Werewolf in Manhattan

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “Yes.”

  She mirrored him, cupping his buttocks in her warm hands, pressing her fingers into him. “I can feel you quiver. I can feel the shape of your cock.”

  “I can feel when you contract around me.” He rotated his hips gently. “Like that.”

  She whimpered. “Again.”

  He moved in the opposite direction and watched excitement grow in her expressive eyes. Easing back, he slid forward again.

  “Mm. More.”

  He didn’t need to be asked. The intense pleasure of thrusting into her pushed him onward. He moved faster now, greedy for the increasingly erotic sensation of skin against skin. The juicy aroma of sex filled the air and the slap, slap, slap of bodies melded with the creak of the bed and the thump of the headboard against the wall.

  As she tightened around his cock, he watched her eyes darken. His wolf senses would know when she neared her climax, but he craved the sound of her voice.

  “Talk to me, Emma.” He pumped steadily as her body quivered beneath his. “Are you coming?”

  “Soon.” She gasped and clutched him tighter.

  “I can see it in your eyes. I can feel you rising, reaching…ah, Emma…come for me…”

  “There…harder…right…there.” Crying out, she lifted her hips as her spasms milked him, coaxing him to surrender to the climax that he’d fought to keep at bay until now. With a groan he drove into her once, twice, and shuddered as the pulsing of his cock rode the ripples of her orgasm.

  As his body quieted, he settled against her, careful not to give her his full weight, but longing to touch every inch of skin he could reach. Tomorrow he would face the wrath of his pack, but tonight he’d been given a gift—full-out sex with Emma. He would never have had that if she hadn’t learned what he was.

  Tonight, his heart was filled with gratitude and something more, something that should frighten him. But he was too happy. Tomorrow perhaps he’d be frightened by his growing connection to her. But not tonight. Burying his nose against her neck, he breathed in with one thought: she was his.

  Chapter Nineteen

  For the second morning in a row, Emma woke up alone in her bed while the spot next to her was still warm. But she had a feeling this morning would be nothing like any morning she’d ever experienced in her life. True, Aidan had been a werewolf yesterday, but she hadn’t known it. Today she did.

  She smelled coffee. A quick lift of her head to check out the dressing table confirmed that the coffee was in the living room, along with Aidan. She could hear the sound of his voice. He was probably on the phone again. Was he talking to Nadia?

  A hot stab of jealousy made her realize how possessive she’d become. And that was foolish, because Aidan’s life had been planned from birth. Besides, she had more immediate problems than whether Aidan would eventually marry Nadia and produce little werewolves.

  What were they like, the little ones? Could they shift from birth or did they develop the ability later? In the world of her books, werewolves looked like human children until puberty. The onset of sexual maturity gave them the ability to shift, and they went through an awkward phase while they learned to manage their wolf status.

  If she’d guessed right, then teenage werewolves had it way worse than teenage humans. Besides raging hormones and zits, they had to deal with hair and fangs. She wondered how Aidan had managed considering his genetic defect. Puberty must have been torture for him.

  The curtains were still drawn over the window and the light was dim in the bedroom. She had no sense of what time it was. Rolling to her side, she peered at the bedside table clock.

  Shit! She leaped out of bed and looked frantically for the hotel robe she’d been using. It lay over a chair in the corner and she ran to grab it and shove her arms into the sleeves. She’d never make it to O’Hare in time for her original flight, so she’d have to rebook.

  Fortunately her first event in Denver wasn’t until Monday morning, but still. She should have set her alarm on her phone or asked for a wakeup call. This was embarrassing and unprofessional.

  Before she dealt with it, though, she could use some coffee. On her way out to the living room to find it, she realized that Aidan hadn’t bothered to wake her up, either. Maybe he’d forgotten the time of her flight, but she doubted that was the case.

  Come to think of it, he’d never fully responded when she’d made her impassioned speech about going to Denver regardless of the werewolf issue. But she was going to Denver. He would just have to trust her to keep her mouth shut about what she’d seen here last night.

