Shadow Wolf

by Sable Grey

  “Lonely,” Dean finished when her words faltered. He’d seen it in her eyes too often not to know what she meant. I’ve seen how you look at her.

  “Yes.” She bowed her head as if ashamed.

  “John was a fool,” Dean murmured as he slipped a hand along her jaw and turned her face upward. “A damned fool.” He planted his mouth atop hers and kissed her hard, thrusting his tongue between her lips.

  For a moment, she went still then her fingers tightened on his arm and shoulder, and she moaned beneath his mouth. That sound wove through him, a scorching thread of desire. The wolf wanted more. And so did Dean.

  Stepping back from her, he removed his gun and placed it on the counter. Her whole body shook when she reached for him, and Dean lifted her to the surface then pushed up her gown and stepped between her knees.

  She dropped her fingers to his shirt and began working the buttons while he slid her towards him so he could press his cock against her. Leaning forward he licked at her jaw then dropped his lips to her shoulder where he nipped her smooth skin.

  The moment her soft fingers touched his chest, spreading out and raking down the dark hair there, Dean growled. He turned his head into her hair and breathed in loudly as the sky opened up outside and the rain began. Hooking his thumbs in the straps of her gown, he tugged the material down until her breasts were exposed. Leaning down, he took one perfect pink nipple into his mouth and sucked. She arched, a small whimper escaping her lips, one hand snaking up so she could thrust her fingers into his hair.

  Wrapping his free arm around her, he pulled her cunt against him, tilting her backwards so he could continue to feed on her breast. Instantly, her legs wrapped around him, and he thrust against her. The scent of her sex wrapped around his senses, and another growl vibrated around her nipple.

  Heat pumped within him. She felt good in his arms, in his mouth. He moved to the other breast and licked at her nipple. He wanted more. Need shook violently inside of him, and before he realised what he’d done, her panties tore away from her body with one jerk. Releasing her from his lips when she gasped, he watched her eyes darken as she gazed at him.

  “I want in.” His voice was thick and a half growl.

  It should have scared her, but she reached for his pants. In moments, her fingers wrapped around his cock and released him from the constraints of his pants. The counter wasn’t going to do, and he wanted her too bad to take her upstairs. Turning, he swiped an arm across the island, clearing the surface in one sweep. Glassware crashed to the floor, but he didn’t care. Grasping her, he whirled her around onto the larger surface and pushed her back.

  He leapt like an animal, his knee lifting his weight to straddle her. Grasping her thigh, he pushed her knee forward and nudged her sex with his cock. Hunger ripped through him, and he knew from its intensity that she could probably see his eyes change to those of a wolf. She didn’t scream. She didn’t try to push him away.

  “It’s been so long. Hurry,” she whispered.

  He plunged into her, burying himself to the hilt. She came off of the counter, breasts arching into him as she cried out at the intrusion. Her reaction excited the wolf, and at last, he merged with the beast inside. He rocked back and thrust again, grunting at the way her body clenched around him. Good. She felt good. He pumped into her, unable to help the guttural noises in his throat when she gripped his hips and lifted herself to meet his thrusts. Her fingernails pressed into him as her hips lifted.

  His pace quickened, and he leant forward, clamping his mouth on the soft skin of her throat and sucking. The salty taste of her skin, her body moving against his—while he wanted to slow down and take it easy, he couldn’t. Instead, he pushed her other thigh forward so that her legs rested against his shoulders. Extending his legs, he drove into her like a madman starved for what she offered.

  Tension knotted inside of him, his balls tightened. He allowed her legs to slide back to his sides, and he drew his knees up and gripped either side of the surface so he could continue rocking into her. He bit at her earlobe, his breath heavy and laboured, inhaling the scent of her skin and hair as if his senses craved the smell.

