AStrangersTouch

by Lacey Savage

  When Kastor slapped both of her breasts at once, Roxi’s scream turned into a muffled groan through the silk gag. He lifted an eyebrow and gave her a feral smile as he shoved two fingers in her pussy. “This is what you wanted, no? This is what you’re here for.”

  She yelped and arched her back, biting down on the gag. The sting of pain traveled through her inner muscles into her stomach. Whimpering, Roxi narrowed her eyes as she glared at Kastor.

  She was used to strangers exploring her body, but she’d been blindfolded every time. Under Donovan’s watchful eye, their caresses were usually careful, their touches light. Being handled like this by Kastor wasn’t just terrifying, it was obscene.

  He twisted three fingers inside her sex. She closed her eyes, but found being in the dark was even worse. She hated not knowing what was coming, or how far Kastor would go.

  Brad could well be dead. The gallery was closed. And Donovan wasn’t coming to work.

  “You belong to me now. I say what you can and can’t do.” He beckoned to his goons with a flick of his fingers and the men stepped closer. “Your body is mine to give to whoever I want. I can order them to fuck you, whore, and you’ll thank me for it.”

  Tears leaked from the corners of Roxi’s eyes. God, how she wished she’d told Leann and Gabbi exactly where she worked, and what she did for a living. Maybe then there’d be a chance someone would come looking for her. But Leann had still been angry when Roxi left for work, and no one but her mother, half a world away, would even think to worry.

  Her mother, who’d set her up with Kastor in the first place because she feared what a stranger might do to her darling daughter.

  A sob caught behind the gag.

  Kastor’s hand went to his belt. Terror settled like a swirling cyclone in Roxi’s belly. Nausea rose into her throat.

  Tied up, she had no way to fight back. No chance at all to defend herself.

  Donovan had promised to watch over her and keep her safe. So where was he when she needed him most?

  * * * * *

  Moderne was tightly locked when Donovan got there. Unease ran down his spine. The gallery should have opened to the public fifteen minutes ago.

  The snow that had started as a light sprinkle earlier that afternoon had given way to a blizzard in the past hour, so Donovan wasn’t surprised at the lack of people beating down the door. He supposed Brad could have closed up shop on account of the weather, but that didn’t sound like something the gallery owner would do. From what Donovan knew about the financial state of the place, Brad needed the money. He wouldn’t miss an opportunity to sell a piece just because of a little snow.

  Donovan rang the bell then pounded the thick wooden door with the side of his fist. No one answered. He couldn’t even be sure anyone was inside, except that the fresh snow swirling around him hadn’t completely obscured the footprints that had been there when he arrived. He could make out five individual sets of prints, one of which was smaller than the others, with a dainty toe and a pointy heel. A woman’s boot.

  Roxi’s, most likely. She always showed up at least twenty minutes early for her shift, which gave her time to undress and get strapped into the harness before the gallery opened.

  “Roxi!” He pounded on the door again, harder this time, and for a lot longer. “Brad!”

  No one came to the door. He’d have peered into the windows but Moderne didn’t have any. The frames were still in place, but the former owner had shuttered them years ago to protect against vandalism.

  Donovan scanned his surroundings for anything unusual. Moderne was tucked away on 80th Street, a quiet, tree-lined street just off 5th Avenue. After the bustle of 5th Avenue, this little corner of New York, taken up by brownstones, a Laundromat and a couple of coffee shops, felt out of place. Still, the tucked-away impression worked in Moderne’s favor. This wasn’t the kind of art gallery tourists randomly wandered into during a sightseeing excursion, though many came anyway, enticed by word of mouth or the occasional blog post.

  About twenty feet from where Donovan stood, a woman climbed into a cab. Exhaust billowed into the frosty air, condensing in the winter breeze. Further still, two teenagers threw snowballs at one another. Their hooting laughter carried past the howl of the wind, but did little to ease the apprehension that had seeped into Donovan’s bones.

  Frustrated, Donovan tried Roxi’s cell again. The call went straight to voice mail. He might have taken his chances with her roommates if he knew the number to her apartment, but he didn’t. Next he called Brad, and when he didn’t answer, Donovan tried the gallery directly. He pressed his ear to the door to hear the phone ring once, twice, three times.

