“No,” he said, “I don’t, for many reasons. I’m very sorry if that bothers you.” He shot her a frustrated glance before turning and leading the way towards the front door. He seemed to want to prove that he wasn’t about to force her to do anything.
Despite Sinead’s quiet anger, she found it awfully hard not to stare at those thighs of his, encased in their well-fitting jeans, or his arse, which was all bite-able, muscular perfection.
Prison guards shouldn’t be so delicious looking. It was hardly fair.
She trudged after him, trying to focus on the bath she’d be taking soon. Must not think about men. Must think about everything but.
Butt.
Buttocks.
Damn it.
Brigg, who’d been observing their interaction silently, opened the front door and ushered them inside, where a vast foyer of middle eastern-looking tile awaited them. A silver chandelier hung overhead, opulent and exquisite, and hand-painted tiles adorned the walls and floor.
“I hadn’t pegged you for the billionaire fancy-pants type,” Sinead said, throwing her host—or was it captor—a quick look. She flinched in pain when she turned her head, remembering how hard it was to look around with the metal collar on. More reminders that she was nothing more than a prisoner who’d been moved to nicer accommodations.
“That’s because I’m nothing of the sort,” Brigg replied. “This is rather too posh for me. I haven’t tackled this part of the house yet; all this extravagance is left over from the previous owner. I have far more modest tastes. Come, I’ll show you upstairs.”
He led the way towards the staircase, seeming to understand that she didn’t want to be pushed along from behind.
When Sinead reached second floor, she turned back to see that Cillian had stayed downstairs. He was staring at a work of art on the wall, apparently not particularly interested in her at the moment.
Perhaps she’d misread him. Maybe he didn’t find her attractive, didn’t actually want to touch her in the least. Well, it was for the best.
So why did the thought of it make her ache?
10
Sinead followed Brigg to a large suite at the house’s eastern end. “It’s quiet here,” he said. It was true; isolated at the end of a long hallway, it did seem the best place in the massive dwelling to hope for some privacy.
In the bedroom was a huge king-sized bed decked out in green and white embroidered cotton. Its frame was dark mahogany, its posts ten feet tall at least. Something about the piece seemed very ancient, and Sinead couldn’t help but wonder if it had been used by royalty at any point in its history.
She could have asked, of course. But asking questions meant revealing that she was interested rather than agitated, and she didn’t trust the other shifter enough yet to let him know she found him intriguing. She was supposed to feel disdain for him, or, at the very least, a little hostility. Brigg worked for the damned enemy, after all.
By the large window was a comfortable-looking seat covered in lush cushions, a perfect sort of nook for enjoying a good book. As soon as she saw it, Sinead darted over to take a peek outside only to behold an incredible, expansive garden below, complete with a well-groomed hedge maze. At its centre was a large, round stone embedded in the grass that looked like an oversized sundial.
Her Lioness purred inside her to think that she might soon get a chance to roam through the garden’s narrow pathways. Well, well. This place might be heaven, after all. Her homey prison was beginning to seem more and more appealing.
“The dresser is stocked with clothing. I hope that’s all right; I took the liberty of finding out your size from Collins. Just so you know, you have this entire wing of the house to yourself.” Brigg spoke quietly, his voice taking on the same gentleness it had in her cell. When she turned around, she saw that he was still standing by the door, as far from her as possible. He was trying to send her a message: I am no threat. Well, either that, or You smell like putrid fish. “The kitchen’s at the back of the house. There’s food, drink, anything you need.”
“All right then,” she replied. “Listen, before I do anything else, could I take a bath?”
“There’s no need to ask permission. Believe it or not, I want you to make yourself at home.” Brigg strode over to a door that led to the ensuite bathroom. When Sinead joined him, she let out a gasp of pleasure that would have been impossible to hold in. Not only was the bathroom enormous; it was stocked with fluffy white towels, two new-looking robes, and some clean slippers. Its tiles were white marble, its floor space larger than most London flats. The bath tub alone looked big enough for an elephant to go for a satisfying swim.
