Fur, Fangs and All (The Elementals Book 2)

by Meredith Allen Conner

  Livie sat perfectly still on the bed, the invisible glue of fear locking her in place as she watched him. Thick, heavy muscles moved across his back as he searched the drawer. They shifted and bunched with his slightest move, all the way from his shoulders down to . . . Cheeze-its!

  Her eyeballs just about popped out of her head. Roc was naked. All six and a half feet of him. He must have destroyed his boxers when he shifted.

  Shallow dents on either side of his butt flexed as he shifted a foot. One of his thighs could easily encompass both of hers plus an arm. Heck, his calves were larger than her thighs.

  Despite her fear and exhaustion, her eyes went back to his butt. Maybe it was that compulsion to gawk over things that one normally didn’t see. Like slowing down to check out an accident, or staring owl-eyed at a nude derrière. That had to be why she couldn’t tear her gaze away. And why her stomach lurched, right?

  She was still puzzling over her body’s response when he turned around. She gasped. Her stomach didn’t merely lurch, it almost jumped out of her skin.

  Cheeze-its and crackers – the boxers made him look small! And he wanted to put that inside of her?

  He had to be joking. She could not possibly be his mate. They would never, ever, ever fit. He rumbled something. She darted huge eyes to his face. He certainly didn’t look like he was joking.

  His jaw clenched, lips compressed in a stern line, she had a brief wish that he would turn back into his werewolf form. She expected to be scared when he looked like an animal.

  She shifted nervously on the bed as he came back towards her. She glanced around, eyes darting everywhere. Something flashed. She zeroed in on his hands.

  He kept handcuffs in his dresser drawer?

  Livie scrambled backwards, her lethargy gone as the threat of rape loomed once more in her mind.

  “Stay still,” he snapped.

  A tiny spark of her former self flared to life.

  Not a chance.

  She continued to scrabble backwards as fast as she could. No way was she going to let him tie her down and take her. His big frame tensed and she knew he planned to pounce on her.

  Move damn it!

  Livie propelled herself faster and . . . completely off the bed.

  “Ah!” she shrieked right before her head hit the floor followed immediately by the rest of her body. Crumpled and aching, she barely had time to draw a breath before he appeared next to her.

  Of course, he landed in a graceful crouch.

  He raked her with a heated glance, eyes lingering on her breasts. Livie crossed her arms protectively. She’d completely forgotten that he had shredded her shirt.

  With his claws.

  Nervously she checked out his hands. Still very human. And one clutched the handcuffs. She stiffened her legs. Any possibility of getting away from him, lay with her legs. She didn’t have enough strength in her arms.

  “You’re going to open that wound if you’re not more careful.”

  Expecting him to grab her and force that huge erection into her, his mild comment took her by surprise. She frowned at him. She didn’t like the way he kept her off balance.

  “I won’t make this easy for you,” she said.

  “Make what easy?” he asked.

  Livie eyed him suspiciously. His voice and expression might appear calm and distant now, but it had to be misleading. He’d just been seething with rage and covered in fur. He’d ripped her shirt then touched her. Why else would he be crouching next to her, naked, with an enormous erection and holding handcuffs?

  Livie thrust her chin out. “I won’t let you rape me.”

  Dark swirls flickered to life in his eyes. Livie tensed, nerves ratcheting up another notch as she waited for him to turn.

  “I’m not going to rape you,” he bit out.

  Livie looked pointedly at the handcuffs he held loosely against his knee. She couldn’t help but notice that his erection had in no way what-so-ever diminished.

  “I won’t risk you trying to escape.” He said. He grimaced as he reached down and gripped his cock. Livie gaped at him. She could not believe that he was touching himself so intimately in front of her.

  “This,” he stroked his hand to the tip and back down, “is something that I can’t control around you. I don’t think it will change after we mate.” She bit her lip. Not if, but when they mated. Her attempted murder had changed nothing in his view. “I have a feeling I’ll always be hard when you are near.”

