by Kate Douglas
She hadn’t been far off.
Of course, his father would say that Max was suited to a military life. It was the only useful thing a born killer could do. His mother had died giving birth to him. As a boy, he’d even killed a man who tried to assassinate his father. And those were the least of his crimes. Covering up the dark side of his nature with the carefree playboy prince had always served Max well.
Sir, we’re ready for them. Barrett’s voice filled his mind. His new executive officer. It was discomfiting after years of having Kira as his right hand.
His senses vibrated with pure carnal awareness as she brushed past him and joined Rhiannon at the door. Flicking her short hair away from her face, she glanced back at him and jerked her chin down to indicate they were good to go with escorting the royal couple to the helos. With all the wedding guests and extra hired help still on the island, security was even tighter than usual. It would be easier than ever for some nutjob to do something homicidally stupid. The king and queen went nowhere without an escort.
“Let’s get this show on the road, ladies and gents.” Max grinned and swept his arm toward the exit with a formal bow.
He straightened and shrugged tight shoulders. He couldn’t wait to get out of this room. He hated it. Elan had redecorated the office when he had taken the throne, but Max would always remember the years of disappointed lectures, browbeatings, and angry fights that made every moment in the room a misery for him as a youth. He could still see the faded marks his claws had made on the desk during a vicious beating his father had doled out. Max couldn’t even recall what he’d done to deserve that particular punishment. He pushed away the unpleasant memories as he always did and focused on the task at hand.
Kira took point in the group of Guards that surrounded the king and queen, while Max brought up the rear. Ignoring the rough thwap of the helo’s blades slicing through the air, he scanned the crowd of curious guests who came to watch them take off, noting no one out of place. Good. The Guards worked like the well-oiled machines they were, and in moments Max and Kira were in the helicopter with Elan and Rhiannon. The rest of the Guards would fill the other helos.
Kira studiously avoided his gaze on the flight to the palatial mountain cabin the Delacourt family owned. Max’s great-grandfather had amassed quite a fortune before he’d become the Between king, and later generations of the family had kept up the entrepreneurial bent—something else Max’s father had tried to push him into. If he couldn’t be useful in politics, then he could at least do his duty to his family name and excel at business. Max snorted. His father had excelled at disappointment. Elan had had it worse, though. The old man had seen Elan as a competitor, and Max had always suspected some part of their father had known his elder son would make a far better ruler than he had the ability to be.
Max caught his brother passing Rhiannon a look, and he suspected the two were speaking telepathically. When his sister-in-law’s gaze flicked between him and Kira, he knew what the topic of conversation was. Right. He sighed.
The fox-shifter had said very little to him since he’d put his foot in it at the reception, and apparently the chill had been noticed. He had his doubts that their affair would continue at all, let alone for the extent of the honeymoon, and he had no one to blame except himself and his big mouth. Give him a military operation and he did fine. Put him in a personal situation and he said the wrong thing every time. One would think he’d have learned to keep his trap shut, but not so much.
He drew in a breath and Kira’s heady feminine scent punched through him. Lust rode him with a viciousness that shouldn’t have surprised him, but the night before had only sharpened his craving for her. Damn his verbal ineptitude. The frustration ripping through him did nothing to cage the feral wolf-shifter within him that wanted to claim her.
The pilot raised his voice to be heard over the helo’s blades. “Sixty seconds to landing.”
They banked left and took a sweeping turn over forested peaks before the massive cabin and its collection of outbuildings came into view. The Delacourts owned most of the mountain, and Max had Guards crawling all over every inch of it. He wasn’t taking any chances.
“Oh, it’s so beautiful,” Rhiannon crowed with delight as they swooped closer, and Max couldn’t help but grin. Her enthusiasm for anything and everything made her a lot of fun, and he knew his uptight brother needed some of that to loosen him up. Before Rhiannon, Elan had been steadily working himself into the ground in a futile attempt to make up for their father’s selfish suicidal death.
Such a waste of life, both their father’s and Elan’s with his workaholic penance.
“Wait until you see the lake. We can go skinny-dipping.” Elan winked at his new wife and she chortled in wicked glee.
Kira groaned. “Oh, Jesus. Just make sure it’s on a shift where I’m not working.”
“What do you have against skinny-dipping?” Rhiannon turned those wide green eyes on the fox-shifter.
“Not a thing as long as it’s me and some hot guy swimming around in the buff.” Kira flicked her short hair away from her face. “I don’t, however, have any desire to watch the queen boinking her husband.”
Elan arched one regal eyebrow. “Did you just refer to us having sex as boinking? We are most seriously displeased.”
“And that was the royal We.” Max leaned forward to open the door as they bumped down on the landing pad.
“Exactly. I have to learn that one.” Rhiannon stuck her nose in the air. “We are most seriously displeased, peon.”
Something about that made the smile fall from Kira’s face, but Elan cracked up. He reached out an arm, looped it around Rhiannon’s neck, and hauled her close for a quick kiss. “You’re not supposed to say peon.”
“Yeah, it’s just implied.” Max winked at them, hopped out, and led the way into the cabin. He’d have to find out what was wrong with Kira later—there was work to do now.
