Howl & Growl: A Paranormal Romance Boxed Set

by Various Authors

  She took his mouth with her own, and after a moment’s hesitation, he kissed her back. His tongue slid against hers, softly testing at first, then with a fervor that made her cling to him. He tasted like peppermint.

  She moaned into his mouth when he pulled her close. His body was cool against hers, or maybe whatever was wrong with her made her unnaturally hot.

  With her legs wrapped around his waist, she could feel his erection pressed against where she needed it most. How could she ache for him this much? There was no doubt that he was attractive. He was the kind of man wet dreams were made of—tall and muscular and sexy as sin. But he irritated her with his constant presence, despite turning his nose up at their friendship, and his annoyingly standoffish nature. But none of that seemed to matter to her body.

  Pushing her thoughts aside, she shimmied against him, rubbing her clit against the hard cock she could feel beneath his boxer briefs. His hands gripped her hips almost painfully hard, and she cried out in triumph.

  “No!”

  He tossed her and she had a moment of panic where she felt weightless, but she landed on something soft. A mattress. When had they gotten to his bedroom?

  In a flash, she was back on him. Hands on his ass, pressing herself against his hardness. Seeking his delicious mouth with her own.

  “None of that, kitten.” But his hips arched against her, sliding his thickness against her soft skin.

  She bit at him, a warning snap at his face. Something inside of her was wild, raging. And it wanted out. It wanted Owen. To hurt him or fuck him. Maybe both.

  His hand dug into her hair and pulled hard. She cried out at the flash of pain.

  “I can’t take you. You’re going to have to accept what I can give you.”

  Her body screamed at her to fight him. To take what was hers. But he pushed her onto the bed, easily controlling her flailing movements with his much larger frame.

  But when his hand touched her mound softly, she stilled.

  “That’s it, kitten. Relax. I’ll take care of you.”

  But instead of his mere touch bringing her to orgasm, it only made her more needy, and she ground against his hand. He gave her a swift kiss, tongue only brushing against her own, and met her gaze with his golden eyes. Then, very purposefully, he lowered his head between her legs.

  His tongue touched her, flickering out against her clit, and she gasped. Over and over he teased her, running his tongue around her entrance and sucking on her most sensitive spot, before pulling back to watch her reaction.

  Unlike the first time he’d made her come, he seemed to want to draw her out. Not just give her momentary relief, but also torment her along the way. Enjoying her reactions while he tortured her. He worked her with his mouth, one hand reaching up to cup her breasts, to tease her nipples.

  She moaned and writhed and gasped his name, but he refused to be rushed. Drawing her out with quick licks and the barest of touches, he reached behind her to grab the nape of her neck, forcing her to hold still with his free hand while he worked.

  “Owen, please!” She was hot, so hot, burning for release. Her whole body was swollen and needy and empty.

  “You want to come?” he asked, voice low. But it wasn’t really a question. He knew what she needed, but for some reason wanted to hear it from her lips. She made a mewling sound, the closest thing to words she could summon.

  He leaned back down, and she could feel his fingers probing around her entrance, but no matter how she squirmed, he refused to penetrate her. Instead, he sucked on her clit, hard. Teeth nipped her, and she flew over the edge into oblivion.

  ***

  He felt her spasm, and with her taste in his mouth, he almost said to hell with it and took her. How right it felt to have her shuddering beneath him. To have her calling his name. Like she was his.

  Mine.

  No. Thoughts like that would get him into trouble. He had a duty here. And his honor wouldn’t allow him to give in to his own desires.

  He helped her sit up on the bed, and she pulled the robe tightly around her body, tying the belt and glancing around the room, eyes wide and dazed. But she seemed to be able to focus better. Good.

  “Owen?” Her voice was sleepy and sated. “Tell me more. Tell me what I am.”

  It wasn’t his place, but he couldn’t bring himself to deny her again. Not when she was already so vulnerable. Not after she’d already given him so much of herself. “You’re a weretiger.”

