by M. J. Scott
“Petra, this isn’t helping Nat,” he said.
I rolled my eyes as Petra’s sobs strengthened.
“But it’s so-o-o sad,” she gulped.
Dan looked at me pleadingly over her head. I decided to take charge. “Petra, why don’t you come with me and I’ll make you some tea. Won’t that be nice?”
More tears. Wiped carefully away so her mascara wasn’t smudged. I shoved my hand in my pocket so I wouldn’t smack her.
Big blue eyes blinked up at Dan. “But I want to stay with Nat.”
“Dan has to ask Nat some questions,” I lied, clamping my hand around Petra’s upper arm. Her muscles went rigid in protest but I had the advantage of size and height and all that bashing of gym bags seemed to have paid off. I dragged her out of the kitchen and into the living room.
“Sit there,” I said to her, pushing her down into the nearest chair. “Don’t move.”
She glared at me like I’d just ruined her manicure. I noticed the tears had stopped though. “I don’t have to do what you say.”
I leaned down so my face was only a few inches from hers. “Listen to me, if you do anything—and I mean anything—to make this harder on Natalie, I will kick your butt into next week.”
To her credit, she didn’t flinch. “Who made you boss?”
“I work for the Taskforce, and you’re acting like a silly child, so I guess I did.”
Color stained her cheeks and her eyes sharpened. “I can’t believe Dan called claim on a bitch like you,” she snapped.
I’d had enough. “Yeah and I can’t believe I didn’t hose him down with Clorox after you’d been touching him, so I guess we’re even. Now stay here and don’t make any trouble.” Petra’s face went pale. I couldn’t help feeling vaguely satisfied.
I spun on my heel and headed back for the kitchen, not quite fast enough to miss the snarled “bitch,” that floated after me. She was going to cause me trouble; that much was clear.
Which was fine with me. I quite liked the thought of pounding on something other than the heavy bag for a change.
Dan sat at the table with Natalie, talking to her quietly. He smiled and mouthed ‘thanks’ as I reappeared.
“Is there anything I can get you?” I asked Natalie. I knew it was a dumb question. The only thing that could make her feel any better would be her husband, whole and unhurt. Given that I couldn’t produce him, I was stuck with the clichéd things you said and did when people were crazy with worry.
She shook her head, not meeting my eyes, and I moved away again, looking for Ani.
Sometime later I noticed Dan talking quietly to one of the police officers in the den. Everybody had scarfed down all the chocolate chip cookies I’d been handing around so I used my need to replenish my tray as an excuse to head back to the kitchen. Natalie sat at the table, alone. People kind of skirted around her, sending her nervous smiles, as if they were worried bad luck might be contagious.
I figured I’d had my quota of bad luck for the year and sat down across from her. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can get you?
For a moment her eyes lifted, met mine. And they were full of so much rage I flinched.
“I don’t want anything from you.”
Who was she mad at? Me? Why me? “What? Natalie, what’s wrong?”
Her lip curled. “This is your fault. You brought Tate down on us.”
I recoiled, denial flooding me. “No, I didn’t. He’s insane.”
Her eyes pierced me. “He would’ve left us alone if you weren’t a werewolf.”
“He’s been hunting vamps and weres for years,” I said quietly, hoping she might see sense if I stayed calm. “And it’s hardly my fault I’m a wolf. You can blame Dan for that part.”
“Dan saved your life,” she said loudly enough that several heads swiveled in our direction. “He saved your life and you don’t even see him.”
“I see him.” I felt my wolf snarl at the accusation in her words and pushed back the spike of anger, trying to remember she was terrified. I didn’t know what losing a bonded mate did to a wolf. I didn’t want to find out via Natalie and Ben. It couldn’t be anything good. A surge of energy and emotion rolled through me like electricity.
Anger flooded Nat’s face. Her cheeks went red and her knuckles whitened around the mug she clutched. “You don’t even appreciate what you have. I love Ben and he’s gone and you have Dan and you don’t even care. If he was gone, you’d probably be happy.”
