To Handle A Hellcat (Southern Sanctuary Book 12)

by Jane Cousins

  Declan watched Darcy stride towards him, her narrow hips swaying, the flippy hem of her candy pink plaid micro mini displaying her toned thighs along with white pull up stockings held in place by ribbons decorated with pink love hearts. She looked sexy as hell.

  He couldn’t help but smile at the white t-shirt she wore with the silver glittery words – Because I Said So – front and centre. As she strode closer he decided to add to the description, she didn’t just look sexy, Darcy looked… hmmm, what was the right word? As she rabbit punched him in the gut, her new graphene knuckle dusters slamming into his mid-section, Declan found the right word… angry.

  “I… really didn’t…” Declan sucked in air, rubbing his aching gut, bent over, waiting for the pain to pass. “… think that through, did I?”

  Darcy flexed her hand, no bruising, no discomfort, cool. Pulling off the set of knuckle dusters she moved back several steps to rest her butt on the outdoor table. Placing her shiny new favourite toy down beside her, just in case she needed it again in the near future.

  Declan straightened slowly, wincing, ouch, his stomach muscles lodging a formal protest. Darcy had hit him hard, but not hard enough to rupture anything important. A small glimmer of hope began to form. “Hi.”

  Darcy rolled her eyes, swinging her booted feet back and forth. Staying silent for the moment.

  “I know you’re angry. You think I used and betrayed you… and you’re partly right.”

  Hell yes, of course she was right, she was always right, hey, what the heck did he mean by partly?

  “My only defence is that I was young and kind of desperate and… well, you were the one to put the idea in my head in the first place.”

  “The perpetrator is really going to blame the…” Damn, she snapped her mouth shut.

  Declan laughed, dimpling. “Seriously, you weren’t really going to use the word victim, were you?”

  Grrr, that was not a status she would ever claim willingly and he knew it. “You marked me, Declan. Claimed me. What the fuck did you think you were doing?”

  “I apologise for dragging you into my mess. What can I say, I was desperate.”

  “Seriously? That’s your defence?”

  “I acted on instinct. I was young, desperate and more than a little dazed by how completely unimpressed you were by me. It was all that talk about shields and bodyguards, and-”

  “Hold on. What talk about shields and bodyguards?” Darcy felt the web flex as a plethora of data zipped along the threads and instantly she recalled the conversation. “You’re kidding, right? This all goes back to that conversation we had when we were kids?”

  “That was when I marked you.”

  “When we were eight?”

  Declan shrugged. “You said find a shield, find a bodyguard… and there you were, the perfect person.”

  “Back up. You putting the whammy on me, it somehow enabled you to come out of your self-imposed prison, didn’t it? You started going to school soon after we talked.” Darcy could sense the pieces of the puzzle beginning to fall into place.

  “I told you about Aengus being in my head, and that it turned me into some kind of magnet, attracting the lost, the unhappy and those looking for love. Before I met you, I was rudderless… powerless to do anything but hide from those people. Aengus always braying in my head, demanding adoration, screaming to be worshipped. Threatening to overwhelm and sweep me away.”

  “So this mark you laid on me, claiming me as yours, what did it do exactly?”

  “You have it around backwards, that mark was a symbol of your claim over me. I’d never met anyone with such steely resolve and determination before. I’d been watching you, over the years, been charmed by you, but it wasn’t until we spoke… and suddenly it was clear. You were my destiny.”

  Darcy chuffed a laugh. “You were eight, what would you know about destiny?”

  “I had thousands upon thousands of years of a Love God’s memories rebounding around in my head, I knew what love wasn’t before I could walk. And thanks to my parents, and all the melds, I knew what love… true love looked like. And from the moment we talked, I realised I wanted to be yours.”

  “So you whammied me, drawing me into your problems.”

