by Tina Donahue
Trish’s trail never went beyond this area. The information on her stopped after Walt left for Georgia and before the pack settled in Moonlight, a previously abandoned location, the developer not having enough funds to renovate the bungalows. Even with the pack here now, this rural enclave wasn’t on anyone’s destination. Abandoned orange groves, along with Shelley Fields’ small farm and orchard, protected the community from prying eyes and too many questions.
Her gut ached. She hoped she was wrong about this, that Trish was alive, working somewhere, and had possibly hooked up with a nice guy.
Portia tried every way possible to find something on the young woman. Police records, utility searches, and people locators turned up zip.
Maybe Trish had gotten married and changed her last name. That would explain a lot. Portia keyed hurriedly, Googling how to search a woman’s married name to tie in with her maiden one, or vice versa. Whatever worked.
“You forgot about me.”
She flinched and turned to Nick. Behind him, thin sun poured through the window, its angle proving how late it was.
“Bad girl.” He eased her computer aside. “You know what that means, don’t you?”
He’d washed and changed into fresh jeans, chest and feet bare, his scent musky-clean, hair dangling over his forehead, sin filling his eyes.
Hard lust edged out her worries, her need for him too great to deny. “I’ve never been this bad before. Tell me what it means.”
“Screw that. I intend to show you. Get up and take off your shorts.” He padded back. “Now.”
Her cutoffs hit the floor, the tap sounding too loud, the same as her walloping heart. She reached up to unhook her bra.
“Leave it on. Bend over the table, legs spread, ass high.”
Her partial nudity was more arousing than she could have believed, her pussy congesting with heat. After assuming the position, she looked over.
“Face front. No moving or speaking until I’m through with you.”
She couldn’t wait for him to do her good.
He roamed from side to side, his feet slapping the floor. Other than that, everything went strangely quiet, him studying her nudity. She flushed at how she must look, both openings available for his use, her soft folds already plump and wet, inviting him inside.
That wasn’t his goal, was it? At least not yet. She’d been bad, forgetting about him, neglecting his needs—a good reason for punishment. Not the cruel or hurtful kind. A game they could both play, with him as her master, she his willing slave.
He grasped her hip, his touch firm.
Her breath caught.
“Ass higher. Show me you want this.”
More than she would have guessed. She lifted her buttocks as much as possible, begging for his discipline.
He paddled her, each smack quick, crack upon crack ringing through the room. The sting surprised, though not as much as the blessed heat that followed. When he stopped, she pushed into him, wanting more.
A rasp sounded, the noise a zipper makes when lowered. His jeans rustled next, whooshing to the floor then sliding across the linoleum. He entered her without foreplay, swift, sure, and deep, their bodies tapping, him grunting with brazen disregard, his cock brutally thick and beyond hard, claiming her.
She surrendered fully, lost in an erotic haze. A man taking a woman who wanted nothing more than him mounting, filling, using her for both their pleasure.
Nick pumped tirelessly. He stroked and teased her nub.
Portia’s skin burned, perspiration coating her. She tightened her sheath around his pounding rod, intensifying the resistance.
Growling, he thrust faster, harder, forcing her to the edge and beyond. She shattered, her pussy so turgid with lust it embraced his rod firmly. He came on a wild cry, jerking her toward him, not stopping. At last, exhaustion slowed him down, his gasps ragged, her sheath pulsing rhythmically around his shaft. Sated, she pillowed her hands beneath her cheek, ready to nap.
Nick pulled her up, his arm snaking around her waist, free hand holding hers to her chest. Her head lolled back, too heavy to lift. He pushed his foot against hers, directing Portia to spread her legs. Once she had, he kept his feet inside of hers. Odd, but nice. “Careful, we might fall.”
“Never.” He stroked her nub.
Incomparable feelings flared. She writhed, unable to bear the staggering delight or close her legs to keep him from touching her there. This was too much too soon, her clit super sensitive. “Hold it-hold it-hold it. Give me a sec.”
He pressed his mouth to her ear, his bristly cheek scraping hers. “You really want that?”
He could turn her inside out, upside-down and she’d still crave more. She was hopeless. “Do your worst. I can take anything.”
“Let’s see.” He stroked her slowly, maddeningly, veering from her clit to circle the surrounding area, giving her a moment’s peace that she didn’t want. The precious tension and ache faded. Before they disappeared completely, he returned to her nub, his touch firm and fast.
She stiffened. He slowed down. No, no, no. She didn’t want him to stop. Wiggling, she tried to rub her clit against his fingers. He brushed her thigh instead. She released her weight into him, yielding to whatever he willed.
He played with her sex as a man would with a prized possession, his touch careful and searching yet sure. Utterly fantastic. Jubilant, Portia delivered everything she was or would ever be to him. Her pleasure in his hands.
Nick drew out the act, fuzzing her mind, breaking down whatever barriers remained. She came on a shudder, rather than a loud cry, fully spent, heat, elation, and contentment gliding through her.
With surprising grace, he freed his cock from her channel and turned Portia to face him, gathering her into his arms. “Good?”