  She blinked at him. “What?”

  He took in a deep breath and regretted it immediately when her floral scent filled his nose, mixed with the spicy smell of her heat, and the intoxicating scent of her arousal.

  “We’re human—mostly. But over time, we develop tiger characteristics.”

  “So you’re saying I’m like a werewolf or something?” Her tone was doubtful, and he could hardly blame her. This wasn’t the way to show her what she was. He should have kept his mouth shut and waited until they were somewhere safe enough for a demonstration. But it was too late now, the cat—tiger—was out of the bag.

  “No, not exactly. You aren’t bound by the moon or anything. And most of us can’t turn completely. The weakest of our kind eventually develop tiger traits—the strength or speed or claws. Most of us can turn partially at will. Only the purest bloodlines can shift into actual tigers.”

  “This is insane.”

  “Daniella—”

  “You’re insane.” Her voice rose to a yell and she jumped off the bed to stand in front of him. Her fear was gone—he was glad to see that—but anger had replaced it. “What the hell are you even saying? Are you nuts or are you just messing with me?”

  Shit. He had to show her. Something small, at least. Otherwise she might try to run. Hell, she might try to run after he showed her what he was, too. In that case, he’d have to wrestle her down.

  Oh, yeah, smart. Wrestle down the woman in heat. See how that ends for you. You’ll be inside her in two seconds flat, fucking her for all you’re worth.

  “Daniella. Look at me.” He wasn’t a royal—a tiger who could fully shift—but he wasn’t far from it.

  Concentrating on his face, he forced images of his other form—a partial tiger—into the forefront of his mind. And with it, he pushed with his mind. His flesh moved, and the sensation distracted him. He almost forgot why he was shifting until a squeak of fear brought him back to himself.

  Daniella had fallen back. She sat on the edge of the bed, wide-eyed and unblinking, her mouth partially open.

  “You’re—”

  “A weretiger. Like you.”

  “But—your face.” She stared at him, fascinated, but no horror crossed her features. Instead, she simply appeared stunned, and more than a little intrigued.

  He knew what his face looked like, and her reaction sent a rush of joy through him. If she hadn’t been shocked, he would have been surprised. It wouldn’t have surprised him, though, if she’d been disgusted.

  Not that he was a bad-looking weretiger. In fact, he liked to joke with his Erick that he got the best of both creatures. Cat-like features on a very human frame, and unlike most of his kind, he could shift parts of himself without shifting into his entire partial form—handy if you needed a sharp claw but no whiskers. But he couldn’t turn into a full tiger.

  Which was why she couldn’t be his. No matter how much he wanted her.

  A shudder ran through her body. She glanced away from him and clutched her arms, hugging herself.

  He was by her side before he could think better of it, kneeling in front of where she sat on the bed, and when she looked up, she started.

  “Oh, sorry,” he said, then closed his eyes to concentrate on changing his face back to fully human.

  When he opened his eyes, she stared at him, their faces only inches apart.

  “That was cool.” The tiniest of grins blossomed on her face. “I wasn’t sure if I should run away or pet you.”

  He smiled at her and she licked her li
ps.

  Damn.

  “I need to make a phone call.” He pushed up from the floor. Yes, a call. Before he asked her to pet him.

  “Wait.”

  Barely trusting himself to not do something stupid, he turned to face her. She was so pretty in the delicate robe. So sexy. So vulnerable.

  He could still taste her.

  “This…heat. Or whatever. How do we make it go away?” she asked.

  “Sex,” he said, simply, but he clenched his hands at his sides to keep from reaching for her. Sex wouldn’t actually bring her out of the heat, but it would give her a long reprieve. Maybe long enough to get through the heat. Maybe.

  “Then why—”

  “Because you aren’t meant for me. You belong to my best friend.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “What?” Anger rolled through her, pushing back some of the pulsating lust threatening to overwhelm her again. She jumped off his bed and stalked toward him. “What do you mean, I belong to your best friend? I’m my own person, Owen. No one owns me.”