  “No, well, yes. But the mark wasn’t supposed to affect you in any way. All it was supposed to do was signal that I was taken. That I belonged to you. By doing it I was able to mute whatever lure Aengus was emitting. Not eradicate it completely but push it way down. Finally I could think, focus. You were my shield and yes, it did connect us on some level. That’s why I’ve kept my distance all these years. I wanted you to forge your own path, give you a chance to choose your own destiny. But as time past by and you flitted from one meaningless fling to the next I began to hope, that maybe… just maybe you’d be open to the idea of me and you being a… me and you.”

  “Oh, shit.” The puzzle pieces snapped together. “The mark you put on me, that didn’t scare off nulls and men who would be incapable of loving me, did it? That was all me. By marking me, you effectively made me not just your shield but your protector. Sending anyone who wanted you my way. Effectively, to get to you they had to go through me.”

  “Say what now?” Declan had lost the thread of the conversation and was trying to catch up.

  “It explains all those weepy girls, and the occasional boy who would try to cry on my shoulder when we were growing up.” She’d metaphorically slapped some sense into most of them. And the more persistent admirers, she’d practised her burgeoning threat making skills upon. Huh, she’d falsely assumed all the female cousins had to deal with Declan’s stalkerazzi. “And it explains the four hundred and twenty-seven, and why Rowen and her patsy priestesses turned up on my doorstep, demanding that I surrender you up.” Darcy clicked her fingers as another piece snapped into place. “Shit, you didn’t just make me your shield and protector, you made me your champion.”

  “All of that sounds a little circumstantial. Hormones ran rife in High School, and you are the Special Liaison, who else was Rowan going to negotiate with?”

  “Four hundred and twenty-seven.”

  “Seriously, why do you keep saying that number? What does it mean?”

  “It’s the number of bodacious babes who have wandered into my office since I became the Special Liaison, sobbing their hearts out because they had just met the man of their dreams.”

  Declan wisely kept his mouth shut.

  “Would you like to guess the name of the man in question? No? It was you. I thought everyone in town was directing the sobbing bodacious babes my way because of my job, but bloody magic had them finding me because of the mark you laid on me, didn’t it? I’ve spent hours listening to their sob stories of how they caught a glimpse or met their soul mate. That he had clearly been sent by the Gods or the Ancients and that you were their perfect match. I’ve no doubt developed repetitive strain stress in all my fingers thanks to you and having to fill out four hundred and twenty-seven complaint forms.”

  Declan’s dimples deepened and a glint of satisfaction settled in his gorgeous violet eyes.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Why is this the first I’m hearing of all these complaints?”

  “Because not one of the bodacious bimbos was willing to sign the damn complaint, that’s why.”

  Declan shook his head slowly. “You scared them off, didn’t you Darcy? Did you snap and snarl at them? Send them running? Were you protecting your territory? You were meant to be nothing more than my anchor… unless you actually had feelings for me.” Declan took a step towards her.

  Darcy opened her mouth, then snapped it shut… had she? Had she been protecting Declan, even while she’d been lying to herself and calling him a Romeo? Hadn’t she happily sent every woman who might be her potential competitor packing. She hadn’t wanted him, not back then, but she certainly hadn’t wanted anyone else to have him either. Damn, caught in her own sticky web.

  Declan took anothe
r step, smiling. “You like me.”

  Darcy scoffed softly, eyes narrowing, she did more than that but she refused to go down easily. “Yeah, right.”

  “You protected me.” Declan took another step.

  Darcy rolled her eyes. “I protect everyone in the Sanctuary, it’s in my job description.”

  Declan took another step, heartened by the fact that Darcy had stopped swinging her booted feet back and forth. Slowly he parted her thighs and stepped between them, looking down at her, only inches separating them now. “You had your wicked way with me.” He batted his eyes. “Knowing there would be ramifications since we both have to live and work here. Yet, still you went through with it.”

  Another series of puzzle pieces clicked together, Goddess, the closer she got to admitting how she felt for him, the stronger and faster the web became. “The Priestess with the blistered thighs.”

  Declan blinked, all had been going so well, and now Darcy was off on a tangent, or was she? He struggled to keep up with where her sharp mind was racing. “What about her?”

