by Chloe Cole
She ambled off into the office behind the counter and Willa barely managed to hide her smile as she faced Drake.
“Smart girl,” she murmured as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Anyway, what did you need to buy?”
He held her gaze for so long, she had to fight the urge to fidget under the weight of it.
“What was that?” he growled, gripping her elbow and leading her toward the back of the store.
She wheeled around to face him. “You started it by telling her you wanted to sleep with her. I was just being honest. Whether you want to be or not, you’re still my husband.”
His eyes narrowed and his voice got twenty degrees colder. “No. You started it by telling her we spent the entire week having sex. I told you not to engage people.”
“That’s not what you said!” Her cheeks flamed with the heat of indignation. “You told me not to tip anyone off that I was your captive. And I didn’t. In fact, I played up my role as the dutiful wife, so I don’t see what you’re so mad about.”
So maybe that part wasn’t entirely accurate. She knew why he was mad. She just wasn’t going to apologize for it. Sometimes a man needed a knock in the head to get his mind right and if she had to be the one to don the boxing gloves, she would.
She turned and pretended to rifle through a stack of t-shirts on a shelf, but she could feel his tension and the weight of his stare.
“Don’t push me, Willa,” he warned in a low, tight voice. “I’ve been pushed far enough and I won’t be held accountable for my actions.”
He’d gone from chilly to fuming, and an irrational frisson of relief snaked through her. Irritated, angry Drake she could handle. In fact, that was the Drake she knew best and he was pretty sexy. It was ice-cold Drake that she couldn’t bear. If those were her only options right now, she’d much rather he was pissed off at her. Anything but the frigid tone and glacial stares.
She turned to face him again and crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh really? What are you going to do to me?” She let her voice drop and laid a hand over his heart, her insides melting when his eyes went dark with renewed and reluctant need. “Lock me in a room?” She took a step closer and rolled up onto her tiptoes until her mouth was almost touching his. “Spank me?”
He moved so fast, the air left her lungs in a whoosh and suddenly, she found herself pinned against the wall in a little alcove between a hat rack and a shelf filled with I <3 Montana shot glasses.
“Do you want me to spank you?” he murmured, sliding a knee between her thighs until the pressure was right where she needed it to be. “Do you think you’d like it, Willa?”
He leaned in until his chest mashed against hers, making her nipples peak beneath her sweater. He wedged a hand between them to cup her breast in a rough caress that made his breath hitch and hers stall in her chest.
They were in the middle of a store, in public. Granted, the place was empty, and Slutty-Pants McHomewrecker was in the back room but still, anyone could come along.
When he slanted his mouth over hers, though, all thoughts of propriety skittered off into space and all she could think about was him.
Drake and that firm mouth, punishing and worshipping at the same time. Taking and giving as he plunged his tongue between her lips and ground his thigh against her pubic bone in a soul-shattering rhythm.
He groaned against her mouth and slid his hand under her sweater, grunting in approval when he finally got to skin.
Her hips moved faster as she rode his thigh, increasing the pressure to the point that she knew she was in trouble. She’d spent the previous night wet and wanting, plagued by sex dreams that all ended the same way, with her waking up in a cold sweat, aching and so close to coming, she wanted to scream. Could she seriously have an orgasm in the middle of a store in broad daylight, though?
He pinched her swollen nipple, sending another hot stab of lust through her that hit her right between the thighs.
Hell yes, she could.
She opened her eyes and took a quick glance around the store and then slipped her own hand between them until it closed over Drake’s thick, jeans-clad cock. His whole body shuddered as she traced his massive erection and then clamped her teeth down on his bottom lip. If she was going over the edge, she was taking him with her.
She’d just found her groove, rubbing through the thick fabric, working him up and down, when he closed his free hand over her wrist and stopped her cold.
He tugged his other hand from beneath her sweater and shook his head slowly, a puzzled frown knitting his brow. “You know, now that I think about it, I think I’m going to pass.” He stepped back with a slow grin and reached out to pat her cheek like one would their kid brother. “But I appreciate the offer.”
He walked away, leaving her staring after him in stunned silence and a pool of want.
It took her brain a full twenty seconds to unravel what had just happened. He’d been fucking with her. Teasing her. Using sex to hurt her the way she’d hurt him.
Jesus, that was harsh. Or, he’d meant it to be, at least. But she couldn’t help but feel a reluctant sense of admiration for the nefarious son of a gun. If she was what he thought—a slick little liar who would use anything at her disposal to get him to let his guard down—then he’d certainly found a way to strike back. Especially given their undeniable chemistry. Only problem was that she knew better. A man could fake a lot of things, but the want etched on his face, the swelling of that cock against her, there was no question he was hurting as much as she was.
Even now, his strong throat worked and she could still make out the iron-like thickness behind his zipper as he moved around to the hardware section of the store, steadfastly ignoring her.
She willed her pounding pulse to slow, and closed her eyes to get herself together. It wasn’t fun, feeling this way, but at least she knew where she stood, and now she knew one other thing for sure.