  Her body shook, nails dug into him as she neared orgasm. When she lifted her voice, Dean lost himself completely, raging inside her, seeking his own release of tension. Her body arched, and her scream drove him over the edge. Releasing the surface at her sides, he grasped her hips and pulled her to his every assault. Her body clenched around him momentarily before jerking as she thrashed beneath him. He shouted as he came, baring his teeth and very nearly blacking out and allowing the wolf to possess him completely. He delivered several thrusts, unable to stop even after he’d emptied into her. Finally, his body slowed, and he released her, planting both hands on either side of her as he slumped forward, panting heavily. The wolf retracted back inside of him sated for the time being.

  * * * *

  Turning away, Gabriel Martin clenched both fists in anger. Lashing out he struck at the trees around him, ignoring the pain when the rough bark tore at his pale knuckles. First the husband and now the bodyguard. It seemed everyone was against him.

  Why had she let this bodyguard come in and ruin things? He hit a tree hard. Why had she allowed him to climb atop her and ride her like some rampant beast? He hit the tree again.

  The devil is manipulative and tempting. His mother’s words sounded in his head. He lies to her and convinces her that he is not beast.

  “Yes.” Gabriel nodded and looked back at the house, through the floor to ceiling windows and watched the guard climb down from the island and adjust his clothes. “That must be it.”

  She is weak because of her husband. She is still waiting for you.

  Of course, she was. He’d seen the secret smile she’d given him when he’d watched her last fund raising event on the television. It was the smile she reserved just for him. It was how she’d always communicated her feelings when her husband had been alive. But Gabriel had taken care of that bastard. And he would take care of this one too. She was a lost lamb and only needed guidance.

  You must let her know you’ve not forsaken her. You must let her know that you will come to her when the time is right, his mother’s voice instructed.

  “I will, Mother.” Gabriel watched the guard help Belinda to the floor and carefully adjust her gown. He imagined it was his hand that brushed back her golden hair. “She will know.”

  Chapter Three

  Belinda wanted to stay in bed, hiding under the covers. She was both ashamed and excited by what she’d done with Dean Rynes last night. It had been wild, primitive, and the best sex of her life. And he was the wolf.

  That had been her suspicion all along. The wolf in her dreams that shadowed her husband’s every move. Dean was the wolf. More than that, he was a werewolf. She’d known last night when his eyes had changed, from dark brown to bright yellow.

  She’d not been afraid at all, though. Not like she’d imagined she might be of the man. In fact, it had made the attraction more intense. Her assistant knocked on her door for the third time in the last half hour. Belinda ducked farther under the covers. Maybe they would just go away today. Maybe everyone would just go away.

  They treated her like a wounded bird since John’s burial. Perhaps that’s how she should feel. Instead, she was filled with guilt. They couldn’t know it, but it was her fault he was dead. She’d had the dream. She’d known it was one that was real, but as always, she’d let her fear talk her out of opening her mouth.

  “Belinda?” her assistant called.

  Don’t answer. She closed her eyes and found Dean there. He’d been so intense. There’d been no mistaking the lust in his eyes. He’d wanted her. It had felt good. So good that she’d been tempted to go to him again after she’d retreated back to her room.

  As if conjured by her very thoughts, his voice echoed from outside her room. “That’s enough. If she didn’t answer the first three hundred times you called out, she won’t answer this time. Go
downstairs and make yourself useful. You are in my way.”

  Moments later, the door opened. Belinda peeked out from her hiding place beneath the covers to see him step into her room and pull the door closed behind him. He was gorgeous. Built like a bull but not clean-shaven like the other guards, he wore a layer of hair around his chin, and she remembered how it had tickled when he kissed her.

  Damn. That kiss. She’d felt it in her toes. The man had been like an unkempt storm of passion. She closed her eyes and smiled as he reached forward and pulled the covers down to her chin.

  “Should I send them away?”

  She opened her eyes and sighed. “No. I can’t hide in my room.”

  “You needn’t hide. I’ll send them away and tell them not to come back until tomorrow. It won’t hurt for you to have a day to yourself, and no one will think poorly of you for it.” He straightened when she said nothing. “I’ll take care of it.”

