Taming The Shifter (Nocturne Wolf Romance)

by Lisa Childs

  “But if that man murdered him—”

  “He did.” He could handle Sebastian and the others doubting him and falling for Reagan’s lies. He couldn’t accept her doubting him. He turned back to her, to focus on her face—her beautiful face when he told her. “I witnessed the murder myself.” Because he had been too late to save his father—too late to stop that damn silver bullet from being fired. “He killed him.”

  Kate’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Then I don’t understand why the police aren’t involved.”

  “Because he was my father.” And his father never would have forgiven him if someone outside the pack brought his killer to justice. If he’d been able to speak as the blood had pumped from the bullet wound in his chest, he would have made Warrick promise to avenge his murder.

  “Warrick, you can’t take justice into your own hands like this,” she said, her voice soft with sympathy. “I’m sure that’s not what your father would want.”

  He laughed. “That just proves that you never met my father. He would want me to—he would demand on his honor and mine—that I take justice into my own hands.”

  Sadness dimmed the brightness of her blue eyes. “Your father sounds like a difficult man.”

  He laughed again but with bitterness instead of humor. “You have no idea.”

  “You don’t have to do this,” she said. “You can let the police take over now.” She lifted her hands to his face, cupping his jaw in her palms. Her hands were soft but strong. “You can let me take over now.”

  “You are fierce,” he replied. The strongest woman he had ever known. “My father would have liked you. He would have admired your guts and spirit and my father admired few—if any—people.” And no humans. But he would have respected her. He would have considered her a worthy mate.

  But he had never considered Warrick a worthy son. That was why Warrick needed to be the one to bring his killer to justice—even though he appreciated Kate’s offer. Involving her would only put her in danger. And he couldn’t handle the thought of putting her in danger, of risking her life…

  He cared too much.

  “I’m sorry you lost him,” she said, “but I don’t think I would have liked your father.”

  “Probably not,” he agreed. Kate would have had problems with the rules of the pack, and his father had created most of those rules. That was why they could have no future. He could never tell her what he was because she would never want to join the pack. And if she didn’t, she would have to die.

  “Is it possible that that man was acting in self-defense?” she asked.

  Warrick shook his head. “No. My father would have never hurt him.”

  “Then why would he hurt your father?” the detective—and she was once again the detective interviewing a witness—asked. She was looking for a motive—for a reason why Reagan had done what he had.

  But he’d had no reason.

  “Some people are just evil,” he remarked. “My father isn’t the only person he hurt.”

  “Who else?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”

  “I have more questions—”

  He swung her up in his arms and headed toward the bed. “Your interrogation is over, Detective Wever.”

  “Warrick—”

  He tossed her down so that she bounced on the mattress. “I’m not making love with Detective Wever. I’m making love with the woman—”

  “The woman?” she prodded when he stopped.

  The woman I love. But he couldn’t say those words, not when he had nothing to offer her but secrets. Because he couldn’t give her the truth without risking her life. And he had already risked that enough just by falling for her.

  “The woman who drives me crazy,” he replied as he dragged off his shirt and unsnapped his jeans. He undressed as quickly as when he changed form—which would happen again in an hour. He had spent too long looking for Reagan—too long away from her. He kicked off his jeans and briefs and joined her on the bed.

  “Warrick…”

  “You have on too many clothes,” he protested. And he began to undress her, tugging off her sweater so that her hair tangled across her face. Next he shucked her out of her pants and dropped them onto the floor where she always left her clothes. She was always so focused on law and order that she didn’t even notice how very little order she actually had in her own life—or at least in her own apartment.

  When she lay naked beneath him, he lowered his body to hers, so that her breasts cushioned his chest and her hips cradled his straining erection. He groaned at the exquisite sensation of her silky skin rubbing against his.

  She moaned and wrapped her arms around his back, clutching him close. Then she lifted her mouth for his kiss, their lips moving hungrily over each other’s. But kisses wouldn’t be enough to feed his hunger. Or hers.