“This place is bloody amazing,” Sinead said, drawing the briefest smile from Brigg.
“It’s a little fancier than that cell where they were keeping you,” he replied, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms. Still keeping his distance, she thought. Still trying to prove something to me.
“Listen, Sinead,” he said, “about that—I’m so sorry for what they did to you. I’m sorry that you’re mixed up in any of this. None of it is right, and I understand your reluctance to put your faith in me. My only intention is to do what’s best for you. I…I couldn’t leave you in that cell.”
She turned and looked at him. “I know you’re sorry. But not sorry enough to stop working for them,” she said, “right?”
Brigg’s eyes flashed a quick look of irritation, and then it was gone. She knew immediately that she’d irked his Dire Wolf, challenged him by challenging his character, his integrity. But she wanted to know who she was dealing with. Was Brigg really as good as he seemed, or was he just another man who would wander into her life, use her, then discard her? Was he as selfish as all the other fuckers she’d involved herself with over her life?
She could have assumed the best, of course. But it was so much easier to anticipate the worst. No one had ever lived up to her hopes. Every single person she’d ever known—shifter or human—had let her down. Brigg and Cillian would probably be no exception. In all likelihood they were just a couple of horny men who thought of her as a slab of meat waiting to be devoured.
“I could quit my job, yes,” he said, a low growl betraying the presence of his Wolf. “I could walk away and never look back. But if I had done so before yesterday, you’d still be in that cell. Is that what you want?” His eyes narrowed with the words. Clearly, he wanted her to see that he wasn’t the enemy.
And for a moment, it worked. A pang of remorse hit her like a fist, square in the chest. She was being so bloody awful right now. This man had quite literally saved her life, and here she was, trying way too hard to come up with every possible reason to dislike him.
But that was the thing—she couldn’t dislike him, no matter how hard she tried. He was so kind, so protective. He exuded respect and understanding. And fuck, he was gorgeous. She reminded herself of it as her eyes slipped over his features, tracing his nose, his lips, and a sudden flood of desire washed over her, making her forget any trace of anger that had built up.
She shook her head. “No, that’s not what I want. I want…” She stepped towards him, reaching a hand out, but she yanked it back, reminding herself to be wary. “The truth is, I don’t know what I want.”
Brigg’s expression softened. “It’s fine. I get your confusion; you think I’m your enemy because you’re stuck here with me. But Sinead, I really need you to try and understand that Cillian and I are here to help you. Everything we’re doing right now is to make sure that you will be free. Free of prisons, free of fear. We will do everything we can to ensure your release.”
“Thank you. I can’t say that I much enjoy being locked up.”
Brigg stared at her for a moment, sizing her up in a way that made her feel self-conscious. “You’ve lived a solitary life,” he said, “haven’t you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I think you’re rather like me,” he replied. “I’ve been alo
ne for a long time. Alone, but not necessarily lonely. You know, I gave up long ago on the idea of being with someone. I always attributed that to my flaws, but now I’m beginning to think it was something else entirely.”
“You think it’s because I’m flawed that I’m alone?” she asked defensively.
He shook his head. “God, no. You have no flaws that I can see,” he replied. “You’re fucking perfect.”
His words melted some icy part of her heart, and she took another step towards him. Accidental, because she stopped herself again, drawing back in horror at how easy it was to give in to her attraction to the man. It was as though a magnet had pulled her to him and it took all her force to resist his natural lure. “You shouldn’t say things like that,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest.
“You don’t want me telling you that you’re beautiful,” he replied. It wasn’t a question. “You’re a modern woman. Sometimes I forget that it’s inappropriate to say such things—”
“No,” she replied angrily, “I don’t give a toss about whether it’s appropriate or not. I just don’t want you giving me compliments.”
“Why not?”
