He grunted a response, suckling her while he pumped in and out of her core.
Nothing had ever felt so incredible. Her claws distended and she had to resist the urge to bite him with her elongated canines, mark the skin of his throat. She hadn’t been this turned on, maybe ever. It was hard not to let go completely, but he was human. She didn’t want to hurt him.
“I can heal myself,” he said softly, switching breasts as he drove deep into her, filling her completely. Had he read her mind? “Go ahead and claw, little wolf.”
It was as if something snapped in her brain. She did what she’d never done with another lover and dug her claws into the skin of his shoulders, urging him to take her harder, faster. Her head flung back and she howled her pleasure as she came, the world splintering around her until stars burst in her vision.
Spasms still racked her as she heard his hoarse shout. He held the tip of his cock deep against her womb and shuddered beneath her hands.
They lay there, gasping for breath for long moments afterward. It was a while before either of them spoke. Finally, Des stood and held out a hand to help her off the couch. Lana looked down at the damp spots on the leather and winced.
Des waved his hand and the couch was clean.
Handy, having magic like that.
“Bathroom?” he asked, not making eye contact with Lana.
She pointed to the hallway. “First door on the right.” As he walked away, she added, “Check your back in the mirror. A couple of the scratches are pretty deep.”
He picked up his slacks and boxers and disappeared. Rather than stand naked in her living room, Lana went down the hall to her bedroom and grabbed a fluffy purple robe, glaring at the bathroom door as she came back. The sink turned off and the door opened. “Your turn.” He gallantly stepped aside and gestured toward the bathroom.
She lifted one eyebrow and sent him a challenging look, half afraid he was about to bolt.
Des held up both hands in mock surrender. “I promise not to leave before you come back out.” He must have read her expression. She’d know by now if Wyndewin could read minds. Wouldn’t she?
Don’t do me any favors. Lana bit back a snarl and went in to clean herself up. What the hell had she just done?
Chapter Two
Des paced back and forth across Lana’s living room after he’d finished getting dressed. What the hell had possessed him tonight? He’d been avoiding this for months. He’d even thought about asking for a transfer out of Detroit—away from temptation. Now it was too late. You could get fired for this, idiot. Worse, this kind of distraction, the way he had of thinking of her at the worst moments, could get him, or someone else, killed.
He picked up the condom wrapper and checked the expiration date. Last week. Yeesh. It was a good thing she said she had it covered, though he figured six days past the sell-by probably meant it was still good. There had to be some kind of padding in the timeline, right?
The living room opened onto the kitchen area, so he walked over to the garbage can and tossed the offending foil packet. A few minutes later, Lana returned, wrapped head to toe in a dark violet chenille robe, her arms crossed over her chest. “How’s your back?”
“Fully healed.” The scratches had been just that, easily dealt with even given his limited healing ability. “About the condom—you should know it was expired by a few days. I’m sorry.” He deliberately kept his voice cold and stayed across the room from her.
She shrugged. “I told you, I’ve got it covered. First of all, wolves know when we’re in season, and I’m not. Furthermore, you know those three-month shots for humans? I get one every month, which is the right dose for my system. And lupines can’t carry or transmit human diseases, so you don’t need to worry about that either.”
“Good.” He was glad to know she was careful, though he was oddly disconcerted by the thought of her with other men. Maybe it was just because his own lack of activity was revealed by the fact that the condom in his pocket was over a year old.
“Another thing you should know. Werewolves can smell sex on the skin—even the next day, if you’re not careful. I’d suggest showering tonight, and again tomorrow, with the strongest soap you can find. Wearing cologne to Thanksgiving dinner wouldn’t hurt either.” Her voice had gone as cold and clinical as his, as if she, too, recognized the foolishness of what had happened between them.
“Dinner?” It took him a moment to remember that tomorrow was Thanksgiving Day. And he’d promised to join them all at Greg and Fee’s for the occasion.