If they were alone right now, or if she hadn’t been stuck in chains last time, he never could’ve pulled it off.
She saw the way he looked at her, and she knew with every fiber of her being that she could convince him. Show him with her body what he refused to hear with words. Getting free from her chains and seducing him. That would do it. Letting him see that, even given the choice, she wouldn’t run from him. He’d have to see then.
She waited for her heartbeat to return to normal before following quietly, watching as he gathered supplies that she could only assume were in preparation for Grey’s return made her stomach clench. Drake was obviously expecting him and his posse to show up sooner than later, and was preparing for their arrival. That knowledge only strengthened her resolve. Before they did and lives were lost needlessly, she had to get him to believe her. To see the truth.
Because if she couldn’t? It could cost her everything. Her former pack. Her childhood friend.
And, worst of all, the only man she’d ever loved.
Chapter Twenty
“Can you pass me the salt?”
Drake had been completely lost in thought and looked up at Willa, who was staring back at him expectantly. They’d gotten through the rest of their shopping excursion without incident, but there was no question they were both on edge the entire trip. By the time they’d gotten back to the keep, she seemed to relish the thought of being locked in her room, and he couldn’t wait to get a door between them.
Stressful or not, though, he’d done what he’d vowed to do and, judging by her reaction to it, she didn’t like it much at all. She’d been shocked as hell when he’d been the one to break their embrace again in the store.
But his triumph had been short-lived. What was meant to be a punishment—a reminder of why dragons were not to be trifled with—had wound up a far worse punishment for him. He was still aching with unquenched desire from head to toe. His cock throbbed in a state of perpetual need and he felt like he was going to climb out of his skin.
His thoughts drifted to the once-willing Raina, b
ut he dismissed the thought instantly. Even if she could be convinced that Willa wouldn’t eviscerate her, he wouldn’t take her up on her offer.
As pathetic as it was, only his faithless wife would do. In spite of the betrayal and the hurt and the dishonor she’d brought to him, he was still strung up on her. This need pulsing through him like a second heartbeat wasn’t just about sex. It was about Willa and nothing else—not the pretty blond or a willing stranger or his own hand—was going to cut it. Despite what he’d told her, she was his mate. Now and forever. His dragon had chosen, and whether human Drake managed to convince him otherwise had no bearing on the beast. He was going to have to live with that regardless of what happened next.
But that was a problem for another day. Today, he needed to focus on preparing. Just the thought of working off some of this pent up energy and fury on Greyson West was enough to cheer him, if only for a moment.
“Drake? Salt?”
He blew out an exasperated sigh and pushed the shaker in her direction before forcing himself to eat his own dinner.
It was a silent affair that he would be glad to see end. The quicker he could get some time alone, maybe take a long, exhausting swim and climb into bed and meditate, the better. As soon as the meal was over, he’d lock up Willa right and tight and then they’d both be safe from whatever foolish new plot she was hatching.
Almost as if she’d read his mind, she set down her fork with a chink. “I’m pretty tired so I’d like to get to bed early. Before you chain me, I need to shower, though, okay?”
He nodded, but the piece of roasted chicken he’d been chewing stuck in his gullet. It wasn’t her words, so much. It was more the chirpy voice and the innocent smile that had his senses ramping up to high alert. Still, he couldn’t figure a logical reason to refuse her. He was going to lock the bedroom door behind her, and the room itself was an interior room, so it had no windows. Unless she planned to claw her way out through three feet of solid granite, there was no way out.
Even armed with that knowledge, though, he couldn’t shake his apprehension. “That’s fine,” he said with a reluctant nod.
“Great,” she beamed and then pushed her chair back to stand. “You done?”
He looked down at his half empty plate and nodded. While thoughts of revenge and mayhem had his blood pumping at points, he found the discord with Willa did little for his appetite.
“Yes.”
He pushed back his chair and stood, tossing his napkin on the table.
She led the way up the steps, seemingly without a care in the world, which only vexed him more. She was the one who was supposed to be miserable, not him. Keeping her here was meant to be a punishment.
So why was he the one who felt like he was tied to a whipping post?
“Thanks for taking me into town with you, I would’ve gone crazy cooped up all day,” she said, tossing a smile over her shoulder as she made her way down the hall toward her new room.
He grunted in response and stepped around her to shove the heavy oak door open.
“I’ll be back in half an hour after you’ve showered and dressed.”
Get in and get out, Blackbourne.
He moved to yank the door shut when she rested a hand over his.
“I forgot to tell you last night, something is wrong with the shower. The water was freezing.”
Suspicion snaked through him as he peered down into her wide eyes.
“So take a fast shower,” he responded sharply.
She gave him a pleading smile and tugged his hand from the knob. “Can I just use your shower? Or can you at least take a look? Please? It will only take a second.”
His sense of self-preservation was strong enough to make him hesitate, but he finally inclined his head and stepped back into the room. “I’ll take a look but I’m not going to make any promises, and if I can’t fix it, you can take one in another guest room tomorrow morning while I stand guard.”