She pulled her chin down and drew her eyes up to his. “Because it makes me like you,” she said, “and I’m not sure I can handle liking you. The same goes for Cillian. You two are…” She didn’t tell him what she was really thinking—that she’d never allowed herself to get close to anyone in her life. That she wanted love—desperately, in fact—but she was afraid everything that came with it. That she was beginning to think that she could fall in love with one or both of these men.
Far. Too. Easily.
A mysterious sort of frown settled on Brigg’s face. “Well, I’d best leave you to it,” he said coldly. “I’m sorry that you still have that fucking collar on. As soon as I can, I’ll remove it. For now, I’m afraid you won’t be able to shift.”
“As long as it doesn’t rust in the tub,” she replied, throwing him a quick smile, grateful to be off the topic of feelings for a little.
“It won’t,” he said, advancing towards her. He pulled a hand up and tapped the metal gently. “Stainless steel,” he said, staring into her eyes.
“Right,” she replied, staring back at him, frozen for a moment. That one small gesture of his had been enough for her to want to grab his arm, to pull him to her, to press her lips to his and feel herself sink into his embrace. She wanted to ask him to join her in the tub, to make love to her. To remind her what it was to feel alive and free.
But once again she fought back the impulse, holding herself back with every ounce of her strength. Bad idea, Sinead. Bad idea to let yourself want someone so badly that it hurts. Bad idea to feel anything at all. Better to be numb.
“I need to…” she said, pulling her gaze to the tub. “I think I should…”
“Yes, of course. I’ll be downstairs if you want anything.” With that, Brigg turned on his heel and left, shutting the door behind him.
If you want anything.
Sinead lay in the tub, bubbles lapping at her skin as she thought about what it was that she really desired.
All her life, she’d told herself that she didn’t want to be owned, to be held prisoner by a bond with any man. Yet now…now all she wanted, all she could think about, was the strange erotic spell that the two Dire Wolf shifters had cast on her.
She closed her eyes and drew a hand over her breast, peaking her nipple under her own touch as she let her mind go to a place she seldom visited. What was it about the two men, anyhow? It took a good deal for her to be attracted to anyone. So why on earth was she so turned on by both of them?
Maybe this was some extra-twisted form of Stockholm Syndrome. Or was it hero worship? Maybe she’d fallen not for her captors, but for her saviours.
“I’ve gone stark raving mad,” she murmured, letting out a soft chuckle as she relished the sensation of hot water stroking her ever curve. “It’s the only possible explanation.” But as she let her body sink deep into the tub, she didn’t feel mad in the least.
For the first time in a long time, she felt at peace.
The only thing that could have made the moment better were those two sets of Dire Wolf shifter’s eyes, staring at her once again.
11
After making a quick phone call in his bedroom, Brigg made his way down to the kitchen, where he found Cillian staring into space. The smell of fresh coffee permeated the air, so Brigg grabbed a couple of cups, filled them and handed one to his friend, who turned to look at him with an inquisitive expression.
“How’s she doing?”
“She’s settling in,” Brigg said. “Slowly, but not at all surely.”
“Good, I suppose,” the other man said before taking a sip. His eyes moved about the room slowly as though he were sizing it up. “This place will be good for her, I think,” he muttered softly. “You were smart to bring her here.”
“I hope so. I thought maybe we should get out of the city, away from everything. Away from what’s brewing in London. There may be some mayhem over the next few days.”
Cillian’s eyes locked on Brigg’s. “Mayhem? You think something’s about to happen there?”
Brigg nodded, stepping towards the back of the room. “I just spoke to a friend of mine—a journalist. A story will be breaking tomorrow morning about the treatment of shifters, about the fact that they have no rights, that they’re being rounded up in the streets and held in confinement. By midday tomorrow, even the civilians who take no interest in such matters will have started to hear about how our kind is being treated like animals, our rights stripped away.”
“But if the story gets out, they’ll think it was you. The task force will come for you…”
“No, they won’t. I created a trail that leads directly back to Collins’ computer. If anyone is condemned for the release of classified information, it will be him.”
