Tainted Souls: A Shadow Creek Novel

by J. C RIMELL

  And now she had Gabrielle Robinson to deal with. Who, it just so happened, looked like a movie star. The beautiful, classy, Oscar looking kind. Somewhere between Scarlet Johansson and a young Michelle Pfeiffer, with a glossy mahogany mane. She didn't know why she'd taken a dislike to the woman. It was childish. After all, her only crime was her attraction to the same guy. And who could blame her for that?

  “Earth to Madoc.” A playful elbow to her arm from Eve, who was sitting next to her. “Are you drinking or what?”

  Madeleine wet her hand just above her left thumb, then pebbled it with salt from the delicate, crystal dispenser. Placed a wedge of lime in the same hand before taking one of the Tequila shots from the tray. She licked the salt and knocking back her head, drank the fiery liquid in one before slamming down the shot glass and biting into the bitter fruit.

  “Another,” she demanded, the heat from the alcohol already sparking like fire in her veins. A determination settled into her mind. She would have a good time and nothing was going to stop her.

  Jared watched the group closely from where he sat at the darkened end of the bar. It wasn't his usual joint for hanging out. Things were hotting up in Shadow Creek lately and rather than risk being caught by a patroller, he decided he test the lay of the land in Grace Valley instead.

  Trouble was, just as he could scent them, they would scent he wasn't human either. At least, not fully. Being a multi-shifter gave him many advantages over them. Not only could he become a lethal and deadly wolf, but he could also morph into a falcon; giving him the added arsenal of wings, speed, and magnified vision.

  He recognized two of the group as patrollers he'd spotted before and knew they were shifters. His keen supernatural eyesight afforded him a good look at the females in particular. The male in the group was young, barely out of his transition and Jared paid him little attention. No, his gaze was firmly fixed on the female with the long flaxen curls, and soft, cinnamon eyes. Something about her seemed familiar, despite being sure he'd never seen her before, her face stirred his memories.

  “Come on, Madoc, let's dance,” Eve insisted.

  Dancing was not her thing. But then neither was drinking Tequila and hanging out in a club wearing little more than a piece of flimsy black material that had the audacity to be called a dress. “Ah, what the hell,” she muttered as she tried to steal her nerves, hitting back another shot for dutch courage.

  “You coming?” she asked Gabrielle, who looked like she was having about as much fun as watching paint dry.

  The woman looked surprised. “Ah, no. I'm good right here,” she smiled, as though a little relieved Madeleine had finally spoken to her. “Thanks for asking, though.”

  Eve grabbed Madeleine's hand and led her into the center of the dance floor which was slowly filling up as Maroon 5's 'Sugar' blasted out.

  “Loosen up Madoc, you're here to enjoy yourself for heaven's sake,” Lakota said as she joined them. “Besides,” she continued, leaning in toward her ear, “don't look now, but there's one helluva hot guy sitting at the bar that hasn't taken his eyes off you.”

  Madeleine's head flicked round. “Wha―?”

  “I said don't look!”

  Eve's eyes grew wide. “Uh, guys… he's coming over.”

  “Madeleine, if you don't want him, promise me I get first dibs?” Lakota teased before turning and moving away with Eve.

  “Hey, guys, you can't just leave me―”

  “I think I scared them away.”

  His deep, seductive voice beside her ear made her skin prickle to life. A bolt of electricity shot through her veins as the strangers pale blue eyes met her own. She gazed up at him as he positioned himself in front of her. He was almost seven feet tall and thickly built, his black T-shirt stretched tight over solid muscle.

  “Yeah,” she answered, her eyes drifting sideways to her friends who were watching in amusement. “They're a real bunch of pussy cats.”

  He lowered his head to her ear, his voice dipped as he spoke, “You're not so easily scared?” An assumption sounding more like a dare. Madeleine caught his scent, wild like a storm, a pang of familiarity and a sudden realization struck her that the male wasn't human.

  He was a shifter.

