by Bobbi Romans
Then it hit him: he’d smelled that unique scent once before. When battling Octavia.
Shit!
“Grace, if you’re in there, I’m kicking down the front door. Stay back.” His gut screamed she wasn’t but in case, he didn’t want to knock her out.
Wood splintered as the entrance crashed down.
It took only a second for his eyes to revert to his nocturnal vision and he noted nothing out of the ordinary. He’d only taken a few steps inside the doorway when he viewed a baseball bat laying ominously still in the hallway leading to her room.
“Grace?”
He silently made his way toward her bedroom, cautious as he pushed open the ajar door.
Grace lay sprawled across her bed, bathed in moonlight, her gown up around her breasts. Above her bed on the wall, the words She’s mine written in what appeared to be blood. Fear spiked so hard he swallowed bile.
He dove for the Grace, checked her pulse and found a strong, steady beat. Relieved, he continued scanning every inch of her for any wounds. Thankful when none turned up, he shook her gently yet couldn’t get a rise out of her. He caught sight of a balled up white rag on the floor. Leaning over he grabbed the wadded cloth and took a small whiff.
Chloroform.
That explained why he couldn’t wake her. Damn. Nothing made sense. Why hadn’t Demetrius taken her or even claimed her? He scented no mating. So why the illusion of such? Why the warning?
She stirred, moaning slightly, and rolled until her head lay his lap. His crotch grew unbearably tight, but concern overrode everything else. He’d never been knocked out with the stuff, but had read that coming out from its effects was painful to say the least.
Her phone rang, and he saw the little silver cell vibrating along her nightstand.
Beth’s name scrolled across the front of the screen and he answered.
“Beth, Demetrius was here.”
“Oh my God is she alright?” Beth asked, apparently recognizing his voice.
“She appears to be unharmed, but she’s been rendered unconscious.”
“Unconscious? Damn you, Damien, define rendered,” Beth demanded with the sounds of jangling keys in the background. He suspected she was waking Moss and grabbing her keys even as they spoke.
“Chloroform.”
“He didn’t … um, you don’t think … ?”
He sensed what she was scared to ask. “No. He didn’t molest her in any way, and yes I would be able to tell.”
“Are you going to stay?” She paused and he heard her take a deep breath. “At least until we arrive?”
He sensed the anger behind her words and didn’t blame Beth. His lack of care or concern for Grace had placed her in danger.
“Yes. I’ll be here.”
Grace stirred and moaned in obvious discomfort. He tried to soothe her by whispering reassurances she wasn’t alone in her ear. Beth and Moss were at least thirty minutes away and he didn’t know if waking in his arms would be a good thing or bad thing. He didn’t want her anymore upset than she already had been.
He needed to board up her door, but didn’t want to move her. She seemed content at the moment by the way she suddenly snuggled into him and went quiet. The moaning ceasing.
Gently he moved her head from his lap and went to move a large piece of furniture up to block the doorway. The chifferobe she used as a coat closet nearly covered the entire opening. There’d be no stopping bugs or critters from getting in, but a person would make some warning noise doing so. Once Moss arrived, he would seek a hammer and some nails and get the door back up or as close as possible.
He returned and found she hadn’t stirred in his short absence. He crawled back onto the soft down comforter and pulled Grace back into his arms. This time however, when he glanced down he found blue eyes peeping curiously up at him.
“What hit me?”
“Afraid it’s more of who hit you.”
He watched as she struggled to try and remember the events, but no doubt the drug caused her to be more than a little foggy. Hell, she may not remember at all.
“What do you remember?”
“Not much, but I can tell you this: my head is throbbing.”
Her head wasn’t the only thing throbbing. He’d noticed how damn sheer her gown was. How those pearly buds of hers poked through screaming for attention. Attention he would love nothing more than to give, if the situation weren’t so critical. If she hadn’t been attacked.
“Do you have anything here for pain I can get for you?”
“No, I’m clear out. Add that to my shopping list,” she quipped.
“Oh shit, I do remember something. Demetrius was here, wasn’t he?” She bolted up and saw the message on her wall. “Son of a bitch and I mean that literally!” Grabbing her head she thumbed her temples as if in pain.
“He didn’t … well, assault you in any inappropriate ways.”
“Hell, no, I can tell that. But the ass painted all over my wall.” She squinted and winced, taking in the sight of the threat still dripping down her wall.
He decided against informing her that was definitely blood, not paint. The metallic coppery odor tickled his nostrils and not in a good way. When Moss and Beth arrived, he’d clean the wall before Grace had a chance to figure out the nature of the red origin.
But just his luck, before he managed to maneuver her away from discovering his erection, her hand slid from his thigh, landing slap on the painfully hard organ. Her face turned a beautiful shade of red. Oddly, she didn’t move away. Instead, she turned to him with a needy look on her face. Her tongue darted out to swipe her lips and damned if that simple move didn’t call to him on a whole sexual level he’d never thought about.
“Damien, I know that … ”
“Grace, we’re here.” The frantic announcement froze them both as a slew of curses broke loose. He caught Grace’s niece Beth begging Moss to hurry and please move the furniture blocking the entrance out of her way.
