His She-wolf

by Amy Redwood

  The last shirt button slid through its hole. My hands shook when I tugged the shirt wider until he was bare-chested. Holding my breath, I placed my flat palm against his muscled flesh. His heart beat steadily, but his skin was still too hot to the touch. Tearing my gaze away from his small, erect nipples playing peekaboo in his chest hair, I went to get another dripping-wet towel.

  Sitting next to him again and sponging his feverish skin, I traced the tip of the cool towel across his abs and along an uneven scar underneath his rib cage. It looked like someone had tried to cut out his liver.

  “So male,” I whispered, dropping the towel and tracing my fingertip lightly over each rib and then his stomach.

  My finger hit the edge of his pants and I gave the copper-colored jeans’ button a tap. Leaning forward, I placed my mouth on his flat stomach, just underneath the scar and licked. The sexual surge gripping me was so sudden and intense, I let out a small moan. I sneaked another taste of his skin with the tip of my tongue, circling his bellybutton.

  God, I was so fucked.

  He arched against my touch, and I scrambled off the bed, landing on my ass. Holding my breath, I waited for him to wake up and demand an explanation of why I was feeling him up, but he remained silent.

  On all fours, I backed up to the wall to increase the distance to him in a last effort to stay in control of my human body. Outside the window, the blaring of a police siren. Were they looking for him? Oddly enough, I’d heard police sirens when I first laid eyes on Seth…

  It had been one of those evenings out, I thought. Just us girls had been the motto. When I had arrived inside the dimly lit movie theater’s lobby, dressed in comfy pants and a baggy sweater, I was cheerfully met by my two friends—and their two husbands. Two couples—so much for just us girls. I had forced a smile, but a feeling of betrayal lingered.

  A police car had raced past the movie theater, the car’s siren powerful enough to reach inside the foyer, and I wished it would take me along for the ride, anywhere where I wouldn’t feel like a fifth wheel. Then—holding six movie tickets in his hand—he stepped to the uneven numbered group and made it an even one.

  It wasn’t the first time my wellwishing friends tried to fix me up, so my surprise lasted only seconds. But they didn’t know that there had been only one for me—and he was gone.

  Tim, I thought. God, I miss you.

  Then I took another look at him, met his dark gaze and my throat had gone dry while the police siren’s blaring faded.

  “Seth,” Jenna, best friend and traitor, chirped, “I’d like you to meet Candace. She just opened her own shop!”

  His handshake was firm, warm, pleasant. “Nice to meet you, Candace.”

  “I make chocolate,” I blurted, because I somehow had expected he would ask what kind of shop.

  His eyebrows rose, his mouth twisting to a smile, and he still held my hand. “Really,” he said, and then he cocked his head to the side, giving me a quick once-over that had my cheeks burning. “Maybe you can tell me more after the movie?” A quick squeeze of his hand and he let go to turn to Jenna’s husband.

  Jenna placed a hand on my shoulder and leaned in. “Seth just moved here,” she said, not whispering, but she kept her voice quiet. “He’s an old college buddy of Michael’s, never met him before. But he’s cute, isn’t he?”

  I made a noncommittal sound. Cute wasn’t the word I’d have used to wrap up my first impression. That I’d felt a spark passing between us when he looked at me still left me befuddled. “Why did he move here?”

  “He said he accepted a job offer downtown, journalist.”

  “Jenna,” I said quietly, “I just want to watch the movie tonight. I mean, look at me.” I tugged at my old sweater. “I wish you had given me a word of warning.”

  “You look great,” Jenna said, looping my arm through hers. “And it will be fun watching the movie together.”

  * * * * *

  In the already-darkened cinema, the opening credits were running over the screen. I sank into the red upholstered chair, sucked in my breath, but not because Seth took the seat next to mine.

  Digging my fingers into the plush armrests, I leaned forward, trying to catch Jenna’s gaze two seats to my right.

  “What the hell, Jenna!” I asked, and was instantly shushed by dozens of people.

  “Sorry,” Jenna mouthed, and had the grace to look it. “The guys weren’t up for romcom. But Dawn of the Werewolves is already considered to be a classic.”

