by J. C RIMELL
His hands slid up the length of her smooth legs. “Is that a complaint, Jess?” Sex with Jessie had become a regular thing. No strings attached. And Cade had to give credit where it was due, Jessie was damn good between the sheets.
“You know it isn't.” She tugged him closer.
Her short denim skirt was up at her waist baring skimpy, leopard print panties. Her black off the shoulder blouse showed the hint of neon pink trim from her matching bra. She dropped her head back onto her shoulders, exposing the column of her throat and pushed her plump breasts out toward Cade. Her nipples tightened beneath her damp clothing and Cade's incisors ached, their razor sharp tips threatening to puncture his gums.
He didn't waste time.
Kneeling back onto his haunches, he slid his hands below the denim and tugged at her underwear. She raised her long slender legs to facilitate their departure, only to have them snag on one of the narrow heels of her shoes. “Oops,” she giggled again as he freed the flimsy cotton and flung them to the floor, along with his T-shirt he ripped off over his head in hasty impatience.
Cade watched her glistening eyes light up and drift slowly down his torso. His body was lean, heavy muscle. He kept himself in good shape, training, and lifting iron. But most of his strong, ripped physique was a result of his supernatural heritage.
“Come here,” she whispered as her hands splayed across the muscled slabs of his chest.
He undid his fly and yanked down his jeans just low enough to expose his ass and his throbbing erection. It sprang forward and pressed against her inner thigh as he leaned in. Reaching forward, he uncovered a generous breast from the cup of her bra, curled his tongue around the bud and teased it to a tighter peak. Her hands twisted in his hair while she moaned and writhed against the hard length of him, desperate for penetration.
“Something you want, Jess?” A wicked whisper against her skin.
“Don't tease.”
Cade buried his head into her shoulder. His incisors had speared into his mouth and he knew his eyes would be glowing by now. Neither of which he wanted to expose her to. There were some rules even he wouldn't dare break.
While Jessie and the local population knew he and his comrades were soldiers who visited Becker's bar regularly, they were clueless when it came to the fact they were supernatural shifters.
He moved lower, kissing the flat planes of her stomach before pushing her skirt a little higher to expose neat, dark curls. He slipped his tongue between her heated flesh and drew her into his mouth, licked and sucked and teased until her body shuddered. Bringing himself back up to lean over her, Jessie wrapped her legs tighter around his hips. The heels of her shoes grazed the skin of his ass as he pushed forward, allowing just the soft, plump head of his cock to enter.
“Cade, don't tease. Give me more.”
Filling every inch of her wet core with one, deep thrust, the heat of her a molten glove coiled tight around his flesh. He wasn't in the mood to drag this out tonight. He needed a quick fix. Pumping her with a deliberate, slow, hard momentum, he brought her to an explosive climax that coaxed his own release from him with a rough shout.
Sure, Jessie was a fine woman. Hot as hell and on almost every guys' to-do list from this side of Shadow Creek to the far end of Oaks Ridge. But for him it was mechanical. An itch that just needed scratching. Shifters had a higher than normal sexual appetite and true to Nevada's beliefs, he'd take it where he could get it. But there was only one female he hungered for with a desire that consumed him. And her image was the one that danced through his thoughts when he woke, when he slept, and whenever he came.
Minutes later he jacked up his pants and retrieved his T-shirt from off the floor. He wouldn't be satisfied until he claimed his mate. An impulse that had Cade struggling with the internal battle of maintaining the upper hand with his wolf. Cade had pledged himself to the Society and both man and wolf understood. But his heart and his soul yearned for her with a painful longing.
“You're going so soon?” A sleepy, Southern drawl beckoned his attention.
“Yeah.” He slipped into his T-shirt and leaned down, planting a delicate kiss on Jessie's flushed cheek. Her long, ebony hair still damp and tousled around her face and shoulders. “Should I swing by next Friday?”
She narrowed her gaze, a playful curl lingering in the corner of her full mouth. “I don't know, perhaps I've had enough of your pleasing and leaving.”
