by Laken Cane
“We’re hunters. It comes with the job.” He began to unbutton my shirt, trying for gentle though his jaw was clenched and sweat beaded on his forehead. Finally, he gave up on the buttons and ripped my shirt open. Buttons flew, clattering upon the hardwood floor when they fell.
“You’re not used to taking it slow,” I realized. “Making love is—”
“I’ve never made love,” he interrupted, almost angrily. “I’ve had sex. A lot of sex. Hard, uncontrollable, meaningless fucking. That’s what I do, baby hunter.”
“Like what we did on the dead vampires in the woods.”
“Yeah. Like that.”
My chest tightened. “That will change tonight.”
“Will it?” His throat jerked as he swallowed.
Truthfully, I wasn’t sure. Lust burned a wide path through my body, urging me to fling myself at him, to demand he bend me over the nearest table and shove himself inside me. If I let that lust gain control, then no, things probably would not change that night.
I kept my control. Barely.
I rose on tiptoe to kiss him, lingering, taking my time to taste him.
He groaned against my lips, then unfastened my bra and tossed it away before picking me up, wrapping his arms around my waist, and taking control.
He dropped me on the bed, and I rose up on my elbows to watch as he stripped off his underwear. His cock sprang free and I couldn’t resist sitting up and reaching for it. I wrapped my hand around it, squeezing, craving it, needing it.
I pulled him to me and slid him into my mouth, tasting him, scraping my teeth over the tip, licking, nipping, forcing myself not to be too rough. Too impatient.
That night would be different. I would make sure of it. I wanted to be the one to give him what he’d never had.
He buried his fingers in my hair. “Trinity, Trinity.”
He tasted like sex. Like sex and heat and darkness. He tasted like violence and pain. Like blood and hunger. He tasted like those things because he was those things.
But beneath it all, almost unreachable, was something softer. Something sweeter. I was nothing if not stubborn. I would get my teeth into that sweetness, and I would rip it from the shadows and into the light.
I would do that, because he’d given himself to me. I would do that, because I needed him. All of him. Not just the dark crunchy bits. I needed it all.
Finally, with a groan, he pulled himself from my mouth. “You have to stop for a minute,” he said, his voice strained. He pulled off my shoes, then I lifted my hips so he could slide my jeans over my legs.
He dragged my underwear off me, then straightened to stare silently down at me. The look in his eyes was so hot I squirmed on the sheets, clenching my thighs against the throbbing need between them.
The bed dipped when he climbed up beside me, and when he ran his fingers over my chest, my entire body trembled. Gooseflesh pebbled almost painfully, and I shivered. “Shane,” I whispered. “God.”
I pulled his face to my breasts, arching my back as he flicked his tongue over a stiff nipple. He ran his tongue over first one, then the other, his hands tightening on my throat when I cried out.
He bit down, very, very gently, but the threat was there.
Or the promise.
Restrained violence swirled around him—it was his nature to take what he wanted, and to take it hard.
And he wanted me.
I cupped his face, gently stroking him like he was a wild animal I needed to tame. I murmured his name, shivering as he scraped his teeth over my almost painfully rigid nipple, then I tugged him off it and to the other one for the same attention.
He traced the cross-shaped scar on my chest, a gift from Silverlight, then slipped down my body, kissing my scars, exploring me as I’d explored him. His face darkened when he saw what Amias had done to me. He used his tongue to soothe a deep, stinging pain I would never lose, a reminder of that long ago night when I’d survived a vicious vampire attack that should have killed me.
But right then, it didn’t matter.
Shane mattered. What he was doing with me mattered.
He flipped me to my stomach and straddled me, and I felt his lips at my neck, then his teeth as he nipped—again with the restrained promise that made me shiver—and kissed his way down my body.
He stroked his fingers over my back, my ribs, my hips, almost worshipful, fascinated as he took the time, for the first time in his life, with a woman’s body.
He didn’t ask me if he could do anything—he just did what he wanted to do. Some things I had not experienced. He was not the only one with firsts that night.
I lay sprawled, loose-limbed, heavy with passion, and it was as though my wrists and ankles were restrained with invisible cuffs.
I did not—could not—move as he inserted his fingers into me, used his mouth on me, loved me.
When he was finished, there was not an inch of me left untouched, and my entire body throbbed and quivered and screamed for release.
He turned me to my back and I watched him watch me, his eyes heavily lidded, his lips parted, his breath hitching. “You’re so fucking sexy.” His voice was low and thick and hoarse. “So fucking beautiful.”
He pushed his hands beneath my hips and lay between my splayed legs, his hot breath on my feverish, exposed flesh.
“Shane,” I cried, when he closed his lips over my swollen clit and ran his fingers through the wet heat he’d created, and my body clenched as I orgasmed so violently I nearly passed out.
He used his fingers to bring me to orgasm again, staring up the over the line of my body so he could watch my response to him. I let him see. I didn’t hold back my reaction. I squirmed and arched and cried out, grabbing fistfuls of the sheets to keep myself from reaching for him.
He wanted to see, and I wanted him to.
The look in his eyes was fierce, proud, and full of lust.
But it was also full of tenderness.