The team of Guards he’d sent ahead to secure the cabin and put in place a few extra security measures was waiting for them. Everything appeared to be fine, and a deep drag of air revealed no unfamiliar scents. Guards, family, nearby wildlife. Good.
They’d be on American soil for the next two weeks, in human territory, and while as a race humans were much weaker than Between, they also vastly outnumbered the shifters on the planet. His brother’s position as the Between king made him a target for people who feared the magic of their species. Their father had announced the existence of the Between to the world over a decade ago, and ever since, Elan had been scrambling to clean up the mess. Some people didn’t like how successful he’d been in making sure Betweens were treated as equals, as humans, even though the shifter magic in their blood made them half-animal.
One recent threat in particular made Max’s hackles rise. The death threats and marriage proposals the king’s staff fielded almost daily weren’t what bothered him. There’d been a human whose letters had become increasingly violent, and the last one had been written in blood. Max didn’t know who the human was, but the scent on the paper and envelopes had been the same.
Just that morning, a wedding “gift” had arrived for Rhiannon—white roses dipped in crimson blood. They’d carried the same human’s smell as the letters. The acrid stench had a hint of madness to it that said this was no prank. It lit up every one of Max’s instincts.
You’re thinking about the human.
Kira loped up the stairs to do a sweep of the upper floor. Of course she knew what he was thinking. She knew him better than anyone except his brother. But she didn’t so much as glance at him as she passed. He answered her anyway, shielding his telepathy from everyone else. Yeah. I have a bad feeling about this one. I want us to be cautious while our men hunt this guy down.
We will. Catch him and be cautious. Her words were firm, left no room for doubt. Just like the woman herself.
She was right. He’d make sure of it. His only family’s lives were at stake. The problem was, the letters h
ad been sent from all over California, and it was a big-ass state with a lot of people in it. It didn’t help that San Amaro was part of the Channel Islands off the coast of California. It was much too close for Max’s comfort.
And they were in an isolated mountain cabin. In California. For two weeks.
Fucking fabulous.
3
“Ma’am.” Barrett nodded to Kira as they passed in the cabin’s foyer.
Calling it a cabin was a joke. Cabins didn’t have foyers. It was a log mansion, really.
“Granger.” She dipped her chin in a nod. There were questions in the man’s eyes, but he masked them quickly enough before he turned away. About what she’d seen with Adam and him, or had he noticed something about Max and her? She’d still had his scent on her when the bloody rose delivery had dragged her out of bed to investigate. People had taken note of the way she smelled, she was sure. A Between wouldn’t be able to help it. Barrett didn’t ask her anything, thankfully. He jogged up the stairs to take over for Max while Kira waited for her own replacement.
She was more than ready to escape to her room. Unlike the rest of the security staff, Max and she were sleeping in the main house instead of one of the equally plush outbuildings.
Part of her wished she were out with the rest of the Guards.
The pheromones in the house were thick enough to cut with a knife. Laughter floated over the balcony from the royal suite, along with the occasional moan and scream. Being Between meant there weren’t a lot of secrets about what was going on. Kira could hear far more than the average human. She did her best to block out the sounds and smells of sex and concentrate on her job, but the animal within her writhed at the less-than-subtle call to mating.
Then Max’s scent mixed with that of lust, and sweat broke out across Kira’s forehead.
Shit.
Her replacement arrived and she barely managed a few pleasantries before she all but fled to her room and shut the door.
Her teeth ground together, her fangs elongating. Max’s demand that they only get it on for the duration of the honeymoon stung. It wasn’t as if she’d expected anything long-term. Hell, she didn’t do long-term. It complicated things, and she was always going to have to put her job before anything else. Emergencies cropped up, dangerous situations happened, things that others might find morally questionable were just part of her normal day. Most men didn’t understand that, but she was damn good at what she did, and she wasn’t going to apologize for it.
Still, she didn’t put an expiration date on her affairs. They lasted as long as they were good, and then they ended. Max’s deadline pissed her off. She hadn’t planned on more than a night with him, but they’d both enjoyed themselves, and they didn’t work directly with each other anymore, so what was his problem?
She snorted. If she didn’t know him so well, she might think it had something to do with the disparity in their social positions. But Max and Elan had never treated her the way their father had, the way her father had always warned her they would. No, with Max, it was more likely that he’d get bored before the two weeks were up. When it came to women, the man had the attention span of a gnat with ADHD. He hadn’t been that way when they were younger, but he’d apparently picked up the any-port-in-a-storm habit in the Marines.
So. She had to decide what to do. Tell him to kiss her ass and call it a one-night stand. Or she could take him up on the next two weeks. Her pride chafed at both options. She might not do long-term, but she wasn’t usually a one-night wonder either. A foxlike growl emerged from her throat. She was honest enough to admit what stuck in her craw most was that she wasn’t the one getting to end things. She wasn’t the one calling the shots.
But one phone call to Max’s room and she could have him again. For the next two weeks. Fire exploded in her belly at the mere thought, her pussy drenching. Damn the chemistry they generated. Damn him for backing her into a corner.