  “You knew someday that Aengus might send his minions after you, remaining a virgin, untouched, it was the only way you could keep them at bay if they ever got their hands on you. Clever. And it’s why Rowan kept calling you an abomination, isn’t it?”

  Declan tossed back his head and laughed, loudly. “Clever? Torturous more like it. And honestly, I had no idea that my… state, would affect them so adversely.” Declan placed his hands down on her knees and slid them slowly up over her boots, to the edges of her be-ribboned stockings.

  “Then… why?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? I didn’t want anyone but you, Darcy. I never have. And I never will. I love you. Even before I was eight, and we talked. I think I fell in love with you the first time I laid eyes on you. You were standing up to Elijah, who was three times your size, and trying to exclude the littlest kids from some game. I just suddenly knew that I wanted someone like you to always be in my corner. All that passion, all that anger, all that fearlessness. And I grew tired of waiting for you to see me, so I made my move.”

  “That’s nice.” Darcy tried to bat Declan’s hands away but they were entangled in the ribbons of her stockings.

  “Nice?” Declan choked out a surprised laugh. Here he was pouring his heart out and what did he get for it? Dismissed.

  “Just how did the Priestess’s inner thighs get burnt and blistered?”

  Declan could feel himself flush, high colour flooding his face. Crap. “Well, see, I was tied to this bed….”

  “Go on.” Darcy managed to get the words out from between clenched teeth. Shards of glacial ice shimmering with blue heated flames flickering in her eyes.

  “And this Priestess-”

  “Naked Priestess.” Corrected Darcy, logistically there could be no other explanation.

  “Er, yes, I suppose she was naked. See… she… did this complicated back flip gymnastic move and kind of just… landed… on my chest. Next you know there’s sizzling flesh and a lot of screaming.”

  Darcy could clearly see the image in her head. “Okay, obviously there are going to need to be some rules.”

  “Like what?”

  “No more women rubbing their pussies all over you.”

  “I was tied to a b-” Declan stopped talking the moment he felt the sharp point of the Manji Shuriken press against his inseam. He fought the urge to go up on tip-toe. “Agreed.”

  Darcy was loving her new presents. Declan obviously knew her taste well, she wondered what she would be getting for Christmas and her birthday. “No more dimpling at random babes.”

  “I…” The Shuriken pressed upwards an infinitesimal degree. “Agreed.”

  “If some babe sprains an ankle, you leave her where ever she has fallen and you call for back-up.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Women start tearing off their clothes in your general vicinity, what do you do?”

  “Call for back up?”

  “Now you’re getting it.” Darcy put the Shuriken down. Inside her everything felt shiny, new and oh-so-powerful, as if she had just expanded the web and her powers by a factor of ten. Cool.

  “Darcy.” Declan’s fingers trailed higher up her thighs, pushing up the hemline of her skirt. Staring into those clear ice blue eyes of hers, Declan was in danger of losing all his willpower. No, not yet. The mission wasn’t over, not until his Hellcat agreed to be his. “Say the words.”

  Darcy grinned, reaching out, she grabbed the hem of Declan’s t-shirt, yanking him closer, leaning up to press her lips against his. “Fuck me… now.”

  Declan’s entire body locked up as desire slammed through him, the outdoor table would hold their weight, but, no, if he gave into her now, without the words, without the commitment, then they’d never be equals. She’d never see him as her partner. Leaning away from Darcy, Declan shook his head. “Not those words, the other ones.”

  A mulish stubborn expression settled across her gorgeous face.

  Of course, what else could he expect from his Hellcat. Time to go on the offensive and wrap up this mission. Leaning down he kissed her, even as he grabbed her by the hips and picked her up.

  Oh, yes, things were definitely going Darcy’s way, which was her favourite way, naturally. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she hooked her ankles together, kissing Declan back. The man tasted like sinful dark chocolate and sunshine. And he’d said he loved her.

  If possible the information zipping through the web sped up. Whoa, it was like she’d just chugged six expressos in one sitting, heady stuff.