  And over the shrill sound of the ringing telephone, his sensitive ears picked up something else.

  A muffled scream.

  Donovan’s wolf bucked against his chest. Roxi.

  The sound hadn’t been clear, but it was all he needed. He didn’t stop to think. Backing up a few steps to gather speed, he threw himself at the locked door, shoulder first. The wood creaked slightly but didn’t give way. So he did it a second time, and a third.

  At the fourth relentless shove of his upper body, the frame splintered and the door crashed sideways, nearly coming off its hinges. The small entryway was brightly lit, and it took Donovan a few seconds to adjust after the dim evening shadows outside.

  A harsh bark in a foreign language brought his head up. He snarled as two men rushed into the front gallery. They both held pistols pointed at his head.

  “Fool,” one of them spat in heavily accented English. “You are dead.”

  He couldn’t see Roxi, but he could hear her. Each smothered cry, every indistinct sob, fueled his body with adrenaline and rage. Fury clouded his vision in a sea of red. His wolf howled, demanding to be let loose.

  For once, Donovan didn’t fight the beast.

  The shift happened smoothly, if not painlessly. His clothes tore and fell to the ground. He allowed the tenderness that came with elongating bones, shifting tendons and the formation of new ligaments to temper some of the rage swarming inside him so he could formulate a plan of attack.

  A shot rang out. It whizzed past Donovan’s ear, missing him by a mere inch.

  The two men looked similar, but Donovan focused on the guy to the right, the one with the itchy trigger finger. The man fired again but his hand shook violently with the apparent shock that made his muscular body quiver, and he missed by a mile.

  Years of hunting feral wildlife had honed Donovan’s instincts to a razor’s edge. He joined forces with his wolf, the beast no longer a separate part of him but an equal partner. Together, they recalled each finely tuned attack they’d ever executed, and all that experience now coalesced into a single lunge.

  Donovan flew through the air, paws flung outward, and landed with a heavy thump against the man’s chest. He went down hard, slamming the back of his bald head on the tiled floor. The gun slipped out of his hand.

  Donovan went for the jugular. He would have torn it out, too, if Roxi’s stifled scream didn’t reach him just in time. Controlling his animal instincts wasn’t easy, but Donovan managed to hold his beast back long enough to readjust his aim. He took a large chunk out of the guy’s shoulder, and the man’s agonized howl sent a surge of icy satisfaction into Donovan’s blood.

  Certain the first man no longer posed a threat, Donovan whirled on the second. The guy was holding his hands up, pistol uselessly aimed at the ceiling, as he made pathetic mewling sounds while backing out of the gallery.

  Donovan was faster. He cut off the guy’s avenue of escape before he could take another step and growled, baring bloodstained fangs. The man pissed himself, dropped to his knees and made the sign of the cross.

  Behind him, the first guy scrambled out of there, his footsteps ringing out on the tile.

  Donovan had to make a decision, fast. He could go after the fleeing asshole, but that meant leaving Roxi alone with whoever was still in there. No way would he let that happen.
He didn’t give a damn if these guys got away. He had their scent, and he could use it to track them to the ends of the earth if he had to.

  Right now, though, he had a much more important job.

  He leapt over the man cowering on the floor and raced through the next room. The displays were nothing more than blurs. He crashed into the final room and halted in the archway, taking in the scene spread out before him in sharp, vivid flashes of information. Brad on the floor, unconscious. Roxi naked in her harness, with half a dozen bruises marring her flawless skin.

  And a man he didn’t recognize standing over her, pointing a gun at her temple.

  “An animal? What sort of joke is this?”

  From the corner of her eye, Roxi saw Kastor tighten his grip on his gun. He thumbed off the safety and her blood ran cold.

  “Where is the intruder? Enrikos! Plauto!” Kastor hollered for his men, but no one answered.

  A flicker of hope danced in Roxi’s veins as she eyed the wolf standing in the doorway. She knew this was no ordinary animal. Though Donovan looked different than he had in her bedroom—fully wolf now, without a shred of human remaining—the sheen of the dark fur was the same. His yellow eyes were fixed on the gun at her temple, and she could see the effort rippling beneath his skin as he struggled to hold himself back.

