Tied With a Bow

by Lora Leigh

  As he pulled back, she licked her lips slowly, realizing he had placed the exact spot his own lips had touched to hers.

  “You’re living dangerously,” he murmured as her heart raced out of control, barreled into her chest then broke off to rush through her senses and overwhelm them.

  “Prove it.”

  Oh hell. No. She hadn’t said that. She really hadn’t.

  Hadn’t someone said something about never, ever daring a Breed, especially a Coyote?

  His lips quirked, an edge of smile filling eyes such a dark, dark blue they were nearly black.

  “I can prove it.” Pure confidence filled his voice.

  This time, she lifted the glass from his hand, brought it to her lips and finished the drink before handing it back to him.

  His fingers covered hers as he took it, a flame leaping in his gaze as pure, sexual awareness seemed to fill the night.

  “Confident, aren’t you?” she whispered playfully as a tingle of excitement rushed through her system.

  “Very,” he agreed. “And I would so enjoy playing with you.”

  A game? She’d never played sensual, flirtatious games. She’d never dared a Breed, and she’d never, at any time, challenged man or Breed to seduce her.

  “We’re playing, then?” she asked softly.

  “You could say I’m hunting,” he murmured seductively. “The sweetest, softest little morsel I believe I’ve ever scented in my life. You could become an addiction.”

  Her heart tripped, speeded up and began racing in excitement.

  “Do I get a head start?”

  Eek. Where had that come from?

  His head tilted to the side, his eyes squinting just a bit at the corners, as though he wanted to smile. “Do you plan to use it?”

  “Of course.” She was going to run clear to the other end of the state just to escape the memory of her daring.

  What was that expression that came over his face? It almost softened. His eyes gleamed and seemed to fill with something she would have called fondness at any other time.

  “Are you sure you want a head start?” His voice dropped, sexual, heated, it stroked over her senses with an intimacy she hadn’t expected.

  “It would be wise. Just to make certain I know what I’m doing, mind you.” She had no idea what the hell she was doing, and that was a fact.

  His hand rose, his fingertip tucking beneath the hair that had fallen over her shoulder to find her exposed collarbone as he leaned closer, his lips at her ear. “When I find you, I’m going to undress you, then spread you out and lick all the lush, sweet cream I can smell flowing from your pussy. When I’ve drowned my senses in the taste of you, I’m going to fuck you with my tongue, lick more of you, then listen to your screams as you come.”

  She was going to melt right there in the floor. Isabelle swore her knees nearly gave out on her as sensual weakness flooded them. She had to tighten her thighs against the sudden nip of sensation in her clit. The swollen, sensitive bud throbbed with need, pulsing with a need so strong she wasn’t certain she could deny it.

  “I’m going to bite your chest.” She sighed, then winced at the lack of explicit description.

  But that was what she wanted.

  She wanted to bite his chest.

  His hand was suddenly clamped on her hip, long, strong fingers curving over the denim of her jeans as she felt his body tense, his breathing becoming deeper and harder.

  “Are you sure you want that head start?” His lips lowered to nip her ear.

  Then he licked the edge of her ear, exciting the sensitive nerve endings beneath the flesh.

  A shudder raced through her, blistering hot, nearly catapulting her straight out of her senses and into an unprecedented orgasm.

  Her thighs tightened as she fought to hold it back. Or give in to it? She wasn’t certain which.

  “I don’t know,” she murmured. “Maybe you’re not good enough at this game to catch me if I take it?” Hell no, she didn’t want a head start, but this was fun. It was the most fun she had ever had, the kind of fun she had dreamed of having with a man.

  And in a moment’s hindsight, she realized she wanted him to chase her. She wanted this game more than she could have ever imagined wanting anything like it.

  He tensed again, a little growl rumbling between them, at once exciting her even as it sent a flash of trepidation racing up her spine.

  She could see the hunger in his gaze, feel it radiating from his big body. The strength of it confused her, as did the answering force that surged through her own body.

  “When I catch you, I will fuck you,” he promised her, his voice rumbling at her ear before he pulled back to stare into her eyes. “All night, all day. Possibly all week.” Pulling away from him was practically impossible, and forcing herself to walk away took all the willpower she could muster. Because she didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay there with him, wanted to rub against him and feel the sensual heat and power that she sensed was so much a part of him. She forced herself to move though. Forced herself to draw her gaze away from him and turn back to the table she, Chelsea and Liza shared. They had moved though. They were waiting on her at the exit, which was even better. Leaving was the best option, it would give him a reason to try to find her. If she remained in the bar, it would be rather anti-climatic. And she certainly didn’t want that.

  Chapter Two

  So many pieces of a heart broken, so many nights spent watching the darkness, wondering where you were.

  Some nightmares refused to go away, even amid the most sensual, most erotic event of her life, the deepest terror she had ever known insisted on intruding.

  And she wouldn’t have known, wouldn’t have realized the monster that haunted her dreams was even there if Chelsea and Liza hadn’t rushed her so quickly from the bar.