Their alone time was about to end and disappointment didn’t cover what he felt. Neither would it cover his hard-on as he shifted uncomfortably and snatched a throw pillow to place over his crotch.
Grace shot him a questioning look.
“Beth called right as I found you. I hadn’t wanted to alarm her, but she needed to be aware of the attack,” he explained.
It was going to be a long night and he figured he’d best start it with a cold shower.
• • •
Grace threw her arms over her chest as both Beth and Moss raced in. She’d been aware of Damien’s gaze and how little her gown covered. She’d actually thought maybe they’d have their chance. Yeah the timing sucked, but damn, the last time she’d waited for an appropriate time the hardheaded and infernal man up and disappeared.
“Oh my God, are you okay? What happened, what did the asshat do, was he alone, how did you get away … ”
“Whoa, hold on. One question at a time. Yes. I don’t remember. I don’t know and maybe because he sensed Damien coming. There, I think I answered everything.”
“She doesn’t remember much, most likely due to the chloroform,” Damien offered before excusing himself to the guest room. Remembering the wood she felt earlier, she could only assume for a shower.
“Nothing?” Beth shook her head in apparent disbelief. “Damn, so much for getting a jive on what Demetrius’s sorry ass was up to.”
“He’s as evil as his mother.” Moss was a man of few words, but Grace knew his words rang true.
“You got that right,” Grace agreed. “Now, though it feels like I’ve been hit over the head with a rolling pin, there’s no way in hell I can possibly sleep right now. If you two could excuse me, I’ll change and come join you all for a bit.”
“I’ll start repairing the door.”
“Door?” She caught Beth’s nod at Moss before the big guy ambled out of the room.
“Get dressed and I’ll go put on some tea.” Beth dashed into the next room before she co
uld ask her what they meant. What was wrong with her door?
She tossed on a pair of gray sweats paired with a heavy black t-shirt and headed out to investigate these mysterious repairs. Passing the gaping opening where her door once stood she found no need to ask. Moss sprang up with sheets of plywood he’d gathered from her shed, leftovers from a previous hurricane threat, and went to nailing up the damaged entrance.
“No, wasn’t Demetrius. Damien kicked it in when he got here and sensed his presence.” Beth handed her a steaming cup of chamomile tea. Grace blew over its steaming edge before taking a sip of the calming heat.
“Thank God for Damien,” whispered, more to herself than to Beth.
“Yes. Seems you were right about him.” Beth grinned at her.
“How so?”
“About what he needed.”
“A kick in the ass?” Moss asked joining them.
“Who needs a kick in the ass?” Damien quizzed suddenly appearing from the guest hall.
Chapter Three
As much as she loved her niece and Moss, Grace thought they’d never leave. When Damien appeared from the shower, hair wet and shirt clinging to every decadent muscle, she’d nearly sighed in satisfaction. If the visual wasn’t enough to set her heart pumping, the distinct smell of male that assaulted her senses was definitely enough to set her lady bits tingling. Wild male. Grace wanted nothing more than to pounce. Instead, she forcibly endured two more cups of friggin’ ladylike tea as Damien filled Moss in on what he’d sensed and how he’d found her. Damien vanished for a spell, and Grace caught sight of him outside with a pail and sponge. He’d cleaned the paint from her wall.
Finally Beth and Moss left, but promised to return in the morning to check on her and go over plans about preventing any further attacks from Demetrius or his crew. Great. Of all times she didn’t want guests. Or she hoped wouldn’t if her plan worked out.
“I guess I’ll leave you to get some rest.” Damien murmured as if he thought he was intruding on her personal space.
He stood silhouetted in the moonlight. They were finally alone. Just the two of them with all her naughty thoughts. Admiration stirred low in her belly at how his golden hued skin shimmered in the night’s silvery rays. As if he’d read her thoughts his lids lowered to half-mast as a predatory glimmer sparked.
He made no move toward her. She sensed he needed her to go to him. Prove she wanted him. And she did. Halfway across the distance she remembered she wore the ugly t-shirt and sweat pants and panicked at how dowdy she must appear. But that gaze of his squelched any questions of whether he wanted her.
Grace didn’t stop until their toes touched and she had to raise her head to see him.
All around them the house stood silent and dark. All except for Damien swathed in the beams from the moon. Sexy? Oh gawd, please don’t let me drool.
“You were attacked. I … uh … ”
She was the one who should feel nervous, yet here she stood, toe to toe, with her swamp shifter. A shifter who had special night eyes, and an extra heightened sense of smell. There was no hiding anything from him, especially her aroused state. Wet, ready and anxious.
Time to take the situation into her own hands since he acted like she’d break if he touched her. Took her.
Grace slid her palms, under his tee, and up his firm, slightly fuzzy chest, feeling more brazen than she had in years. When she reached his face, she forced his head down, locked eyes with him and, rising on her tiptoes, planted one on him. Thank God kissing was like riding a bicycle. Once you knew how, you never forgot. She teased his lips by tracing them with her tongue until they parted. His gaze never left hers.