Lana’s warm amber eyes narrowed. “Don’t even think about backing out. This—” she waved her arm at the sofa, “—may have been a ginormous mistake, but you are not going to disappoint Fee and your sister by not showing up. Not even if we both have to bathe in Lysol and bleach tonight. Got it?”
“Got it.” He would not be hurt by being called a mistake. He’d been thinking the same bloody thing, after all. “Tell them I’ll be there by three. Am I supposed to bring anything?”
She tilted her head. “Do you cook?”
He shook his head. “No, but I can stop at a bakery or something.”
“On Thanksgiving? Right. Just hit the grocery store tonight. Get some flowers for Fee and a six-pack of something expensive for the guys.” She shook her head. “I don’t get it. You have family. Why don’t you have any social skills?”
He shrugged. “I did, once. They’re just rusty. I haven’t lived near my parents for almost twenty years. It’s been just me, Elise and then Dina for quite a while, and we never did much for Thanksgiving. It’s kind of an American thing, you know, eh?”
“Hmm. I sometimes forget you’re both Canadian.” Lana sighed. “Trust me. Flowers and beer will be fine. Hell, if you want, I’ll get you a six-pack out of the cellar before you leave.”
“You want me to take Greg his own beer?” The absurdity of that broke some of the tension and they both chuckled.
“Okay, just the flowers.” Her posture softened. “All they really want is for you to show up. The biggest thing about Thanksgiving is family. And like it or not, we’ve all sort of become one big convoluted one.”
He snorted. “Does that make us kissing cousins?” Remember your job, you moron.
“More like fucking cousins.” After another snort of laughter, Lana bit her lip and her expression grew serious. “I don’t quite know what that makes us. I just know this shouldn’t have happened, and I really don’t want to explain it to the rest of them. Agreed?”
He nodded soberly. “Agreed.” He muttered a spell and waved his hand at Lana. “There. Any trace of my scent should be gone.”
She sniffed the air. “It is.” Her lip trembled as if she wasn’t entirely happy about that.
Good. He didn’t much like the idea of scouring himself clean either. Even if having sex with her was a mistake, it had been the best of his life, and he’d have liked a little while to bask in the afterglow. “Good night, Lana. Thanks for dinner.”
“Good night.” She walked him to her door. “Don’t go out tonight, Des. Go home and sleep. Please.”
He nodded. “I will.” Right after he hunted down Luther. “See you tomorrow.”
It took all his willpower not to kiss her before he walked out her door.
* * *
The next afternoon, Lana found herself in Detroit’s high-end Boston Edison neighborhood, carrying platters of turkey and bowls of mashed potatoes to the table. Fianna, a former Fae aristocrat intent on proving herself in the mortal world, was determined to learn how to cook. She was surprisingly good at it and she’d made enough of everything to feed an army. Despite being pregnant with twins, the tall blonde was still slender, though already sporting a tiny bump, but she rushed around the kitchen of her stately Victorian mansion like a whirlwind. Lana’s mother was playing the role of instructor, and Lana’s cousin, George, who’d often cooked at the club in the early days, was acting as sous chef. Meagan Thornhill, a half-Fae heiress who was a good b
it further along than Fianna, perched on a stool and watched.
Lana missed having her cousins live above the bar with her, although she understood the reasons for their move. With the babies coming, Greg needed a bigger place, aside from having just inherited the responsibilities of Prime alpha for all the southern Michigan werewolf packs. As Greg’s second, or beta, his younger brother, George, had moved into the house next door, along with Jase Monroe, his human mate. While Lana got it, sometimes it felt like everyone was moving on except her.
Wait until you graduate, she told herself for the thousandth time. She’d traveled with her cousins in a band for years and had gone to school later, after they’d settled back in Detroit. Just a few more weeks and she’d have her master’s and be done. She already had a job lined up at a brand-new green technology firm. Once that got going, she could figure out what to do with her personal life.