  “There are things happening here that you don’t understand.”

  “Explain them to me.” How dare he? She was her own person. And this the twenty-first century.

  “You have the ability to turn into a full tiger—or you will, with some training and practice. That’s rare, Daniella. Full tigers are known as royals among our people—even though they aren’t necessarily from the same bloodline. They breed with other royals. They keep our people strong.” Belief filled his eyes—he believed what he said was true, that this insane tradition was somehow necessary. But there was guilt there, too.

  “So, what? I’m supposed to have a litter of kittens with a stranger for the good of some people I don’t even know? People I couldn’t care less about at this point?” The idea of it was so humiliating, so disgusting, she could barely wrap her mind around it.

  “Yes. We’re not a fertile species—children are difficult to conceive, and impossible outside of the time when the female is in heat. Your first heat is the most powerful, and the most fertile time of your life. If we could give you more time—”

  “This whole thing is bullshit.” Give her time? As if her time was theirs to give? She paced the room, finally noticing her surroundings. Other than the bed and a small dresser tucked into one corner, the room looked uninhabited. He’d been here nearly a year, since not long after she moved in. And it looked like he could have just moved in. It was all temporary for him. Just like watching her—a temporary duty. Something in her chest twisted at the thought.

  “It’s the way things are done. For the good of the whole.”

  “Well, screw your ways.” She stopped pacing, careful to stay a few feet away from him. Her voice softened, and she hated herself a little bit for asking because it probably sounded desperate, but it had to be said. “Why not you?”

  “I have good control for a shifter—more powerful than most—but I can’t make a full change. I’m no royal. But my best friend is. That fact makes him our prime. Our leader.”

  “Why is that so important? The full change thing?”

  “It’s not easy to explain, but it’s not really about the form itself—it’s about the power it represents.” He paused, thinking. “Tigers don’t congregate well. We aren’t pack animals, like the wolves. It takes a powerful prime, a royal or—even better—a mated pair of royals to keep a clan together.”

  That made sense, sort of. But why did they need to keep their people together? She almost asked, but her thoughts shifted to something far more important to her, far more personal. “How do you know I’m one of you—let alone I’m a…royal, or whatever?” A small, nervous laugh escaped her. “I’ve never changed into anything. What makes you so sure? I mean, how can you be certain?” The pitch of her voice rose with every word. She was on the edge of a major freak out—she could feel the panic growing in her chest. Concentrating on the details helped.

  “If only one of your parents was a pureblood, you could go either way—royal or partial shifter. Those pairings are rare, because tigers raised among the clan know the importance of keeping royal bloodlines pure, but they do happen rarely. Like with my parents.” He cleared his throat. “When two royals breed, their children are nearly guaranteed to be royals. Both of your parents were purebloods, both royals.”

  Were—not are. He referred to her parents in past tense. The questions were on the tip of her tongue. She’d wondered about her birth parents off and on since she’d found out as a teenager that she’d been adopted. But the importance of it had faded as she grew older—or she thought it had.

  She couldn’t form the questions. Something about it felt like a trap. Like if she opened that door, he’d have her. He’d have something else to use to convince her of this madness.

  “So you got the short end of the genetic stick,” she said, instead.

  “Yes, unlike Erick,” he said. “Of course, he had two royal parents, so his lineage wasn’t quite the lottery mine was.”

  “Well, screw your friend.”

  “That’s the idea.” He gave her a small grin, but she refused to smile at his joke.

  “Oh, fuck you, Owen.” She shook her head hard. “No. I’m not having sex with some stranger.”

  His smile disappeared. “You will, Daniella. You won’t have a choice.”

  She stopped pacing and stared at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “He’ll be here by morning. The heat will be back by then, in full.” His tone turned almost angry and his face hardened. “You’ll want him, then. You’ll need him. Hell, you’ll be ready to beg for it.”