  The living room looked cozy and domestic, with the fire going and a room service tray on the coffee table. Aidan paced over by the windows, his phone to his ear. His sweats this morning were black, as was his NYU sweatshirt. He looked massive and slightly dangerous dressed all in black.

  As he paced, he glanced outside and frowned. “Yeah, socked in, which helps.”

  She couldn’t imagine how much he could see out the windows, which were iced over. But maybe he had X-ray vision, too. In any case, the question of flights had just been answered. She hadn’t missed her plane if O’Hare was shut down.

  Aidan listened to the person on the other end for a few seconds. “I understand. I’ll monitor her twenty-four seven. You have my word, Dad.”

  Her jaw dropped. He might have given his word to his father, but she sure as hell hadn’t!

  He turned slowly toward her, the phone still to his ear. He showed no surprise at finding her there, but then he wouldn’t. His sense of smell and his hearing were those of a wolf. “I’ll keep you posted. She won’t be a problem. Take care, Dad. ’Bye.” He disconnected the call and gazed at her.

  “What the hell was that all about?”

  “Think of it as the werewolf version of Homeland Security. You’ll continue to be under constant surveillance, except now you’ll be aware of it.”

  She stared at him as the significance of his statement sank in. “You’ve been watching me?” She spoke quietly, but inside she was seething. “How long has that been going on?”

  “About three months. Your books were so accurate that the pack figured you had a werewolf informant. I’ve been trying to catch you communicating with him or her, but of course, you didn’t have an informant, which meant there was nothing to find.”

  “So when you came to my book event in Manhattan and generously gave me a ride, and bought me a drink in your exclusive club, you were on assignment?”

  He nodded. “Essentially.”

  “You sonofabitch.”

  “Yes.”

  He looked so calm and in control that she longed to pick up something, anything, and throw it at him. But that would only prove how out of control she was. “You pretended to like my books, pretended to like me, but all along you were spying?”

  “I didn’t pretend to like your books. I think they’re great. Come to think of it, if I hadn’t raved about your books to my family, none of this would have happened, so you can blame me for being a fan, or blame yourself for being a great writer. But assigning blame won’t get us anywhere.”

  Oh, but she wanted to blame him for something. “You had sex with me! Was that part of your assignment, too?”

  “No, that was a mistake.”

  “A mistake?” Now she really wanted to hurt him, except he was some super being and she didn’t know a single martial arts trick.

  “Sometimes mistakes turn out to be wonderful.”

  Oh. Some of her fury melted.

  “But that doesn’t mean I should have allowed that to happen. Roarke, in particular, warned me that I’d get into trouble if I spent too much time with you. He was right.”

  She thought back over their two nights together and took some satisfaction in knowing she’d caused Mister All That to step over the line. But if he was a lying sack of cow chips, then he might have lied about something very important.

  She folded her arms. “Aidan, so help me, you need to tell the truth on this one.
Could I be pregnant?” She took a deep breath. “With puppies?”

  His mouth twitched. At first she couldn’t tell whether he was trying not to laugh or trying not to yell at her. When he snorted, she figured it was the first.

  Scrubbing a hand over his face, he looked down at the carpet for a moment before glancing back at her. His golden eyes danced with humor. “No, Emma, you’re not pregnant. And even if you were, you’d have a beautiful baby, not a puppy. A werewolf grows up looking like every other child. Shifting comes with sexual maturity.”

  “So I was right about that!” Her elation temporarily made her forget that she hated him.

  “Yes, you got that right, too.”

  “And you’re sure I couldn’t be pregnant? Because in the human world, it would be a distinct possibility, and last night you felt very…human.” The memory turned her on a little, which was inconvenient because she really wanted to hate him, and holding onto hate while desire tried to work its way in was tough.