  She brought her head back to look at him. Even in the low lighting, she could see his skin tone was a deep russet, his hair flowed long and black like silk over his shoulders. Madeleine saw the recognition as it flared in his eyes when he realized she knew. “What pack are you with?” she asked, having never seen him from any neighboring pack.

  He chuckled, the sound dark and sexy. “Hmm, I scented you too.” His smile lingered, flashing the sharp edge of fangs.

  Her gaze narrowed skeptically. “You didn't answer my question.”

  “I didn't come over here to talk.”

  Madeleine moved back a pace, unsettled by his dominance and the scar on her left arm burning uncomfortably. But her wolf wanted more. A sexual hunger triggering the heat beneath her skin.

  The male's head tilted to one side, his predator gaze zooming in on her, his wolf sensing the challenge. “I'm disappointed, perhaps you're easily scared after all.” He smiled, and her breath hitched in her throat at the lethal edge it seemed to hold. Yet the fullness of his lips drew her in. His face devastatingly handsome with sharp lines and angles that screamed danger but made her wolf rub against her skin to get closer to him.

  He inched forward and traced his finger along her jawline. The touch hadn't been invited and Madeleine should have rebuked it. She hadn't given him permission, but the soft caress made her bloom in deep, dark places that had long forgotten the sensual touch of a lover.

  Madeleine saw a strange look flash across his eyes. “So, are you going to tell me what pack you're with?” she asked, trying to bring the male back from where ever he had momentarily slipped away to.

  His hand dropped back down to his side, and he stepped back. “I'm not with any pack.”

  Suddenly alarm bells rang. “You're rogue?” she said, an assumption more than a question. He was of Indian origin. It was known among the Society that those of tribal descent were loners, just as rogues were, and they stayed as far away from other civilization as possible. Close to the Appalachian, Blue Ridge mountain ranges further north. Taking a stab that her instincts were right she said, “You're a long way from your own territory.”

  His stare intensified, held her fast as he reached forward and slipped a hand around her waist. Madeleine swallowed, feeling the searing heat off his other hand like a naked flame as it settled on her hip bone, his fingertips easing her toward him. “You talk too much,” he said as he started to move to the slow beat of Sam Hunt's “Speakers', one of Madeleine's favorite songs.

  Madeleine's wolf rubbed against her skin in pleasure. She brought her hands up to rest on the bulge of his biceps. “Well, seeing as you now have your hands on me a little information isn't too much to ask, even from a silent type.”

  Another smile danced on his lips. “Are you always this so uptight?”

  “What?”

  He dropped his head again, she felt his lips brush against her ear, his breath hot and sensual when he spoke. “When's the last time you had fun and let your wolf out to play… huh?”

  The way he said it made her body ripple with sexual need, made her breasts ache to be touched. Still, with an effort, she maintained her cool composure. “That's none of your business.”

  “I'm guessing from the way you're coiled up so tight, it's been a while.”

  His tongue flicked against the shell of her ear, hot and delicious as his lips closed over it.

  The room faded away. Everyone. Everything disappeared as her body melted against him.

  “I―” Madeleine went to refute his claim, but he cut her off.

  “Sometimes… talking is unnecessary,” he whispered.

  A breath left her in a rush as he coaxed her even closer, their bodies skimming one another's. The large buckle of his belt a white hot flash of hea
t through the thin layer of her dress. His hands sunk lower into the base of her spine and she found her hands snaking around his neck. With his eyes drawing her into their endless depths, temptation skated on very thin ice between them.

  Jared could scent the female in his arms wasn't mated. Her perfume was subtle, welcoming and warm. Her arousal a hypnotic spice that struck his senses over every other aroma in the place. Filled his lungs, made him hard behind the confines of his black, denim jeans. Something about her called to his inner beast. Having gained the upper hand with his wolf, he filtered through the images in his mind but they were a blur. Unclear, yet he felt as though he already knew the woman in his arms somehow.

  “This isn't a good idea.” Snapping to her senses, Madeleine remembered how a rogue had been responsible for the attack on Murphy. She stepped back.