A thousand retorts sprang to mind. None of which I could use unless I wanted to prove Petra right and show myself to be a total bitch. But I wasn’t staying to get slapped at, no matter how upset she was. I pushed back my chair with a shove. “I’ll get Ani for you.”
“Yes,” she said dully, emotion draining out of her. She dropped her gaze back to the well-loved surface of the table. “Leave. Be alone. You seem to be good at that.”
***
I spent the rest of the day feeling useless and in the way as the wolves rallied round Natalie and Dan did his Taskforce thing. But Dan wouldn’t let me leave, not until he was done and could go with me. By the time we made it back to my house the moon had risen and I’d developed a serious case of miserable.
So I headed for the Cuervo. Dan got there ahead of me, swigging straight from the bottle. “Want some?” He held it out to me.
I took it. It wasn’t like I could catch anything from him now. “Sure.”
Tequila burned down my throat but didn’t make me feel any better. I passed the bottle back to Dan.
He swigged then swigged again. “Crappy day.” It wasn’t a question.
I shrugged my agreement and went to see what ice-cream I had stashed in the freezer. If tequila wasn’t going to help, maybe butterfat and sugar might do the job.
“We could make it less crappy,” Dan said.
I froze in the act of peeling the lid off my chocolate chip cookie dough, afraid to look at him and see what the low rumbling tone in his voice might mean.
Silence stretched between us until I didn’t know whether it would be worse finding out whether he meant what I thought he meant, or for him to know exactly what I thought he meant because he’d thrown me.
Playing dumb seemed safest. “You want ice-cream, too?” I pulled open a drawer, pretending to look for an extra spoon. Too bad it was my junk drawer.
“No. I don’t want ice-cream.”
Oh God. His voice. It zinged straight through my ears and connected directly with my groin. I closed my eyes but that made it worse. Because I could smell him more clearly. Mingling with the scent of frozen cookie dough goodness was the tang of Dan.
Calling to me.
I resisted the urge to hold my nose so I couldn’t smell him, telling myself I was in control. My hormones didn’t believe me. “Well, then, there’s plenty of tequila.”
Dan made a rumbling noise. “You know what I mean, Ash. Stop fighting me. Help me make all this go away.”
Tempting but chasing away one set of problems by sleeping with Dan was only going to leave me with a whole new set in the morning. I felt the ice-cream carton start to buckle as my hand clenched. “Sorry, can’t help you.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
I opened my eyes, looked up at him. Tried not to think about how good he looked in the moonlight. “It doesn’t really matter, does it? The answer’s no.” The ice-cream fell to the bench with a thud as his eyes went liquid.
“Is it really?” He moved closer, surrounding me with that damn delicious scent. Beneath the beat of my own heart, I could hear his pounding.
I gripped the edge of the bench. “Yes. C’mon, Dan. You don’t really want to do this. It’s just the moon talking.”
Blatant lie. I knew the moon only affected wolves when it was full. But one of us had to be rational. Reasonable. I was just starting to have trouble trying to remember why that someone had to be me.
Dan groaned. “This has nothing to do with the moon. It has to do with us. Damn it
, Ashley. When are you going to stop running away from me?”
“Not tonight,” I pushed away from the bench, not liking the way this conversation was going. Or liking the blinding pulses of heat I was getting every time I looked at Dan. “I’m going to bed.”
“Alone?”
I pictured my big empty bed. Pictured it not so empty. Then erased the image before I gave in to my stupider self. “How else?”
“No.” He moved to intercept me.
“No? Sorry, did I miss the memo where you got made boss of me?” I glared up at him.
“No,” he repeated. “You’re not running away again.”
“I’ll do whatever the hell I like.”
“If you were doing what you liked you’d be doing this.”
Before I knew what he was doing he reached out and pulled me against him. His mouth came down on mine.
Hard.
Deep.
Everything I’d been missing.
