Lure of Oblivion

by Suzanne Wright

  “You’re good at ignoring people, aren’t you, Gwen?”

  “Dude, I’m so good at it, I can make people doubt that they’re actually alive.”

  Zander’s mouth quirked, even as his nose wrinkled in distaste. Most guys didn’t like shopping. For Zander, it wasn’t the stores themselves that annoyed him. It was the fluorescent lighting and the clash of scents—fruit, meat, detergent, flowers, bread, soaps. The smells didn’t mix well at all. “You haven’t checked your list once.”

  “I have it memorized.” Not really. She just liked to browse and grab some impulse buys. Spotting Marlon’s preferred brand of hot chocolate, she sighed. It had to be on the top shelf, didn’t it? Gripping one of the metal shelves for balance, she reached up to grab the tub. No joy. She glared at Zander. “Are you going to watch me struggle?”

  “That position pushes out your tits and your ass, so, yeah.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Boys. You’re all the same.” But he reached up, nabbed the hot chocolate, and dropped it into her hands. “Thank you,” she said.

  “You’re welcome.” As they began to walk again, Zander spoke, “Last night—”

  “We don’t need to talk about it.” It was both a statement and an assurance.

  “Yeah, we do.”

  She clenched her hands around the cart handle. “You don’t need to gently tell me that it was a one-time thing. I already get that. I’m sure I looked damn stunning while you were wearing Beer Vision, but I know the reality is very different.”

  Zander frowned. “The reality?”

  “You’d been drinking, you—”

  “I wasn’t drunk. I knew what I was doing. I knew what I wanted. If my Alpha hadn’t called last night and interrupted us, I’d have taken you right there.”

  She bristled. “I wouldn’t have fucked anyone in the kitchen, right where any number of people could have walked in.”

  “Don’t kid yourself, Gwen. It would have happened.” He paused as she stopped to grab milk. “Unfortunately, it didn’t. But it will.” He’d make sure of it. “I have to know.”

  “Know what?”

  “What it’s like to be in you. Taking you. Tonight, I’ll have you under me. Why do you look so shocked?” He leaned forward. “I like sex, Gwen. I like it a lot. I like having it often. I intend to have it with you. Repeatedly.”

  More than a little surprised by the direction the conversation had headed, Gwen exhaled raggedly. While the thought of being under him held some appeal, she knew better. Careful not to squash the brownies, she placed a heavy jug of milk in the cart. “It’s not gonna happen.” The words came out hoarse, so she cleared her throat and firmly added, “It’s just not.”

  The hell it won’t, thought Zander. He put his face close to hers. “You think I can’t tell that you want me?”

  Oh, Gwen knew he could sense it. He was a shifter, so he’d be able to scent that she wanted him. And that left her feeling vulnerable and exposed. Grabbing the cart, she hastened her step as she took a sharp turn around an aisle . . . and shuddered. She hated walking down the frozen-food aisle; the chill always gave her goose bumps. Well, at least it might cool her down and calm her libido. That would sure be helpful.

  Seizing the cart, he dragged it to a halt. “Look at me, Gwen. Come on, baby, look at me.”

  She met his gaze . . . and swallowed at the sheer intensity there. “What?” she rasped.

  “You’re running from me. From this. Why?” He cocked his head. “Is it because I’m not human? Does that freak you out?”

  “No,” she said immediately, not wanting him to think any such thing. “You don’t freak me out in any way.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  She jutted out her chin. “I don’t get involved with people who’re spoken for.”

  “Good. Neither do I.”

  But he was spoken for, because . . . “You’re a shifter.”

  “I’m well aware of that,” he said, impatient. He had no idea where she was going with this. He thought it best not to comment on how cute she looked when she lifted her chin like that.

  “You have a true mate waiting for you somewhere out there. Kissing you last night . . . I feel like I touched something that belonged to someone else. And now I feel shitty about it.”

  Understanding, Zander sighed. He hadn’t expected the true-mate thing to be an issue. It wasn’t something that had ever bothered anyone before now. Given that Gwen Miller was a female with principles, it would have occurred to him to expect that response if she’d been right. But she was human and didn’t seem to properly understand the way it worked.

