by Dannika Dark
“You only have one animal. That’s unusual,” I said, thinking about how most men liked snakes, eagles, or scorpions.
“It’s bad luck.”
“Says who?”
He shrugged, looking down at me over his shoulder. “Says me. My wolf is the only one who gets billboard space on my body.”
But when he turned around, the view stole my breath away. Spread across his back was an enormous dragon with wings. The shading was perfected in such a way that it looked as though it had separated from his skin and was hovering over his back. I traced my fingers over the sharp teeth, down the scaly body, circling them over his serpentine claws. “But this is an animal…”
“It’s a dragon, not an animal. They’re not real.”
I pressed my lips against it. “Maybe they are,” I murmured, thinking about cruel men like Delgado who had slain innocents and ruined lives. I wondered if my dragon slayer would ever find peace.
Wheeler kept turning until he faced me once again, but he no longer held the amorous look in his eyes—only one of ruin.
“I needed something big to cover up the scars. There were more on my back; that’s where they liked to whip us.”
Tears burned hot in my eyes. I didn’t like knowing someone had hurt him that way. Just imagining him alone in a cell while someone was whipping him…
“Hey, don’t do that,” he said, wiping one away. “Jesus, I really fucked this up. You see what I mean? You’re too delicate for a man like me.”
“Is that all you see when you look at me? Just an ornament?”
I walked away and sat on the couch, kicking over the chewed-up coffee table with a thrust of my leg. “Every man has looked at me that way since I can remember,” I bit out angrily. “That is the curse of the panther. I’ve spent my entire life hiding from everyone—even myself. You have the freedom to run in the woods. But me? I have to drive to desolate, godforsaken places to let my panther run loose.”
“Fuck that,” Wheeler spat, kicking the table even farther away. He knelt in front of me. “There’s no law that says you can’t roam free.”
“There doesn’t have to be a law. Imagine if you saw a panther on your property. A wolf you might keep an eye on, but a panther? I’m willing to bet the arsenal would come out. Just look at the panic in your own pack when you brought me here! I’m not free. Even with all the laws and Councils, I’m not truly free. You broke your chains a long time ago, but mine will always be locked. You just can’t see them, but they keep me from a life I’m not allowed to live. Just knowing what I am puts a target on my back. I dated two men who were ancients, and despite all the changes we’ve been through, they couldn’t accept me.”
I clenched my fists. Wheeler, still kneeling in front of me, placed his hands over them.
“That what you think? Because you’re a panther, no one will accept you?”
“How open-minded were you before Austin intervened and forced you to watch me? You’ve always suspected what I am, and that fueled your prejudice.”
“Maybe that ain’t about hate. Ever think of that?” He lowered his eyes. “Each time I look at you, I feel guilty because I’m attracted to the one person who should want me dead more than anyone, and I don’t know what the hell that says about me.”
I lifted his chin with the tips of my fingers. “How did you manage to sedate my panther?”
A solemn smile touched his lips. “Fear. Your kind thrives on fear. I don’t know if you can smell it or see it in a subtle twitch of an eye, but if there’s even a sliver of apprehension, your animal can sense it. The only time you’re trusting is with someone who doesn’t fear you. Someone who isn’t afraid to walk up and handle you—even pat you on the side and be rough. Something I learned in the fights. After a while, I wanted to die. When I made that choice, all the fear went away. The panthers trusted me, even allowed me to nuzzle my face against theirs.”
I leaned forward and cupped his face in my hands. “That’s why you carry all that guilt. Getting them to trust you made it easier to kill them and win. It gave you hope that you might get out of there.”
Something broke in Wheeler, something so deep and impenetrable that when the fracture happened, it was like a snap of electricity. That was it. I’d penetrated the wall he’d built to hide his dark secrets—the ones that questioned his morals and integrity. Wheeler’s eyes filled with hot tears, and he grimaced, trying to turn away.
I didn’t let him. I held his face firmly and touched my forehead to his.
