Call of the Lycan Trilogy Bundle

by Pillow Michelle M.

  “You know, Ms. Abbey, you are one hell of a sexy woman and you smell really nice.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I said,” Roark leaned closer to her, “that you are a very sexy woman, a thaisce, and I would be more than willing to service you in any way you desire.”

  Natasha paled. Her eyes darted to his lips. He detected the instant gush of cream between her thighs. The smell of it tortured him.

  “Are…? Are you serious?” she whispered.

  “Mmm, just grab my cock if you don’t believe me. I can’t seem to keep it down around you.” He leaned closer, not knowing what was coming over him. She smelled so good and he loved that she wasn’t protesting his boldness. “I can’t ever remember having such a strong reaction to a woman. Can’t you feel it? It’s like you’ve invaded my blood and heated my body to the point of explosion. All I can think about is fucking you.”

  “This isn’t… Ah. Um. Well, you…” Her breathing deepened. “You shouldn’t be saying these things.”

  “It’s not,” Roark grinned, leaning a little closer to her perfect mouth, “proper etiquette?”

  “No, it’s not,” she whispered, not backing away. If anything, she swayed forward ever so slightly, as if closing the distance between their mouths. Her eyes glazed as she stared at his lips. “Please, I’m here to do a job. I’m supposed to be teaching you not to do these sorts of things.”

  “You mentioned wanting to lay some ground rules at the house.” Roark waited as she nodded in agreement. “I’d be happy to lay some for you, just to see how you like them. First, give me permission to show you pleasure like you’ve never had before and I promise to be as discreet as you want. Your office will never find out. Hell, I won’t tell a soul. At all. Second, I’ll let you teach me manners and I promise to be a good student, if you let me teach you how to let go a little and have some fun.”

  Her breath hitched, “Mr. O’Connell—”

  “Third, you must call me Roark.” Grinning wickedly, he added, “Unless you’re wanting to role play in which case I’m game.”

  “Roark, please. I’ll admit there’s some attraction between us and it may even be strong, but—”

  He could see the denial in her eyes and he hastened to try and convince her to give in to him and the arousal he detected coming from her. “Just hear what I am offering you, Natasha, think about it. You can use me for whatever wild fantasies, for whatever tawdry, dirty, depraved little sex acts you’ve denied yourself and I’ll give in to your whims completely. Come on, a thaisce. Isn’t there a part of you wanting to give in to me? A wild side you’ve kept on a leash? It’s only a week. You’re in Kansas City, Kansas. No one here knows you. There will be no commitments afterward. What do you say?”

  “I’m surprised you know what city you’re in,” she said.

  “I saw a sign when we were driving and that’s not an answer.” Roark didn’t like thinking that there would be no commitment afterward, but really it was for the best. She was human, after all, and lycans didn’t mate to humans. Sure, lycans had been known to take humans to their beds. They dated them and some even spent lifetimes with them. But they never mated with them, not for all eternity. Only other immortal supernaturals were suitable lifemates. Too many lycans had seen their loved ones die as they tried to turn them. It was a painful memory that would be carried into eternity. For, if not murdered, the lycan would live forever.

  Occasionally, lines would be blurred and mortals would be turned. Lycans were lusty creatures after all, craving both blood and sex. Circumstances had to be right—the bloodline perfect and the moon full—for the bite to take effect. Even so, it was against the law to turn mortals. A lycan could attack fifty humans and only possibly turn one. So if a human was turned, the odds were that lycan had attacked many—unless it was a special circumstance. Even then, it didn’t guarantee they’d make it through the horrifically painful process.

  It was why his kind didn’t mate with humans. Sex with them, sure. Mating, no.

  Roark frowned. Why was he suddenly thinking of turning humans into lycans? Though he wouldn’t mind inviting this one in to help him tame his inner beast, but to have thoughts of eternity?

  “What do you say?” he asked again. Every nerve in him seemed to stretch toward her. He needed her desperately, wanted her terribly.