  He rested his hand in the crook of her neck and caressed the column of her throat with his thumb. “You’re right that I have a true mate, but who says she’s waiting for me, Gwen? She could be imprinted on another. She could be someone who doesn’t want a mate. She could be someone I never meet for any number of reasons.”

  Gwen frowned. “Imprinting is when two people who aren’t true mates form a mating bond, right?”

  “That’s right. It happens more often than you’d think. I know several imprinted couples. One of my closest friends imprinted on a female not so long ago; their bond is as strong as any I’ve seen between true mates.” He skimmed his finger over her cheekbone. “My uncle died recently.”

  She winced. “Sorry to hear that.”

  Zander shrugged. “I didn’t know him well. He searched for his mate all his life. He never found her, and he died alone. He told me in a letter he’d written shortly before his death that I shouldn’t spend my life doing the same. I never intended to anyway because, for me, searching for my mate would be pointless.”

  She tilted her head. “Why?”

  “Several things can block the frequency of the mating bond, including doubts and fears and mental walls. Did you know that?”

  She shook her head. “Let me guess. You have mental walls that are sky-high.”

  A smile tugged at his mouth. “You could say that my boundaries are more extensive than most.” And he feared mating, in part, because he liked to be in control of himself, his life, his choices. Finding his true mate would take some of that control away.

  “Those walls I have will block the bond,” Zander continued. “That means I can’t even be sure I’ll recognize my predestined mate if I cross her path. We could pass each other in the street and never know. Hell, we could know each other for years and never realize we’re mates. Unless she and I bond, I don’t belong to her any more than she belongs to me. If it worked any other way, shifters would never be able to form a mating bond with someone who wasn’t their true mate.” He tugged on her braid. “In other words, I’m just as free and single as you are.”

  She looked away. “I don’t understand. You’re . . .”

  “What?”

  Gorgeous, edible, out of my league. Gwen slid her gaze back to him. “You didn’t show the slightest bit of interest in me until yesterday, and now you’re all up in my space.”

  Yeah, well, he hadn’t admitted to himself just how much he wanted her until yesterday. He moved aside her collar so he could look at the bite on her neck. Masculine satisfaction flared through him—perhaps more satisfaction than he should be comfortable with. He brushed his thumb over the imprint of his teeth. “Do you know what that is?”

  “I’m pretending it’s not there.”

  Zander fought a smile. “But it is there.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “I’m looking right at it.”

  “At what? There’s nothing to look at.”

  Mouth curving, he cupped her jaw. “That mark tells others that you’re taken. Not by someone who considers you a simple possession—shifters won’t mark people they don’t respect, and they don’t do it on a whim or for shits and giggles. The mark says you’re taken by someone who respects, protects, and values you. Someone who, yeah, will be up in your space. Right now, while you have a threat hanging over your head, you need someone that close.�
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  He respected and valued her? “You don’t even know me.”

  “I like what I know. I know you’re smart, resilient, you stand your ground, and you’ll be a voice for people who can’t speak up for themselves. It takes a strong person to do that.” Even his wolf liked her strength, though he still held her at a metaphorical distance.

  “You say all that, but you’re still suspicious of me for a reason you haven’t yet explained.”

  “I’m suspicious of whatever I don’t understand. You, Gwen, are a mystery in many ways.” It was the truth; it just didn’t fully answer her question. But Zander didn’t think that telling her of his wolf’s struggles would help. Before she could question him further, he said, “Now let’s finish up here and get back, yeah? There are too many scents in this place.”

  She let out a breath. “All right. I’m almost done.”

  As they’d each said their piece, the tension between them disappeared. But things sort of weirdly . . . shifted. She’d thought he’d been up in her space before, but she quickly realized he’d actually given her space. Now that the air was clear, he apparently saw no need to hold back.

  He stroked her hair. Doodled patterns on her nape. Breathed her in. Nipped her earlobe. Swept a hand down her back. Pressed the occasional soft kiss to her neck.

