Turning her back on him, but keeping her ears open, she did a quick survey of the place.
Like everything else in this town, the building was old. The counter was by the left wall. The door behind it probably led to a back room. Towering wooden bookshelves created a maze on the hardwood floor. The right wall held a table and ladder-back chairs before a fireplace. Useful, but not very friendly. She noted the two windows framing the fireplace as possible exits.
Wandering around the room, she discovered a shelf of recently released books. Yes! A new Guy Gavriel Kay went under her arm. She thumbed through a Bujold and kept it also. But there was a new Crusie, dammit. No. With a lingering sigh, she forced herself to walk to the counter.
He eyed her and her choices.
'I expected you to take more,' he said patronizingly. His voice was sandpaper rough, like someone had crushed his larynx in the past. White lacework scars covered his tanned forearms, so maybe the same person had tried to rip him apart. Considering his personality, quite understandable.
'I limit myself to two books at a time,' she said. No need to mention how delaying to pack books had almost gotten her blown up. 'I‘ll be back in a couple days for two more.'
'I see.' He held out a hand. 'Let me put them into the system so my inventory remains correct.'
He scanned in the barcodes and pushed them across the counter to her.
'Thank you.' She gathered them up.
'Balance,' he said, his mouth flattening slightly.
Earlier, on the way to town, Calum had explained the balance-reciprocity stuff was a local custom. It sure gave new meaning to the phrase, ‗paybacks are hell‘. But he‘d offered only that in explanation and trying to get information out of him was like pumping a dry well. The man had even more control over his words and expressions than spymaster Wells did.
'See you soon,' she said to Thorson.
With a short nod of dismissal, he turned away and bent over the small desk tucked in a corner.
Nice meeting you too, she thought to his back and— oh, God. A picture of Lachlan stood on the desk. The kid stood on a mountain peak, wind ruffling his hair. Laughing. Healthy. The grief that ripped through her stopped her breath.
She opened her mouth to tell the old man about his grandson, how fucking brave he‘d been, how—
No. I can"t. Lachlan‘s grandfather would have to wait until she finished investigating. She‘d sidestepped telling Wells about these...creatures and now the burden was on her to be certain they didn‘t present a danger to the rest of the world, or at least to the United States citizens she‘d promised to protect.
Joe Thorson was obviously a shifter. A really unhappy, vengeful werecat. If she revealed information about Lachlan‘s murder, the old guy would probably try to kill her again. Once was plenty for that dance.
As isolated as the town was, if they kicked her out—or killed her—getting another agent in place would be very difficult. She was here. Investigation first, then Lachlan‘s grandfather.
He glanced up from his paperwork, eyebrows raised.
She gave him a curt nod and left.
Chapter Eight
She finished her two books in three days and headed back to the bookstore, zipping up her new fleece-lined, jean jacket. At least she‘d gotten in some shopping after seeing the base doctor yesterday. Reinhardt thought her knee was healed, but wouldn‘t commit himself until the lab and x-ray reports came in. Perhaps that was good—she needed time to finish up here.
Leaves crackled under her boots. The last few days had been brisk and dry, and she‘d hiked the forests by day and snooped around the town at night. Without any results. Damn sneaky furballs.
As she reached downtown, she noticed an awful lot of people around. Had she missed a parade or something? She nodded at Angie, the owner of the diner and smiled at Warren from the hardware store.
When she spotted Calum and Alec across the street, all the blood in her veins carbonated and fizzed like a dropped Pepsi. Dammit. The bastards had haunted her dreams. Alec‘s lazy grin, Calum‘s penetrating gaze. Alec‘s leisurely stride almost concealing a powerful fighter‘s movements. Calum‘s silent prowl.
She wasn‘t the only one attracted to the men either. Women flirted them up in the tavern and—Vic frowned as a frigid-looking blonde stopped to talk with them and trailed a hand across Calum‘s chest. Who the hell did she think she was?
Another woman with huge breasts stared at the two men assessingly, as if she wanted to pull out each guy‘s dick and weigh it on a scale. Maybe Vic should inform her that, having rubbed against Alec‘s package, she would vouch for him in the size department.