  “I say.” She took several deep breaths. “I say that we came here for lunch.”

  In physical pain at her refusal to agree to his plan, he took a step back. Her eyes darted down to his hip, to where his arousal pressed against tight leather. She made a weak noise and turned her eyes away.

  You are something, aren’t you, Ms. Abbey? I only hope you don’t have too much willpower when it comes to denying your body and mine.

  Natasha couldn’t believe Roark. The audacity! The sheer boldness! The…all too incredibly tempting arrangement!

  I can’t. No. It’s not right. I can’t take him up on his offer.

  But he does have a good point, her inner voice argued. No one will look for you here. No one will know about it. How long has it been anyway since a man was between those thighs of yours? Are you sure they’re not rusted shut?

  Natasha grimaced. It had been awhile since she had sex, unless a vibrator counted, in which case she’d burnt out the last three. Being from her “special, unmentionable” heritage made her sexually active by nature, even if she was cursed into the body of a human. But for years she denied her past, trying to blend in, trying to learn the mortal ways.

  Don’t think of it. You are human. If you think of the old ways, they’ll come for you. You are human. You are human. Be the human.

  Ugh.

  “The supernatural do not exist,” she whispered, wishing there was a way to make herself truly believe it.

  “Pardon me?” Roark pulled open the door to the diner, holding it for her so she could go inside. When she stepped past him, she felt the faintest brush on her ass. She glanced back. The man looked too innocent to be believed.

  “I didn’t say anything,” she lied.

  “Hmm, I must be hearing things. Either that, or I was hoping you were finally willing to answer me about my offer.”

  “You’ve hired me to do a job, Mr. O’Connell, and I intend to do that job.” She nodded smartly at him and stepped into the diner. It had booth seats and waitresses dressed in old fifties outfits. Classic rock played over the intercom and small jukeboxes were in the booths on each table.

  “Two please,” Roark said to the hostess, offering his arm to Natasha.

  “Roark, you devil. Welcome back, sweetie pie.”

  Natasha arched a brow. “Come here often?”

  “No, just yesterday.” He looked uncomfortable.

  “The girls can’t stop talking about how good you dance,” the hostess said. “Where did you learn to move like that? Tell the truth, now. Dance lessons?”

  “Yeah,” he laughed. “Tell the ladies I had a lot of fun with them too.”

  “Dance?” Natasha asked.

  “It’s nothing,” he said under his breath. “We were just bored. The place was dead and they do have great music.”

  “Bored?” the lady laughed. Then, with a pointed look at Natasha, she said, “You didn’t know you were on a date with a stripper, did you?”

  Natasha gasped, looking at Roark. He grinned, shrugged and sat down. “Like I said, we were bored.”

  The woman seated them at a table in the back. The place was nearly empty, except for a few families who dined in the other side of the restaurant. The high-pitched whine of a young child drifted over the diner, only to be followed by the shushing of the kid’s parents. Seeing an ashtray on the table, she began to lift her hand to have the woman seat them in non-smoking.

  Roark grabbed her hand and held it in his. Slowly running his fingers over her wrist, he said, “I won’t light up. In fact, I’m giving the habit up.”

  “Really?” Was it her, or was his skin really hot? She felt the spark of his t
ouch all the way up her arm. It was as if she could feel it against her breasts as her nipples hardened into treacherous little peaks. Thank goodness she was wearing the suit jacket—even if it did feel a little hot.

  “Mmm, you like when I touch you, don’t you?” He took a deep breath, as he lifted her hand to his mouth. Weak, and frankly too stunned to pull back, she let him. Roark lightly flicked his tongue over her wrist and palm before kissing it with an open mouth. He groaned, doing it again and again, as he ran his mouth along her forearm. “I’m suddenly not hungry. How about we take off and go back to my place?”

  Natasha pulled her hand from him in mid-kiss. “I’m famished.”

  Roark grumbled, but didn’t say anything she could understand as the waitress came to take their order. Not surprising, he got a steak with numerous unhealthy side dishes. Natasha ordered a salad and water.

