didn’t return my gaze.
I took a step toward him, arm outstretched. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.
I didn’t mean—”
He raised his head and his grin made me stumble two steps back until my lower
back connected with the bed. He wasn’t hurt, he was—
Aroused.
“Such a strong girl,” he said, wiping his thumb over his bottom lip. “You’re made
for hard kisses.” Closing in, he grabbed me by the shoulders. “Made for hard fucking.”
Oh God, yes.
His mouth came crushing down on mine, taking everything I had until I thought I’d
die of lust. When I shoved at him again, his deep laugh sent goose bumps all over my
skin. Sliding his hand into my hair and grabbing me by the nape of my neck, he backed
me up against the iron footboard of the bed.
Moaning under his onslaught, I grew dizzy with the lust to feel him inside me.
With a sigh, I explored the corded muscles beneath his skin. A growl erupted from my
throat, so inhuman, I recoiled. He really brought out the worst in me.
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Disgusted with myself, I shoved at his shoulders again, pouring all my strength into
the act, trying to make him see reason, see that I wasn’t just an ordinary girl but would
probably eat him alive.
He didn’t move an inch but his embrace grew tighter, the muscles bulging and
moving as he resisted my move. I let out a disbelieving gasp when he drew my arms on
my back and held my wrists in one hand.
“Stop struggling,” he said, slipping his hand into the elastics of my sweatpants and
pulled them over my bottom. The pants bunched down to my ankles, immobilizing me.
Cupping my bottom with one hand, he made a low sound of approval in his throat
when I froze. He slipped one finger beneath my panties. “Spread your legs, wolf girl,”
he said, and his knee nudged between my thighs.
I clamped my legs together. “Don’t think so,” I said, but it came out rough and
smoky, and it brought a smile to his face. Idly, he traced the outer edges of my panties,
staying painfully away from the spot where I craved his touch the most.
Once more, I threw myself, with all my strength, against his hold and managed to
slip my wrists from his tight grasp.
The air whooshed out of my lungs as I landed flat on my chest and face, a heavy
weight pressing me deep into the bed’s mattress. He’d thrown me so fast onto the bed, I
hadn’t had time to blink, much less time to react.
He covered me from bottom to top and drew my hands over my head. “You are
stronger than me, sweetheart, but only if you shift.”
Gasping for breath, I struggled to shake him off.
“Let me go,” I pressed through my teeth. “You are too heavy.”
“Stop pushing me away,” he said, but the pressure on my chest lessened as he
eased his weight off me.
Pain coursed through my arms as I fought again to break free of him. My breasts
pressed flat against the mattress with each movement. I bit on my lip to stifle a moan as
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moisture slid from my pussy, drenching my panties. Pressing my thighs together, I
groaned in sheer pleasure. For the first time in my life, someone had the upper hand
and it drove my arousal to a new height I hadn’t imagined possible. That he was that
someone made me crave his touch all the more.
“Hands on your back, sweetheart.”
I pressed my face into the mattress, slowly crossing my wrists behind my back, my
body shaking with the effort to control my breathing. I rubbed myself against the bed,
enjoying every little pressure I could get on my aching clit. He flung cold cable around
my wrists, knotted it tight. Experimentally, I tested my ties, but let out groan of
frustration.
“You can stop trying to break free. It will do the skin on your wrists no good.” A
light slap landed on my bottom. “Kneel,” he said, and then helped as I slid onto the
mattress while I felt awkward for not being able to use my hands.
My chest stuck out, my nipples two hard points, and I caught his appraising gaze
when I kneeled with my legs slightly apart on the bed. I settled my bottom on my heels,
keeping my back erect, painfully aware how my tied wrists pushed my shoulders back
and my breasts forward.
He slipped his hand inside my panties. “Jesus, you’re so wet,” he groaned. He
pushed two fingers hard into my pussy. I swayed as he pressed the pad of his palm
against my clit.
“So,” a sharp flick of his thumb against my clit that made me moan, “how rough do
you want it?”
I licked my lips and helplessly shrugged.
He took a step away from the bed, taking a piece of cable and slapped it against his
palm. “So, wolf girl, what to tie next,” he said, and a slap landed against my ass. The
cable stung, even though he’d hit my pantied bottom. I longed to feel it against bare
skin. I wiggled my butt, partly to ease the pain, partly to invite him to touch me and
wasn’t disappointed.
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Leaning over the bed, he palmed my butt cheek, giving me a squeeze. He slipped
his hand between my legs and pushed at my thighs, spreading me wider. Then trailed
his fingers down my inner thighs and over the top of my calves. When he closed his
hand firmly around my ankle, I sucked in my breath. “Not like this,” I said, trying to
tug my feet away from under his grasp.