When Vic‘s gaze shifted to Calum‘s crotch, she caught herself. You"re losing it, Sergeant.
Scowling, she crossed the street to Books. 'Afternoon,' she greeted Thorson.
He sat on a stool behind the tall counter, head bent over an open book. 'To you,' he rumbled, not looking up.
Vic headed for the science fiction shelves. A SF craving could be worse than needing chocolate and harder to satisfy. But only a few minutes later, she was back at the front.
'Hey!' She shoved the new Honor Harrington book under his nose. 'I‘ve waited months for this release.'
The corner of his mouth rose an infinitesimal degree. 'Then this is your happy day.
Congratulations.'
He took the two books for the barcode scanner.
'Speaking of happy days...' Vic leaned an arm on the counter and frowned out the window.
'What‘s with all the strangers in town? Is something going on?'
From the sudden stillness in his face, she had her answer. Definitely something. He gave a token glance at the street. 'Just city folks here to look at the leaves.'
'Oh, well, that explains it,' Vic said politely and took her books.
'Enjoy your reading,' he said, equally politely.
Vic managed to suppress the urge to shake him until his secrets spilled out like coins from a vending machine. This place was getting to her. Overseas, everyone was against her and she knew it. Here... Here, she‘d gotten sucked into their lives. Jamie‘s hugs, Calum‘s hand wrapped around her arm, Alec‘s teasing. What if the two men were shifters? Hell, they probably were shifters. She didn‘t know whether to go forward or to pull back.
I don‘t want to pull back.
As she stepped out the door, she saw Alec and Calum talking with yet another woman. Vic‘s free hand closed into a fist. The hefty blonde wouldn‘t look nearly so pretty with her nose squashed all over her face.
The visual was satisfying; the urge was not. Vic sighed and shook her head. Neither man was stamped with a 'property of Vic' sign.
'I hope you‘ll honor me tonight,' said a man‘s voice.
Vic turned. Three Yuppies wandered down the sidewalk, one man on each side of a butt-ugly brunette, another guy a step behind. The men were focused totally on the woman.
Vic spotted a group across the street with one woman and four men, all giving the woman the devoted attention of starving dogs circling a bone.
Was this a test of a new pheromone perfume? Spray it on and every man in the area will be at your feet? 'I want some too,' she muttered.
*
Vic never had figured out what was going on. After consoling herself with her new book, Vic ventured out as usual after sunset. Hands in her jacket pockets, she sauntered here and there, scuffling through the leaves on the sidewalks. The surfeit of people had disappeared from Main Street. She kept walking…and wasn‘t it odd she ended up at The Wild Hunt?
Even odder, the sign in the window said, 'CLOSED", but cars filled the parking lot. It looked like a party, and Calum hadn‘t invited her. She sniffed indignantly, trying to ignore the I‘ve-been-left-out ache under her ribs.
She paused. Should she walk on? Did she really want to discover the answers, considering she‘d begun to think they might be unpalatable? Nonetheless, it was her duty. Move out, sergeant.
As she crossed the l
ot, she noticed they‘d lowered the window blinds. Usually Calum only put them down to block the glaring afternoon sun. Well, hell, snooping might be tougher than she‘d figured. She tilted her head, trying to hear what was going on. Generalized babble, laughter, an occasion shout—nothing ominous.
The scuff of a footstep spun her around.
"Well, now, here‘s a pretty female." A tall, bulky man in his thirties circled a car, his eyes intent upon her. Another guy with flaming red hair and freckles walked behind him.
Caught like a first-year spy. Embarrassment heated her cheeks and deepened her voice.
"Um. Good evening."
"And to you, miss," the redhead said. "Are you unaccompanied?"
"I—"
"Not for long," the tall man said. "My name is Duke, that‘s Tim, and let‘s just say that you‘re with us." He grabbed her hand and pulled her to his side.
She could have flattened him, but here she‘d found the perfect way to get inside.
As they entered the tavern, Tim leaned in to brush her hair away from her face and audibly sniffed.