  His eyes narrowed quizzically. “What's spooked you?”

  Madeleine lowered her gaze. “I'm not interested.” She turned to walk away only to feel his hand slip around her waist.

  “Oh, I don't believe that for a single second.” He tugged her back into him, a wicked caress against the curve of her neck. “I can feel it, the heat between us, and I know you can too.”

  Yes, she could. Deep down in the pit of her stomach a knot of need unfurled. His voice made her toes curl, made her want to feel him naked beneath her. Aware of her friends keeping close observations on her and the stranger, she didn't want to cause a scene, so she turned around to face him again.

  He took a hold of one of her hands. “Come on,” he said with a slight tilt of his head. “Let's get some air.”

  “What makes you think I want to go anywhere with you?”

  His expression stilled, his eyes shooting her a look so devastatingly beautiful her jaw fell open.

  “Tell me you don't.”

  Madeleine should have said she didn't, but his dark eyes obliterated any chance of that.

  Leading her from the dance floor they didn't make it very far before Snow intervened.

  “Hey, you going somewhere?” the young shifter asked, his eyes darting from Madeleine up to the male beside her who was easily a couple of feet taller and a good few pounds heavier in muscle than Snow. Not that that would stop him, Snow was as tough as they came.

  “We were just going to get some air, Snow,” Madeleine answered, sensing his protective vibe.

  His chest puffed out slightly and he squared his shoulders. “I don't think that's a good idea.”

  The male stepped forward, his dominance sending a crackle of energy into the surrounding air. “Well now, pup, it's not up to you.”

  Madeleine closed her eyes. Could see how this would play out if she didn't intervene. Positioning herself between the two of them, she took a breath. “Let's just calm down a little.”

  “You'd better get out of the way Madoc, your new friend here need's a lesson in manner's.”

  Snow was pissed, and things were going to get ugly. Shit. She spun around to face him and saw Nevada and the others circling in.

  Great.

  “Everything okay here?” Nevada asked.

  Madeleine rolled her eyes. “Oh, for heaven's sake… we were just going outside!”

  Snow's eyes dropped to meet hers. “Yeah, you were. Looks like lover boy thought better of it.”

  Madeleine's brows crashed together, her head whipped over her shoulder to find the male had gone. She scanned the room, but he was nowhere to be found.

  Sighing heavily, she walked back over to the table and sat down with a heavy thump into the leather seat. “I need another drink.”

  “I second that,” Gabrielle said, sliding a shot toward her.

  They both downed their drinks simultaneously. “Are all the men you work with so… protective?”

  “You have no idea.”

  Another two hours later and the group walked outside the exit of the club in high spirits. Lakota and Eve propped up on either side of Snow, Nevada and Madeleine walking arm in arm to the sidewalk to wait for the usher to bring around the SUV. Gabrielle had left the party early, catching a cab that Snow had insisted on flagging down for her.

  He took the keys and started the engine, feeling pleased with himself for having looked after the women in his charge. “Come on ladies, I'm growing old here.”

  “Um, Snow… there's a slight problem,”

  Snow's head whipped round to the back seat, his quizzical gaze finding Eve's. “What do you mean?” His eyes darted between Lakota and Eve, then to Nevada who had climbed into the front seat beside him. “Where the hell is Madoc?”

  “She's a grown woman Snow, don't get your Klein's in a twist. She's just gone to pee.”

  “No. No. No!” He closed his eyes in disbelief. “This is so not good!”

  “Relax,” Nevada said with a roll of her eyes. “She'll be here in a minute.”

  Madeleine scented him the second she stepped foot outside the club. The untamed scent of him wrapped itself around her and called to her wolf.

  She wanted to ignore it. But found herself walking in the very direction her better judgment was telling her not to go. His silhouette was leaning casually against the wall down the alley at the back of the club, lit only by the half moon hanging in the night sky. The music and voices died away along with the street lights behind her as she edged further into the darkness toward him, the clicking of her boot heels amplified against the concrete.