“You’re sure Des said he was coming?” Elise Sutton asked while helping Lana lug food out to the dining room. The tiny art dealer hefted the heavy bowls with ease, though she was so petite she didn’t look like she could lift a thing. After last night, Lana was beginning to think Wyndewin had powers other than magic. No human had ever been able to flip her like Des had on the couch. “I know the League’s been giving him a hard time about fraternizing with the enemy.” She flicked a look at her elven mate and soon-to-be-husband. “Assholes. I’m so glad I quit.”
Don’t even think about last night. Lana shrugged. No wonder he considered it a mistake to sleep with her. “That’s what he said when I ran into him on campus.” Could she really get him fired? That would suck big time.
“What was Des doing on campus?” Jase snagged a celery stick off the table and turned to Lana, the silver beads in his black dreadlocks tinkling softly as he moved.
“Good question.” Greg, tall and dark, with shaggy, shoulder-length hair, stopped on one of his frequent forays into the kitchen to check on his wife. He winked at Lana. “I know you too well to think you didn’t ask.”
Lana paused. It wasn’t really her story to tell, but then again, Des was late. “There’s a new drug on the street that might be related to Nightshade’s formula. This one is aimed at humans.”
When questions flew at her from all directions—it seemed every other person in the house had materialized in the dining room at just that moment—she held up her hand. “That’s all I know. Really. Des promised to explain when he gets here.” If he gets here.
“Uncle Des is down the street.” Five-year-old Adina Greene popped into the room and tugged on Elise’s sleeve. “He brought chocolates.”
“Did you see his car?” Aidan, her father, asked.
Dina shook her head. “No. I just know.” She bounded off toward the front door, with most of the adults following behind her, except for Fee, Meagan and George, who returned to the kitchen.
Greg shook his head and muttered, “I sure as hell hope my kids aren’t that powerful.”
Lana nodded. Even for someone with both Fae and Wyndewin parents, little Dina’s magical ability was somewhere in the legendary category.
A few moments later, Greg opened the door to Des, who walked in, his arms laden with blooms.
“Did you buy out a florist?” Ric Thornhill, elven bard and Meagan’s husband, laughed as he and Jase relieved Des of some of the offerings piled in his arms.
“Well, it didn’t seem right to bring flowers for Fee, but not for the other ladies.” He also produced, as Dina had predicted, a large box of high-end chocolates, which he handed to his niece. “Remember, squirt, you have to share these with the other kids and everyone else.”
Elise commandeered the box from her daughter. “You get one before dinner.” Then she kissed her brother’s cheek. “Thanks for coming.”
Des passed a case of Belgian ale to Greg. “That’s for all the guys.” Then started handing out bouquets. Pale pink roses for Fee, yellow and pink Peace roses for Elise and bright coral for Meagan. The extended Novak family—Lana’s mother, grandmother, aunt and cousin, Katy, hadn’t been forgotten. He must have bought every different color available at the store. There were even nosegays of tiny white rosebuds for Dina and for Katy’s little girl.
When he handed Lana a bouquet with dramatic crimson and white stripes, she bit her lip. They were the coolest roses she’d ever seen. He had a perfect eye. The mage was far more thoughtful than he pretended to be. Lana had to remind herself that he was a jerk, nothing more than an itch that had finally been scratched. Too bad she herself wasn’t buying the bullshit.
Dinner was served almost immediately, so there was no chance for Des to tell his story before the meal. Lana stifled a groan when she saw they’d been seated next to each other. Of course. They were the only unmatched pair, except for the two older widows and the four young children. Des had Lana’s grandmother on his other side, though, and Lana was glad to see he paid close and careful attention to the older woman, who was still grieving the husband she’d lost to the demon Nightshade less than two months earlier.
Of course that didn’t stop either her grandmother, aunt, honorary aunt or mother from pointing out that at thirty-two, Lana was getting a little old to be single. Keeping a polite smile on her face took more effort than her last microprocessor design class.
Not surprisingly, the serious conversation waited until after dinner, after the men, who’d been volunteered for cleanup duty finished with the dishes. The rest of the pack had left and Dina had fallen asleep watching cartoons on the family room sofa, when the four couples, Des and Lana finally gathered in the library to discuss the newest developments.