  Going inside was smart, it was broad daylight, who knew how many of her relatives had high powered spy gear directed at her deck. Except Declan didn’t turn to the left, towards the master suite, or even carry her over to the nearby sofa, no, he went right. Damn, he really was a good kisser, distracting… hmmm, the gift wrapping room? She was panting as he broke their kiss, planting her butt safely on top of the glitter station.

  “Um…” She arched her neck as he leant forward trailing heated soft kisses down her throat. Okay, so they’d do it in the gift wrapping room. She could only pray this signalled a wild side to Declan, she kind of fancied them doing it in a variety of weird and wonderful locations.

  Hold on, what was he doing? Her head snapped to the side, somehow the sneaky devil had managed to entwine a fist full of colourful ribbons around her left wrist. She opened her mouth to protest, trying to bring her right hand up, grrr, suddenly noticing it too was encircled by a multitude of gaily coloured ribbons. “Hey, what gives?”

  Declan bit back a groan, the sight of Darcy tied up, it made his knees weak and his cock harder than graphene. Holding up his hand, he let Darcy see the throwing star he’d appropriated from the waistband of her skirt as he’d carried her through the house. The sunlight streaming through the large windows made the wicked sharp points of the star sparkle.

  “What do think you’re going to do with that?” Darcy pulled futilely at the ribbons, watching as he lifted the hemline of her t-shirt and used the throwing star to part the material right up the middle. Crap, she’d really liked that top, but more concerning was the spear of heated desire that shot down her spine, arrowing between her legs. For a man with little practical experience he sure did know how to push her buttons.

  She squirmed in anticipation as his gorgeous violet eyes gazed down at her candy pink lacy bra in obvious approval. She would not beg him to touch her, taste her, kiss her, no, she was still totally in control of everything. She’d be patient. Enjoy the view. Which had just gotten a hundred times better as Declan yanked off his t-shirt and threw it to the ground.

  Aos Si tousled Declan’s hair gently, and the sunlight streaming through the window behind them played across his chiselled alabaster flesh as if it were paying homage to the rarest of art. Yummy, and he belonged to her now. She’d heard it from his very own sensual lips. Huh, nuts to those who said the bad girl always finished last.

  Her
e we go, she arched upwards as Declan leaned down, but all he did was trace a finger all too slowly along the lacy edge of her bra, from one collarbone, excruciatingly slowly to the other. Damn, if only her hands were free she could grab him, slam him up against the nearest wall and satisfy this burning ache that throbbed low in her body.

  She would not sink to begging. No, she could totally deal with this slow… torture, watching Declan’s finger travel slowly now down over her ribs, past her navel, over her rumpled plaid skirt to the ribbons holding up one stocking. Hypnotised, she watched as he slowly, oh-so-slowly, wound the pink and white ribbon around his finger. Grrr. Nope, mouth shut, no pleading, no begging. Just because she was tied up, didn’t mean she had lost control of the situation.

  Flash fire coursed through her blood. “Did you just flex?”

  “Me? Of course not.” Declan concentrated on the ribbon, the feel of it, the texture of it. He was seconds away from caving, from ravishing the gorgeous gift tied down on the table in front of him. But he had to be strong. Stronger than graphene. If he let Darcy get away without saying the words now, then she’d never see him as her equal, as her partner in life.

  It felt like hours passed by, Darcy strained at the colourful ties, to no avail. She attempted to wrap her legs around Declan and pull him in closer, but he settled his large warm hands on her parted bared thighs… and that was it, nothing. No squeezing. No teasing. No Goddess damn anything.

  Darcy arched up and hunched slightly, making sure her breasts were front and centre, and Declan was the only audience. Grrr, he barely glanced up from that damn ribbon he still seemed fascinated with. Shit. “If you’re not going to do anything, you should let me up.” She instructed through gritted teeth, insanely pleased at how casual and blasé she sounded.

  “Hmmm? Oh, yeah, you’re probably right.” Fuck, what it cost him to step away. “I can put the kettle on if you like, make some green tea, all those antioxidants are supposed to be good for you.”