And finally, I tugged at him until he lay down, and then I climbed on top of him and eased myself over his thick hardness. I whimpered when his cock stretched me, filled me up, deeper and deeper until finally, he gripped my thighs and began to thrust into me.
In the end, he flipped me to my back, buried his mouth against the side of my throat, and finally lost his restraint.
He pounded into me, and there was the violence, the unrestrained passion, the loss of control. And it was good. It was…perfection.
I was ready for it, and I slammed my pelvis against his, wanting more, needing more, and he gave it to me. He gave me everything.
My orgasm built as he plunged into me, continued to build until I was almost afraid I might not be able to take the release when it came—and when it did, it roared over me, taking and touching every part of me. Mind, body, heart.
Something changed that night. For both of us.
Afterward, we lay on our sides, facing each other, both a little dazed.
“You’re mine,” I said, once.
“Yeah,” he answered, finally. “Fuck it. Yeah.”
I fell asleep tucked against his chest, cradled securely in his arms, contented, safe, and very happily exhausted.
PART TWO
Chapter Thirteen
When I woke up the next morning—afternoon, actually—I was alone in Shane’s bed. In typical Shane Copas fashion, he’d taken off without so much as leaving a note, and I wasn’t surprised.
He had, however, left me a key. He’d placed it on his pillow, and it was the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes.
I snatched it up, grabbed a toaster pastry from his tiny kitchen, then took a quick shower. My body still tingled from our night together, and my mind buzzed with thoughts of what our relationship meant.
Time would tell, I supposed. It didn’t feel bad, or scary, or dark.
It just felt…right.
I’d have to put my clean body back into yesterday’s dirty outfit—the jeans, anyway. I borrowed one of Shane’s T-shirts since he�
��d ripped the buttons off my shirt. I shivered at the delicious memory.
I gave a scream that probably scared the neighbors when I spotted a tiny tick climbing up the leg of my jeans. That was what happened when you went walking through the woods in the summertime.
I shuddered and flushed it down the toilet, then ran a comb through my short hair and headed out. No way was I going to stop hunting Madalyn, even though her scent had dissipated like a puff of smoke.
I was almost outside before I realized I’d ridden over with Shane and had no ride back to Bay Town and my car.
I called Frank Crawford.
“Where are you?” I asked.
“At the station. You have news?”
“No. But I’d like to talk about what I found last night. Can you come pick me up? I’m stranded without my car.”
“Sure. I’ll take you to lunch. Send your location to my phone.”
I texted him the address, then went outside to wait. It was too nice a day to stay indoors. The sun shone gently, the air was very warm without being stifling, and everything was green, bright, and cheerful.
Crawford pulled up in a battered Jeep and jumped out to open my car door as I approached. “Thank you, kind sir,” I said, as I got in.
“You’re in a good mood,” he remarked.
“It’s a beautiful day.” I gave him a bright smile and he paused, squinted, and then jogged around to climb into the car.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do that.” He started the engine and pulled away from the curb.
“Do what?”
“Smile like you mean it.” He took a sharp right, then glanced at me. “I’m going to go ahead and assume that smile isn’t because of me.”
I laughed. “You’re a nice enough guy and all, but…”
He groaned. Then, “Copas not a nice enough guy to take you home after he gets you into his bed?”
He blanched even as I reddened, and neither of us said anything for an awkward five minutes.
“What news do you have?” he asked, finally.
“News?”
“You said you wanted to talk about what you found last night.”
I grasped onto his words eagerly. “Oh. Right. The bloodstained tree in Galangal I tracked Madalyn to last night. Someone smacked her off that tree pretty hard.” I shrugged. “She could have fallen, of course, but what matters is that she was in those woods. Maybe she was running from her captors and fell.”
He said nothing, but his entire body stiffened. He pulled into the parking lot of a tiny restaurant called Harry’s Home Cooking, carefully turned off the engine, then slowly turned his head to look at me.
His eyes were as blank as any I’d ever seen, rivaling even Clayton’s empty stare, but a telltale vein throbbed in his temple, and I was pretty sure I heard his jaw crack as he clenched his teeth.
“Last night,” he murmured. “You discovered this last night.”
I widened my eyes, mystified by his anger. “Yes…”
He opened his mouth, ran his hand over his face, then shook his head. “And you were too busy fucking Copas to save an innocent human’s life. I understand. Get out of my car.”
I gaped. “What the hell?”
“Get the fuck out of my car. I have a crime scene to take care of, if there’s anything left of it. And if we find her dead, that’s on you.”
I opened the door and slid out, but before he could take off, I leaned down to look through the doorway. “Check your messages, asshole.”
Then I slammed the door and strode away, punching in Rhys Graver’s number as I walked.
“Trinity,” he said. “I was just getting ready to call you. I have another house for you to look at. I think it’s exactly what you need.”
“Can you pick me up?” I asked. “I’m stranded in the city.”
“Absolutely. Where are you?”
“At Harry’s.”
“Perfect. Grab a cold drink, sweetheart. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
I blinked back tears. “Thanks, Rhys.”