  He moved so quickly, it sent her head spinning. One minute he was in front of her, the next, she was handcuffed to the end of his bed as he walked out of the room.

  He left her where she’d fallen. A blanket tossed on her lap.

  “Goodnight Livie.”

  Chapter Eight

  Livie squeezed her fingers together and tried to yank them through the cold steel circle of the handcuff. The unyielding edge scraped her skin painfully, fragile bones and muscles cried out in protest as she tried to force her hand free.

  She blinked the tears away, biting her lip to keep from screaming.

  Pull. Ignore the pain. Pull harder.

  She slumped forward, shuddering. She whimpered as she eased the hard cuff back off. The skin near her wrist showed white before the blood rushed back in. Raw red marks encircled the entire back of her hand.

  She didn’t know how many times she’d tried to pull her hand through the cuff. It wasn’t coming off without breaking her bones. She wasn’t quite that desperate.

  She did not relish peeing all over the floor, but it was not worth broken bones.

  If only she could get her hands on her gun. She could shoot the damn thing off. And probably risk severe injury in the process, but she was in a serious predicament.

  Damn him.

  Annoyed, stiff and in urgent need of the bathroom, Livie couldn’t wait to lay into Roc.

  Sometime during the night, she’d gotten some of her gumption back. Definitely not all of it, but enough to have her chomping at the bit to vent some of her anger on Roc.

  It might have something to do with getting some sleep for the first time in weeks. Her injury kept her awake for the first two weeks, then the nightmares and memories took over. Last night, she’d slept like the dead. Despite being handcuffed to a bed.

  Probably because you had three meltdowns — all over the werewolf.

  Maybe instead of sleeping pills, the pharmaceutical companies should market meltdown pills. It certainly worked for her.

  She’d woken up maybe fifteen minutes previous, feeling somewhat renewed. Stiff and sore as hell from sleeping on the floor with her arm cocked at a weird angle due to the handcuff, but for the first time in nearly a month she thought she might be able to handle her life again.

  After she used the bathroom.

  She kicked angrily at the leg of his bed. He would have to have an enormous bed that weighed at least seven hundred pounds. Considering his large frame, the size of his bed made sense. He might be able to move it, she glared at the dark wood, but she couldn’t shift it a measly centimeter.

  Livie pressed her hand over her side. Her wound ached. The stiff floor and that last kick hadn’t helped.

  She could try yelling, but it just seemed like such a girl thing to do. And yesterday she’d been the girl way too much for her peace of mind.

  She swiveled around, leaning back against the end of the un-budgeable bed. She wiggled uncomfortably. Huffed out a huge sigh. Wiggled again.

  Damn. I’m going to have to be the girl.

  Livie opened her mouth to yell. The door swung open. She shrieked. The exhalation put added pressure on her over-full bladder. She squeezed her thighs together, praying she wouldn’t humiliate herself.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Her eyes shot open. Roc crouched directly in front of her, just like last night, only this time wearing faded jeans and a brown shirt. The memory of him stroking his fully erect cock so shamelessly in front of her, flashed through her mind. She couldn’
t help it.

  She flushed, avoiding his direct gaze. She wasn’t the one who had behaved so outrageously. He should be the one embarrassed.

  Of course, she had tried to murder him.

  “Livie?”

  Help at hand, focus.

  “I need to use the bathroom,” she said, pressing her thighs tighter. She thought her entire body might be red by now. Yet another vulnerability admitted.

  “Of course you do,” he muttered. His voice might carry some guilt, but a quick glance at his face showed the same cold expression he had left with last night.

  He quickly inserted a small key into the lock and the cuff released with a little snick, freeing her hand.

  Livie grimaced as she tightened the blanket over her shredded blouse and quickly made her way into the adjoining bathroom. She had to admit, when it came to strength, there were definitely a few advantages to being a werewolf.