Keeping his big body arched over her, he raised a curious brow. “You sure bout' that, Jess?” he teased, slipping his free hand between her legs; he rubbed her already sensitive and swollen clit with his thumb.
“Cade!”
He laughed, a rich rumble through his chest. “Ah, I didn't think so.” Taking her mouth in a sensual kiss, he let his fingers work their magic until she peaked once more before he left her completely spent and fast asleep.
§
The ocean air was cool, and the rain had stopped, leaving stark clouds adrift in the lingering night sky. Cade straddled his Harley Night Train, the bike's engine starting with a roar before settling into a heavy purr. Flicking on the main beam, he pulled out onto the coastal road heading toward Shadow Creek.
It was close to midnight, and he knew damned well he should check in at the lair. A lot of things had changed since they'd lost two of their own in an unexplained, freak attack that had left not only Shadow Pack, but the entire Society teetering on a knife's edge.
His thoughts veered toward the woman he desired. Cade had somehow known instinctively the stranger who had arrived at Shadow Creek a little over two years ago meant something to him. She had stirred both man and wolf when he'd met her, and he'd been unable to let it go ever since. His pledge to the Society remained the only thing stopping him from acting on his emotions. But he'd be damned if he would stay away from her completely.
Reaching the narrow road leading to the plantation style house typical of the inland area of Shadow Creek, he cut the engine. Having propped his bike on the stand, he walked the final hundred yards to the large metal gates that were always open. His keen eyes scanned the area, his vision far superior at night. Both the house and the keeper's cottage were in darkness.
He sensed slow, steady heartbeats as he reached the bottom of the building and climbed the trellis. The rickety wood swayed under his heavy muscle as he hurried up and onto the roof of the wraparound porch. Her window was open slightly, but trying to open the thing further would prove far too noisy. It was old and no doubt the wood swelled having had a good few weeks of glorious sunshine and then the recent rain.
Lucky for him, he didn't need an open window to gain access.
Closing his eyes, he tugged at the portal in his mind that would put him exactly where he wanted to be. Teleportation was an inherited skill afforded to him as a shifter, and it had taken years to perfect. Seconds later he was wrenched through the colorful tunnel, bursting with a light so bright it stung his eyes as the world spun out of control at a dizzying speed, until moments later he was standing in the corner of her room.
Ah, Christ.
He tried to prepare himself as he had on so many other nights. But each time her sweet scent of jasmine hit him like a freight train, knocking him completely skew-whiff. Hunkering down he calmed his wolf and after several long heartbeats he attempted to stand up.
Her smell filled the room. With every silent breath, Cade inhaled it deep into his lungs fueling his wolf's craving. The animal rolled and rubbed its pelt in pleasure.
Moving with the grace of a predator, he edged closer to the bed where she slept. Her cap of corn-colored hair was in a shaggy mess. Long lashes rested against high cheekbones and her breathing was only just audible even to his supernatural hearing. His gaze had turned luminous, and the heated, silver glow of them swept down the curve of her neck. It made his teeth throb painfully behind their gums. The hunger to mark her as his mate a burning flame in his throat.
Hugging the quilt to her, she slept on her side with an arm and
a leg exposed. He reached out, desperate to caress the creamy skin that promised to be like satin, flawless as it shimmered beneath the kiss of the waning moonlight glimmering through the open curtains. His erection grew thick and hard behind the fly of his jeans as his gaze traced over the slope of her thigh, to the hint of her naked buttock.
Fuck.
It was torture not to touch her. For over the past two years he had watched, waited, and would continue to do so for however long it took. He knew it was wrong, acting like some kind of stalker. But the pain of longing was profound.
A heavy ache in his chest.
A yearning deep in his soul to lay with her in his arms, hold her close, give her all of him.
Lost in the vision of her, Cade almost missed the faint resonance of his Alpha's telepathic command penetrating his mind. It grew louder and sliced through the tranquility of his secret moment causing him to stumble backward. He spat out a low curse. He had no choice but to obey his Alpha. To do otherwise would carry heavy consequences, and God only knew he was already in the doghouse for what went down at Becker's earlier that evening.