He’d left her no strength to hug him, her face pressed against his chest. “Do you really have to ask?”
He chuckled. “You like these types of games? Spanking and stuff?”
“Only with you.”
“We’ll have to do this again.” He stifled a yawn. “I looked for you all afternoon, thinking you’d bring lunch or would want me to slap together a sandwich for you. Ty said you were talking to someone on the phone. None of my business I know, but he said you sounded upset. Are you all right?”
Her apprehension returned full blast. So much for great sex making her problems fade away permanently. “We can talk about it later. Why don’t you take a nap while I fix dinner?”
He captured her wrist and brought her back. “I will when you give me an answer. Please. Are you all right?”
She couldn’t lie to him. “I’ve found something that might tie into the accidents here.”
His sleepy expression grew quickly alert. “What?”
“I think Kent killed his last girlfriend and buried her in the forest surrounding Moonlight.”
Nick dropped into the chair, settling Portia on his lap. “Are you serious? You can’t be. Admittedly, Kent’s an A-hole, but a murderer, too?”
“I’m not saying he’s a wild-eyed serial killer like you see on TV. But he is a control freak and abusive to women. From what Walt told me—”
“Hold it. Walt, his former partner? You called him?”
“I had to do something, the so-called accidents and stench is driving me nuts.”
This was crazy. “What stench?”
“From Trish Quinn’s body. What I’ve smelled for weeks that you haven’t. Why not?”
“Baby.” He cupped her face. “No one here has smelled anything, especially a decomposing body. Trust me. If they had, I would have heard about it. Are you saying this Trish disappeared recently and that he came onto pack grounds and buried her here?”
She pushed his hands away. “No, he did that before you guys moved to Moonlight because no one was here then. This area was abandoned, the perfect place to hide a corpse.”
“If that’s so, why didn’t you notice the odor when you first got here? Even cadaver dogs can sp
ot human decomposition up to thirty years after it’s happened. I’m sure as shifters, we can as well, maybe better. How is it possible that none of us have, only you? And only now?”
“I don’t know why it’s taken me this long to notice or why I’m the only one who can smell it. Could be I was so upset about my parents, my senses were whacked out, I was depressed and not firing on all cylinders until I had some hope that you and I would hook up. Maybe I’m the only one who smells what’s happened because I’m not from the same pack as you guys. Difference in DNA or something that maybe matches hers…Trish. It’s also possible she’s reaching out to me beyond the grave.”
“Like a ghost? Portia, really—”
“Really, what? We’re shifters. Is that any more reasonable in the so-called normal world than the dead contacting me? Could be Trish tried with you guys, but you weren’t tuned in because of all the problems you’d encountered before coming here, and I’m simply more receptive, like Kevin Bacon in that old movie Stir of Echoes.”
“I never saw it.”
She blew out a sigh. “All right, then, think of me being like Riesa.”
Riesa Marlowe was a human and a psychic who’d mated with Derek. “Now you’re saying you have extrasensory abilities?”
“Why not? Trish’s murder might have brought out a talent I didn’t know I had, one that was dormant until I came here. That day you thought I didn’t like your aftershave, I had just caught the odor again. Sickly sweet, like death. And don’t tell me I don’t know what that’s like. I had to identify my parents after the accident. What I encountered in the morgue was the same odor as what’s here. A stink I’ll never forget.”
Him either. He’d experienced it with his parents, pack members, and Bree, but never in Moonlight. “I’ve been around death a lot.”
Her expression changed. She lowered her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up anything bad.”
“You haven’t. I’m simply saying I, and all the others here, should be able to recognize it, too.”
“Not if you’ve encountered death so much. It might be like background noise to you now. It’s there, but you don’t sense it any longer, like odors in your house that you don’t notice, but visitors will.”
He supposed anything was possible, but that? “Are you certain Trish isn’t hanging around somewhere? Maybe she moved.”
“When Kent broke up with her, all records stopped, there’s zip activity. I’ve been hoping she got married and changed her last name. That’s what I was researching when you came in. Truthfully, I don’t think she ever left the area.”
“And that’s why he’s been screwing with us? Causing accidents?”
“I’m not saying it’s smart, but my guess is he’s getting increasingly desperate. Each day that passes is another one that could bring us closer to finding the grave. We’re shifters. We run through the forest on a regular basis, crisscrossing all the territory, not one set path. He knows that and may figure luck isn’t always going to be with him. If he causes enough grief and the pack takes off, his secret’s already way safer, right? There’s a lot of heavily vegetated land around here, but not many humans who are going to traipse through it. Not even hunters. Even with the country road passing through town, we’re off the beaten path. I’m certain when he chose this spot to dump her he never dreamed shifters would settle here. This is probably his worse freaking nightmare come true. We can sense things humans can’t and expose him. And unlike stray dogs that might accidentally sniff out a corpse, we can go to the authorities.”
“Jesse and Charlie.” They were Palmetto County Sheriff’s detectives. Humans who were married to refugee shifters. Jesse’s wife, Alexa, had arranged for the pack to move here. “You’re going to tell those guys about this?”