  He started to turn then reached down and covered her head again. She laughed, but a moment later, she heard the door close.

  Jumping up, she hurried to it and cracked it open, listening.

  “Everyone out,” his voice boomed over the familiar noise of voices that had been her life for the last five years. Every noise stilled. “I said out. Come back tomorrow.”

  No excuse. No explanation. She raced to the window when no one said anything more and watched them file out one by one.

  After the last car had pulled away, she released a long breath and leant her head against the window pane. It felt good. One day, she decided. She would take one day.

  Turning from the window, she dressed quickly and made her way downstairs. As she descended, her attention rested on Dean. He was large but moved with silence. Every step was confident and sure. His gaze swept around the room then up to her when she reached the bottom step.

  “They’re gone.”

  “Thank you.” She wasn’t sure what to say. Should she mention the night before? Should she pretend it didn’t happen at all? Would it happen again? Her body warmed at the thought. And she didn’t miss the flare of his nose as if he somehow sensed her body’s reaction. His gaze locked onto her.

  “I know it’s rotten, but I just didn’t want to deal with them today.” She walked to the window. The other guards could be seen now and then, walking the grounds. Dean was the only one who came to the house. She’d wanted it that way when she’d requested him.

  The FBI had said no at first, but after their investigation of the man, relented. In the middle of the investigation of her husband’s death, they were taking no chances. It was a horrible death, degrading. When the driver had turned the key, the car had exploded. Belinda had seen it in her dreams before the police had ever come to tell her that her husband was dead. As a matter of fact, she’d dreamed it three days prior.

  She should feel more, she thought. John was her husband. But he hadn’t been hers for years. He’d belonged to his voters and to the women he’d met wherever he went. Bitterness and regret were the worst she felt.

  “Your guilt is suffocating.”

  She started and spun. Dean stood right behind her. He made her feel small when he stood so close. And she had a sudden urge to reach out and touch that hard chest. He’d not had an ounce of softness on his body—all hard muscle and bone.

  “What happened was not your fault.” His deep baritone voice was soothing. “In case no one has told you yet.”

  “I knew he was going to die.” The truth spilled from her lips before she could stop it.

  “You knew?”

  “I had a dream. I’ve always had them. Since I was a kid.” She turned back to face out the window. “And I stopped taking my pills two months ago.”

  “Did you see in your dream who did it?”

  “No. It’s a blurred face. I saw John’s. But not the man standing in the shadows.” She bowed her head. “John never believed my dreams before, but maybe if I’d told him this time…maybe…”

  “No maybe. You know as well as I do, that nothing could sway John Boutwell from a piece of ass.” His crude words caused the tears that had threatened to fall to ease back. He knew their secrets. But she knew one of his, too. She looked up at the grey sky of the morning.

  “It’s going to rain again.”

  “Yes.”

  “Yesterday, I used you, I think. I needed something to keep me from thinking.” She shook her head. “I’ve never screwed around on him. And it’s not like me to just jump in bed with—”

  “There was no bed.” He leaned so close that hot shivers caressed her body. “And we used one another.”

  She turned and faced him again. “How did you use me?”

  “I think you know.”

  She bit her lip, afraid to actually say it out loud. “The wolf?”

  His gaze searched hers. “Then you do know.”

  “In my dreams, you are usually there, a big grey wolf.” She shrugged. “Last night I could see you were…different.” She tilted her head. “Do you shift?”

  “I don’t transform unless there is a need to. The rest of the time, it just lives inside of me.” He touched her arm, and she shuddered. “It doesn’t scare you?”

  “A little,” she admitted. “But in the dreams, you were never a threat to my husband.”

  “Perhaps if I had been, he wouldn’t have been in that place with that woman.”