  Seth also leaned forward, catching my gaze. I nearly jumped out of my skin when he wrapped his hand in a supposedly calming manner around my wrist.

  “Sorry, I thought everyone had agreed to the movie choice. Didn’t you see the title on the ticket I gave you?”

  I snorted, not bothering to dig out the ticket from my back pocket. “No, I didn’t because—”

  “Lady, get your ass out of here or shut the fuck up,” a guy a seat row behind me said.

  Blood prickled with a hot rush into my face and I shut my mouth. I hated when people talked during a movie—apparently, I was now one of them.

  Seth turned in the seat next to me and my breath caught in my throat when he stood.

  Whatever he did, I couldn’t tell, but the guy said, “Okay, okay, sorry,” and then I heard him get up and move a couple of seats over.

  “I didn’t ask you to get all protective,” I whispered through my teeth, even more mortified than before. “That was entirely inappropriate and unnecessary.”

  “I disagree,” he said, and his hand wrapped around my wrist again.

  I turned my head to him and met his gaze. There was a hard edge in his dark eyes, a grim line around his mouth, but then his features shifted into a smile I couldn’t help but answer in kind.

  “You got a rough deal tonight, didn’t you?” he asked quietly. “What’s worse? Having me as your date or watching the horror movie?”

  “You’re not my date,” I whispered back. “I just met you.”

  “Let’s not kid ourselves,” he said, leaning forward, a hint of his aftershave reaching my nose. “They are trying to set us up.”

  I nodded, a witty reply on the tip of my tongue, but was suddenly sure my nostrils were flaring. His scent completely threw me, not just his aftershave but something so… I inhaled deeply again, deciding he smelled like wood and leather and something utterly male.

  “You okay?” he asked, his hold on my wrist increasing.

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” I held his gaze, drank it in, wondered why he held on to me so tight, as if afraid I’d run away, and wondered why I didn’t mind how his fingers dug into my skin. At the pit of my stomach, a peculiar feeling spread. Crossing my legs, I drew in my breath sharply as my skin erupted in goose bumps and my nipples puckered, straining against my bra. It took me a moment to figure out what my body was trying to tell me. Something must have shown on my face because his eyes narrowed and his gaze dipped to my mouth. Afraid he could read my mind or sense my arousal, I broke eye contact and leaned back in my chair.

  I ground hard on my teeth as the first images of a full moon and a forest appeared on the screen. Great, absolutely fucking great. I sat beside a guy who turned my pussy into a hot, liquid mess while on the screen the first of probably many victims suffered a violent and graphic death.

  My stomach turned, my mind reeling to take in all the fake blood that looked so horribly real and the wolflike were-creature who was being butchered.

  “That is all wrong,” I pressed through my teeth as the wonders of CGI transformed the creature into a torn-up human. I slapped my hand over my mouth, my stomach revolting. People were laughing in the cinema, but I failed to see the humor. I jumped up, tripped along my row and stepped on toes and popcorn—I had to get out of the movie before I threw up.

  When I came out of the bathroom where I had washed my hands and rinsed my mouth, Seth was leaning against the opposite wall, waiting.

  “That bad?” he asked, and I searched for si
gns of laughter in his eyes, but he showed nothing but sincere sympathy.

  “I’m a movie lightweight.” I could hardly tell him that half my disgust came from how Hollywood loved to slice and dice werewolves, and the other from the gore itself. “If you’re here to convince me the movie is great and all the blood just fake, forget it.”

  “I’m here for you.” He pushed off from the wall and stepped toward me until I had to gaze up. “I really did ruin your evening, didn’t I?” Lifting his hand, he brushed a strand of hair behind my ear.

  The breath caught in my throat. “Only if you picked the movie,” I said after a breathless second.

  “Guilty as charged.” His gaze dropped to my mouth, making me wonder if my lipstick was smudged, then remembered I wasn’t wearing any.

  “Then you’ll have to make it up to me.” As soon as it was out of my mouth, I realized how raunchy it sounded. I bit my lip, seeking his gaze. When I found it, I took a step back from the intensity in his expression.