  Every touch was possessive and playful. She wasn’t sure anyone had ever paid her that level of attention before. It was like he honed every sense on her, making her feel like the center of everything as he touched and crowded her. He was everywhere, and it was as overwhelming as it was thrilling. It was also a problem, because it was firing her libido.

  As they were nearing the checkout stand, he let out a low growl that made her think of an idling motorcycle. She threw him a questioning look, surprised to see his nostrils flaring.

  “You’re wet,” he said in a low, deep voice.

  Her cheeks reddened. “You have no one to blame for that but yourself.”

  Once they’d bagged the groceries, they loaded them into the trunk of his SUV. She’d wanted to take her truck, but he’d rightly pointed out that as the Moores knew her vehicle, they’d know to look for her if they saw it around. Unable to argue that, she’d agreed to let him drive her to the store. Done loading the trunk, Zander drove en route to the house.

  Resting one hand on her thigh, he asked, “Did Yvonne officially adopt you?”

  Gwen sighed. “You’re so damn nosy.”

  “Answer my question, and I’ll answer one of yours.”

  “All right. No, she didn’t. She just fostered me, the same as she did Marlon and Julie. Your turn.” She lifted a brow. “You ever had anal sex?”

  He did a double take. “What?”

  “I’m curious. How’d it go?”

  Zander gritted his teeth. “I know what you’re doing, Gwen.” She was trying to make the conversation superficial, trying to keep him at a distance. That wasn’t going to happen. He wasn’t interested in fucking a stranger, and he wanted to know her better. “No, I haven’t. Shifters tend to save anal sex for their mates. Now, I have another question for you.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” she mumbled.

  “How long have you lived with Yvonne?”

  “Since I was eight. Now you. What do you prefer—tits or ass?”

  “Gwen.”

  She turned to the window. “Fine, don’t answer.”

  “I’m more of an ass-man. And you, by the way, have a hot little ass. One last question.” For now, anyway. “What happened to your foster father?” he asked softly, already suspecting the male was dead.

  “The first one died in a car accident.”

  He frowned. “There was a second one? What happened to him?”

  “Karma.” She sighed. “So, you like to use toys in bed?”

  Zander grinned wickedly and lightly squeezed her thigh. “You’d be my toy, baby.”

  Her whole body seemed to flush at that. She’d heard about sex with shifters. Heard it was rough, intense, mind-blowing. What was the dumb phrase the shifter groupies used? Once you go shifter, you’ll never go back. She’d always snickered at that. But while Zander’s potent sex appeal swamped her, and she fairly ached for him, she suspected that he would leave a lasting impression on her. She couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

  As they pulled up in front of the B&B and she spotted a familiar Audi, Gwen’s libido instantly cooled down. The owner of said Audi was standing on the porch with Marlon, and they were having some kind of standoff.

  Zander studied the thin, lanky male standing on the porch. Zander didn’t recognize him from Half ’n’ Half, and he was pretty sure he hadn’t seen him around. “Who’s that?”

  She unbuckled her seat belt. “My ex-therapist, Aidan.”

  Zander’s brows snapped together. The idea that she might have suffered some sort of trauma made anger surge through him, but he kept his voice even. “Why did you have a therapist?”

  “For therapy.”

  Impatient, he pushed, “Why did you go to therapy?”

  “Because Julie wouldn’t go unless I did.”

  He gritted his teeth at her evasiveness. “Gwen.”

  “Do you have to be so fucking nosy?”

  “When the fucking subject’s you, yeah.”

  Huffing, she hopped out of the SUV and slowly climbed the steps onto the porch. She felt Zander’s body heat, knew he was close behind her despite his not making a sound.

  Aidan’s face softened in a way she couldn’t help but find creepy. “Gwen.” His eyes slid to Zander, who now stood at her side so close their arms touched. And the therapist clearly didn’t like it. “I’m Aidan Rogers. You are?”

