by Kari Cole
“Anyway,” Sarah said. “Hopefully the samples I sent to IA will help, but neither the coroner nor I saw anything in our initial examinations that would cause rabies-like behavior in a shapeshifter.”
“All right.” Vaughn stood to escort them out. “Thanks.” Not that he had any hope that IA would actually be of any assistance. Unless... “Agent Moreno, I’m glad you’re back.”
Diego stopped dead in his tracks in the hallway outside of Vaughn’s office. “Why?”
“Because we could use your help cutting through the bureaucracy at IA.”
“That’s not the way it works and you know it,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. The spiderweb tattoo stretched over his left biceps. “Fill out an RFIA.”
“I have,” Vaughn said, trying not to growl. He wasn’t going to let his and Diego’s past get in the way of doing everything he could to protect his territory. “The day you arrived, an out-of-control black bear shifter slaughtered several sheep and the family’s dog on a ranch on the outskirts of town. Then it—”
“So I’ve heard.” Diego faced Dean and Sarah. “I’m glad your children weren’t hurt.”
“Thank you,” Dean said. “It wasn’t for the bastard’s lack of trying, though.”
“The male was visibly ill or on something,” Vaughn said.
Diego shook his head. “Drugs don’t work on us.”
“Not that we know of.”
“And we don’t get sick.”
Sarah laid a hand on her mate’s arm. Vaughn wished she wouldn’t. He’d enjoy watching Dean wipe the floor with Diego’s disinterested face.
“Agent,” she said. “I’d hardly call it normal for a male shifter to froth at the mouth like a rabid animal. I’ve sent samples in to the IA labs. I’d appreciate it if you could call and make sure they’re looked at quickly. I would like to say this is a one-off, but we had an incident with another male the day before who also presented with uber-aggressive behavior and abnormal test results. I would hate to think there was a new virus or possibly recreational drug making its way through our citizens and we didn’t do all we could to stop it. Wouldn’t you?”
Diego’s jaw worked for a few seconds before he said, “Of course. I’ll call right after I speak with Sheriff Ellis on another matter.”
Sarah flashed a smile, and Vaughn thought Diego should count himself blessed she didn’t flash something else, like her claws across his face. “Thank you, Agent Moreno. Come on, Dean. Walk me out.”
As soon as they were gone, Diego rounded on Vaughn. “You shouldn’t have put me in that position,” he said.
“One where you do your job?”
“My job is to hunt down murderers.”
It was all he could do not to grab the male and shake him until his bones rattled. “We offered to help you find Sharon Beck. You turned Luke down flat.”
“I don’t need your help to do my job,” Diego said with a sneer.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” he said, getting up into Vaughn’s face, “that I don’t trust you.”
“Are you kidding me?” Vaughn shot back. “This is about your personal grudge? Grow up and do your job.”
“My job. Ha! That’s rich coming from you.” Eagle-gold flared in the male’s eyes. “After what you did to my sister—”
“I didn’t do anything to Elena.” No fists had been thrown, yet Vaughn felt like he’d been punched in the chest.
“I saw her, you fucker. You hurt her.”
“Is that what she says? Huh? Elena says I physically hurt her?” He thought of the girl with the liquid brown eyes that he’d loved. Her disgust at finding out about his dual nature had hurt him. Bad. But if she had told her brother that Vaughn had actually done something to her...
Diego scowled, his jaw working. “She won’t talk about it. I saw her hysterical and crying after being with you.” He grabbed Vaughn by the front of his shirt. “What did you do, you freak?”
“Whoa! What the hell is going on?” Dean said, barreling back down the hall. He shoved Vaughn and Diego apart.
Knocking Dean’s hand off his chest, Diego glared at Vaughn. “We never should have allowed you anywhere near our people, malvado.” Then he turned and looked at the audience that had gathered at the end of the hall, most of the sheriff department staff and a few packmates. “If you were smart, you’d banish him.”