  Her hands ran all over him, her fingers kneading muscles while her nails raked his skin. Then she reached between them and closed her hand around his erection. His cock throbbed and pulsated within her silky grasp.

  He jerked back and groaned. “I can’t…you can’t…” Or it would all be over too soon. Just her touch could shatter his control. His muscles shuddered as he struggled for breath. Then he pulled back and lowered his mouth, sliding it down her throat. He nibbled at her collarbone before moving his lips lower, closing them around a tight nipple.

  She rose off the mattress, arching up to him. He pulled her nipple deeper into his mouth, suckling. She shifted beneath him, rubbing her hips against his erection. And a low moan of pleasure emanated from her throat.

  He moved his hands over her body, sliding them down her sides and over her hips. He lifted her hips in his hands and lowered his mouth to taste the very essence of her. She was so sweet—so wet.

  Her fingers tangled in his hair but instead of pulling him away, she clutched him to her. Her body tensed and she screamed his name as an orgasm shuddered through her.

  He didn’t give her a second to regain her breath before he thrust inside her, driving deep and hard. Over and over again.

  She clutched at his shoulders and wrapped her limbs around him, matching his rhythm. She found his mouth, kissing him with all the passion that flowed over him as she came again.

  Sweat beaded his brow while the tension wound so tightly inside him that his body ached with the need for release. Finally, it slammed through him—so intense that he uttered a primal cry. His heart pounded hard, his breath coming in pants so harsh that he barely heard the warning beep of his watch. But her clock echoed the beep as the chimes began. He couldn’t hold her like he wanted until dawn broke.

  He had to leave…or risk her discovering the secret that would destroy her.

  *

  Reagan winced as he rolled his wounded shoulder.

  “You have to take it easy,” the surgeon cautioned him. “You’re going to pull the stitches I just put in.”

  Reagan glanced at his watch. “In about thirty minutes, I’m going to pull them all out anyway.” It was almost midnight. He would be changing soon.

  “And if he doesn’t get the hell out of here before Warrick comes back,” the vampire bartender said, “you’re going to have to do more than just stitch him up again.”

  Dr. Davison held up a bloodstained bullet. “I did more than stitch him up. I had to fish this out of his shoulder. It wasn’t a through and through.”

  Reagan flinched at the sight of the lead. But he was damned lucky it had been lead and not silver. If she’d shot him with a silver bullet, he never would have seen…

  “Who’s Sylvia?” the doctor asked.

  Reagan tensed. “Why do you ask?”

  What had Warrick said about her?

  Reagan had thought that his brother was falling for the human detective. But was she just a diversion for the woman he really wanted?

  “You kept saying her name,” Dr. Davison replied, “when you were out of it.”

  He knew he shouldn’t ha
ve let the doctor sedate him. It would have been better if he’d just endured the pain. Hell, he’d been enduring pain for months now. But the surgeon had insisted that he couldn’t extract the bullet unless Reagan was unconscious.

  Apparently, he hadn’t been entirely unconscious, or he wouldn’t have been able to say her name. But he could have been dead and still wouldn’t have been able to think of anything but her.

  “That’s the woman in the picture,” Sebastian answered for him. “The one you carry with you.”

  He had it on him now. Pain clutched his heart that it was probably the only way he would see her again—in that photo. And maybe that was for the best.

  If he saw her in person after what he’d done, he would be afraid of what he might see on her beautiful face: fear, revulsion, regret…

  “That’s her name,” Reagan admitted.

  “That’s her name,” Ben repeated. “But who is she?”

  Sebastian snorted. “You want him to talk about his love life? There’s a guy out there who hates him so much he wants to kill him. Don’t you think it would be smarter to talk about that? What the hell is the deal with you and Warrick? Why does he hate you so much?”