“Like what?” he asked, a laugh in his voice. One hand came around the nape of my
neck and pressed me forward until my cheek rested on the mattress while my bottom
was high in the air. He held me down with an iron hand while I fought him. “Don’t
move,” he growled, and the slap landing on my ass left me gasping with lust and pain.
“You goddamn son of a—” I shut my mouth as his hand slipped inside my panties.
When he found my soaked and swollen clit, I closed my eyes in delight. He gave me
long strokes from my clit over my pussy and back. My bottom tingled as the pain
subsided, mixing with the pleasure he gave me, making me wish he’d spank me again.
“Does that feel good,” he whispered, circling my clit slowly, teasingly. The swell of
my arousal built with each lazy circle he drew, bringing me to the edge but never over
as if he knew that his feathery strokes weren’t enough.
“Harder,” I moaned, thrusting my hips against his hand.
“Ask me to tie your feet,” he said, slipping two fingers inside me and fucking me in
slow but disappointingly shallow thrusts.
I bit my lip, wondering why he didn’t tie me spread-eagle to the bed, it seemed so
much more comfortable. “You can tie me,” I said, wishing I hadn’t spoken because he
stepped away from the bed. Not feeling his touch made me worry he would just leave
again. “But I want to be on my back. Isn’t that how it’s usually done?”
“Is it? I wouldn’t know.” He laughed, a low rumble that made blood rush to my
face in a hot tingle. “If I wanted you on your back, you would be.” He slung the cable
around my ankles, making quick work of it. The effect sent a shiver of sensation over
my skin when I tried to move my legs and found I couldn’t. Pressing up from the
mattress, I sat back on my heels, aware that I had no way of escaping his ties. The cable
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was as effective as if he had cast me in iron shackles. Maybe I would be able to shift,
maybe I wouldn’t. I didn’t care because being in my human body had never been more
arousing.
“And, wolf girl, ever felt so helpless?” he asked, a worrying smile on his lips.
Heart slamming against my rib cage, I shook my head, an odd sensation of fear
combined with mind-numbing arousal taking my breath.
The sound of his metal belt buckle rang loud as he undid it and slid it off his jeans.
“Do you feel good, sweetheart?” he whispered, but my gaze was transfixed on the
leather belt in his hands. “Lean forward,” he said, and when I didn’t comply, gave me a
push against the shoulder. I winced as the cable bit into my skin when I landed on my
face, leaving my ass up in the air, and the cable around my feet added something to the
act I’d never felt before. Helplessness. Submission. My throat went dry at the thought
that I submitted to him in such a way, and that I didn’t mind. At all.
“I’ll make you feel so good,” he murmured, running his hand over my bare back
and over each dip and hollow of my spine. “I’ll spank you now,” he said, caressing the
cheeks of my ass through my panties. “Three times, with the leather belt. And then I’ll
take off your panties.”
Licking my dry lips, I felt my thighs start to tremble. “Do it,” I said, closing my
eyes, anticipation making me hold my breath. When the snap of leather rang and the
flat side of the belt hit my ass, I cried out. Stars erupted behind my eyes. The pain
making my stomach clench, and then his hand was between my legs, sending
explosions of lust through my clit.
“Please,” I moaned, my release so close I needed all but two hard, fast touches. I
inhaled as he spanked me for the second time, and before I could protest, a third time,
the slap ringing through the air and leaving the skin of my ass on fire. As the pain
subsided, the tingling mixed with my need for release, creating an unbearable level of
tension. I could feel my clit pulsing, my panties soaked in my juices. If he didn’t fuck
me soon, I’d start begging.
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“Hold still,” he said, and something cold slipped between my skin and panties. My
eyes flew open when I realized he used the cutter to cut through the cotton. The fabric
gave way smoothly against the sharp blade. My panties fell away from my bottom and
he tugged them down one leg. Breath feathered over my sore skin and a kiss landed
first on one cheek then the other side of my ass. “You look all flushed and swollen,” he
said, tracing one finger through my wet pussy lips. He pressed my hips down until I
rested flat on the mattress, my hands tied behind my back. “I’m gonna fuck that sweet
pussy of yours now.”
The sound of a zipper being undone made me turn my head just in time to see him
shrug out of his jeans. He wrapped his hand around his erection and gave himself a
long stroke. “Untie my hands,” I said, my gaze glued on his hands and how he stroked
himself.
“Don’t make me spank you again.” He raised a warning eyebrow, but his eyes were
sparkling with laughter. “Not that you would mind.”
No, I wouldn’t mind. But I still preferred to feel him inside me now. The bed
protested as he climbed onto it and slid up the length of me, keeping most of his weight
off my back, rubbing his cock against my ass. I tried to spread my legs farther, but the
cable around my ankles didn’t allow for elaborate movement. I let out a groan of
frustration, grinding myself against the bunched-up sheets.