Now that was just rude. She wasn‘t wearing perfume. Did she stink or something? She scowled at him.
He took a step back. "A bit slow getting started, huh?"
"There‘s no hurrying a female," Duke said, keeping his arm around her.
A few paces into the boisterous room, Vic gawked like a new fish on the first day in combat.
As she studied the milling people, she realized there were a lot more men than women. The women were sitting on the bar, on the tables, even on Calum‘s prized pool tables and men crowded around them, talking loudly over the lively country music.
The hallway door that led upstairs was propped open, and a couple emerged with the satisfied, flushed look of recent sex.
At a nearby table, the snooty-looking blonde who‘d run her hand across Calum‘s chest had two men next to her; one stroked her shoulder, the other kissed her fingers.
With an effort, Vic closed her mouth, tried to look blasé, but Jesus fuck, was this some kind of orgy? Calum was into this? She hadn‘t thought he‘d be so… Dammit, she liked him. This is way confusing.
The redheaded guy from the parking lot smiled at Vic. "So miss…" He leaned in and ran his hand over her butt.
Not a chance. She slapped his arm away and gave him a look that should have fried him in his shoes.
He shrugged. "Oh, well. Come on, Duke, let‘s find one that‘s interested."
They walked away, leaving her standing alone by the door. A second later, she realized that a lot of men were looking at her. Assessingly. Oh, fuck. Time to leave.
Too unnerved to take her eyes from the room, she groped behind her for the door handle. A big hand closed on her fingers.
"A little out of your element, Ms. Waverly?" Alec slid a hard arm around her waist.
"Yeah. Very." Thank you, Jesus. "I was walking and got dragged in here by a couple of guys. What‘s going on?" She tried an innocent look, but as Alec pulled her closer, she gave it up.
God, he felt good. Watching all the sexual displays was like…contagious…and now she was horny as hell. When Alec ran his hand up and down her back, every nerve fired, and each stroke made her skin more sensitive.
Unable to resist, she turned into him. His other arm went around her, and he curled his fingers under her butt, squeezing and pulling her up against his thick cock, lifting her slightly so her pelvis slid down against the hardness.
"Alec." Her voice came out husky.
His face was flushed, and his eyelids heavy. "You really, really shouldn‘t be here," he said and took her mouth as if he‘d been doing it for years.
Everything inside her burst into flame as his tongue swept in, dueled with hers. He leaned in, pinning her against the wall. As his broad chest crushed her breasts, she gripped his shoulders, reveling in the rock-hard muscles under her fingers.
"To hell with common sense," he muttered. He slung her over his shoulder like some demented cave man.
"What the fuck?" She thumped him with her fist.
He made a chortling sound. One big hand squeezed the back of her lower thigh to hold her in place. His other hand slid high between her legs. She could feel the heat of his fingers so close to her sex, igniting a burn. His finger stroked over the crotch of her jeans, and she wiggled uncontrollably. He laughed.
As he climbed the stairs, people brushed past them. She heard husky laughs. When a man ran his hand down her leg, she felt rumbles under her stomach as Alec growled like an animal.
An animal? She stiffened. Wait.
He walked down the hall into a small room, bent, and dropped her. She fell onto softness.
Pushing up, she realized that silky green cushions covered the floor. A fireplace sent out heat and enough light to see Alec‘s expression.
Alec looked down at Vicki as she pushed to a sitting position. He hesitated. Sex with a human. Sex with a human during a Gathering. This was a bad idea. It shouldn‘t even be happening, dammit. Daonain weren‘t attracted to humans.
But as his head explained everything to him quite clearly, the scent of her arousal wrapped around him, heating his blood, and urging him to possess her, take her. Now.
He‘d already had two females, but it didn‘t make any difference. Not with his Vixen sitting like a prize, right here in front of him. His cock hardened until it pulsed with every heartbeat.
Logic lost out to the animal inside him.
He dropped to one knee to take her mouth again, and her soft, full lips opened for him, her tongue twining with his. He took her breath in, gave her his, then pulled back long enough to kiss down her neck to the curve of her shoulder. By Herne, the little sounds she gave, deep in her throat, were going to kill him. Wanting—needing— more, he undid the top buttons of her jacket.