If this was some ruse to get into an easier part of the keep to escape, he wasn’t biting.
“Sure thing,” she said, trailing behind him as he cut across the room to the bathroom.
He yanked aside the sliding glass door and reached an arm inside, turning the water on full blast. The icy spray hit his arm and he drew back in shock. Well, shit. His lying little wolf had actually told the truth for once.
“Told you,” she murmured from over his shoulder.
He turned off the water and then cranked the faucet all the way to cold. Instantly, steam began to rise as hot water pulsed from the shower-head.
“Looks like the hot and cold arrows are reversed, so just—” he broke off with a grunt as he turned to face her and found her standing before him, buck-naked. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“I’m getting in the shower, what does it look like?”
“Cut the shit.” He tried to keep his voice level, but it wasn’t easy. Her full, round breasts and that narrow strip of honey-colored curls between her thighs made his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth and all the blood in his body drained south. Third time in less than twenty-four hours that he was juiced, straight to full-blown, clawing lust mode and would have to hobble away unsatisfied. “You’re toying with me, Willa. And I don’t like it.”
It occurred to him, somewhere in that tiny part of his brain that hadn’t gone offline yet, that keeping her here to teach her a lesson was turning into an exercise in masochism.
Who was he really punishing here?
“I’m not toying with you yet, but I could be if you’d come a little closer,” she whispered, sending the tip of her pink tongue out to swipe at her bottom lip in a move that made his cock ache.
This was where he was supposed to turn it around on her. To purposefully take her to the edge of desire and then leave her wanting. But looking at her now, all his well thought-out plans disintegrated. He couldn’t do it. It was an exercise in futility. That last ounce of willpower he’d reserved after their tangle earlier in town was being used up right this second as he harnessed it to keep himself from diving at her and taking her against the bathroom sink. If she touched him, he was doomed.
Maybe Willa was removed enough to separate herself and play him by using her sexuality. He was man enough to admit that he was no match for her in this and if he didn’t get away now, she would defeat him handily and gain the ultimate prize.
His surrender.
“Enough,” he growled as she reached for him, his throat so tight that his words sounded choked. “I don’t have time for your games.”
“It’s not a game to me, Drake. Doesn’t this feel real to you?”
She took his hand and laid it over her heart.
It did, for love of god, it did, and that made it all the worse. That was what got him into this in the first place. Believing a deceiver. Letting himself want something so bad that he couldn’t see it for the lie it was.
Looking at her now, he was an inch from doing it all over again.
“Drake?”
Suddenly, all the fury drained out of him, leaving him exhausted and mired in despair. He blew out a long breath and forced himself to open his eyes. She was still there, naked and so beautiful, it hurt.
“Just get in the shower, Willa.”
He turned and made for the door, silently willing her not to follow him. He needed a minute. Just one fucking minute away from her to get his shit back together again, because she’d definitely shook him this time.
She called to him again, but he didn’t respond, closing the door behind him and locking it.
How was it that he’d faced off against the world’s deadliest creatures in the past hundred years—from dragons over land disputes, to werebears over broken business agreements—and had come out on top, but against this little female, he was all but powerless?
He’d made it down the stairs and had one hand on the scotch when a pounding sounded at the massive great room door.
Greyson West?
Drake’s mind start
ed to race as the ramifications of wasting his day ruminating over a woman became all too clear. Agonizing over Willa had cost him valuable prep time. If he was forced to fight now, he had no doubt he could still take the man, and ten more of his kind, if need be. But what if he’d brought an army?
Drake tapped out an impatient beat on the slick surface of the bar before heading toward the door.
Distracted or not, he prided himself on his ability to stay one step ahead of his opponents. He had expected it would take at least a day to assemble a posse and formulate a plan, and he was going to live or die by that estimation. If the wolf alpha was dumb enough to think he could take Drake alone or without some sort of strategy, then more the better.
He stepped up to the door, adrenaline pumping as he braced himself, sucking in a breath through his nose to scent his enemy. No wolves there, but what he did smell was no less surprising.
Son of a bitch.
He flung the door open wide to find Etienne leaning against one of the stone pillars, a sardonic grin wreathing his cursedly handsome face.
“What do you want?” Drake growled, keeping his guard up, ready for action in the event that Etienne had decided to do something truly reckless.
“And hello to you, old friend,” Etienne said with a wink. “Things are going well with you, then?”
Drake resisted the urge to knock that stupid smile off his face, but it was a close call.
“Things are fine, but if this is just a neighborly chat or you need to borrow a cup of sugar, can we do it another time? I’ve got some shit going on and—”
“Exactly why I’m here. I’d like to talk to you about that,” Etienne said, holding out a hand. “I give you my word, I come in peace.”
Drake looked down at the extended hand and then met the Frenchman’s gaze again before allowing himself to relax a little. Etienne was more enemy than friend sometimes, but like most dragons, his word was his bond. Drake shook hands with the man and gestured for him to come in.