As Diego stalked away, Vaughn felt everyone stare at him, their expressions filled with horror. And why not? They’d just heard an Interclan Authority agent accuse him of abusing his sister.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“Hi!” Hannah said as soon as she saw Vaughn step out onto his front stoop. Frost followed her out the driver’s side door of her van, and she reached back in to fetch her backpack and a pair of reusable grocery bags.
She knew something was up before she got a good look at Vaughn’s face. His scent was bitter with anger. “What’s wrong?”
“What are you doing here?”
Well, that wasn’t the welcome she’d been expecting, but maybe she should have. Most lycanthropes wouldn’t be too thrilled to find out they were sleeping with a witch blood. But that didn’t seem like him. He’d been so sweet last night. Every night, actually.
She wiggled the bags. “I brought dinner.”
He stared at them. “Dinner.”
“Yes, sir,” she said brightly. “You’ve been doing such a wonderful job feeding me, I thought I’d return the favor.” Plus, she and Frost needed to get the heck out of Jessie’s for a while. She waited Vaughn out, smiling up at him.
He sniffed, and then shook his head like he was chasing away a fly or hopefully, a bad mood. The shadows in his eyes retreated a bit and he grinned. Just a little, but it was a start. “You cooked?”
“I did, and might I add, I’m a good one.”
Reaching down to take the bags from her, he brushed a soft kiss on her cheek. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
“Oh, you’ll want to thank me after, trust me.” That grin grew a little wider and she felt like dancing.
As if he’d been waiting for a warmer reception for her, Frost woofed and loped off into the trees. Hannah frowned. Jessie was not right about him. She just wasn’t. There was no way Hannah could have made him her familiar. He did what he wanted all the time. Hell, he bossed her around loads more than she got her way.
“He doesn’t want dinner?” Vaughn asked, leading her through the house and into the kitchen.
“He’s had his share already.” Once Vaughn set the bags on the counter, she shooed him away to unpack their meal. “I made a ton.” She’d left some for Jessie, too. Didn’t matter that her cousin thought her capable of enslaving another creature, willfully or not. Good manners dictated you did not use someone’s kitchen without giving them a share of the bounty.
“What is it? Chicken? Smells fantastic.”
Hannah opened a cupboard and found the plates on her first try. “Some Southern comfort food, or in this case party food: fried chicken, fried green tomatoes—fresh from Jessie’s garden—cornbread, and peach cobbler.”
“Wow.”
Darling male. “I was inspired.”
“Guess so. What are we celebrating?” He opened a drawer and took out some silverware.
She looked at him. The glower was gone, but the tightness around his eyes remained. Laying her hands on his chest, she said, “Well, I had a lovely day”—mostly—“where I gained some more control over my ability and didn’t pass out even once.” He scowled at that, so she prodded his furrowed brow. “But I’m guessing your day wasn’t as pleasant. Want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“Okay.” She slid her arms around his sides and laid her head on his shoulder. He was about as cuddly as a block of wood, but after a few moments, he sighed and wound his
arms around her, resting his head on hers.
“So you are from the South, then?” he asked.
She’d walked right into that. “Originally.”
“Your accent comes and goes.”
Smacked right into that one, too. She stepped out of his embrace and started plating up the food. “People make lots of judgments about you when you have a Southern accent. Like because we speak slowly, it must mean we are slow.” She touched her temple so he didn’t mistake her meaning. “I hate that. There is too much to see and do in life to be stupid or slow.”
His hands slid around her waist from behind, drawing her against the solid frame of his body. He nuzzled her neck. “Some things are good slow,” he said, his voice quiet and dark. She shivered and he bit down on the sensitive place where her neck met her shoulder. “Some things are meant to be savored.”
* * *
As Cassandra shuddered in his arms, Vaughn felt drunk. High on her lush scent. Addicted to her brilliant smile and laughing eyes. Before she’d arrived, he’d been in a rage, stalking around his house, completely unfit company for anyone. Then she’d sashayed in here, immune to his black state of mind, and driven away the shadows.