  “I will,” he said quietly, his voice sending another shiver along my skin. His hand settled at the small of my back. “Come on,” he said, “let’s get a drink in the bar across the street. The others can join in after the movie.”

  I opened my mouth to tell him no, to tell him I needed to go home and be alone, but his touch felt warm and sure and so good that I swallowed away my reservations. I fell into step next to him, realizing that we must look like a couple to the casual observer. When I had settled into the booth at the sports bar, he came back, carrying drinks.

  “A water, a soda and a beer,” he said, sliding the two glasses and a bottle in front of me. “And some fries. I didn’t know what you wanted.” He sat down across from me and took a swig from his own beer. “Tell me about your shop.”

  “Sure,” I said, hyperaware his knee touched mine under the table. “I opened it—”

  His cell rang and he held up his hand, taking the phone out of his jacket. “Let me just quickly switch that off.” Then he took a look at the screen and his brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, I’ll have to take this,” he said, looking at me, and then flipped the phone open. “This better be important.”

  While he listened, I got up, heading for the bathroom to give him time to finish his call. Staring at my pale reflection in the mirror, I wondered what he saw in me to give me all that attention. Wetting my fingers with water, I worked them through my hair to tame it, wondering if it was safe to return to the table. I didn’t want to leave the impression that I was trying to overhear his phone call. I rolled my eyes at myself in the mirror, wondering why I even cared what he thought.

  When I returned to the booth, he was nowhere to be seen, just the barely touched beer bottle showed that I hadn’t imagined him.

  Nibbling at the fries, I had waited for an hour for him to return before a waitress seemingly took pity and informed me he had left through the back.

  I had paid for the drinks, my cheeks hot with embarrassment, and walked home to spend a sleepless night going over each word we exchanged and what had caused him to dump me and why I felt so crushed beyond reasoning. When Jenna had given me a call the next day, I hadn’t felt like sharing. For a couple of days afterward I had fooled myself into thinking there had been some kind of emergency. But he never called, even though it would have been easy to ask Jenna for my number.

  And now he was in my bed.

  Swallowing, I rubbed my bottom where I had hit the floor and leaned my head against the wall. My own ragged breathing sounded odd in my ears, but I couldn’t deny it anymore—my self-control was slipping fast.

  What if he were in my shoes?

  Would he undress and touch me? Wrapping my arms around my middle, I tried to suppress the violent shivers running up and down my skin. Stopped rocking my hips when I noticed what I did. What if it were me half naked on the bed, utterly helpless, while he touched and rubbed and kissed my swollen pussy, making me insane with need, making me do whatever he said, making me suck his cock, tying me up, spreading my legs forcibly, and then…and then…

  I bit my lip, thinking hard, but the sexual scene in my mind came crashing.

  Fuck.

  I couldn’t even have a rape fantasy, my mind rebelling at this unlikely event. If he tried to force me into anything, he simply wouldn’t stand a chance if I resisted. He was just a normal human; I was…not.

  A low groan from him had me snapping back to attention. Sliding my spine up and against the wall, I slowly rose. Damn, I still had him lying sick in my bed while I almost got myself off without a single stroke of my hand.

  “Hey, you,” I said, annoyed with my own horniness and him in general. “Wake up.”

  Of course he didn’t.

  A quick glance at my wristwatch told me I was in danger of running late for my meeting tonight. I had to call an ambulance. But if I called an ambulance, they were bound to ask questions…

  Pacing up and down at the foot of the bed, I caught sight of myself in the mirror and stopped dead cold. Drab pale face, dull brownish hair, nervous red spots on my cheeks, yellow eyes with slitted pupils.

  I am so fucked.

  I slapped my face. Hard. Pain bloomed across my cheek, but my eyes shifted back to a color widely acknowledged as normal—lackluster brown. Nothing but a little pain to remind the beast inside me to stay put. But without my drink, it would claw its way into the open. Soon. No matter how hard I hit myself.