  Urgent matters taken care of, Livie eyed her reflection in the mirror. She looked surprisingly good. The dark bruising and small cuts she expected to see from yesterday’s fall, were nowhere to be found.

  She didn’t understand it. She stopped her fall with her face. She tended to bruise at the slightest bump, there should be black and blue marks all over her skin. She remembered blood, tasting it in her mouth. She probed at a spot on her lip. The exact same place Roc had licked.

  Could he have healed her with his tongue?

  Was that possible?

  She snorted. She controlled the Element of wind. The big male in the other room was a werewolf. Oh yeah, definitely possible.

  That had to be what all the licking had been about yesterday. He’d been healing her.

  She considered adding another check in the minus column under why werewolves freaked her out, but after another scan in the mirror, she had to admit she couldn’t find a thing to complain about. She didn’t hurt and she didn’t look like she’d been KO’d in the fourth round of a five round match.

  A thin line appeared above her stormy gray eyes. She didn’t like it. Not even a full two days in his company and yet somehow the werewolves now had a couple positives going for them where before everything was negative.

  She didn’t worry that she would fall for him – an animal? No way. However, she couldn’t deny the occasional twinges of what might have been sexual attraction. When he was in his sculpted human form. And when she hadn’t been terrified. She refused to think about his touch on her breast – human and animal.

  But she didn’t want to soften towards him either. He thought she was his mate. From what she’d observed of her sister’s mate, werewolves tended to be extremely possessive and tenacious. Roc might get the wrong idea if she even behaved politely.

  She couldn’t allow that to happen.

  She might not like him and had failed to decapitate him, but she didn’t want to deliberately hurt his feelings. He couldn’t help who he was. Anymore than she could. She might not like any of it, but she didn’t have it in her to be cruel either.

  And what was planning to murder him? Simply expedient?

  She sighed.

  A hard knock rapped on the door. “Livie?”

  No more hiding in the bathroom. Drat. She still hadn’t figured out what to say to the man she’d tried really hard to kill.

  She turned towards the door. Takes the whole morning after thing to a completely different level.

  ****

  She avoided eye contact. That bugged him. She slid over to the edge of the doorway to ensure that no part of her body touched his as she walked out of the bathroom.

  Roc gritted his teeth.

  She’d tried to kill him last night and yet it cut deep that she didn’t want to touch him, that she treated him like a disease to shun at all costs.

  The rage he thought he had under control flared to life like an untamed wildfire.

  He gripped her chin. “Look at me.”

  She raised stormy eyes. “That’s what you said last night.”

  “I will not be treated like an animal. No matter what you think. You will look at me when you talk to me.”

  Livie pushed his hand away. “I’m looking at you.”

  He leaned forward, deliberately invading her space, towering over her. He cupped her shoulders, the sharp edges of her bones dug into his palms. She stiffened immediately. He tugged her closer. “And you will not avoid my touch,” he growled.

  She took a step closer, shocking him. She jabbed her little finger into his chest. “Quit telling me what to do. You do not own me!”

  Finally! Some spirit, some fire. The woman so irately prodding him in no way resembled the defeated little mouse of yesterday.

  He wanted to kiss her and shake her. He hungered to be deep inside of her, feel her wet heat surrounding his cock. By all rights they should still be in bed together right now. Instead he’d spent last night running loops around his home, afraid to get too far in case she somehow managed to escape, but desperately needing to expel at least part of his fury.

  “I may not own you, but you are still mine.” He lifted her off the floor, her slight weight appallingly easy to manage. “And Livie?” He bumped her nose with his, “when a werewolf claims something, he never lets it go.”

  Roc took her lips in a hard kiss. He couldn’t be gentle with her. Not yet. The image of the sword slicing down towards his neck was not one he could dismiss.

  She had fears. He got that, but he had never done anything to hurt her. He had wanted only to cherish her.

  Now he didn’t know what to do, except chain her to his bed until he calmed down.