“Don’t look away from me. It wasn’t your fault,” I whispered, stroking the lines of his face with my fingers. “Stop blaming yourself.”
“But it wasn’t right,” he said, his voice cracking. “It wasn’t about survival—it wasn’t an honorable fight. It was murder. They wanted a fighter, but I was a killer.”
I pulled his head to my chest and stroked my fingers through his hair. “Shhh. I had no idea. Ben may be the gambler, but you’re the one who wears the poker face. All that anger hiding a man in pain. You deserve so much more than you think.”
Wheeler would never admit the truth to Austin. There was honor in a man who fought for his life, but Wheeler had become suicidal, and men who lost the fear of death were capable of unconscionable crimes. But that wasn’t the case here, not really. No matter how you sliced it, Wheeler was still a victim. Despite how he’d won his battles, the only choices he’d had were to live or die. The animals that trusted him died at his hands, and I wondered if maybe that wasn’t the most humane thing to do.
It made me think of the animals in the shelters that were euthanized. I’d donated money to make more room in those cages because I didn’t want them to die. But which was the real hell for them: living in a cage or death?
My heart shattered as I held this broken man. Wheeler had fought his entire life for his brother, for his family, and for his life. But not one person had ever fought for him.
“They wanted to die,” I whispered, threading my fingers through the tufts of his brown hair.
His glassy eyes rose to mine—detached and filled with disbelief. “What?”
“No one subjected to that level of torture wants to survive. You gave up; what makes you think they hadn’t already given up? What those men did to you was unforgivable, cruel, and karma will come back and slap them on the ass someday. Don’t let them win, Wheeler. Your chains are gone, but now you’ve become your own tormentor.” I brushed his tangled hair back and ran my finger over his thick eyebrow. “You’re not a killer. You were their angel of mercy.”
“I was their angel of death,” he said despondently, sitting back on his legs.
“You’ve turned trust into a sinister word because someone trusting you meant their death.”
He sprang to his feet and headed toward the door. “You’re right.”
I leapt up and hurried after him. “Don’t you dare turn your back on me,” I hissed.
Wheeler placed both hands on the door and leaned forward, lowering his head out of sight. “The carnage I left behind, the screams in my head, the blood in my mouth, the looks on those faces—those things are etched in my mind forever.”
I touched the dragon on his back. “Your wolf’s mind, not yours. You had no control over your animal.”
Wheeler spun around and shouted, “I killed them in human form!” His voice tightened. “Not all, but in the end. It wasn’t fair to make my wolf do all the dirty work; I had to carry my share of the blame. I’d finally embraced the monster I’d become.”
“Please, don’t go.” I slipped my hands around his sides and kissed his chest. “I trust you, Wheeler. I trust you won’t hurt me. Please…”
In a swift motion, he lifted me by my waist and spun me around, placing my back to the door as he laved my breasts. His body hummed with desire, whiskers scratching my neck until his lips met with mine. A low growl settled in his chest, and I held on tightly as he pressed himself against me.
Wheeler unleashed his repressed desires
, and our kiss became frenzied. My legs wrapped around his waist.
My God… this man possessed so much passion that he consumed me with it.
Chapter 16
I’d never had a man crave me the way Wheeler did. Every movement of his body against mine was insatiable and animalistic. I’d only been with men for superficial reasons, and sex was sex. But the emotional connection threading between us amplified everything. Wheeler confiding in me acted like an accelerant that ignited a spark into a roaring inferno. The deeper and darker his secrets, the more connected we became.
My thoughts scattered as I kissed him hurriedly, as if we only had moments to consume each other before the world ended.
A rip sounded between our kisses.
“What was that?” he asked out of breath, kissing my neck.
“April’s baggy jeans. I think I’ve outgrown them. Are you sure you can handle all this?”
To answer my question, he reached behind my jeans, found the hole, and ripped it wide. A rush of tingles surged through me and I kissed him deeply. Wheeler held my waist and walked me toward the bed where he threw me down like a sack of laundry.