  “Because I destroyed his life,” Reagan admitted regretfully. Warrick was too proud to have explained himself to the vampires, so they would have thought the worst of him—would have thought him an out-of-control hothead like their father had. Reagan always came across as the more reasonable and responsible brother, but Warrick had proven to be the more honorable one. Just no one knew it but the two of them. “And I nearly cost him his life…”

  Sebastian’s mouth fell open in surprise, his lip lifting enough to reveal the hint of his fangs. “I didn’t think…”

  “You didn’t think he had a reason?” Reagan surmised. “Warrick isn’t the kind of man who would hate someone unless he had just cause.”

  “He doesn’t just hate you,” Sebastian said. “He wants to kill you.”

  “And he has a good reason for that, too.” If he didn’t avenge their father, the pack would have to step in. Then they would kill Reagan and Warrick—because he’d failed to honor their father.

  Sebastian and the surgeon exchanged a look. They obviously realized they shouldn’t have helped him. “You need to leave,” Dr. Davison said.

  “Of course,” Reagan agreed. “I’ll get out of your way. Thank you for your help—” He held out his hand but the surgeon shook his head, refusing to take it.

  “You don’t need to just leave this room,” Dr. Davison said. “You need to leave Zantrax.”

  “But Warrick is here,” Reagan said.

  “He’ll leave when you do,” Sebastian said. “He’ll follow you.”

  Reagan shook his head, not just in denial but in pity for the vampire. He had no idea what it felt like to love someone. “He won’t leave her.”

  Davison pushed a slightly shaking hand through his salt-and-pepper hair and murmured, “Kate…”

  “You need to go back to your pack,” Sebastian advised. “You and Warrick both need to return to your pack.”

  “If we do that, we’re both dead,” Reagan admitted. But they would not be the only ones to die. Sylvia would die, too.

  “If you stay here, you’ll probably both wind up dead, too,” Sebastian said. And that might have been a threat. Then he added, “But I’m afraid someone else will wind up dead, too.”

  “Kate…” Davison murmured again.

  Reagan gestured to his shoulder. “I think Kate can take care of herself.”

  Could Sylvia? Left alone with the hostility and resentment, could she survive?

  “Kate’s human,” Davison said. And he held up that chunk of lead again. “And she doesn’t have silver bullets.”

  She was at risk. If Warrick lost her, too…

  *

  Happiness rushed through Kate with the afterglow of the most incredible lovemaking she had ever experienced. The other time they’d been together hadn’t been a dream. Only a taste of the passion that could burn between them.

  She loved him.

  Would her love be enough reason for him to set aside his quest for vengeance? Because that was what he really wanted. Not justice or he would have reported his father’s killer to the authorities. He would have had the police arrest him, and all he would have done was testify at the man’s trial.

  “Warrick,” she began, ready to share her feelings. But when she turned, she found him pulling on his clothes. “Where are you going?”

  He wouldn’t look at her, so she could only see the profile of his handsome face where a muscle twitched just above his jaw. “I—I have to leave, Kate.”

  Had he been as overwhelmed as she was? Was that why he was so anxious to bolt?

  “We need to talk,” she said. She wanted to tell him how she felt in the hopes that it might change his mind about his mission—about killing a man. But her love hadn’t changed her ex—if anything, he had only become violent after their marriage.

  The chimes of the clock echoed throughout the apartment. “I don’t have time, Kate.”

  She reached for him, but he pulled easily from her grasp and stepped away from the bed. “You can’t just leave—”

  Before she could even finish speaking, he did. He leaped out that damn window as quickly and carelessly as he had earlier that day. Then he had been in pursuit of his father’s killer; now she suspected that he was the one running.

  And she wasn’t about to let him get away as he had every other time he had disappeared from her life. She dressed quickly and slammed out of her apartment just as the final chime announced midnight.

  As she ran down the steps and pushed open the door to the dark street, she reached for her holster, but the straps didn’t hang from her shoulders. She had left it and her Glock upstairs. He was already so far ahead of her that she didn’t dare take time to retrieve her weapon. With Warrick she wouldn’t need it anyways. He wouldn’t hurt her.

