What is he doing? Her pulse quickened. Did he remember her? Even as that question of doubt filled her mind, she found it oddly easy to dismiss it. She didn’t know how she knew or why, but there was no doubt in her mind he had not forgotten her. As if of their own accord, her legs moved, one red suede boot before the other, as she took a step toward him.
***
The restlessness set in almost as soon as Conall arrived at Fangs, one of the many establishments he owned. It was also one of the few places that opened its doors to all creatures: weres, vampires, witches—on occasion—and humans. Anyone with peaceful intentions was welcomed, and anyone looking for a brawl was removed and treated to one by the wolves working there.
Hours later, as Xorax, the were who supervised and oversaw the dealings at Fangs, debriefed him on the minor skirmishes that had occurred while he was away, Conall found he could take no more. He had to leave for Cedar Creek…soon. He’d never been at ease in any city, but today the unease was heightened. In fact, if he hadn’t known better, he would think his instincts were warning him of some danger. Perhaps, the vampires or witches had reneged on their oaths to the Council and his agitation was due to that. But he knew better. They would not renege, not because they did not wish to, but because the weres currently outnumbered them. As little as twenty years ago, that would have been Conall’s first reaction to the unease he felt, followed by a call to his pack, and the packs that bordered his. So, with that possibility out of his mind, he could only wonder at the cause for his feelings. As soon as Xorax was through with the debriefing, Conall headed from the office, already seeing Cedar Creek in his mind.
Years ago, when the pack had first moved to New York, he’d hired contractors to create what was now the Cedar Creek Estates, a community thirty minutes outside of the city that housed the members of his pack. It had been acres of grassy open land when Conall first laid eyes on it, but with the work of landscape architects and brilliant designers, the community had become a haven. Twenty-five houses varying in size and build, all surrounding a curved street, camouflaged by tall trees and shrubs, along with educational and medical facilities, made up the Estates. Although it was a gated community, the gates were never locked. No creature who was not pack had ever stepped into their territory unless by invite, and though some humans had driven as far as the gate, they never entered. Although they didn’t have the heighted instincts of immortals, humans had a “sixth sense” that usually kept them alive. As Conall stepped from behind the door that would take him to the exit, he stopped to speak with Joshua about Eli. Since Eli wouldn’t be returning with him, he told Joshua to keep an eye on the pup. In the past years, Eli had gotten into a fair share of interesting arguments, which usually resulted in brawls at Fangs. Although he’d never seen Eli exhibit even the hint of a temper, he’d heard his nephew had mouthed off to older, stronger weres before, which usually led to the pack defending Eli….
His thoughts halted abruptly as the most intoxicating scent hit him.
He’d caught it the moment he’d stepped through the doors. It had been subtle, like a human-made perfume, and although distracting, he’d found it easy to ignore. But it had continued to grow, more and more, and he could no longer think, or speak. His unease increased tenfold. Something strange was happening. His beast tried to fight its way out. He froze and closed his eyes, willing the wolf to be at peace, but still he struggled. Man and beast warred for dominance as Conall pinpointed the scent. Female. Behind him. He pivoted and his gaze locked on wide brown eyes and a soft mouth that was opened in a breathy “oh.”
He inhaled again, a long draw that pulled her scent into him. It was the woman from last night—the human Eli had chased into his lair, but today, something was different. Very different. Her scent was changed, heightened, and it came at him in great, seductive waves.
The beast demanded release once more. Conall fought it, lowering his head and willing him away. Through the black hair that had fallen into his face, he watched her. She was moving to him. He couldn’t turn away even if he wanted to.
Before she could take another step, he moved, beast and man in agreement on one thing: they wanted her. He came to a stop before her, resisting the urge to pull her to him, to take her upstairs, to see if he’d imagined correctly how her naked body would look under his.
“Hi,” she said breathlessly, and Conall heard the tremor in her voice as she addressed him. Human. Mortal. He subdued the beast.
“Hi,” he replied, testing the word. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d engaged in polite conversation with a human. Especially a human female. His only encounters with human females had been physical, and he’d found he preferred his own kind, as humans were…fragile.
“Thanks.” Her lids drooped slightly as she stared at him. She stepped closer. “For—ah—helping me last night.”
He nodded, his eyes moving from her face and traveling down her body. With his heightened senses, he could see the slight bulge of the shirt where her nipples strained against her bra, could smell the sweet, sensual aroma of her sex, which proved her need for him. How could he have thought her simply pretty? She was beautiful. His gaze moved back to her lips and he growled softly when her tongue snaked out to wet them.
Conall was through with niceties and human formalities. His hand encircled her waist, and he pulled her against him and the obvious arousal he was in no way trying to hide.