  Holden Mayhew was in the bar, and he had witnessed her flagrant teasing of the Coyote Breed. The one who had given her a head start. A chance to be certain this was what she wanted.

  And she wanted him with every fiber of her being.

  So much that her body was incredibly sensitive, her nerve endings still pulsing with the need for touch. For his kiss. For every sensual promise he had made to her in the dimly lit bar.

  His fingers stroking against her flesh, his lips, the nip of his teeth. The feel of his hard body against hers.

  And she longed, ached, burned for him to take her.

  Perhaps she should have refused the head start, but the anticipation of being chased, of being a sensual prey, had been more than she could deny herself.

  Isabelle stared at one of the fragrant candles flickering around the room, eliminating the hotel smell and bringing a sense of calm to her ragged nerves. It did nothing to ease the pulse and throb of an arousal that was becoming almost overwhelming. As a matter of fact, the soft, sensual scent that infused the wax might have made it worse.

  But even the anticipation of the Breed and the pleasure that could overtake her couldn’t eliminate the fear rising inside her now.

  Someone had called Holden and told him she was there. Someone who didn’t care that she wanted nothing to do with him. Hell, he didn’t care that she wanted nothing to do with him. He was there, and once again, he was stalking her.

  The flicker of light from the candles her grandmother had made for her held her attention again. The gift from her grandmother just hours before her uncle had called her to the hotel had surprised Isabelle. The scents of them were even more surprising.

  Lavender, sandalwood and a darker, elusive scent that reminded her of dark sexuality and the Breed she had walked away from earlier.

  The candles themselves weren’t surprising. Her grandmother was always creating distinctive scents with individuals and their emotions or troubles in mind. That underlying scent of sexuality was surprising, though. She just wished she could put her finger on exactly what it was.

  “What are you going to do, Isabelle?” It was rare her sister called her by
her full name, as everyone else did. Chelsea usually used the shortened version of Isa, despite the fact that Isabelle didn’t care much for the nickname.

  “How long was he there?” Isabelle whispered as she watched the door. She could sense the nervousness raging through the other two as Isabelle felt fear tugging at her.

  “He came in just before you walked over to the Breed,” Chelsea said quietly.

  “I should have told you the instant I saw his brother Harlen on his cell phone,” Chelsea sighed. “I should have done more than just suggest we leave.”

  Well, that answered the question of who could have called Holden.

  She distantly remembered Chelsea saying something about leaving, had recognized the concern in her sister’s voice at the time, but she had ignored it. Nothing had mattered but the Breed and connecting with him. Nothing and no one else had mattered. Her fascination with him was something so unusual for her that she had thought the concern her sister had felt had been because of her actions, not the man who had entered minutes later.

  “And he saw me?” she whispered.

  “He didn’t take his eyes off you until you left the bar with us,” Chelsea told her, anger beginning to tighten her voice. “The bastard. You should tell Dad, Isabelle. You can’t let him keep doing this.”

  “This” being the steady harassment and stalking of her. He refused to accept the fact that Isabelle hated him.

  Pushing her fingers through the long strands of her hair, Isabelle rose from the chair she had thrown herself in moments earlier and paced to the other side of the room.

  She didn’t need this. She didn’t want to face it. She had hoped she could escape the nightmare Holden Mayhew had begun in her life, but it seemed he was determined to make certain she never escaped it.

  Or him.

  For a moment the surge of terror and fury she had felt that night raced through her again. The feel of his hands, painful in their cruel insistence, holding her down. The sound of his voice as he sneered down at her, determined to take what she was unwilling to give him. The ease with which he had torn her clothes from her was humiliating. The knowledge that he had nearly carried through with his intent to molest her was as terrifying as it was enraging.

  She couldn’t forget the fact that he had almost raped her. He had almost taken from her the one thing she had wanted to save for the man she would one day give her heart to. The gift she knew she had been so ready to give to an unknown Breed tonight.

  Her virginity.

  He hadn’t completed the rape, but the terror was now such a part of her that she was shocked she had escaped the memory of it for those few minutes she had dared the undarable. A Coyote Breed.

  “I say go back downstairs and bring that big, badassed Breed back to your bed. They may not be forever material, but he looked damned interested, Isabelle. He might take care of this little problem for you too, if you asked him. Hell, from what I know about Breeds, all you would have to do is tell him about it. He would take care of it,” Liza suggested, her gray eyes filled with anger.

  Isabelle shook her head as she paced to the window. Silent, still, she stared out at the dark landscape that surrounded the back of the hotel, five stories down. In her reflection she could see the pale, drawn features of her own face, and she hated it.

  God, she wished she had killed him when she had the chance. She wished she had simply pushed Liza aside and pulled the trigger. There was a chance she could have escaped jail. She had been bruised, bloody, naked. It would have been so easy to prove the attempted rape.

  If she had been strong enough to pull the trigger. If she weren’t so terrified her father would pull the trigger after the fact, then she would go ahead and file charges against him. There was no way he could get out of it. Chelsea and Liza both had been there, and they were all employees and kin to members of the Navajo Nation Council.