“Damn, damn, damn.”
Frustration burned through her. She doubted she would sleep, but the morning would come early and she needed to try. With impatient movements, she yanked off her clothes and tossed them aside before she flung herself into the wide bed. The cool mountain breeze ruffled the curtains at her window, teasing her nose with the scent of the pine, teasing her overheating body with its chill. Her nipples tightened and she had to clench her legs together and clench her jaw to keep from groaning. She was dying to have a man’s hands on her skin. She was dying to have Max’s hands on her skin. Again. One night hadn’t been nearly enough to quench her need.
“Fuck,” she hissed. Punching her pillow into a different shape, she tried to squirm into a more comfortable position. It was no use, and she knew it. The only position she wanted included a man between her thighs. One phone call and she could have that.
The thought was potent, addictive. Max could put his hands on her. She could have him if she wanted him, even for a little while.
His hands could be sliding over her skin instead of the damp mountain air. He could warm her to a boiling point, make her arch like a fox in heat, make her writhe and scream and forget everything but the feel of him moving over her and in her.
Her frustration peaked, battered at her already tenuous control. Bunching her fingers in the sheets beneath her just made her claws punch holes in the fabric. She squirmed, but the movement increased her agony. All she could imagine was Max and her, with nothing between them but skin.
“Fuck,” she sighed again, and gave in.
Closing her eyes, she allowed the picture of him to form. It came to her, so sharp and clear that her breath caught. Dark hair that ruffled in the lazy wind, pale gold eyes that gleamed with bright laughter and dark lust. Lightness and shadow. It was one of the reasons she found him so fascinating.
She ran her hand down her stomach, wishing it were his hand, his fingers that dipped into the notch of her thighs and toyed with her clit. The tight bundle of nerves hardened and bloomed, and she could imagine the light rasp of calluses on his fingertips.
A shudder rippled through her body and she let herself go to the fantasy. The dream Max drew lazy circles around her clit, teasing her until she thought she’d die, but it was too good to rush, so she moaned and let him play with her. Pressing her legs flat to the mattress, she opened herself for more of his touch and lifted her hips in offering.
He chuckled, the sound floating through her mind, wisp-ing like smoke. Moving her hand, she shoved her fingers deep inside her sex. She gasped, her hips bucking hard to meet the sensuous touch. The lips of her pussy were slick with juices, the inner walls squeezing and releasing around those plunging digits.
“Oh, God,” she groaned between gritted fangs.
In her mind, she watched Max grin wickedly, his fangs flashing. There was a glimmer of silver to his skin, the sign of shifting for a Between. The red wolf couldn’t hide his feral side when he felt passionately about something, and she loved the wildness. She wanted it for herself, in her bed, all night long.
He rubbed his thumb across her clit, and she arched into the caress. Heat burst through her and tingles rippled over her skin. His free hand reached for her nipple, plucking and twisting the tight tip. Biting her lip, she strangled a sound of utter need. She barely noticed when her fangs scraped at her skin, the coppery tang of blood slipping over her tongue. All the while, his fingers built a steady, maddening rhythm in her pussy, pushing her higher and higher.
She was soaking wet, her sex tightening on his fingers. Every movement, every breath, intensified her reaction. Her muscles shook in anticipation of orgasm.
More. That was all she could think. More, more, more. Even then, it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t real. But it was all she would allow herself, so she focused on the daydream and pushed reality away for just a few more seconds, working herself with her fingers, just as the Max in her fantasy was doing.
He licked his lips, watching her react to him. His eyes burned to molten gold, the feel of his gaze moving over her
body increasing her need. Her breathing sped to rapid pants, and sweat slid in rivulets down her skin. A gust of cold wind brushed over her damp flesh, raising goose bumps and making her shiver. He chuckled, and his fingers curled upward until he rubbed her g-spot. A low snarl broke from her and the sensations catapulted her past the point of no return. Her pussy spasmed and she undulated on the sheets, the smooth fabric rough against her skin.
“I want you inside me.” The words seemed to echo in the empty room around her, the desire so deep it couldn’t be kept in.
He shook his head, his smile full of sin as he stroked her just right and sent her spinning into oblivion once more. Her sex gripped the fingers thrusting within her, shudders racking her.
“Max!” The fantasy exploded into a million pieces, and her dream man dissipated, leaving her gasping and alone.
Until she opened her eyes and saw the real Max standing at the foot of her bed.
Max had never been so hot in his life. Seeing Kira writhe and scream his name, knowing the sexiest woman alive was fantasizing about him, made his cock harder than steel. He wanted to join her in that wide bed and make her fantasies real, but he’d been frozen in place watching her.
“Kira ...” His voice was little more than a rasp.
“What are you doing here?” She removed her hand from her sex and closed her legs, hiding those sleek lips from him, but she did nothing else to cover herself. Not a hint of embarrassment or anger showed on her face.
He swallowed, barely able to pull his gaze away from her pale curves. His hands shook with the need to touch, so he fisted his fingers to stop himself. “I picked the lock. I could smell your arousal. I had to come to you.”