After one last stare that seemed to stretch for countless seconds, he hooked into his unique ability of teleportation. Just before being sucked back through the aperture that would steal him away from her, Cade heard her call his name. It wasn't the first time his name had slipped from her lips while she slept. He knew they belonged together. His perpetual prying into her life without her knowing it was so morally wrong on unimaginable levels. But the man and wolf were spellbound by her.
Cade didn't know how to stay away from the only thing fueling the embers that remained a constant glow in the pit of his stomach. Never had a woman had such an effect on him. He knew damned well his actions were both risky and stupid. But as he stood under the fading glow of the moon once again, he vowed to break every rule and then some, when it came to claiming Kit McCoy.
Chapter Three
“Care to explain?” A tone that cut through the stoic air like a cold steel blade. A little after 01:30 am, a pissed off Alpha sat back in his worn out leather chair. His normally warm, golden brown eyes were icily pale as he glowered at the obstinate shifter standing on the other side of his desk.
Cade felt the chill of Fleet's probing stare. The Alpha's power seeped into the room, threatening to bring him to his knees with the mental persuasion the pack called brain fry. Lucky for Cade he had a high pain threshold and never quite surrendered.
Something else that pissed Fleet off big time.
Fleet released a frustrated sigh. Cade was one of his toughest pack members, quick, strong, and veering off the rails with more raw power than he was even aware of. He had lone wolf tendencies, a dominant wolf still growing into his skin. As yet he remained a team player despite keeping at arm's length from most of his pack mates.
“Fortunately for you, right now, I don't have the time to slap you on the wrists over the stunt you pulled tonight,” Fleet said, retaining his authoritative tone, letting Cade know he wasn't going to be let off that easily. “Not only do I need to visit the hospital and mind sweep the guy who was a victim of your handy work, and any staff he may have talked to. I also have to track down his two buddies, and all before an operation we've got planned for tonight.” One of Fleet's abilities as an Alpha was to mind sweep. Erasing memories came in handy when you were trying to keep your true identity a secret from the world.
The word 'sorry' didn't sit comfortably on Cade's tongue, and almost as though Fleet knew he was incapable of an apology, he continued. “Here,” he said, throwing a classified file on the part of his desk closer to Cade. “Take a look, it's the intelligence reports and maps for our target tonight.”
Assassinations and dangerous missions were part of who they portrayed themselves to be to the outside world. An elite team of soldiers hired to take on the jobs no one else would. “The others have already been briefed,” he added. Getting up from his chair he rubbed a hand over the light dusting of sandy stubble already covering his chin. “We'll regroup tonight at eighteen hundred hours in the Comm room. I suggest until then you stay away from that female and get some sleep.”
As Alpha, Fleet knew about Cade's interest in the human woman. While the strong-willed shifter was exemplary at keeping his emotions hidden from the pack, Fleet had often picked up hints of information Cade let slip unintentionally.
Fleet didn't fail to catch the spark of surprise that flashed across Cade's eyes at his admission.
Cade's jaw ticked in annoyance, angry that Fleet knew everything. But he understood in order to run a pack successfully, the Alpha was equipped with abilities allowing him to do just that.
Irritated, he snatched up the paperwork. “Yes, sir,” he replied, trying to mask the chafe from his voice before leaving and making his way back out of the lair.
Walking to the edge of the woodland surrounding the pack's compound, Cade shrugged out of his clothes. Deeply pulling the scents of the earth into his lungs, he cleared his mind before allowing his wolf the freedom to run. The man receded into the background of the wolf's mind. Muscles stretched, bones popped, and he became a blazing kaleidoscope of colors as his wolf emerged from the confines of Cade's human body.
Then the black wolf ran forward and melted into the lingering darkness.
Chapter Four
Kit donned her burgundy apron, watching as her aunt came through the swing door carrying a tray of muffins from the small galley kitchen out the back of the café. Saturday mornings were one of their busiest days of the week.