  “Who the hell are you to ruin my life,” I yelled at his still features, anger bubbling to the surface like hot milk in a pot. “What kind of gun-slinging journalist are you? What kind of asshole?”

  I kicked the bedpost, stubbing my toe.

  After one thorough body and pocket search—two passports, spearmint gum, something that looked as if it could be attached to the gun, cell phone, gun, money, no credit cards but a black, worn-leather notebook—I had to sit down because my knees were shaking. One internet query for his full name later—five hits—I skimmed over the black on white answers on the screen. Seth Chase, six-one, one hundred and eighty pounds, wanted by the DEA, person of interest…withholding information…call Simon Parker… And even in his mugshot, he managed to look friendly, innocent and sexy.

  A disbelieving laugh tore from my throat. Looked like Brick wall had been speaking the truth after all… Then the full implications hit me. He was a person of interest and I’d helped him escape…

  Was it too much to ask to for a favor in return?

  No, it was perfectly reasonable.

  “First things first,” I murmured under my breath, drumming my nails on the desk. “Seems you’re a dangerous guy…” I swallowed my laugh, ignoring the twinge of regret that the roles weren’t reversed. “Stands to reason that I have to tie you up to protect myself.”

  Chapter Three

  Seth swallowed away the dry feeling in his mouth, opened his eyes and stared at a ceiling, cracked with old paint. Blinking against soft darkness, he tried to lift his head, which weighed about a ton. Not my bedroom… Fog clouded his brain as he tried to reconstruct where the hell he was. And why he was lying flat on his back on a bed smelling of lilacs. When he attempted to stand, coarse rope bit into the skin of his wrists and ankles. Jesus.

  The floorboard was squeaking, the bed shook slightly, and he scrambled to get his wits together. Someone was with him in the room. Think, man, think… First the failed hit then the stroke of pure dumb luck. Fuentes’ dogs hot on his heels, and then… Candace. From all the places in this town, he had to pick her store to hide. And he had been so good in staying away from her for the last weeks…

  “Fuck,” he groaned, remembering the rotten water. She had smelled of lilacs—

  “Oh, you’re awake, that was rather quick after all.” Her voice came from the foot of the bed. “How do you feel?”

  “Like shit,” he said, and groaned as his stomach cramped violently. “Word to the wise, honey—”

  Soft and deadly silent, something slammed into the cushion next to hi
s head. The dull sound nevertheless rang in his ears like the bells of Notre Dame. The smell of singed cotton reached his nose. Instinctively, his entire body jerked in an effort to seek shelter.

  “Call me ‘honey’ one more time and the next bullet has a rendezvous with your shoulder.”

  “Are you fucking nuts,” he yelled, real panic rising because his body refused to act to the danger at hand.

  The ropes were laughable, but he could not move. The only part on his body working properly seemed to be his brain. Apart from a tingling in his legs and arms, it was as if his muscles had turned to mush. The water must have contained some kind of poison.

  “So, that was a silencer,” she said, and he heard her disassemble the gun he’d had in his ankle holster. “You can hardly hear it going off.”

  “That’s the fucking point,” he yelled then took a deep breath. Again, he tried to move. It felt like swimming through wet concrete.

  “Why do you carry a gun?” she asked. “Seems unsafe. I’ll hang on to it for now.”

  “When I come around again, hon—” Goddammit. Eyesight adjusted to the dim light, he lifted his head a couple of inches. There was a desk in one corner, a dresser in the other. A reading light on the desk lit up the room. “When I come around again, we’ll have a serious and very painful physical discussion about what you did to me, Candace.”

  “Ah, now you remember me, don’t you?”

  He inhaled slowly, cursing himself. “Yes, of course I remember you. But I’m sorry to say my first impression of you was wrong. You aren’t exactly the shyly sweet girl I took you for.”

  “You fail to live up to my expectations too.”

  Fighting a stab of embarrassment at his past actions, he wished he could tell her the truth. “Believe me, I had good reasons for walking out on you that day. In fact, it was more to protect—”

  “I don’t need to be protected,” she icily interrupted him. “But I don’t mean that day,” she said, now sounding huffy. “I mean today.”