“Not yet. I need more evidence. I don’t want them blowing me off or causing anyone here to think I’m nuts, like Derek and Rand. Or the others to want me gone. That is, any more than they already do.”
“Screw Fran and Olive. This is your home. How do you plan to get more evidence?” He cupped her chin. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to speak to Kent.”
“Of course not. I’m not dumb. I want to search for Trish’s body. Once I find her, I’ll call the cops.”
“You’ll do that. Not us?”
She searched his face. “You want to help?”
Nick wanted this to go away, gorge on her fabulous meals, watch TV, screw like crazy, then fall asleep and do it all over again. Her suspicions were too surreal to take seriously. Yet, there were the weird accidents, the odor she smelled, and Kent showing up in the forest that one night. An odd occurrence at the time, though somewhat logical now. Nick had read how murderers often returned to crime scenes, either to relive their glory in killing someone or to make certain no one had found them out. “How do you think she died?”
“You believe me?”
Unfortunately. “It’s too strange not to make sense once you put the pieces together. Do you think he planned to kill her?”
“Either that or he got in a rage because she was breaking free like Brooke and Marie had. They were his other long-term girlfriends. They’re fine, by the way. With Trish, he might have simply lost it, struck out, and had to hide his crime.”
“We can’t search for her while it’s light. The others will wonder what we’re doing.”
“Then we’ll wait until everyone’s asleep and check as much area as we can.”
This got crazier by the minute. “Should I bring a shovel?”
“Yeah.”
***
Portia didn’t want to be right. If she were, nothing would be good again until Trish went home…wherever that may be and whether anyone cared about her or not. She might end up in a potter’s field, but at least she’d have a proper burial.
The cottages were dark, shifters quiet, night creatures chirping, buzzing, scurrying about. A half-moon cast the world in gray-and-black relief, no longer spellbinding, as the evening when she and Nick had mated for life.
He followed her into the woods, a beta position he didn’t much like, having argued vigorously that he’d lead the way, assume all the risks, and take the proverbial bullet for her if he had to. Although they both had phenomenal wolf eyesight in the dark, her ability to smell this particular death had his beat hands down.
She lifted her face into the mucky breeze, perspiration rolling down her throat and between her breasts. Never had she been as hot, partly from the brutal temperature, mainly because of anxiety.
He edged close. “Smell anything?”
“Not yet.” She’d whispered as he had.
“There’s a place we should try first.”
“Where?”
“Not too far from here. A while back, Kent was there in wolf form.”
“Doing what?”
“Trying to avoid me. Come on.” Nick took her hand and the lead. She hoped he wasn’t doing this so he could run things.
With her chin lifted and neck craned, she sniffed. Nothing. After they’d walked quite a distance, she stopped. “How much farther? Even if it’s five miles away, I should be able to start smelling it here if I caught it from way back there.”
“How can you know for sure? The body’s probably bones by now except for some tissue and hair that might not give off scent like regular decay. Give it a chance. If you don’t smell anything when we get there, we’ll turn around.”
Leaves crunched beneath their work boots, branches and saw palmettos lashed their legs. Bugs landed on her arms. Shivering, she brushed them off.
He squeezed her fingers. “Anything yet?”
“No.”
Nick finally stopped and gestured to a thick stand, its contours a black mass in the dark. “That’s where Kent was hiding.”
Portia circled the area, sniffing, catching rabbit scent and bird droppings. No corpse. No Kent either. “Are you sure this is the right spot? He didn’t leave any markings.”
“I’m certain this is where
he was. He surprised me so much, it’s not something I’d forget.” Nick lifted his face, testing the area, his frown deepening.
“You don’t smell him either, do you?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean anything. It’s rained since then, probably washing his scent away.”
“Do you think he was following you that night?”
“I don’t know. Why? To make sure I didn’t stumble across a grave?”
“You don’t have to make it sound so preposterous.”
“I’m not. I’m just asking.”
“I don’t know, then. Let’s go back. I have a feeling she’s closer to the community.”
On the return trip, they took baby steps, checking everything out more than a few times, finally going in freaking circles. No matter how hard Portia tried, she couldn’t catch the damn scent again. She slumped. “Maybe it’s because it’s dark. Every other time I’ve smelled it, it was during daylight.”
Nick rubbed her arm. “Do you really think that would have anything to do with it?”
“I don’t know. I’ve smelled all kinds of crappy stuff tonight, but not that…her. What if I can’t find her and she stays out here forever?”
“Aw, baby.” He hugged her gently. “That wouldn’t be your fault. Maybe you detected an animal and it’s gone now because predators picked it clean.”
“Over several weeks?”
He rested his chin on her shoulder. “I’m really trying to make sense of this.”
He was far more patient than most men would have been. “Forgive me for dragging you out here. I should have let you sleep and done this alone.”
“Never.” He held her tightly against him. “We’ll keep checking until dawn if you want.”
She was too tired and sweaty, wanting a cold shower, clean sheets, and him next to her in bed. “Let’s call it a night.”
Several yards from the forest edge, she stopped, the stench overwhelming her. “Aw God. Here.” She pointed down.
“We passed this on our way out. You didn’t smell anything then.”