  “It’s a biological fact for Weres. Once we’ve chosen a mate for life, then, and only then, will conception take place. Until that time, we’re sterile. Obviously no woman is going to simply believe that I’m sterile and disease free unless I explain that I’m a werewolf. But you already knew, so we were able to have sex without a condom.”

  “Okay, moving on.” Lingering over this topic could derail her anger completely, and she needed her anger. It made her feel more powerful. “You said you’ve been watching me for three months.”

  “Approximately, give or take a few days.”

  “How many privacy laws did you break doing that, wolf boy?” She wondered if she could get a rise out of him.

  His gaze didn’t flicker. “Most of them. We try to work within the law when we can, but in the case of pack security, we do what is necessary.”

  “What did you use? Hidden cameras? Bugs? Tails?”

  “All of the above. We installed cameras and recorders in your loft. I’ve monitored your phone calls and followed you whenever you went out. You’ve been my only assignment for three months, Emma. I kept very close track of you.”

  “Did you put cameras in my bedroom?” She thought about the few nights Doug had stayed over.

  “No. I vetoed that.”

  “Why? You were invading every other area of my life, why not spy on my sex life, such as it was?”

  He hesitated, as if wanting to say more. Finally he made a dismissive motion with his hand. “We didn’t need that information. Doug isn’t a werewolf.”

  “For all I know, he could be! I mean, you are, and Theo is, and your father is, and…wait just a doggone minute, your werewolf father is old friends with my publisher. For all I know, Roger Claymore is a werewolf!”

  “No.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Positive. And neither is Doug.”

  “How do you know? Couldn’t he be from a visiting pack or something?”

  “I can pick up a Were’s scent immediately. It’s nothing like a human’s.”

  Something about that comment didn’t make sense, and then she figured out what it was. “Then why didn’t you come out when Theo arrived in the suite? You must have smelled him.”

  Aidan flushed slightly. “I…I had stuffed towels under my door.”

  “Why in heaven’s name would you do something like that?”

  “To block your scent.”

  “To block my…” Understanding slowly dawned. “It affects you that much?”

  “Yes.”

  She didn’t want to feel sympathy for him, but she couldn’t seem to help it. He’d been trying to do the right thing for his pack and he was just too darned attracted to her, poor werewolf. Talk about self-defeating behavior.

  She took a deep breath. “Well, I’m about to make things easier for you, Aidan. I heard the promise you made your father, but you would have been wise to consult me, first.”

  His head came up and his gaze met hers. “Don’t fight me on this.”

  “I don’t intend to fight you. I intend to ignore you. First I’ll pack my things. Then I’ll call a cab and leave the hotel. If you try to stop me, I’ll call 911. Or I’ll start screaming. Whatever it takes, but I won’t be put under house arrest.”

  Aidan sighed. “I was afraid of this.”

  “And it should come as no surprise, if you’ve been spying on me for three months. You know how I cherish my personal freedom. You can’t possibly think I’d put up with having you constantly in my business.”

  “There are compelling reasons for it, and we need to talk about those.” He took a step toward her. “You have every reason to be upset, but—”

  “Upset? That’s a wimpy word. I’m furious about the way you and your precious pack have messed with me. I’m determined to get as far away from you as possible. You’re threatening my way of life, Aidan, and I won’t have it.”

  “And you’re threatening ours! Emma, don’t be foolish.”

  She lifted her chin. “Foolish by your definition, I suppose.”

  “Foolish by any definition, damn it! There are members of my pack who are talking about having you killed.”

  That got her attention. In the back of her mind she’d wondered how worried they’d be about a human knowing their secret. She decided they must be pretty damned worried.

  “Killed,” she said, as if discussing the weather, although her knees were shaking. She wondered if they’d come after her in human form or as a wolf pack. “As in murdered.”

  “They would see it as an act of self-defense.”

  “But I’ve done nothing! Theo started it!” She cringed. Now she sounded like a six-year-old.