  Paul Goldman had told her about the argument Dean’d had with her husband, how they’d yelled at one another. He’d told her it wasn’t the first time that Dean had fought with her husband about her. Paul had confided that Dean was the only one of them who’d had the balls to say what they’d all been thinking. And the only one who’d been allowed to get away with it.

  She reached up to touch his face, but his hand wrapped around her wrist, and he shook his head.

  “Don’t touch me unless you mean to invite me to do again what I did last night.”

  She blinked, but he didn’t release her. Instead he looked at her hand as if he was surprised by it.

  “You cannot touch someone without wanting to…”

  “I can smell your arousal. And now, I can feel it.” Slowly, he loosened his fingers and lowered his nose to the inside of her wrist and breathed in deeply. “Your pulse quickens when you’re excited, and your body temperature changes. It’s…intoxicating.”

  Her lips parted. Heightened senses. That was fascinating.

  “I shall try to remember.” She pulled her hand away and stepped around him. “I don’t know what I’ll do today. It was ridiculous for me to have you send them all away.”

  When he didn’t respond, she looked back to find him gazing at her with much the same look he’d had the night before.

  “Maybe I’ll read a book or something. I used to enjoy reading but rarely have time for it anymore.” She backed towards the stairs, her heart quickening when he advanced step for step. Good lord, he was sexy. And now, he stalked her like prey.

  His nose flared, and his gaze darkened.

  She turned and bolted up the stairs. As she reached the top and turned to see him halfway up behind her, an explosion suddenly rocked the entire house. Her shoulder hit the wall. Below her, Dean fell backwards but turned midair to land on all fours at the bottom of the stairs. In an instant he was on his feet.

  “Are you all right?” His gaze yellowed as he looked up at her, and she nodded. Turning he spoke into his walkie-talkie when one of the other guards radioed in.

  “I need all of you in the house. Mrs. Boutwell is to be protected.” He looked up as the door opened and the guards rushed inside. “At all costs.”

  He pushed past them and outside.

  Belinda made her way back downstairs as the guards positioned themselves around the room. “Ma’am, it might be safer if you went upstairs.”

  “What was that?”

  The guard stepped forward and touched her arm, urging her to the stairs. “Please, ma’am. Back upstairs.”

  She frowned
but climbed the stairs and retreated to her room. She walked to the window and looked outside, hand rising to her mouth. The limo was demolished, parts of it scattered about the front of the house burning.

  Dean stood scanning the tree line, face lifted to the sky. What was he looking at? She leant against the pane and realised he wasn’t looking at anything. He had his nose turned up and was sniffing the air. It would have been absurd and she might have laughed if her heart wasn’t hammering in her chest. Her hands began to shake.

  It came to her fast and hard, nearly causing her to stagger backwards. Not a vision as in her dreams but a feeling. The person responsible for this was the same responsible for her husband’s death. He’d not been after John at all. It was her he was coming for. Opening her eyes, she backed away from the window as if he could see her there, around the bed and against the closet door. An overwhelming sense of danger and fear swept through her, so intense, she felt dizzy. Nausea threatened her stomach.

  Coming for her. He was coming. Soon.

  Chapter Four

  Dean wove his way through the FBI agents and upstairs. She’d not come downstairs at all. The agents had gone up, spoken with her then returned to continue their investigation. Rapping on her door, he waited. He rapped again. Finally, he just pushed open the door and found her sitting in a chair against the wall.

  “Belinda?”

  She looked at him, her eyes red-rimmed. Stepping inside, he closed the door behind him. She was still visibly shaken. She had her hands wrapped around her shoulders.

  “The area is clear. They’ve scoured every acre. Nobody’s out there,” Dean told her.

  “No, he left hours ago.”

  “What?”

  “I could feel him. He was close. Now, he’s gone.” She bowed her head. “He killed John to get to me.”

  Dean knelt beside the chair. “You can’t know that.”

  “I do know it. I can feel it. It’s me he’s coming for.” She shuddered, and Dean reached forward to take her by the shoulders, forcing her to look him in the eyes.