  He nipped at her lower lip, when she gasped, he thrust his tongue inside. She tried to bite down, but he merely gripped her jaw and squeezed hard until she released his tongue. At once he softened his touch, smoothing his fingers over her skin.

  The harsh metallic bite of copper now mingled with her taste. Warm and a little wild, he could distinguish her Element among all the other flavors of Livie. Kissing her, he felt the wind rushing by, filling his senses as he ran through the night.

  She moaned, a small sound.

  Roc drew back, studying her. Her gray eyes bemused, her pale skin flush with the first hint of arousal. Satisfied, he set her down. He brought her along with him towards his bed. She stiffened as they neared and he had to drag her the last few feet.

  He grabbed the cuff from the floor and the same wrist from the night before. Her tiny fist clenched in his grip, but she didn’t say a word. The delicate skin with its faint tracing of blue veins was marked with raw red scrapes. She’d obviously tried to yank her hand through the cuff rather than call him this morning.

  He knew she’d slept soundly last night. He’d checked on her several times.

  The now familiar rage threatened to overwhelm him. He released her wrist and bent to lock the handcuff around a slender ankle.

  He stood over her for a minute longer. Livie glared at her foot then at him.

  Good.

  “I’ll bring some food up in a bit,” he said, trying not to envision her naked breasts under the blanket. “And a new top.” He headed out of the room. He’d just shut the door when something hit it. Hard.

  Had to be her shoe. He’d made certain nothing sharp or solid remained anywhere within her reach.

  She might be furious with him, but she wasn’t moping anymore. It was a start at least.

  Chapter Nine

  Roc raised his fist to pound again, but the door swung open first. Mac scowled at him.

  “What are you doing here? I thought you and Livie would still be . . .” he glanced quickly behind him, “uh, getting acquainted.”

  Roc heard a feminine snort from down the hall. Judging by the mis-buttoned shirt and unzipped pants, Roc had interrupted Mac and Sela from a bit of their own getting acquainted.

  Roc growled. He’d spent the last three days trying to get over her attempted murder, but every time he came within a few feet of her, the rage grabbed hold of him. He still did not want
to hurt her, which meant he fed her, let her loose to use the bathroom and left her alone.

  With the moon waning, he thought he might be able to control his anger. This morning he’d added a flower to the tray of food he brought her. Livie had thrown it at him. Along with the food.

  She hadn’t put on nearly enough weight to throw away food.

  He needed help.

  “I need to talk to your mate.” He rubbed his jaw in frustration. He’d spent centuries longing to use that word and now . . .

  Mac studied him for a moment. “You all right?”

  Roc clenched his fist, “I would like to talk to Sela.”

  Mac raised his brows at the snarled words. “Not like that you’re not.”

  Roc punched the door. He took a deep breath as he pulled his hand back through the new large hole in Mac’s door. “I won’t yell at her.”

  “Damn straight you won’t.” Mac stood back to let him pass. He nodded at the door. “And you can pay for that too.”

  Ignoring his best friend, Roc headed towards the kitchen where he’d heard Sela. He didn’t worry that she might still be in a state of undress, waiting for Mac to return. Her hearing nearly rivaled his these days. A side benefit to cementing the mating bond with a werewolf.

  An advantage he wanted Livie to have as well.

  However, they had to mate first in order for the bond to fully take place, something his aching body was all too aware of. He wanted to mate with her. Hell, his body was hardening just at the thought. But she’d tried to kill him. He couldn’t get past that.

  Sela held a banana in one hand and a bottle of Wolf’s Brew in the other when he entered the kitchen. She shoved the bottle forward. “Sounds like you need this.”

  Roc gratefully accepted the beer. A member of their clan had concocted the drink in the early sixteen hundreds. Human beer had no effect on them and tasted sour to a werewolf. Wolf’s Brew contained Wolfs bane, which contrary to popular lore did not kill a werewolf – it just made them drunk as hell in sufficient enough quantities.