“Morning, honey,” Jo said. “Sleep well?” A sweet Carolina accent so soothing to Kit now, it was like being wrapped in a child's comforter. After spending the past two years living and working with her aunt, the two had become close. Her mother's twin sister had been kind and patient, allowing her the room and the time she needed to come to terms with the accident. The reason which had led Kit to seek an escape from all that was familiar. From everything that haunted her, and she was grateful.
“You should have woken me,” Kit replied, tucking the long fringe to her short cap of corn blonde hair behind her ears. Her hand habitually slid down her bare nape, and she remembered it wasn't so long ago her hair fell in golden waves down her back.
“Still miss your ponytail?” Jo asked as she opened a new bag of coffee beans.
Kit shook her head. “Nah, I like the freedom of my short hair.”
It had been and still was part of the 'dealing with it' process. The change in her life, her appearance, and moving away.
“Here, let me do that.” Taking over from Jo, she filled the coffee machine, watching as her aunt flipped the sign on the door to 'Open' and stuck a notice onto the glass.
“Is that another missing person?” Kit asked.
Her aunt sighed as she turned back to face her. “Yes, that's the fourth one this month, poor souls. I'm just grateful it isn't anyone I know.” Jo grabbed two mugs from under the counter and handed them to Kit. “I spoke to your mom last night, she wants to know if you've had enough of my Southern hospitality and want to go home yet.”
Kit offered a mug of coffee to her aunt. The aroma filled the café, twisting around the inviting smell of pecan pie and fresh, blueberry muffins escaping from the galley kitchen at the back. She rolled her eyes. “I hope you told her there's no chance in hell I'm going back to the dreary, damp weather of England.” Kit was growing fond of Shadow Creek. She was learning to laugh and live again. Even if the guilt of losing Clara still swelled inside of her like a riptide threatening to take her under, every second, of every day.
Her parents and her therapist had suggested a holiday with her aunt after the accident. A break from University where she was studying nursing and midwifery, and a change of scenery before returning home and continuing her education. But the pastel, timber beach houses with the wraparound porches, flat golden beaches and inland beauty of the woodlands appealed to Kit. Further still, the peaks of the far off mountains sung to
her inner soul. Her favorite place was the lighthouse she often cycled to, her own personal haven where she'd sit and read.
Having decided not to return home, her parents had agreed to another year. Now twenty-three, she felt settled like she was making progress. Going back to the busy, lively city of London where haunting memories were in every room and on every street was the furthest thing from her mind.
“Morning ladies.” A voice so hot and buttery, it literally dripped from his tongue.
Kit had grown accustomed to that particular male voice. But still, every time she heard that deep, seductive Southern tone, it sent butterflies skittering across her stomach.
Turning around from the coffee machine to face him, she swallowed as his stone gray eyes speared her into place.
“Coffee?” Kit proposed as he made his way toward her, the shards of silver in his gaze splintering from his iris's like sparklers and holding her captive. She tried to ignore the sudden warmth that settled between her thighs as she added the cream and sugar to his coffee, just the way she had every morning for the past six months.
They'd barely exchanged anything more than names and pleasantries. He was one of the soldiers that came into the café from time to time. Apparently Shadow Creek had a training facility… not that she or her aunt had ever seen it. She found Cade elusive, unable to pinpoint what it was about him that said dangerous.
Kit knew she wasn't very forthcoming where men were concerned, and she had her reasons―or rather secrets―she didn't want to share, especially with a guy that looked as good and as lethal as Cade did.
She watched him pick up the polystyrene cup with Jo's Café trademark, burgundy sleeve. Her eyes never left him. They wandered down to his mouth, over his generous, sensuous lips and back up to his long, dark lashes that brushed his high cheekbones while he drank his coffee. He towered over her. Easily six feet six of solid muscle, his black T-shirt stretched tight across his chest and powerful biceps. She let her gaze trace the intricate lines of the tattoo that swirled and snaked down his left arm to his wrist.