  She flew at him and slapped him across the face with all her strength and ire. He didn’t react to the slap; his head barely moved before his gaze returned to hers. But something behind his eyes took notice. And it was feral.

  Inside of her, something reacted to the thing behind his eyes. Whatever it was, it wanted to attack him again. Push him. See if he was worthy.

  What the fuck?

  Panic rushed through her. He was right. The way she’d felt around him the last few hours…if it got worse and she was presented with a man who elicited in her the same rush of need as Owen, she’d be lost. And some part of her wanted it. The tiger part—if she could believe Owen.

  No. She wasn’t a tiger. And she definitely wasn’t going to let hormones of any kind decide her fate.

  “Fine, then, I’ll leave. Unless you plan on trying to keep me here by force,” she said.

  A flash of something crossed his hard features. Regret? She couldn’t be sure.

  “Of course not. I’m not a kidnapper. But there are dangers out there, Daniella. Frightening things that would love the chance at a vulnerable weretiger.”

  “Like what?”

  “Vampires, for one. We’re rare, and quite valued as pets. And worse things.”

  Her laugh was hysterical, but she was beyond caring. “Vampires. Of course. Why wouldn’t there be vampires, too?”

  He didn’t reply, and she blinked back the tears threatening to blind her. Time was of the essence; even as her anger faded slightly, the lust inside of her surged. Soon, she wouldn’t be able to think clearly.

  “Fine,” she said, looking away from him. She swiped at a single tear that had escaped to run down her cheek. “I thought that we had something here. Or, I did, before you quit talking to me and started treating me like some sort of pariah.”

  “Daniella—”

  “No.” He didn’t get to talk. Didn’t deserve the chance to placate her with his excuses—his bullshit traditions and medieval people. “If you don’t care enough to claim me for yourself, then I guess your best friend will have to do. Hopefully, he’s more of a man than you are. Or is that more of a tiger than you?” Hysteria lurked inside, barely under her control.

  She looked up to see a mixture of shock and rage and lust crossing his features. His hands shook at his sides, and he looked like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hit her or
fuck her.

  “You don’t know how hard this is. I do care about you. It makes this a million times more difficult. But my duty—”

  “Is more important than me. What I want. More important, even, than what you want. I get it.” She shook her head, pain building in her chest that had nothing to do with her so-called heat. “Stupid thing is, I wanted you before this heat thing started. And I was dumb enough to hope that you wanted me, too.”

  A low growl cut through the air. Before she even registered he’d moved, he was on her. His lips met hers, ferocious and demanding. He didn’t ask—he took.

  The heat surged in her, immediately reacting to his onslaught. No matter how angry she was with him, her body still wanted his. And deep down, she cared about Owen. Sex with someone she cared about, someone she wanted even without this stupid heat, was infinitely more appealing to her than sex with a total stranger, especially in this insane situation.

  He pulled her against him, and for once his body felt as hot as her own. Skin crawling with need, she wrapped herself around him, molding her body to his, returning his kiss eagerly.

  Then she was on the bed, his large body covering hers, his hands cradling her face.

  “Do you have any idea how much I’ve wanted you?” he said, his voice gruff. “All those nights of watching old movies. The days of watching you, making sure you were safe.”

  “No,” she said, honestly. There had been times when she thought she’d felt the weight of his gaze, only to glance at him and find he wasn’t even looking at her. “The women I saw you bring home…you were good at hiding it. ”

  “I had to be. And those women were nothing to me, but I needed…otherwise, I might have come to you, and I couldn’t risk that. But I didn’t fuck them. I couldn’t.”

  The question was on the tip of her tongue. What exactly had he done with those women? Lust shifted in her chest, colored by a sudden spike of jealousy. Her rational mind knew she shouldn’t be jealous—they hadn’t been a couple, or even dating. And she’d been the epitome of off limits to him.

  But she didn’t care. She was jealous anyway.