An odd rumble sounded and before she even blinked, she found herself up against her wood farmhouse table. Vague awareness of things crashing to the floor flittered through her mind, but what the hell … life was short and you only lived once. She’d learned that the hard way …
Damien lifted her off the floor and laid her across the table. He stared at her like she was a banquet of gourmet goods. Grace tried to sit, wanted the infernal t-shirt off him, but one large hand pushed her back. In one swift swipe, the t-shirt cleared his head and sailed across the room. Her jogging pants and underwear were next with her panties ending up on a lamp.
The wood was cool against her ass and thighs but not for long. He grabbed her by the front of her tee and pulled until she sat upright. Unlike his hurried pace of moments before, his knuckles grazed her sides, slow and leisurely as he grabbed the hem of the tee. Higher and higher it rose until it covered her face and was blessedly removed. She needed the skin on skin contact and the sooner the better. She hadn’t bothered with a bra, as the tee had been thick enough not to worry with one. Yay for free range girls!
Cool air hit her chest and puckered her nipples into taut buds as he tossed her top somewhere else amongst the clutter now littering her kitchen.
He stood watching her as she perched on the table, bare ass naked. It was unnerving and exciting at the same time. Instinct had her sucking her tummy in as he continued to stare while his hands shot to the closure on his pants.
Each ting from the zippers rungs sent quivers through her. Well, hello. Someone had gone commando and … wow.
Abs decorated his chest all the way down to the cut at his waist, that beautiful spot on a man that screamed “follow me.” As if that didn’t point you in the right direction, then Damien had a small line of dark hair that rode right down to his impressive cock.
Her eyes stuck on the hard lines and bulging parts. When she brought her gaze back to his face, the hungry desire she found burst shivers across her skin. His intentions were written clear on his expression, the message loud: There would be no further interruptions, no emergencies. No turning back.
Right now, there would only be here and now, him and her.
And sex. Lots of hot, needy, give it to me now sex.
His body screamed sex, muscular and powerful. And even if for only a fling, he was hers. And she was never one to look a gift horse, or armadillo, in mouth.
He stepped up to the table and grabbed her knees, bringing them up until she had no choice but to rest her heels on the table edge. She tried to scoot back, but he stopped her. Urged her back to lying on the table. So open and vulnerable. She’d started to rise up on her elbows to let him know she wasn’t comfortable until one long, slow, hot swipe of his tongue had her biting hers and nestling right back down onto the weathered wooden table.
When in Rome, she thought, feeling downright giddy.
Sensations became so strong, her knees shook beneath the powerful hands holding them wide open. Grace had long since lost count of how many sighs, squeals, and moans escaped her partially closed mouth. Her bottom lip would surely be swollen from all the times she’d bit down on it to keep from begging. Damien somehow knew when she rode close to coming and would switch locations just enough to keep her teetering on the edge. Denied her a quick release.
Finally he took mercy, and two long, thick fingers entered her right as he suckled her little bundle of nerves. It was just the thing. She didn’t shoot, she freaking supernovaed right off the edge. His pumping digits and strong suction had every nerve within her rippling and convulsing in perfect harmony. Never had she climaxed so hard and long. She would never, ever look at an armadillo the same way again.
She’d just gotten a grasp on her breathing when the table creaked. She eased up on her elbows and saw Damien climbing on top.
Another creak and before she could express her concerns over whether her antique furniture could hold their weight, another creak followed by the sounds of cracking wood ricocheted around the cabin.
She locked eyes with Damien just as table gave way beneath them.
“Oh crap.” she squawked, but to her utter amazement, Damien maneuvered them in midair.
“How … ” she began as his body took the brunt of the landing while ensuring hers was a cushioned fall.
He winked at her before planti
ng an earth-shattering, soul-stealing kiss on her.
“Wrap your legs around me.” Husky, demanding and perfect sounding.
She did as he instructed and thought the bedroom his chosen destination. But again, Damien surprised her. And hit all kinds of right buttons she hadn’t even realized she owned.
He walked them toward the porch, grabbing the throw off the back of her couch as he passed, and opened her French doors. Though the night was chilly, nothing could have penetrated the heat rising from her. He sat her in the covered swing and spread the throw about the wooden planks.
Once he’d finished blanketing the area, he stood, naked under the moonlight, and held a hand out to her.
Grace looked at the beauty before her. The man who’d captured her imagination in such a short time, who was both wild and gentle just like the swamp she’d loved since a child.
The sky was clear, the stars out, the moon high and her heart full.
Never had a moment been more perfect.
Chapter Four
Grace didn’t even mind the fuzzy throw was a bit itchy against her ass. Not when she was here with Damien under the soft romantic light of the full moon. A night of not being alone, of belonging, and hopefully the hottest damn sex of her life. Well, more than the hot they’d shared on the now broken table.
Damien settled over her and his expression was fierce. So full of intent and almost a wee bit of nervousness. She hadn’t a clue what someone like he, so capable and self-assured, ever had to be nervous about. Strong, gorgeous, hot and sexy as hell. Smart too.
“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.” His voice dropped low and husky, and the timbre even more than the words made her want to preen femininely.
“Thank you.” She didn’t care her voice stuttered. A naked, very ready, Damien hovered above and had just called her beautiful.
