by L. Steele
The figure of a man fills the doorway. He’s tall enough for his head to graze the top of the frame.
The hair on the nape of my neck rises.
Sunlight pours over him, and his features are in shadow. Yet there’s no mistaking the sense of danger that radiates from him.
The bartender lowers his voice. “Good luck.”
I grip the bottle of water, the skin over my knuckles stretching tight. “What do you mean?” I swig from the liquid, wishing it were something stronger. But I can’t afford that, not when I have to return to duty with the Bureau of Shifters later today.
“Alpha-hole headed your way.” He chuckles.
“Wait. What?” Every instinct in me snaps to attention.
He jerks his chin in the direction over my shoulder, then moves away.
Don’t look, not now. I hold my breath. Then heat slams into my back. It’s as if a furnace has been switched on behind me.
My mouth goes dry.
The scent of the first rain on parched earth teases my nostrils. My blood thumps.
I raise the bottle of water to my lips again, when arms cage me in on either side.
I peer out of the corner of my eye and see a corded forearm peppered with dark hair.
Muscles flex under the tanned skin and flow down to meet long, tapered fingers.
Hands that could trail over my skin, grasp my curves, squeeze my flesh, and massage them and… Heat flares in that secret place between my legs. I clench my thighs.
A flutter of lust licks my belly.
I lower the bottle. My fingers tremble, and my palms go slick with sweat.
I swivel around on the barstool and stare at the widest pair of shoulders I have ever seen. The man is massive; his big body blocks out the sight of the rest of the bar.
He doesn’t move. Just stays, hunched over me. He’s all around me.
His perfectly sculpted pecs are accentuated by a plain white T-shirt that clings lovingly to every single muscle. Dog tags nestle between those hard planes, and his nipples are outlined against the fabric.
My mouth goes dry.
I want to lean in and lick the valley between those chiseled planes, then drag my tongue over his skin, across to that nipple and bite it.
I swallow and raise my eyes.
The tendons of his beautiful throat flex as I move my gaze up to his square jaw. There's a shadow of a dent in the center of his chin. My fingers twitch. I want to reach up and trace the furrow.
One side of lips turns up in a smirk.
Bet he knew exactly what I was thinking just then.
A shiver runs down my spine and my nerve endings stretch with anticipation. He won't be gentle, this man. He'll take without regret, and... I want him to do just that. I want to nip on his pouty lower lip, then swipe my tongue over his cruel mouth… A mouth made for snarling, for sucking… for taking… Heat sweeps my skin.
I tilt my head back, and farther back, forcing my gaze to climb over that hooked nose to the furrow between those hooded eyebrows and… I gulp. Blue eyes blaze at me.
They are turquoise and sea blue with a hint of green, and there are amber flecks that ebb and flow in them. It’s as if there’s a fire that’s lit inside, one which is reflected in those irises. Yet his pupils are so dark. Empty. Cold. So cold. A shiver ripples down my spine and… whoa! Is it possible for one pair of eyes to have so many conflicting emotions?
This man could rip me apart and not care. He would own me, possess me, make me scream with pain, he’d bring me so much pleasure. Damn!
My thighs clench. My fingers tremble, and the bottle of water slips from my grasp.
I keep waiting for the crash of the bottle hitting the floor, except this gorgeous, otherworldly, heat-inducing, moisture-drawing, perfectly beautiful hunk of a guy swoops down and catches it.
His muscles uncoil as he straightens. Every move of his seems to be etched in sheer poetry. I try to move, and it’s as if my body is weighed down.
He raises the bottle and holds it right in front of my nose. “Yours?”
“Mine.” I force the word out through a throat that feels it’s lined with shredded glass. Does he realize that I am staking my claim on him already with that word? “Impressive catch.” I jut out my chin.
“I know.” His voice is low and husky and tugs at my nerve endings.
There’s no mistaking the innuendo in his tone. He’s so damn self-assured, so confident of the impact of his nearness on me. It should annoy me, but the truth is that his arrogance is a turn-on. Sheer charisma oozes from his every pore, threatening to overpower me with the dominance of his personality.
My belly flutters. Heat flushes my cheeks. I reach out and grab the bottle from him.
One side of his lips quirk.
A kind of know-it-all, I-know-the-effect-I-am-having-on-you kind of smirk. The kind of smile that does not quite reach his eyes. The kind that promises that lurking just under the surface is a male who will take without permission.
It’s bad and oh so good.
Every part of my body seems to wake up and scream for attention. For his attention. His very careful ministrations on every inch of my skin, my body, my soul.
Someone opens the bar door at the front. A breeze sweeps in and flows over me, bringing with it more of that fresh rain scent. It's laced with a hint of something dark. Forbidden. Out of bounds. My heart stutters.
He tilts his head. His hair is cut close to his scalp. The strands rise, spiky in the front.
I have a sudden image of my thighs framing his face as he dips his head between my legs.
My belly tightens. My pussy is instantly wet.
“You are not human,” I state the obvious.
He’s too well built for us to belong to the same species.
He could be a shifter… except for the way he moves, it’s too smooth, too fluid, not like their more deliberate gait.
“What are you?” A ripple of apprehension slithers down my spine. And yet I can’t stop staring. Can’t take my gaze off that perfect face.
“Wouldn’t you like to find out?” he purrs.
Goosebumps flare on my skin. I gulp. I’ve never had such an intense reaction to a complete stranger, not like this.
“You okay?” He peels his lips back.
It’s not a smile but a declaration of intent. A promise to take without mercy. Anticipation tightens my skin. My scalp tingles.
No. “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” I tilt the bottle to my lips and take a sip before lowering it.
Perfect white teeth flash at me, setting off that honeyed tan of his skin. That, combined with the lines that stretch from the corners of his eyes, tells me he spends a lot of time outdoors.
The man reaches out with his finger and touches the corner of my lips. “You left some behind.”
Heat flickers out from that whisper of a touch, down to my core, and I stiffen. Every muscle in my body tenses.
The man brings his finger to his lip and sucks on it.
The sight of those gorgeous lips closing around his digit sends a shiver of anticipation down my spine. My belly quivers. My heart stutters. More moisture slicks my core.
What the bloody hell?
Who is this man? And why am I reacting like he is the last male I’ll ever see? Probably because it is true? Because I am about to embark on the most dangerous part of my mission, and I don’t want to die a virgin? Because I want to know how it is to be taken, possessed… by him? No way am I letting that happen, not by a complete stranger.
I sidle off the barstool, still holding the bottle in my hand, then duck under his arm. He lets me go and my breath comes out in a rush.
Don't turn around. Don't look at him. I stumble up the corridor. When I reach the ladies' I lunge for the door and fling it open. I cross the floor of the restroom and lurch to a stop in front of the sink.
Close call. At least I escaped.
I plop the bottle on the counter and grip the edge of the sink.
So why does it feel like I am missing out? That I’ll never know how it feels to trace those biceps with my fingers, to rub my face against the rough whiskers of his chin, to have him bend me over and slam into me, and… My belly twists, my pussy clenches, and the moisture flows from between my thighs.
Heat sweeps over my skin chased by chills. Sweat beads my forehead. I don’t have a choice. Looking around to make sure the space is empty, I swoop under my skirt, push aside my panties, and thrust my finger into myself.
“Ah.” My groan fills the space; the sugary sweet scent of my arousal spikes the air.
I plunge the finger in and out of my dripping channel, then add another. “It’s not enough.” I grit my teeth.
“Maybe I can help?”
My eyes fly open, and I see his blue eyes in the mirror.
To find out what happens next read Dante and Gia’s passion filled captive romance here
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