Everything I wanted.
Heat roared through me as his lips moved over mine, nibbling and teasing.
I couldn’t help it; I leaned into him, opened my mouth and let him kiss me the way he wanted. The way I wanted him to.
To hell with reason and rationality.
Maybe Natalie was right. Maybe Dan was right. Maybe I’d been running away for all the wrong reasons. Fear. Tate. Anger.
Maybe I needed to remember the right ones for letting him catch me. I’d promised Bug I’d try, really try living as a were for a year. So far I’d been trying to keep everything like it had been and that hadn’t worked. I was driving myself crazy. So maybe I should really try.
Starting with werewolf sex.
Dan growled low in his throat and a shiver ran through me. The good kind. I could feel the need in him, the tension in his shoulders under my hand and the rising call of his scent.
Hunger rose in me too.
I pulled my mouth away. “You really want to do this?”
His hands pulled my hips harder against his. His erection pressed against me through the fabric of his jeans and I shivered again from memory and want. I knew exactly what waited for me under his clothes.
“Does that feel like I’m kidding?” he asked roughly.
“No.” I rubbed myself against him. “It feels pretty serious.”
He groaned again. “Ash, if you’re going to change your mind about this, do it now. Because, in about twenty seconds I won’t be answerable for my behavior.”
I smiled as certainty flowed through me. I wasn’t going to change my mind.
I wanted to burn away all the bad stuff in a blaze of sex. Ben. Tate. Werewolves. All gone.
Nothing left but Dan. “Good. I like you like that.” I clenched my hands into the fabric of his shirt and ripped downwards. The fabric tore easily and my smile widened as the shreds fell from his shoulders.
Dan. Almost naked. I licked my lips. It had been so long.
Too long.
The skin bared to my gaze was the same golden color I remembered, the same dark hair dusted his pecs and trailed down to disappear into the waist band of his jeans. His stomach was flat and hard. The only new thing was a set of scars, low on his abdomen. It took a lot to scar a werewolf. Silver. When had Dan tangled with someone using a silver weapon?
I didn’t know. But right now I didn’t care.
My hands itched to touch him. I wanted to taste that skin, feel it against mine.
“Finished looking?” Dan said when I lifted my eyes.
I laid my hands on his stomach, felt him shiver. Smiled. “No, I’m just getting started.”
“I liked that shirt,” he said with a grin as he pulled the last few rags from his body.
“I’m not all that fond of mine,” I replied.
His grin grew broader, revealing the dimple deep in his left cheek. “Then you won’t mind if I do this.”
He reached out and did to my shirt what I’d done to his.
For a moment I froze as a memory of Tate doing just that hit me. But I pushed it away. This felt good. This was right. And Tate had no place in my mind tonight. “I can see I’m going to need a bigger clothes budget.”
“Aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself?”
“Am I?” I shrugged just to see the expression on his face as my breasts moved under the lace of my bra.
“Maybe not,” he admitted with a glazed look. “But you still have too many clothes on.”
I stepped back, reached up under my skirt and pulled my panties down, tossing them over my shoulder once I’d stepped free of them. “Better?”
“No.”
“No?”
“You’re too far away.” He moved like lightning and picked me up, backing us up against the island bench. I clamped my legs around his waist as he kissed me again, even more furiously than before.
Chapter Twenty-Three
For a moment all that existed was the kiss and the weight of Dan’s body on mine. The roughness of denim against my thighs and the heat burning under my skin.
I wanted more. Wanted closer.
I tried to pull him tighter against me, wanted him to just take me then and there so I didn’t have to think any more. Didn’t have to need any more.
Instead, he pulled away and a growl rumbled low in my throat before I could help it. “Where are you going?”
“Bed’s more comfortable than marble,” he said.
I growled again as he straightened and tightened my legs around his hips. “But the marble is right here. Now.”
He shook his head, laughter glinting in his eyes. “Impatient, are you?”