I bounced and looked up at his predatory eyes. “Now I know how poor little Red Riding Hood felt when the Big Bad Wolf looked at her. Are you like this with all your prey?”
“No,” he said with a throaty growl, devouring me with his eyes.
Wheeler was probably a man who contained his passion in the bedroom, and seeing how combustible he was with me sent a shiver up my spine.
“What?” I asked, noticing his hesitation.
“Just wondering if you’re going to punish me for ripping your pants.”
I got on my knees and crawled toward him like a panther. When I reached around his jeans, I felt the butterfly knife in his back pocket. I pulled it out and stroked the cold metal down his stomach. “Show me a trick.”
He took the knife, and I lay on my back beneath him with my legs slung over the edge.
“Move out of the way,” he said. “I might drop it on you.”
I reached out and stroked the hard outline pressing against his jeans. Wheeler sucked in a sharp breath. “I trust you,” I whispered. Then I put my arms up and lay beneath him. “Show me your teeth, Mr. Wolf. I’m not afraid of you.”
We both knew that I could shift and heal, but still I saw fear glittering in his eyes. He gently swung it in a simple maneuver and then closed it.
“I’ve seen you use that thing, Wheeler. Show me what you can really do.”
When he spun it again, I arched my back. I thought his willpower might break, but it fueled him. He did tricks with that knife that were blindingly fast.
I’d never seen anything more erotic in all my life—watching his hands deftly spinning that blade around and the intense look on his face as he kept his eyes centered on mine. He suddenly locked the case with the knife out and tossed it across the room at the wall, where it stuck.
I gasped. “I didn’t know you could throw those.”
Wheeler stripped me out of my jeans and panties. “Years of practice.” He fell over me, creating a friction with the bristles on his face as he worshipped my body with his mouth.
“This is real pretty,” he said in a soft voice, brushing the back of his hand over my sex. “Tell your wax lady she’s got my approval.” His hands gently spread my thighs apart and I drew up my knees. Wheeler’s hot breath made me quiver with anticipation, and when his tongue lapped at my skin with one greedy stroke, I arched my back, moaning with need.
He gripped my round hips, and after another sensual kiss, he began to tremble. Wheeler climbed up my body, desperate to get me completely undressed.
“I need you naked,” he breathed, panting as if he’d run a mile, and the race hadn’t even begun.
I leaned up, and Wheeler fumbled with the latches of my bra beneath my shirt. I heard them pop when he pulled them apart, and then he stripped me out of my blouse.
“Mmm, I can tell I’m going to need a large wardrobe with a man like you,” I purred, slowly tossing the destroyed garment to the floor.
He hovered over me with yearning in his eyes.
“Is this what you want?” I asked, sliding my fingers into his jeans. It didn’t take long before I found the source of all his discomfort. With dexterous hands, I unfastened his pants and shoved him onto his side.
His elbow hit the wall and he hissed in pain. “Wait,” he said, gripping my wrist and scooting toward the center of the bed as if fleeing from me.
“What?”
He wouldn’t say whatever it was that had caused a flash of terror in his eyes. That’s when I knew he was hiding another secret. Without taking my eyes from his, I pulled at his jeans and shorts beneath. Wheeler had softened, losing some of his arousal as unwelcome emotions began to take hold. He swallowed hard and then clenched his jaw.
How had other women treated him?
I kissed his mouth, then his neck, and worked my way down his body until I reached his hips and thighs. In the places that his pants concealed, Wheeler had scars that he hadn’t inked up with tattoos. Places maybe he thought no one would ever look again, or maybe he turned all his women away from him so they wouldn’t notice.
I noticed. I kissed each scar from the length of his thigh all the way to the one above his groin. He buried his hands in my hair, closing his eyes and thrusting his hips with need. I wanted to weep for what I saw—how he had taken such abuse—but I refused to let him think it mattered. My hands slid up and down the smooth skin on his lower abs, across his waist, and to his thighs.