“At the station this afternoon, in front of my staff, Diego insinuated that I’d abused his sister.”
Wow. He’d become an expert at ruining the mood. He thought she’d gone rigid last night, but she’d just turned to stone. Breaking his hold, she spun to face him. Her eyes sparked with malice. “That fucking idiot,” she said. “How dare he!”
No doubt, no fear. Just pure fury on his behalf. Her whole body shook with the depth of her emotion.
If he hadn’t been in love with her when she walked in the door, he was now.
Shit. How had that happened? He’d only known her a few days. A few fucked-up, crazy days. But as she stood there with her fists clenched, ready to do battle, he knew it was true.
“You really don’t care, do you?”
“That Agent Moron insulted you like that? The hell I don’t!”
A shocked laugh burst from his throat. “No. That I have both beasts inside.”
With an exasperated noise, she flung her hands up between them. “Hello? Witchborn werewolf. Who am I to cast stones? Though...”
His stomach tightened. “What?”
“I would like to see. What kind of eagle are you?” Her eyes flared wide. “Are you huuuuuge?”
The smile spread across his face until his cheeks hurt and he burst out laughing. “I’m a golden eagle, but showing you may be a problem. I’ve only managed it once. And that was under duress.” He tapped the scar on his neck, and she growled. She was so damn cute.
He backed her against the counter, and quieted what was sure to be another slew of questions with a kiss. He’d meant it to be quick and sweet, but the second his lips met hers, he couldn’t resist lingering. Their tongues slid against each other, soft and warm, and she moaned into his mouth. Nice. He broke the kiss and toyed with the tiny buttons on the top of her strappy shirt. “I think we’re going to have to reheat dinner. I want to thank you right now.”
“Oh no you don’t,” she said, spinning them around so his ass leaned against the counter. “My turn.”
Before he could say a word, she’d yanked his shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor. She looked him over, a naughty gleam entering her eyes. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
When she licked her bottom lip like he was the most delicious looking thing she’d ever seen, his cock kicked against his fly, and he had to grab onto the edge of the counter for support.
“Don’t worry about the food.” As if he was. “It all tastes just as good cold. I did not get to play with you the other night, and I intend to enjoy myself. For a very long time. Because some things are meant to be savored, right?”
“Jesus Christ.”
Porn had nothing on her low, seductive laugh. She reached for his waistband and popped his button. “Let’s get these pants off you right now—cuff, too, if you please—because I want to touch you.” She sank to her knees, placing a slow kiss just below his navel.
“Fuck.” Her knowing smile and hooded eyes were the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
“Skin to skin,” she said, nuzzling his abs, and sending his heart rate into the stratosphere. She started tugging his pants down. “All of you.”
As Vaughn locked his knees and held on to the counter for all he was worth, he decided he didn’t care if the goddess got on board with his and Cassandra’s relationship. Mating dance or no mating dance, he’d never let her go.
Chapter Forty
Hannah woke in Vaughn’s bed to soft kisses on her spine. Warm lips, hot breath, and the slight scratch of stubble made her toes curl in the sheets. He seemed to like waking her this way, half turned on before her brain kicked in. “You can do that for, oh, another couple hours at least,” she said.
A deep chuckle in her ear, a nip on the lobe. “Greedy little wolf.”
“When it comes to you...guilty as charged, Sheriff.”
The predicted, and hoped for, retaliation was swift and erotic. She shrieked in delight as his nibbles turned to careful bites, and his morning scruff decadently grazed her naked skin.
He bit her right butt cheek. “Who?”
Face buried in the pillow, she shook her head back and forth.
He bit her left cheek, a little harder. “Who?”
“Vaughn,” she gasped. “My Vaughn.”