  She was certain he wanted nothing more than to tear Kastor’s throat out, but while the man held a gun to her head, he wouldn’t dare.

  “Enrikos! Answer me!” Kastor yelled out in Greek.

  “He is dead.” She wanted to shake Kastor’s confidence, but the gag pressed against her tongue made the words come out garbled.

  Kastor snarled at her but kept a keen eye on the wolf. “I heard gunshots.”

  She had, too. Her heart leapt into her throat as she looked at the wolf, searching for signs of blood. Plenty dripped from the animal’s muzzle, but she couldn’t make out any bullet wounds and he didn’t seem to be in obvious pain.

  “Show yourself, coward!” Kastor switched over to English as he peered toward the doorway. “Do not hide behind your mangy dog.”

  The wolf snarled, showing bloodstained teeth. Kastor gasped, his calm façade slipping with each passing moment.

  Roxi sucked in a breath and worked her right wrist against the leather strap. She’d nearly managed to loosen the restraint enough to slip her hand through. Nearly. She just needed a few more seconds, and she prayed Kastor wouldn’t notice her efforts.

  With his free hand, Kastor grabbed Roxi’s breast and squeezed. “You are mine, bitch. No one is coming to save you.”

  Donovan growled. His lean body tensed as if preparing to attack, ears twitching and nostrils flaring.

  “I would not do what you are thinking of doing. You see, stupid dog, I have a weapon. This bullet will tear right through you before you can get close to me. And your master…” Kastor cocked his head, no doubt listening for any sign of another person beyond the next room. Satisfied when he didn’t hear anything, he nodded. “Is not coming to help you.”

  Roxi struggled with the cuff. Her hand slipped another inch, finally gliding out of the restraint completely.

  The wolf’s growl turned into a high-pitched howl. Roxi’s heart thudded hard against her rib cage and she fisted her hand, still holding it up by the cuff, waiting for an opening to use her only advantage.

  Kastor lifted the gun away from Roxi’s head and pointed it at the wolf. “Bang,” he said—and fired.

  That was the moment Donovan had been waiting for. He flew through the air but Kastor’s aim was true. The wolf’s howl of rage turned into one of pain as he fell back to the floor, paws scrambling for purchase on the blood-slicked tile.

  Roxi screamed. She acted on instinct alone, bringing her fisted hand up and slamming it against Kastor’s neck in a move so swift it caught him by complete surprise.

  In the split second it took Kastor to get his bearings, Donovan lunged and sank his teeth into Kastor’s gun arm. The man yelped and dropped the gun, which the wolf kicked away with a back paw.

  Kastor flailed in his terror-filled fury. Donovan avoided contact with Kastor’s feet, loosened his grip on the man’s arm and aimed lower, right for the groin.

  Kastor buckled and crumpled to the floor, screaming in agony. Twitching and convulsing, he tried to push the wolf away as he reached down to protect his family jewels.

  Roxi yanked the gag away from her mouth. “Donovan, stop! Stop!” She wasn’t sure if she could get through to him. He seemed caught in a bloodthirsty craze. No doubt his adrenaline was pumping as hard as hers, but she couldn’t let him kill the man. Justice would be done, but on human terms.

  “It is over.” She tried again, begging him to understand. “Please. I—I need you.”

  The growls subsided and Donovan brought his head up. She could almost see the moment reason returned to those beautiful yellow eyes, driving away Donovan’s animal impulses. His body jerked, realigning itself as his bones and muscles lengthened and reshaped, becoming human once more.

  Kastor croaked something unintelligible—then fainted. Whether from blood loss or fright, Roxi didn’t care.

  Donovan was at her side in less than a second. He searched her face with his gaze and ran his hands over her body, reassuring himself she was still in one piece. The terror she saw in his eyes broke her heart.

  “Oh God.” He cupped her face, brought his lips down on hers. “Please tell me you’re okay.”