Wheeler clocked my every move, and it made me self-conscious about concealing my reaction when I saw what else he’d been hiding from me.
Wheeler wasn’t just endowed—he was blessed. That kind of blessing made a woman hesitate.
“Sure you’re a wolf and not a stallion?” I teased. “Because you’re hung like a—”
Wheeler snatched my wrists and pulled me on top so I was straddling him. “Are you going to show me your teeth?”
I flashed a smile, showing him my pearly whites.
Wheeler rubbed my thighs, and no smile touched his lips. “Not those. I want you to shift.”
“Don’t be absurd. I’ll kill you!”
He licked his bottom lip, fingers exploring my backside. “I can’t be with you unless you show me your panther.”
“Darling, this isn’t necessary. You’ve already seen my panther.”
His hands continued stroking me. “Not like this. Not when I’m vulnerable.”
“I… I can’t.”
“Naya… I thought we were going to be open with each other.”
I trembled, despite the fact he’d somehow managed to walk my panther into the Weston home. My panther might attack him if frightened, and I didn’t know how much I’d be able to control her reaction. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
He swallowed thickly and put his arms beside his head. “I need to know.”
“Know what?” I asked, stroking his stomach with the tips of my fingers.
“If the reason I don’t fear you is because I want to die, or because of something else.”
There it was. Wheeler’s ability to walk my animal into the house had raised a deep-seated fear that maybe after all these years, he still didn’t feel worthy enough to live.
“Please,” he whispered.
Why did this have to be so difficult? I had to trust my panther not to hurt a man who meant something to me. I also had to trust that this man wouldn’t kill my panther if something went wrong.
I moved off him and sat down by his legs. “Okay. But don’t make any sudden movements, and don’t look her in the eyes.”
His Adam’s apple undulated as he swallowed hard and watched me. Am I really doing this? I must be crazy, I thought to myself.
I felt the ripple move through me, and I shuddered as my body shifted in the blink of an eye. Through my panther’s eyes, I gazed at Wheeler. His breath quickened and his
eyes were wide. He stayed still as my animal moved closer. When she stretched her neck to smell his face, I watched in surprise as he suddenly clasped his hands around her jowls and rubbed hard.
“You’re beautiful,” he said with a handsome grin, looking her straight in the eye. “You hear me in there, Naya? You’re gorgeous.”
My heart soared. Wheeler rocked with laughter, holding his hand in front of her mouth as she licked his palm with her rough tongue. When my panther rubbed her face against his, I quickly took control and shifted back to human form.
His laugh filled me with such a wonderful feeling, and it slowly died down as he looked at me with amorous eyes. I straddled him—nuzzling my face against his.
“You’re a crazy old wolf. Did you get the answer you were looking for?” I asked, nibbling his earlobe.
“Yeah, kitty cat,” he said softly, running his hands over my back. “I got it.”
I kissed him and something in his expression had changed.
“What do you crave after a shift?” he asked.
“You.”
Wheeler shuddered when I reached down and wrapped my fingers around his shaft, stroking it across my slick cleft. His eyes closed upon contact, and the deeper I took him, the more I had to pull back in small doses to make sure I could take him completely. My heart thundered against my chest as a connection formed between us that I’d never experienced with another man—something on an emotional level that went beyond the physical. His hands had never left me, and they were exploring my thick legs, my soft stomach, my supple breasts, and every glorious inch of my body. But the most arousing part of it all was that he never stripped his gaze from mine.
“You feel too goddamn good,” he said in strained words.
“Keep touching me. I won’t break.”
His fingers squeezed my thighs tight and I moved my body faster. The ropes of muscle in his arms and neck strained, and my nails bit into his chest.
Wheeler roared, his body tense. Something primal heated in his eyes.
He reached up, twisting my nipples between his fingers until they elongated. Then he groaned, cupping his hands over my breasts and grimacing.