Des filled the others in on what he’d told her last night. Then he finished with, “I can’t seem to find Luther, my usual dealer contact. I’m going to have to find another way to get a sample of the product.”
Lana cleared her throat. Of course he’d gone out looking for the drug dealer after he’d left her place last night—even though he’d specifically promised not to. Jerk.
“I’ll pick some up on campus Monday,” she said with a shrug. As if they hadn’t discussed this before. “I know several people in my classes who are always looking for the newest, coolest high. There won’t be any problem.”
“No.” The chorus came from every male in the room except Ric, who tipped his head thoughtfully.
“That might work,” the bard admitted. “She’s a student, and looks a lot younger than she is. People know she works at a bar and is in a band. No one will suspect her as a plant.”
“No.” This time the denial was limited to Greg and Des, who both bellowed loudly enough to alert the neighborhood.
Fee laid a hand on Greg’s arm. “She can handle herself, you know.”
Lana glared at Des. “Exactly. And who put you in charge, anyway?”
Des crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. “I don’t know—maybe the leader of the Wyndewin League here in Detroit? Essentially the top paranormal policeman in the city?”
“Well, I bet if you asked, he’d say use whatever resources are already in place.” She scowled back. “And that would be me.” It was killing her not to remind the jerk that they’d already had this argument the night before.
“You’re not going to win.” Elise gazed at her brother with laughter flashing in her dark, almond-shaped eyes. “Might as well say thank you and give in gracefully.”
Des looked at the other males, who all shook their heads as if to tell him he was on his own. Finally he speared Lana with a glance and said, “All you do is ask a classmate, buy some if they have it on them. You don’t go anywhere or meet anyone, anything like that. Got it?”
She snapped a salute. “Sir, yes, sir!”
Everyone in the room but Des laughed. He simply glared.
Didn’t he remember it was she who’d slit the throat of the Fae killer who’d shot Fee while aiming for Dina? That she’d gone Underhill to help rescue Dina, and fought alongside all the males, even after they’d taken a direct hit from a
bomb loaded with silver shrapnel? Months later, she’d shifted and fought with claws and fangs when Beowulf had tried to kill Fee. Lana wasn’t a ruthless killer—honestly, she’d thrown up after dispatching the shooter—but she didn’t like taking orders and she wasn’t afraid or unable to fight for her own life or those she cared about. If Desmond Sutton didn’t remember that pretty damn soon, she was liable to kick his ass just to remind him.
Yeah, kick it, then kiss it, her inner slut—who’d only come into existence since meeting Des—growled happily. Knock it off. That was her rational side talking. Lana was too much an alpha just to roll over and beg for any man. Even one as hot as Des.
* * *
When the party broke up, Des followed Lana back to her apartment despite his better intentions. Since she waited in her car until he’d parked beside her in the structure, he figured she wasn’t too surprised.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve, buster.” She lit into him even as she fell into step beside him. “You promised me you were going home to sleep last night.”
“I did.” He was glad she continued to face forward, so she couldn’t see his smile. It was good to fence with her openly after having to hold his tongue in front of her family. “I just didn’t go straight home.” He shrugged. “Besides, I didn’t find Luther anyway.”
“The point isn’t that you did or didn’t find your snitch.” There were a few other pedestrians at the far end of the alley so she lowered her voice to a whisper as they crossed. “The point is that you don’t trust me.”
Des bit his lip. He couldn’t very well say it wasn’t true. It wasn’t in his nature to trust anyone, not really. Certainly not a lupine. Aside from that, he didn’t want to see her hurt, which wasn’t the same thing at all. He reached for the right words and came up with what he hoped was a reasonable compromise. “I trust you as much as I trust anybody besides myself—well, and my immediate family, I suppose.”
“Huh.” She unlocked the door and held it open, one eyebrow raised. “Oddly, I almost believe that. I assume you want to continue this inside, or were you just walking me home? I’m not working at the club tonight.”
Motor City Mage Page 3