  “Why are you here?” Gwen asked, tone flat. Aidan would just love to get some sort of emotional reaction from her to evaluate it. She’d give him nothing.

  “I wanted to check on you. Julie told me that you declined my offer of support and didn’t want to see me. I respect that—”

  “Do you?” rumbled Zander. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t be here.” He didn’t know anything about this asshole, but he did know that the human felt something for Gwen. It was plain to see, and it rubbed Zander the wrong way. His wolf stalked forward and pressed against Zander’s skin, taking a good look at the male. Weak, the wolf decided. No threat. Still, the beast wanted him gone. So did Zander.

  Aidan ignored him, keeping his attention on Gwen. “Could we speak privately?”

  “No,” she said.

  Aidan’s mouth flattened. “Julie mentioned that you have guests offering to help. Shifters. I’m guessing the man beside you is one of them.”

  Folding his arms across his chest, Marlon asked, “Should you be sharing anything that Julie said to you, given it’s all supposed to be private between you and your patient?”

  Turning to him, Aidan raised a placatory hand. “I just want to talk to Gwen. That’s all.”

  “Here’s my problem, Aidan,” said Zander, face hard. “I don’t like the way you look at her. Not at all. Your voice changes, softens, when you say her name. Did you know that? No? Well, it does. And, yeah, I don’t like it.”

  Twin spots of color stained Aidan’s cheeks. “She’s one of my patients. I’m fond of her.”

  “No, she’s not,” said Marlon. “She hasn’t been one of your patients for a long time.”

  “That doesn’t mean I no longer feel any concern for her.”

  Zander cocked his head. “Do you always chase down patients who choose to end their sessions with you?”

  Aidan gave a dismissive snort of laughter that was clearly false. “I’m hardly chasing her.”

  “But you did at first,” said Marlon. “Isn’t that right?”

  “At the time, I was worried,” Aidan defended. “She left therapy before we could make any real progress.”

  “She left? I wonder why that was.” The sarcasm in Marlon’s voice made Aidan flush.

  Done with the whole thing, Gwen s
aid, “Go home, Aidan.” She didn’t need this shit. “And don’t come back.”

  “I just want to help you,” he said, looking the image of what she believed was false concern. “Everything that’s happening with the Moores has to be tearing open some wounds.”

  God, the guy was dramatic. “It’s not,” Gwen said truthfully.

  “Witnessing violence, feeling unsafe, the pressure to keep secrets—it must be like reliving your childhood,” he insisted.

  Gwen glared at Aidan, pissed that he’d pretty much exposed the bare bones of her childhood to Zander. The asshole was wrong. It wasn’t like reliving that time. This situation wasn’t about her; it was about Andie—an innocent female who’d been drugged, beaten, and terrorized.

  “You want me to be this fragile person who needs your help to heal,” said Gwen. He’d even tried to convince her that she was. “Maybe you like the idea of being someone’s savior, and it makes you feel powerful, I don’t know. But I’m not fragile. I don’t need you. And I have no wish whatsoever to speak to you as a therapist or as a fellow human being.”

  “In other words,” began Zander, closing in on him, “you aren’t welcome here, and you need to fucking go. You also need to stay the hell away.”

  Gwen swallowed. The words had been spoken low and soft, and that seemed to make them all the more menacing.

  “What are you going to do if I don’t?” Aidan challenged, voice shaky. “Rip my throat out?”

  Zander smiled. “That would end the fun all too quickly.”

  “Way too quickly,” agreed Marlon.

  Aidan looked from one male to the other. “I only came here to help her.”

  “You don’t want to help her,” said Zander. “I doubt that you ever did. No, I think you get off on making women dependent on you—and I think you should note that that is just plain fucked-up. You should also note that if you come back here, you won’t leave unharmed.”

  The therapist’s fear was clear to see. “You can’t threaten me.”

  “I can and I did.” Zander went nose to nose with Aidan. “In sum, you’ll stay away from Gwen. You’ll stop passing messages through her sister. And you’ll get it out of your fucking head that Gwen could ever be yours. In fact, don’t even think about her at all. We clear?”