Her hands closed on his arms as if she wasn‘t sure whether to pull him closer or push him away. Holding her gaze with his, he unhurriedly opened her jacket far enough so his fingers could trace the edge of her bra through her shirt.
Her breath hissed in, her eyes going unfocused. Her scent intensified, fragrant, compelling.
Overwhelming. Hell with it. After shoving to his feet, he ripped his shirt off. A hail of buttons thudded against the wall. She inhaled sharply, but her golden gaze never wavered from his body.
He flung his shoes and pants to one side and knelt beside her on the cushions.
She willingly moved into his arms, all female and fragrant. Her long hair spilled over his skin in a silken kiss. Oh, yes.
"Alec," she whispered, "this isn‘t wise."
"I know," he murmured, burying his face in the crook of her neck where her scent was strong and wild. He bit the muscle there, lightly, laved it with his tongue, bit again. "But right now, this minute, you‘re mine."
Vic ran her hands over his bare chest, ruffling the crisp golden hair covering his hard pectorals. This was crazy, but oh, God, he felt so good.
"You‘re overdressed, Vixen," he whispered and flicked open the remaining buttons on her jacket. "Wouldn‘t want you to overheat." He slid her coat off and fondled her breasts through her T-shirt, teasing her hardening nipples with his fingertips. The stroke and squeeze of his big hand sent heat straight to her groin, and she couldn‘t find a no in her when he pulled her shirt and bra off, then her shoes and jeans.
His eyebrows rose at the knife she wore strapped on one calf. Then, he efficiently stripped it off along with the rest of her clothes.
She was naked before she knew it. Giving a short laugh, she murmured, "I do love competent people." But that made her think of other things. "I‘m on birth control and tested recently. You?"
He frowned for a second as if not understanding, then shook his head. "No diseases."
Feeling too exposed under his intent gaze, she pulled him down to cover her like a massive muscular quilt. He moved slightly, and his cock settled between her thighs, the head teasing her folds. Oh yes.
He nibbled on he
r lips and then took her mouth, his lips firm, his tongue wicked.
She kissed him back, threading her hands through his thick hair, holding his head while she sampled him. She traced a finger over the tiny ridged scar on his cheekbone before biting his jaw. His skin tasted of salt and man and a shiver ran up her spine.
He hummed when she kissed his corded neck. His back muscles tightened into granite when she licked the hollow above his collarbone. God, she wanted to just rub herself against him.
Instead, she ran a hand down his flank and grasped his cock.
He slowly pulled away and sat back on his haunches.
Startled, she pushed up on one elbow. "What? You‘re stopping?"
A dimple appeared with his slow smile. "My momma taught me to savor my desserts." His eyes were like molten heat stroking across her body; his hands followed. His fingertips ran over her collarbone, her shoulder. He paused, and in the dim light, she saw his eyes narrow as he traced the shiny scars from Lachlan‘s bite. His gaze on her body, he unerringly found each remnant of past battles: right bicep and forearm, knife scars; left thigh, shrapnel; left hip, bullet.
How well did he see in the dark anyway? Her muscles tightened. Would he ask—?
"You‘ve had a rough life, sweetheart," he said before nuzzling each scar gently. She relaxed, worry replaced by something…softer, an unfamiliar feeling as tender as his lips.
Then, with a sinful smile, he started to explore anew. Her stomach muscles quivered at his light touch. He traced a line up between her breasts, circling each mound with teasing fingers...circling until her skin felt needy. Hungry. Her nipples bunched, aching for more. When his lips finally closed on one peak, electricity arced straight to her pussy, and she gasped for air, arching off the cushions.
His mouth on her breast was hot, his tongue hard and ravenous, teasing unmercifully. His hand possessed her other breast, and the deluge of sensations sent her senses whirling. Her fingers clenched in his hair—probably painfully—to pull him closer, and she couldn‘t seem to release her hold. His scent wrapped around her, a sunlit forest, pine trees. Male. Very male.
Hour of the Lion Page 10