  The warming effect of the Tequila was wearing off, and she shuddered against the chill of the cool, night air despite the heat of her wolf's blood. She watched as he pushed himself off the wall and turned toward her, his face in shadow but his eyes glowed like two northern stars, beautiful in their splendor.

  “You came,” his voice held a rough edge, his wolf surfacing.

  “Let me guess,” she said as she came level with him, “you thought I was too scared?”

  He tilted his head down to look at her. “No, I thought you had better sense.”

  Madeleine swallowed as his hands gripped her waist and pulled her into the arc of his big body and turned, pushing her back into the wall. “Ready to play with me, she-wolf?” he dared at her ear.

  “If I say no?”

  “We both know,” he said, the words a wicked caress against her throat, “that you want this.” He leaned his body against hers and she could feel every hard inch of him. Her wolf raced forward with the pleasure of the contact. Madeleine felt the heat as it sparked in her veins, a primal need to be touched and wanted.

  Her silence obviously gave him pause to think as he brought his head back to look at her. “Are you saying, no?” His thumb stroked across her lower lip.

  Madeleine's mouth parted, the touch sending liquid fire through her bloodstream. “I don't even know your name,” she whispered.

  “If we're exchanging names, then it's a yes?” He laughed, rubbing away the chill from her arms before lacing his fingers through hers and bringing them up over her head. “Jared,” he said. “My name's Jared.” His body tensed against hers for a split second before stealing her mouth in a kiss that was savage and wild, yet tender in its beauty.

  Fourteen

  Having finished a punishing workout and area patrols, Ryker was sitting in Becker's. He knocked back his third whiskey slammer, but he wasn't done yet, though. He'd need more than a few drinks to drown the reoccurring thoughts of Madeleine being pawed by god only knew how many strangers. And then there was the added mind grind of his cock's infatuation with a certain FBI agent.

  He snarled at the throbbing headache of it all. Jessie looked over, the sound catching her attention from where she was busy restocking the glasses behind the bar.

  “Was that a hint for a refill?”

  He grunted as she took the empty shot glass. “No, but I'll take another anyhow.”

  “Sure thing.” She filled it to the brim with the pale gold liquid and placed it back on the bar beside the half empty bottle of Gaelic Ale sitting idle.

  “Thanks, Jess,�
�� he said, bringing the glass to his lips he downed it in one. He heard the door open and his eyes locked on the reflection in the mirror behind the bar. Shit. Wasn't she supposed to be out at the club with the others? He tugged his cap down lower and tried to avoid the gaze he could feel burning on his back; the intensity searing his skin through the black cotton of his shirt and down to his goddamn bones.

  “Drinking alone, soldier?”

  Her voice was a soothing caress over his labored mind and an instant 'on switch' for his penis. Ryker craned his head slightly to face her as she pulled out a bar stool and perched herself beside him.

  Damn, she was a beautiful woman.

  Her eyes were intimidating, a deep jade in the low lighting. Her mahogany hair was a silk sheet pulled around over one shoulder, exposing the smooth curve of her neck. She still had on some makeup, but she'd obviously been home and changed out of that dress.

  Shame.

  The dress advertised her strong and shapely killer legs that went on forever. His cock kicked behind his fly as the image punched into his brain.

  “Agent Robinson,” he offered in greeting, trying to ignore the way his gums suddenly ached.

  “What can I get you?” Jessie asked in her warm, southern tone.

  Shrugging out of her leather jacket, Gabrielle laid it across her denim clad thighs, her scent rising in the air and straight into Ryker's lungs. He didn't want to like it, the clean, feminine fragrance of her, but his wolf rolled and rubbed against his skin with the pleasure of the aroma.

  “I'll take a beer, thanks.” She paused, her gaze lingering on him as he sank his leftover ale down in a couple of gulps. “And another for my friend, here.”

  “So, who is she?” Gabrielle asked several seconds later as she took the bottle of beer from Jessie.

  Ryker's brow furrowed as his eyes slid sideways to meet hers. She met his glare despite being unable to see it clearly.