Cillian laughed. “I won’t ask how you managed that, but well done. So I’m assuming that a mass panic is imminent on London’s streets?”
“Possibly. Though a slow build is more likely. People love watching the unfolding genesis of a conflict. Some will see shifters as persecuted victims; others will see them as an instant enemy. I have little doubt that the two sides will begin to feel each other out before all-out war ensues.” Brigg let out a sigh. “Of course, in the end, both sides will likely find a way to blame shifters for all the ills of the world. If we have long-term allies among the human throngs, they will likely be few and far between.”
“Yes, I’m sure you’re right. They’ll see us as scapegoats for everything wrong in Britain,” said Cillian. “Any violence, any economic hardship, they’ll find a way to trace it back to us.”
“Yes, exactly. It’s how things have gone since the beginning of time. Pick an enemy, and turn the world against it.”
Cillian wandered over and took a seat at the rustic wooden table that sat next to a large set of windows displaying a view of the grounds’ expansive garden. For a moment he peered out, shoving his stubbled chin into his hand. “The timing of all of this is shite, you know,” he said. “It really is.”
“All of what, exactly?”
Cillian turned back to face Brigg. He steered his eyes towards the ceiling, pointing up with his right index finger. “Her. Us.”
“You’re talking about the woman who’s upstairs bathing,” Brigg said, walking over and pulling out one of the chairs to seat himself. He narrowed his eyes at Cillian, trying to read his emotions. “You feel something for her, and you hate that this is how you met her.”
“You feel it as well,” Cillian said. “Even if you hadn’t told me, I could tell the moment you got into the car yesterday. I’ve never seen you so excited.”
Brigg nodded, clenching his jaw as he thought about what Sinead did to his insides. Not to mention what she did to his outsides. The Lioness was an incredible force, stronger by far than his ability to resist her. “I’ve been fighting it s
ince the moment I laid eyes on her, yes. I’ve been fighting a bloody war inside myself, more like. Telling myself again and again that she isn’t the One. She can’t be. For all I know, she’d rather be a hundred miles away than here with us.”
“But why fight it? We’re all here together. Why not explore this, find out if she’s meant to be with us? You were so certain yesterday that this was meant to be. That this is our fate. I don’t understand what’s changed.”
Brigg shrugged. “Lions work in prides,” he said. “One male, many females. However appealing we may find her, it’s hardly in her nature to bond with a Dire Wolf, let alone two. I may have been overzealous in my assessment of the situation.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” said Cillian. “I may not have Roth and Laird’s heightened senses, but I know I smelled something on her. I know the scent of a woman’s arousal, mate, and our Lioness was most certainly aroused in that car of yours.”
Brigg’s lips turned up a little as he recalled Sinead’s intoxicating scent. “Well, arousal isn’t enough,” he said, combatting the inclination to believe she could ever let her walls come down enough to let the men into her heart or her bed. “If she’s interested in us, it’s only because we freed her from a gruesome prison and an even worse fate. No doubt she sees us, on some level at least, as some kind of benevolent liberators. But that’s not enough to convince a woman like Sinead to change her entire mindset. She’s got a way of pushing others away, that one. She’s not one for allowing herself to enjoy closeness. Believe me, I know what it feels like.”
“Yes, well, I still say we find a way to get to know her. We’re stuck together, at least for a few days, right? May as well make the best of it.”
“Make the best of what?” Sinead’s voice drew the men’s gazes to the kitchen’s entrance. She was bent over at the waist, towelling her hair, an oversized bathrobe covering her tall, slender frame. When she straightened up, Brigg’s eyes immediately fell on the metal collar that was still fastened around her neck, an ugly reminder that she was still at her captors’ mercy. Still a prisoner, however free she might be to roam about his house. It was no wonder she was reluctant to get close. How could she ever relax around men who kept her in bondage? How could she ever learn to trust them?
Dire Wolves of London Page 6