“Impatient much?” A kiss landed against my neck.
“How about using that big cable cutter of yours to untie me now?” Flexing my
stomach muscles, I wiggled around underneath him, coming to rest on my tied-back
arms, which drew a small groan from my lips. He was propped up on his hands,
looking first into my eyes, and then his gaze slid to my mouth. Leaning low, he kissed
me lightly, gently taking his time to explore and trace my lips. When the tip of his
tongue slid into my mouth, I melted into liquid heat under him. There was nothing I
loved more than kissing him, nothing. I moaned out my protest when he stopped and
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shushed me with his finger over my lips. “Don’t rush me,” he said, and blew a kiss on
my forehead.
“Easy for you to say,” I answered, once more arching up to get closer to his rock-
hard erection. How could he stand to be so slow?
Shaking his head, he murmured, “Not easy,” then closed his mouth around my
nipple and sucked hard. It shot through my body like an electric current. I screamed,
bucking under him.
“Jesus, don’t make those noises,” he said roughly.
“Make me come,” I begged, balling my hands until my nails cut into my palm.
“Please, make me come.”
“How?” he asked, his eyes darkening, a vein throbbing in his temple.
“With your mouth,” I whispered.
“You like it when I lick the cream out of your tight pussy?” he asked, his hands
dipping between my legs and I let my eyes flutter shut.
“Yes,” I breathed out, moving my hips to seek the perfect rhythm to his strokes.
“God yes.”
He moved on the bed, making me wobble on top of it. But instead of moving lower,
he moved up. When his hand sank into my hair, I stared up, my heart thudding hard
against my chest. “Open your mouth,” he demanded, holding his cock in one hand.
His erection pushed at my closed lips and, for a moment, outrage welled inside me.
Then a drop of liquid wetted my lips and I licked. He forced the thick head inside my
mouth, his groan of pleasure making me wish I had my hands free. Hearing his lust-
filled voice almost made me come. Creamy moisture slid from my pussy as I swirled
my tongue around the slit in his cock. He was hot and heavy, and when he started
moving, I took him eagerly deeper.
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He pumped his cock in and out until I was dizzy with the need to taste his come.
“I’m so close, wolf girl,” he groaned thickly, a shudder going through him and he
stopped. “Fuck,” he whispered, and withdrew. “I’m forgetting myself here.”
Then his mouth was on me and I screamed out as he thrust his tongue inside my
pussy. He sucked at my clit, shoving two fingers inside me. “I want you to come,
sweetheart,” he said, and then landed one hard lick after the other over my clit while he
finger-fucked me. Helplessly, I clenched around his fingers, but it was his mouth that
sent me over the edge.
I sucked in my breath, and then screamed as I broke, my orgasm starting from my
core and coursing through my entire body in violent shivers. He didn’t stop licking
until I was trembling, every touch and lick too intense. “Stop,” I moaned, “stop, it’s too
much…”
With a hoarse groan, he flipped me over. “Raise your ass,” he said, a slap landing
on my bottom. Hard fingers dug into my hips as he pulled me against his groin. He
spread my knees as wide as my bound feet allowed.
He thrust into me in one hard stroke, burying his cock in my pussy up to his balls.
It was a shock, finally feeling him spreading me wide. It felt so good having him inside
me that I moved eagerly against him, taking him deeper. I wriggled my tied hands,
dying to use my hands on myself, and heard him laugh quietly.
“This what you want?” His fingers found my clit, stroking me in a perfect rhythm. I
didn’t need to answer, and he knew how to touch me by now. “But tonight is not about
what you want,” he said, pinching my clit.
“Bastard,” I said, smiling. I had already come and his cock inside my pussy felt way
too good to complain. Who cared if I couldn’t climax a second time?
“I’m going to fuck you slow,” he said, restraint heavy in his voice, “but I don’t
know for how long.” He groaned, moving in long languid strokes, his hands clamped
tight around my hips. “You’re so tight, so hot.”
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His words kicked my arousal higher and I could feel him hit something good, again
and again, until I swallowed hard. “I’m coming with you inside me,” I whispered, more
to myself than to him, but I heard him suck in his breath and pause for a moment.
“Don’t stop, God, don’t stop,” I said, wanting the hot pleasure that spread through
me each time he thrust deep.
When he rammed inside me, all gentleness forgotten, I urged him on hoarsely. He
slammed into me and I could feel his cock thicken. When he sent a smacking slap on my
flank, I yelled out, my orgasm crashing over me hard and unexpected while he
pounded his cock into me. He shouted, his cock pulsing inside me in hot spurts as he
spilled his come inside my still-convulsing pussy. When I finally had my breath back, I
dropped onto my stomach, feeling his still-hard cock slip out of me.