“Yes.” I arched into him for emphasis. I didn’t want to move or think or stop for conversation. I wanted raw and fast and hard until there was only sensation and pleasure.
Dan, it seemed, had other ideas.
He scooped his hands under my back and lifted me, backing away from the counter. I growled again as my body came hard against his, flesh to flesh.
He carried me across the room and I knew if I didn’t do something to get him back on my track we were going to end up in my bed. Doing nice, polite sex. Or worse. Making love.
Not what I needed. Not what I was anywhere near ready for.
I twisted my hand in his hair and nipped at his ear, just a little too hard.
Or maybe not too hard, if the lowdown drunken rumble of pleasure that shook him was anything to go by.
I nipped again and he bumped into the sofa as his arms pulled me even closer.
“Ashley.” He pressed his face into my neck and held me tight, weaving across the room. His lips skimmed the pulse in my neck, making me shiver.
“No talking.” Talking meant thinking. I tugged his head up so we could kiss again, savoring the taste of him—wild and spicy and tinged with tequila—against my tongue.
“Ow,” he muttered against my mouth as we half-fell against the door to the hallway, my back coming hard up against the wood.
“Quit whining,” I said, wriggling against him. Too much fabric still separated me from him where I most wanted to feel him, so I gripped one hand around his neck and sent the other down between us seeking his buttons. My fingers brushed the tip of him, hard under the fabric and I smiled as he groaned and closed his eyes.
“I want you,” I said, tracing circles with my fingers down the length of his erection then back up his zipper. I flicked the button open and made short work of the zip so I could slide my hand against all that lovely hard flesh. “Now.” I clamped my mouth over his. “Now,” I repeated, more a breath than a word.
Dan groaned. “Oh, fuck it. Whatever you want.”
We slid to the floor, tearing at clothes in between kisses. Each touch sent me spinning higher until I was dizzy with the taste and smell and feel of him. I wanted my hands all over him and his all over me.
His mouth closed over a nipple, teasing it to the edge of pain and I whimpered for him to do it again. Lightning bolts shot through me, pure heat from breast to groin a
s he complied.
God. Dan.
He felt so good.
So right.
I pulled his head back up to mine to taste his kisses again. His tongue flickered against mine and his need scented the air like a physical thing, wrapping around me and dragging my senses to some dark, hot place made of nerves and skin and pleasure.
I floated there as our bodies moved, as his mouth traveled down my torso, flicking tiny kisses just where each nerve seemed most sensitive. Drowning in him.
I surfaced briefly with a startled gasp as his fingers slid into me and his mouth sent the burning heat between my legs into flash fire. But then the sheer overwhelming need for him dragged me back down to the darkness so I lay arching and writhing, wanting more with each stroke, each delicate lap of his tongue.
I could feel the orgasm begin to build, tiny tremors running over my skin, making my thighs tremble.
Dan must have felt them too because he stopped, forcing a protest from my throat.
“Not without me,” he said fiercely. “Not this time.”
He slid up my body until his cock was resting against me, teasing me sweetly, just nudging my entrance. I wanted to move, wanted to take him but I couldn’t. I was frozen by the look in Dan’s eyes. By the pleasure and satisfaction written across his face.
By the answering emotion that tangled me up as he raised my hands above my head and linked his fingers in mine.
“Not without me,” he repeated as he slid inside me so slowly I almost screamed.
My flesh was so sensitized I felt each millimeter of him move into me, felt the hair on his body brush against my skin and his heart beating inside his chest.
I was painfully aware of the heavy thud of my own as I fought not to feel what I wanted to feel, not to let myself be foolish and slip back into love.
When he was finally all the way against me, he stilled as if he was waiting for something. Or as if he couldn’t quite believe he was finally with me again. The look on his face was reverent.
Too much.
I shut my eyes. “Please,” I said, trying to move against him. “Please, Dan.”
His hips were heavy against mine, holding me still. I couldn’t do this slow and tender. It would rip me apart.