Before I went inside I lifted my nose to see if I could get a hint of Mrs. Bennett—and I did. But a hint was all I got, and I knew it was from the blood-splattered tree. I could smell her blood.
I could not smell her.
And that realization chilled me to the bone.
One of two things was happening. Madalyn was dead and I couldn’t scent dead humans, or I could only scent and track a human if she were bleeding or bloody.
Neither of those things was ideal.
I was meant to track vampires, not humans.
I got a large soda and a muffin and went back outside to wait for Rhys. I checked my phone a dozen times, but there was no message or missed call from Shane. I could have called him, sure, but I hadn’t been the one to disappear the morning after. And I wasn’t going to be the one to call.
Rhys sped into the parking lot, music blaring, the top of his elegant red Mercedes down. He parked, and before I’d left my seat he was jogging toward me, smiling.
He wasn’t the only one in the car. As I watched, Clayton left the front seat and climbed into the back.
He didn’t look my way.
I smoothed my hand over my hair and wished I’d at least had a little lipstick, then shrugged. Clayton and Rhys had seen me looking like death.
Rhys took my arm. “Good afternoon, beautiful.”
I snorted and looked at him, and his brown eyes sparkled when he grinned at me. Rhys was the most mysterious of my Bay Town supernatural friends, but he could also be the most charming.
And if I could believe Amias, Rhys was a killer for hire.
I slid into the front seat, and Rhys closed my door gently. As he jogged around the front of the car, I spoke to Clayton. “How are you?”
“I’m fine, Trinity.”
Yeah. I was doubting that pretty hard.
Rhys climbed in. “I have a lovely house for you to look at today. Do you have time right now?”
“Yes,” I answered. “I suppose. Then I need to see if I can pick up Mrs. Bennett’s trail.”
“You don’t sound confident,” he noted.
“If I don’t find her, Angus is going to die in there, Rhys.”
“Trinity.” He reached over to squeeze my clasped hands. “We appreciate that you’re our human. But we don’t expect you to free Angus from a human’s prison. Not even Angus holds you responsible for that.”
“It doesn’t matter if you expect it. It’s something I have to do.” It was true. I had to protect them. If one of them was missing or suffering or imprisoned, I had to do everything in my power to fix it. “I have to.”
“Because you see us as yours,” Clayton murmured.
“Because you are mine,” I replied, fiercely. Then I darted a look at Rhys, embarrassed. “I mean—”
“You mean,” he interrupted, smoothly, “that we are yours.”
Clayton leaned forward, and the scent of him, that lovely cake scent, made me forget that I’d just told Rhys he belonged to me. I inhaled deeply, pulling it in, letting it comfort me.
It took me back to the cabin in the woods, when he’d been free of Miriam and had spent every second of that freedom with me. Loving me.
I glanced back and met his stare, and I knew he was thinking about it, as well. His eyes darkened, but I saw no sign of the demon who crouched patiently inside him, waiting, plotting, preparing.
I hadn’t told Clayton I’d seen the demon. I wasn’t sure I should. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I was right. Maybe I’d simply seen what I’d wanted to see.
“Why are you stranded?” Clayton asked.
I cleared my throat and looked away. “I spent the night at Shane’s apartment. When I woke up, he was gone.”
“He’s rough around the edges,” Rhys said. “But his regard for you is obvious.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Really?”
“You are the reason he’s still here,” Clayton said. “Shane Copas is a wanderer. H
e is too restless to stay in one place. But for you, he will stay.”
“For us,” Rhys added, gently. “We are everything together. When we are separated, it is as though we’re missing fragments of ourselves.” Again, he reached across to squeeze my hand. Only that time, he didn’t let go. “It is why you feel you must free Angus. You need him back with the group.”
“And that’s why he’s suffering a little something extra,” I realized. “Because he needs to be with us.”
Both men nodded.
“But why?” I asked.
Finally, Rhys shrugged. “Who can say?”
“Why don’t you guys feel the need to free Angus?”
It was Clayton who answered. “We do.”
Rhys squeezed my hand a little harder. “We feel the need, but we are powerless to fight alone. When the time comes for you to free him, we will be there.”
After that promise, we lapsed into a thoughtful silence until Rhys spoke again.
“Angus and I are the only two you haven’t yet bonded with.”
It took me a few seconds to understand what he meant. And when I did understand, my breath caught in my throat and my stomach began tossing with excitement.
My entire body reacted to his words.
I gasped and leaned forward, clenching my thighs against the throbbing pressure that exploded into life at his words.
It took every ounce of willpower I possessed not to press his hand against that almost painful, urgent need between my legs. I stared down at our entwined fingers, the contrast of his strong, black fingers against my smaller white ones intensely, overwhelmingly, scorchingly hot.
Oh God. Sex with Rhys would be…
Fierce. Incredible.
But I had not a vision of my bare body entangled with just Rhys’s, but Rhys’s and Clayton’s. At the same time. I could almost feel it, my body between theirs, their hands on me, their mouths on—
The blaring sound of a horn brought me back to reality as Rhys nearly ran the car into the oncoming traffic.
He put his hand back on the steering wheel and shook his head hard, once, as though trying to shake away the effects of his own lust. He blew out a hard but shaky breath.