  If she had filed charges, or had the courage to do it now, then she wouldn’t be reliving the nightmare on the night she should be enjoying the daring, sensual game a Coyote Breed had begun with her.

  How long had she waited to meet that one man who would make her willing to give herself at a moment’s notice? The fact that he was a Breed hadn’t really surprised her. She’d known for years that the men she had met before him didn’t have whatever it was the sensual side of her was searching for. The feminine, female part that demanded so much more from a lover than those who had presented themselves so far.

  It wasn’t that she hadn’t waited, watched, searched for the man who would awaken her sensuality.

  She had traveled the world with her father on his quests for information about his missing sister. She had met heads of state, politicians, ambassadors, geeks and physical laborers in her short stint as her uncle’s personal assistant just after he’d been voted in as chief of the Navajo Nation.

  She had dated, she had kissed, she had let herself be wined and dined, and that elusive hunger she had known had to be waiting inside her had never shown itself. That restless, waiting impatience had always followed her, had always been a part of her, until tonight. Tonight, when her gaze met a Breed and she had dared to tease him. That restlessness had eased. For a few moments, it hadn’t even existed.

  And now, she was terrified of the consequences of reaching out for what she wanted.

  Lifting her hand, she rubbed at the small spot on her ear that the Breed had nipped. She could feel the imprint of his teeth, a heated reminder of that gentle bite, a brand against her flesh.

  She didn’t even know his name.

  She hadn’t even paid attention to the gold ID designation tag on the left of his very broad chest.

  Breeds didn’t display their names as other military, law enforcement or agency operatives did. They carried a number, hiding their identity to the casual observer.

  Not that the number would have done her much good if she was searching for his identity. The only way to learn who owned the designation number was to contact the Bureau of Breed Affairs and jump through hoops, kiss ass and hope Jonas Wyatt was in a good mood the day the request hit his desk, though she had heard Wyatt was never in that good a mood. There were rumors he would even deny senators, Breed contributors and law enforcement officials that information.

  “Isabelle, you’re not listening,” Chelsea chided her as she kept her back to them. “Come on, that Breed looked capable of protecting an army. You wouldn’t even have to sleep with him to convince him to do something about Holden.”

  The fact that her sister made such a suggestion was a testament of how worried she was over the situation Isabelle was in.

  “I don’t want a protector,” she said softly, turning to the only two women who knew the fears that plagued her. “I don’t want a man in my bed because of Holden, Chelsea. I want a lover. I want more than a shield. I don’t want to be afraid of what’s going to happen when Holden finds out, or if he sees us together. I want to enjoy it while I have it so I can hold on to the memories when it’s over. This will be my first time, Chelsea, I wanted it to be special. Is that so much to ask?”

  Because few things lasted forever. Her mother had taught her that when she had died in an accident the morning Isabelle turned seven, just hours before the birthday party she and Isabelle had planned so meticiously.

  “I think Holden knows better than to confront a Breed. But that doesn’t mean it would make the Breed any less than your lover, sweetie,” Liza assured her. “Hell, Isabelle, it’s just that I can’t think of anyone who would confront a Breed over one of their lovers. I hear they’re rabid about them. And they’re even worse where their wives, or mates as they call them, are concerned.”

  More than one non-Breed male had learned the idiocy of challenging a Breed over the woman he was with, whether he was sleeping with her or not. Breed males were said to be so intensly protective of women and children that even abusive husbands and fathers had felt the brunt of their displeasure. When it came to lovers and wives, though, they were fiercel
y territorial where other men or Breeds were concerned.

  But despite what Liza believed, if she went searching for him, if she ended the teasing game she had so wanted to play, then it would also change the fact that he wouldn’t be in her bed just for the pleasure they would share. It would be for the protection she may need. And that would completely alter every memory she could hold of any time they spent together.

  Which meant that, until she had dealt with the Holden situation, having the Breed in her bed might not be the wisest decision.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Isabelle sighed roughly. “Just let it go. Whatever Uncle Ray needed us here for, we’ll finish then go home. I should have known better than to tease a Breed anyway.”

  “And boy, did you tease him,” Chelsea said in awe. “Oh my God, Isa. I’ve never seen you like that around a man. I thought the two of you were going to catch fire and burn the place down. You were hot as hell for each other.”

  Liza shook her head, a mocking smile curling her lips. “Think what you want to, my friend, but that Breed so will not let you get away. Before your uncle is finished with these meeting with the Breeds, you’re going to be fucked six ways from Sunday and begging for mercy.”

  She would settle for once on Friday and the memories she could hold on to after it was over.

  Isabelle rubbed at her ear again. She was still hot as hell for him, and growing hotter by the second. She wished she could have stayed in the bar. She wished she could have danced with him when the band returned. She wished she’d had the courage to give him her room number.

  “Having him would be a very bad idea,” she sighed. “I shouldn’t have gone to him. Hell, I don’t even know his name.”

  “His name is Malachi,” Liza suddenly announced. “While you were sharing his drink, I asked the two Breeds at the next table who he was. The big dark one was more than happy to supply his name.”