  He started flipping through the selection of songs on the miniature jukebox on their table. The unit was nailed to the wall and had an impressive number of song choices. Within moments, classic Fifties rock blared overhead. It had a fast upbeat tempo and the voice that belted along with the music was as smooth as silk.

  “You have a beautiful mouth,” he said. “And a nice voice.”

  Had she started singing under her breath again? It was a horrible habit. Ignoring the compliment, she said, “Well, let’s start, shall we?”

  “What? Here?” Roark glanced behind his back, a small smile on his face when he again looked at her. “You want to do it in the restroom?”

  YES!

  “No, the etiquette lessons,” Natasha told him emphatically. This was only the first afternoon. How was she going to resist him for a week? Especially when her body was already turned on by him? “We want to make sure you get your money’s worth, don’t we?”

  “Not really,” he grumbled.

  Natasha ignored his griping. “Let’s start with table manners, shall we? Dining etiquette is essential to making a good impression and speaks volumes about a person.” Unrolling the silverware from the napkin, she placed it on the table in front of her, positioning the fork, knife and spoon in proper order. “Since we don’t have a full service in front of us, this will have to do.” She reached over, arranging his as well. “If this were a small luncheon napkin, you would unfold it completely. But, since it’s a full-size dinner napkin, you only fold it into half like so. Now, it’s customary for you to wait until your host or hostess unfolds their napkin first. You don’t want to come off as too eager to dine.”

  Roark didn’t move.

  “Go on,” she urged. “Pretend I’m the hostess. See, I’ve just unfolded my napkin and set it in my lap.”

  Slowly, a frown marring his brow, he did the same. She nodded in approval.

  “The napkin is to stay on your lap at all times. If you get up and put the napkin on your plate, that will tell your server you are not coming back and that they may take your plate away. The meal is over when the host or hostess puts their napkin on the table to the right of their plate like so.” Natasha placed her napkin on the table. “Now you try. Don’t wad it up into a ball, but don’t refold it either.”

  Roark didn’t look pleased, but he followed her example.

  The waitress came and delivered their drinks, placing them on the table. As he reached for his, Natasha took it away and set it to the right of his plate. “Glassware will always be placed here. It’s important when drinking to put your glass down in the same place, as to maintain the visual integrity of the dining area.”

  The waitress snorted at her. Natasha scowled slightly in disapproval. Roark laughed, grabbing his glass and taking a drink of his soda.

  “It’s easy to remember where things in the place settings go. Liquids on the right,” Natasha pointed to the right of her plate before motioning gracefully to the other side, “and solids on the left.”

  Roark leaned forward. “I’m sorry, love, but this is boring. I’d much rather talk about you.”

  “That very well may be, but manners are ways of showing other people that you respect them.”

  “Do they teach you to say things like that?” he asked.

  “You pay me to say things like that. In fact, a lot of celebrities pay me to train their future wives and husbands in the art of etiquette. When people are public figures they are under constant watch. If a person is not born into the lifestyle, then one must learn the lifestyle.”

  “Ah, so if I pay you more, you’ll let me eat in peace?” He winked to soften his words. “’Cause the way I see it, the more money you have, the more people will like you regardless of your table manners.”

  “Just be happy I don’t make you sit through a lecture on the difference between the American way of cutting meat and the Continental way.”

  “Did you just make a joke?” he asked, appearing truly amazed. “Say it isn’t so! Are you showing signs of loosening up?”

  “Highly doubtful,” she assured him. “Silverware usage is easy. Just start from the outside and work your way in.”

  “You know, I’m easy as well.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. Wryly, she shook her head. “So you keep telling me.”

  “Just want to make sure you heard it.” Looking over the small wall alongside their booth, he glanced toward where the kitchen was. “Our food should be out soon. You want to speed this up?”

  “It’s easier if we practice while dining,” she said.

  “Listen, you’re here to give lessons, not make sure I take them. So you eat proper-like. I’ll eat like I eat and watch you do it your way. I’d watch you do anything with your sexy mouth.”