He soothed the sting with his tongue. “Good girl.” Before she could catch her breath, he stretched out over her, his chest to her back, and laced their fingers together. “Everything. Everything about you is so, so good.” He took her mouth in a kiss that stole her air, stole her sanity. He kissed her like he could inhale her, like he wanted to devour her. She was a willing sacrifice.
The leather gloves were back on her hands, and at this moment more than any other, she hated them. She wanted to feel the silk of his skin against her fingertips, the pounding of his pulse. She wanted to bury her fingers in his short, dark hair and hang on.
Breaking their kiss, she said, “Let me turn over. I want—”
He silenced her with a bite on the back of her neck. “Uh-uh. You’ll distract me. I have a plan.”
She huffed out a laugh as his tongue traced the shell of her ear. “A plan?”
“Mmm-hmm.” He rubbed his chin down the column of her throat. “I plan on mapping every inch of this delectable back and finding out what makes you squirm and moan the most. A kiss?” He placed a sucking kiss at the top of her spine. “A scratch? Hmm.” He dragged his morning scruff over her left shoulder. “Or a bite?” Gently, he sank his teeth into the upper curve of her right buttock and her legs scissored on the bed.
His dark laugh was so full of arrogant pride she almost scolded him, but she was too turned on to work up the energy.
“God, you smell so good,” she moaned. Like sunshine and wood smoke and everything good and clean. She rubbed her face against his forearm wanting to cover herself in his scent. She kissed everywhere she could reach.
“So do you,” he said, his voice a rasp in her ear. “Never smelled anything like you. Want you. Want you now.”
Vaughn spread her legs with his own and pressed inside. She tilted her hips as much as she could to hurry him along and gasped. The penetration, the heat of his erection, it was all too much and not nearly enough. He thrust into her with shallow strokes, the languid pace a counterpoint to the ferocity of his kiss. Unable to move beneath his weight, she whimpered.
“Shh, I’ve got you,” he whispered. A man of his word, he squeezed a hand between her and the mattress and put it exactly where she needed it.
“Oh God,” she moaned. Trapped between his thrusting hips and perfect touch, pressure built and built inside her. Her wolf, thoroughly infatuated with hi
m, wanted to be closer to him, too. She rose to the surface until Hannah felt like she might burst.
“Fuck,” Vaughn said. He buried his face against her throat, his breaths coming in harsh pants, and his wolf was suddenly there, just beneath his skin, a hot, pulsing energy that washed over them.
Then Hannah felt something else. A rippling wind gliding over her skin, cool and bright as the mountain air. “Is that...your eagle?”
Her jaw throbbed as her canines lengthened and her wolf howled with joy. Good God Almighty, it was the mating dance. For one perfect, glorious moment, Hannah’s heart sang along with her wolf. Vaughn was everything she ever imagined a true mate could be: strong, intelligent, protective, and so kind. He’d always put her first, be her best friend, her staunchest defender—
That’s when the perfect, glorious bubble of happiness exploded with a sickening thud in her soul. Vaughn would take care of her. No matter what. Even if it got him killed.
Vaughn gasped. “Yes. Thank the goddess. Yes!” He closed his teeth over the tendon between her shoulder and neck, a strangely beautiful multilayered growl rumbling from his throat.
“No! Vaughn, no. We can’t!”
“Mating dance,” he said in a voice gone bedrock deep with arousal. He sounded so happy her heart broke.
“Please,” she whispered. Just that. Please. And he froze.
Tears filled her eyes and rolled down her face. Her wolf keened, but there was nothing they could do. He didn’t even know her name.
“I’m so sorry. I can’t mate you.”
* * *
As carefully as if he were handling shattered glass, Vaughn pushed up and away from Cassandra. As he slipped from her body, she broke into silent sobs.
“Baby?” He knelt down on the floor and brushed her hair from her face. Flushed and trembling, she squeezed her eyes shut. All of that was bad enough, but it was her mouth that terrified him the most: over and over, she mouthed no.
“Baby, please.” His beasts were flipping the fuck out, screaming for her. “Did I hurt you?”