I rolled over to my side, breathing hard.
“Don’t move,” he said, a heavy hand landing on my feet as he carefully cut the cord
from my wrists and ankles. Then he moved behind me, drawing me into his arms.
“There’s something you are not telling me, right?” I said quietly, heart beating in
my throat. “Are you…are you a shifter too?”
He was silent for a moment, and I turned toward him until my nose touched his.
“And?”
Wrapping his arms around me, he pulled me on top of him. I nuzzled my face into
the warm side of his neck, closing my eyes, trying hard not to nag him further, when he
said, “My brother was like you,” and cleared his throat. “He was reckless, hot-blooded
and always looking for the next challenge, for the next fight. He would disappear for
several nights in a row. Or he was depressed for days by the inability to show the world
who he really was.” He curled his hand into my hair at the nape of my neck. “I’d have
sold my soul to be like him.”
“But you weren’t.”
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His She-wolf
“No, I can’t shift. I feel it inside me, have the strength and heal faster than anyone I
know, but I can’t shift. And my sister Gabrielle was born without a trace of wolf to her.
It was my younger brother who had it all.”
I heard the pain in his voice. “What happened to him?” I asked, fearing his answer.
“He loved being a shifter, bragged about it even. He’d just turned eighteen. They
said he killed himself, but I never believed it.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered.
He kissed the crown of my head. “It was a long time ago. While I searched for his
killer, I got involved with the wrong crowd, took up the wrong work. My reflexes and
ability to heal quickly are quite an asset. When my little sis married Simon, I finally
came to my senses. She had already lost one brother and asked me to clean up my act.
So I did.”
“Well, I’m glad you did,” I said. “I’ll be sure to thank your sister if I ever meet her.”
“I’d love you to meet her,” he said. “After my brother was found dead, she founded
a foundation for the education of gifted teenagers,” he said. “Gifted meaning being a
shifter. To this day she is convinced that my brother’s death could have been prevented
by getting him in touch with his elders and equals from around the world.”
“I would love to know other shifters,” I said, remembering how lonely and
confused I’d felt all my life. Yes, I thought, it had been tough growing up without ever
meeting other shifters. I suddenly had a very good idea what I could do with the check
in my drawer. “My mom was terrified when I shifted the first time under her eyes.
She—she—she helped me as best as she could.” The shame and pain of those first
months and years after I first shifted was forever engraved in my memory. I swallowed,
thinking back to what Mom had called my safe room but had in reality been nothing
but a cage for a couple of days and nights each month. “Well, my mom coped the best
she could, really, and it’s a long time ago anyway.”
“And your dad,” he asked gently, stroking through my hair.
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108
I snorted. “According to my mom he left one night and never came back, leaving
her alone and pregnant with me. I guess I can thank him for my special talent.” I hadn’t
meant to sound bitter, but I did.
“You’re my wolf girl,” he said, wrapping his hands around my cheeks, making sure
I couldn’t evade his gaze. “And as long as you want, I’ll take care of you. Every four
weeks, I’ll make sure you won’t have to deny yourself your wildness, your hunger. We
can fight, we can play chase, or we can have you in iron handcuffs, your choice.”
“I’ll think about it,” I said, but couldn’t stop smiling. Tomorrow, I’d finish packing
and move to the new apartment. And the day after, I’d start looking for a new location
for my store. Money was too tight for big plans, but enough for small, well-planned
steps. And my plans started to involve him in a way I hadn’t thought possible. “I’m
looking at new spaces to lease next week,” I said, “and I’d love to hear your opinion.”
“Is that a date?” he asked, pinching my bottom.
I squirmed away, but tried to keep my voice light. “Would that be terrible?” I was
in the arms of a man who accepted and understood all aspects of my nature. Tough to
resist, really.
“I’m all yours,” he said, flipping me over so I rested underneath him. “For as long
as you want me.”
“That could be quite a while,” I said, gazing up at him, holding my heart in my
hands.
He grinned. “Knew you needed saving,” he said then started to kiss his way down
my body as if to prove exactly how hard it was to resist him. When his tongue found
my center, I tipped my head back, wrapped my hands around the bed’s iron bars. “Oh
God, yes, save me, but tie me up first.”
And he did.
About the Author
Amy Redwood lives in Vancouver, Canada. This wasn’t always the case. She grew
up in Europe, moved to New Zealand and then explored China before settling down on
the west coast of Canada. She likes nothing better than dark chocolate, autumn rain and
curling up on the couch reading a great story. But what she loves is writing about smart
heroines and sexy heroes enjoying hot nights, hotter days and a happily ever after.
After all, nothing beats a happy end.
Amy welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email
address on her
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