  She nodded, wishing she could hug him back. The best she could do was circle his shoulders with one arm and pull him to her. She winced when her hand came away wet with blood. “You have been shot.”

  “It’s just a graze.”

  Relief rushed through her, making her dizzy. “Brad needs help.”

  Donovan swore as he looked at the fallen man. “I’ll call an ambulance. But not until I get you out of these restraints.”

  He unbuckled the cuffs wrapped around her ankles and wrist, then gathered her close. She fell into his arms as if she belonged there, nestled against his chest for all eternity. But the illusion was over much too quickly as he pulled away to call 9-1-1.

  When he returned and knelt at Brad’s side to check for a pulse, Roxi walked up behind him. She shuddered at the memory of watching Donovan shift from wolf to human twice in one day. Slipping her fingers through his hair, she said, “I think it is time we have that talk.”

  * * * * *

  “Tell me what happened again, from the top. You broke down the door…and then?”

  Donovan closed his eyes and sucked in a breath, fighting for patience. He’d told his story half a dozen times, first to the officers who’d arrived on the scene and later to Simon Walker, the detective assigned to this case. Now the two of them sat in Brad’s small office, where Donovan was recounting events yet again.

  “Two men attacked me. They had guns. I fought them and they ran.”

  “Right.” Walker scribbled something in his notepad. He looked competent, and was probably damn good at his job. The authority in his demeanor hinted he might have law enforcement running through his veins. “What about this wolf?”

  Donovan blinked at the detective. “I told you, it came in from the street. Must have smelled the blood.”

  The incredulous look Walker gave him didn’t come as a surprise. “A wolf. In New York.”

  Donovan shrugged. “There’ve been reports of coyotes in Vegas, so yeah, a wolf. In New York.”

  “And this wolf assaulted the two men who jumped you.”

  “No.” Donovan shook his head. “I told you before, the men fled. The wolf ran through the gallery into the next room and attacked the guy in there.”

  “And where were you during this epic battle?”

  Donovan ignored the sneer in the detective’s voice. “Calling you guys. By the time I got to the back room, the man was unconscious, the girl was safe and the wolf was gone.”

  “That’s mighty convenient for everyone involved.”

  “I
t’s the truth.” Kind of. With a heavy dash of make-believe.

  “Ms. Leventis backs up your story, though Kastor Michailidis has an entirely different account of the evening’s events.”

  “Oh?” Donovan lifted an eyebrow, feigning interest.

  “It’s the damndest thing. The guy claims you were the wolf.” He tapped his pen against his lower lip as he peered at Donovan. “Crazy, right?”

  “Certifiable,” Donovan agreed. “He must have knocked his head pretty hard when he fell.”

  “Yeah, that must be it.” The detective tucked his notebook into the front pocket of his blazer and sighed. “Turns out this mystery wolf did us all a favor. Interpol has been tracking Kastor for over a year. He’s wanted on charges of drug, weapons and human trafficking. Nasty piece of work.”

  Donovan gasped. Thinking of Roxi tied up as that animal’s plaything made his chest tighten until he couldn’t draw breath. His wolf raged inside, as angry and terrified as Donovan.

  Walker handed Donovan a card. “If you think of anything else, let me know.”

  They both rose and shook hands across the table. “Am I free to go?”

  “Of course. Ms. Leventis is waiting for you. She refused our offer to provide an escort home.”

  When Donovan walked out of the office, Roxi was leaning against the wall. She was dressed in jeans and a thick woolen sweater, which she must have worn on her way to work that afternoon. Donovan had changed into the black suit that served as his uniform. Since his clothes had been shredded when he shifted, he’d been grateful not to have to sit through the interview with the NYPD in the buff.

  He gathered her in his arms and pulled her close, inhaling her sweet scent. The wolf howled his pleasure at being reunited with his mate, while Donovan’s heart shattered. He knew what he had to do, yet the beast wouldn’t understand. His eyes burned but he had to be the strong one, the logical one, the human one.

  He pulled Roxi into the small storage area that served as her locker room then closed the door behind them. His ears picked up the muffled voices of the officers and crime scene investigators through the walls, but he knew they wouldn’t be able to hear the conversation between him and Roxi.