  Then again she had never thought Dwight would hurt her, either. And she already knew that Warrick was a violent man, full of rage over his father’s murder. She hesitated. But a dark head in the shadows drew her attention down the street. Glass crunched beneath her feet from a broken lamp.

  Goose bumps lifted on her skin. It was too dark. And cold. She needed to turn back for her weapon and her common sense. She had lost Warrick again. Had she ever actually had him?

  Despite the passion they shared, maybe that was for the best. He was bent on revenge, and he was going to become the very thing he hated.

  A killer…

  With a sigh of resignation and a shiver of cold, she spun on her heel and headed back to her apartment. It had gotten so dark, and the chill in the air penetrated her thin clothes to her skin and deeper. To her soul.

  She shivered again, fear and foreboding joining the cold. She needed to get back to her apartment, to the warmth and her weapon. But a dark shadow loomed between her and the entrance, blocking her way home.

  “Who’s there?” she asked.

  The lights by the door had been broken, too, or the bulbs had burned out. She could see nothing but the eerie glow of eyes in the night.

  “Who’s there?”

  Something uttered a low, menacing growl. Oh, God, the thing wasn’t dead. Ben had lied to her. She backed up slowly, not wanting to startle it.

  But the thing—the enormous, hairy beast—leaped from the darkness, his teeth snarling and snapping as he attacked her. She screamed. Not for help—she suspected that wouldn’t come in time to save her.

  She screamed in terror.

  Chapter 10

  “What the hell are you doing back here?” Sebastian demanded, slamming his fists into Warrick’s chest.

  Unprepared for the attack and the vampire’s strength, he staggered back against the cement wall of the passageway. “What’s wrong with you? I came to check on the doctor’s patient.”

  “You son of a bitch, how dare you!” the vampire said, lashing out
again with his fists.

  Ready this time, Warrick caught the guy’s wrists and shoved him back. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  He had been gone for hours, first making love with Kate and then waiting in the abandoned vault until dawn to come back to Club Underground. He must have been gone too long because Reagan had managed to manipulate Sebastian into thinking Warrick was the villain. “What’s he told you?”

  “This isn’t about him and you damn well know it. I thought you were going to protect her. If I knew you were going to do this…” Sebastian’s light blue eyes gleamed with rage. “I would have killed you myself.”

  “Her?” His heart slammed into his chest. “Kate? What’s happened to Kate?”

  Sebastian pushed a shaking hand through his hair as if grappling for control.

  Oh, God, it was bad…

  Warrick’s stomach lurched as fear overwhelmed him. “What is it?”

  “Something attacked her,” Sebastian replied.

  “Something?” he gasped the word, fear choking him. “A werewolf?”

  Sebastian nodded. “Ben thinks so.” Then he fixed Warrick with an intense stare and asked, “Was it you?”

  “Hell, no!” He shoved against Sebastian, knocking him away from that damn reinforced door. “Let me in! I have to see her!” He pounded at the steel, ignoring the pain as his knuckles cracked and bled.

  Sebastian pulled him back. “You’re not going to see her until I’m convinced you’re not responsible.”

  “I would die before I would hurt her,” Warrick replied, his voice gruff with the emotion that overwhelmed him now. He couldn’t admit it—because he had no right to feel it after putting her in danger. He would die, too, if she didn’t survive the attack.

  The vampire nodded. “That’s what I thought. But the injuries…”

  “What injuries? How badly is she hurt?” Desperation to see her, mixed with the frustration that she was being kept from him, twisted his guts into knots. He attacked the door again. “Let me in! Let me the hell inside!”

  Sebastian shoved him back and stepped between him and the door. Then he nodded up at a camera lens nearly concealed in the cement wall of the tunnel. “You have to prepare yourself,” he warned him.