  Apparently terror had a way of turning a person into a frightened child. The writer part of her noticed that. She hadn’t written terror all that well before, but she’d be able to write it now, assuming she lived.

  “You and I both know this was Theo’s deal, but now he’s back home claiming I’m the traitor who became your lover and revealed myself to you. He’s the pack savior who charged up here to take me down, but you sneaked up behind him and knocked him unconscious with a hammer.”

  “A hammer? Where would I get a hammer?”

  “I didn’t say it was a very good story. I guess he couldn’t admit he’d been felled by a hotel hair dryer.”

  Emma’s brain was spinning. “Let me get this straight. He’s back home and making up lies about what happened.”

  “Yes.”

  “But you told me that in a pack situation the defeated wolf slinks away in total humiliation. What happened to that scenario?”

  Aidan shrugged. “Kids today.”

  It would be funny, except they were talking about life and death, here. Her life and death.

  “Yeah, but surely nobody believes his bogus story.”

  “Unfortunately, his father does. And his father is the Henderson pack alpha, so that’s a problem. My father and Leland have already exchanged harsh words.”

  “Are we talking about a werewolf war?”

  “I don’t think so. I hope not. Emma, will you sit down so we can talk about this?”

  The threat of being murdered by a pack of werewolves did diminish the appeal of making a grand exit from the hotel. She blew out a breath. “I need coffee.”

  “Have a seat. I’ll get it.”

  Feeling suddenly cold, she plopped down on the sofa next to the fireplace. “Lots of cream.”

  “I know.”

  “I suppose you would. You probably know the names of my friends, where my mother lives—oh, God, my mother. She’ll be glued to the weather reports because she knows I’m supposed to fly out of Chicago today. I have to call her. Come to think of it, I’m surprised she hasn’t tried to call me.”

  “I turned off your phone.”

  “What?” Leaping from the sofa, she started for the bedroom. “We’re fixing that situation right now.”

  “Don’t, Emma. Leave it until we’ve talked.”

  She w
hirled to face him. “Look, your Alphaness, I understand that I’m in a precarious position. I get that your protection might be the only thing keeping me from a bitter end, but I would appreciate it if you’d use the word please instead of just barking orders.”

  Then she realized what she’d just said and began to laugh. “Barking. That’s funny. Barking orders.” She got the giggles so bad that she doubled over.

  “Werewolves don’t bark.”

  She glanced up to find him regarding her with stern disapproval, which made her laugh all the more. “Good to know. I’ll make a note of that for my research.”

  “Please do.” He set her cup and saucer on the coffee table.

  “There! You said please. That proves you can do it.”

  “Don’t patronize me.” He straightened and fixed her with a glare from those golden eyes. “And don’t think this is easy for me, either. As of last night, my life became tied to yours for some indefinite amount of time. I’ve already devoted three months to this project, and I thought it would be over this weekend and I could get back to my normal routine.”

  Intrigued by that statement, she returned to the sofa. “And what is that, exactly?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I was only making the point that you aren’t the only person being inconvenienced.”

  “Your normal routine matters to me. The more I know about how a real werewolf lives, the better my books will be.”

  He stared at her. “You know, I don’t think you get it, after all. There’s no guarantee you’ll be able to keep writing those books. Or any books, for that matter.”

  Her stomach pitched. Fear of death was one thing. Being told that she wouldn’t be able to write…that would be a living death, which was way worse. “That’s unacceptable,” she said. “I have to write.”

  The fierceness left his expression as he regarded her with sympathy. “After watching you for weeks, I know that, too,” he said softly. “I think it’s time you sit down, so we can talk.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Aidan wasn’t about to make any promises he couldn’t keep, but when he saw the desperation in Emma’s blue eyes at the thought of losing her beloved writing, he vowed to do everything in his power to preserve that part of her life. Yet he knew the books were one of his father’s biggest concerns. If Emma continued to write and publish them, knowing what she knew, she might slip and reveal their secret.