  “You’re going to make everything difficult, aren’t you?” she asked, somehow feeling up to the challenge.

  Giving her the most audacious look, he shook his head. “Mmm, not all things.”

  His meaning was clear and Natasha did her best not to blush. She couldn’t remember any man pursuing her so hard, which was a feat considering she was come on to a lot. The waitress saved her from answering by bringing their food. True to his word, Roark ate like a man, which was to say he ate with relish, taking huge bites and over-salting everything. His glass seemed to travel around his plate, landing wherever he felt like placing it.

  If he wasn’t willing to listen to her lessons, she decided that she’d merely show by example, taking little, delicate bites. He made small talk, refusing to mention the proposal for sex that hung between them. But it was there, nearly palpable and as heady as the feelings inside her body. Natasha hated to admit it, but there was something animalistic and sensual about the way he attacked his meal with gusto. Would he attack everything in such a manner?

  Halfway through the meal she knew she’d most likely take him up on his offer. By the end of the meal she was sure of it. Roark was smart, sexy, witty and, most importantly, eager to fulfill every desire she had.

  Vibrator or Roark? It wasn’t a hard call.

  Wait, could she choose both?

  She shivered. Desire boiled just below her surface. After the meal, Roark threw money down on the table to pay for it.

  “My company can pay for my lunch,” she assured him. “It’s the perk of having an expense account.”

  Roark stood, reaching to help her up. As his hand slid into hers, he grinned. “But if your company paid for your meal, you wouldn’t let me count this as a first date. And if this isn’t a date, then how will I justify asking for a kiss at the end of it? Or inviting you in for wine and a massage?”

  “Bye, Roark, you sweetie pie you!” the hostess yelled from behind the counter. He smiled angelically at the woman, waving back at her.

  “You are impossible, Mr. O’Connell,” Natasha said, eyeing the busty hostess.

  “Mmm, you have no idea, a thaisce.”

  Chapter Three

  Natasha stared at Roark’s ass pressed against the leather seat of his bike as she followed him back to his house for more etiquette lessons. It seemed ridiculous at this point, as it
was clear he didn’t want to learn and had no pressing reason to listen to anything she had to teach him. Oddly, she found his lack of perfect manners refreshing. After working with hoity-toity celebrities and their model-perfect wives, Roark’s laid-back approach to life was appealing.

  Speaking of appealing…

  His jacket and T-shirt flapped in the wind, giving peeks of his naked back. She wondered how she should start her next lesson. And what exactly should that lesson be? Roark would undoubtedly go for a “hey, come over here and fuck me wild” line, but Natasha couldn’t force herself to say it.

  Dancing? Perhaps. That will get us close enough together to let nature take its course.

  Interviewing? Ugh, no, not interviewing. Though if I asked the right questions… Wait, no. Too obvious.

  Clothing? No, that would require shopping and I want to “stay in” to see if he’ll continue his bold seduction.

  “Just play it cool, Natasha,” she said, looking in the rearview mirror. Grabbing for her purse, she dug inside to find some blush and started putting it on while driving, along with some fresh lipstick. Then, taking her perfume, she sprayed herself, making sure to get between her thighs.

  It was too bad she couldn’t take her hair down into a much more seductive style without being obvious. As much as she wanted him sexually, she wanted him to continue to ask her for it. She knew she was going to give in to him. But he didn’t need to know that. Not yet. “That’s right. Just play it cool.”

  * * * * *

  “Damn it, Roark, quit pressuring her. Be cool, man, be cool. Let her come to you.” Roark sighed as his house finally came into view. Maybe he should have suggested they go somewhere public. Why did he ask her back to his place? “Because you want her.”

  He stopped his bike in front of his house, taking a deep breath in an effort to keep his desire at bay.

  “Great, talking to myself can’t be a good sign. The woman is driving me crazy with lust.”

  Shut up, man, or she’ll think you’ve lost it and run.