***
Vivienne gasped, neck arching as she looked up at him. If there were ever a time she should struggle, this was it. She didn’t know him, and a heap of other reasons as to why she should pull away were reeling in her head, but this was the only man, in her twenty-three years of existence, who made her ache. She wasn’t completely naïve about the things that happened between men and women, but never before had she been this interested. She could almost see them together, see images she’d never encountered before. Him above her, taking her as she arched and cried out under him. She above him, neck thrown back, as he held onto her breasts. They were so vivid.
His face lowered to hers, and then his lips were against hers, soft and hard at the same time, dominant and yielding. Oh sweet merciful God. Her hands locked around his neck and she undulated against him, dragging a feral-sounding groan from him, from Conall. Yes, that was his name.
Conall.
***
Conall suddenly pulled away and took a step back. She came forward, her arms reaching for him again, but his hand held her firmly as he briefly scanned the crowd of people. A woman stood behind her, staring at them in open-mouthed shock, but save for her, only a few of the humans gathered seemed interested. He looked over to the workers—his pack. The bartenders were all staring at him, but when he turned to them, they pretended to be busy. He didn’t need to look to know that Raoul and Sloan were staring at each other and also at him as if he’d grown another tail. Joshua, too. And probably all of the waitresses.
This was forbidden, something their people had preached against since the beginning of time. He was a werewolf; she was human. He should not have such a stark attraction to her—as if she were his…his mate! The wolf lifted his head and howled. Laws and tradition be damned! He wanted her, and he was going to have her.
He pulled her back against him and leaned toward her ear. “Come with me.”
A hand slipped into his hair and he resisted the urge to growl his pleasure. Her fingers were soft and gentle. They would feel even better against his fur. With her body against him, and her fingers in his hair, he couldn’t help his next actions. His hands slid around her back, and then over her buttocks, feeling the soft globes in his hands, as he hauled her against him once more.
“Yes,” she murmured against his neck, sounding breathy and willing. “Yes.”
That was all he needed to hear. Conall was about to lead her upstairs, to the private apartment that served him when he was in the city, when Vivienne was suddenly tugged away from him. He spun and his anger only grew when he recognized
that a human male now stood before her, his arms crossed over his chest as he sized Conall up.
“Whoa there, buddy. She’s not going anywhere with you,” the man said firmly, and Conall looked behind him to see that Vivienne was still staring at him with the same stark, naked need he was sure reflected in his eyes as well.
“Step aside, boy,” Conall snarled, baring his teeth in clear warning to this stranger. If the man didn’t do as he said, he was going to attack and bedamned whoever witnessed the transformation and the murder of a human.
***
Max had just been about to close the deal with a particularly busty redhead who’d been following on his heels for the last ten minutes. If she could look at redheads, then so could he, he decided in a way that even he admitted was very childish. He was about to suggest that he and the Jessica Rabbit doppelganger take a little trip, to the bathroom or a nice secluded corner, when Drew approached him, frantic, about something happening to Vivienne. He’d reacted immediately and followed Drew to where two lovers were embracing passionately, except one of the lovers was his best-friend and the other was some random guy! He knew it was her birthday, but Vivienne would never do something so…out there. So the only other logical thing was that she was completely plastered. Or drugged.
“Okay, old man,” Max replied sarcastically, the three or four shots, not to mention the stout, doing nothing for his instincts. “We’re going to leave now so just cool it.”
Max grabbed Vivienne’s arm and she resisted slightly before he stepped directly into her view and shook her. As long as he was breathing, Vivienne was going nowhere but home. He heard something akin to a snarl behind him and ignored it. The bastard could growl, snarl, and spit all he wanted.
“Viv—hey, Viv. Are you okay? Can you see me clearly?” he began, touching her cheek and turning her head from side to side. Her reflexes were slow, and she kept looking over his shoulder, instead of focusing on him. A scowl touched Max’s lips as he turned to Drew, who stood behind Vivienne and looked frightened. “Take her outside and call a cab. She’s been drugged.”
Drew’s eyes widened and she lifted a brow at him as if she wanted to say something, but she grabbed Vivienne and against her protests began to lead her away.
Max turned, only to find that the man was being restrained by his two Muscle-Milk drinking friends. They were dragging him backward, toward a door that had not been open before. Max moved closer and glared; he was not in the least bit intimidated. The snarling man lunged for Max but the men held on, and he dragged them a few feet but not far.
He was obviously strong. Max did not care. He wasn’t just going to leave without calling scum, scum! If not for Drew, this backward bastard would have probably raped her.
“Listen to me, you sick fuck! Forget about her. If I ever see you again, especially if I ever see you around her, I’m going to rearrange that face of yours! You got that?”
Max turned and headed for the exit. A shout behind him made him turn briefly. The pervert had broken away from the men holding him, and in the end, four men—including the bartender who’d served him both of his drinks—had to restrain him and force him through the door. Max scowled, not sharing the fascination that everyone else seemed to exude at the number of men necessary to restrain him. He didn’t doubt that if it came down to it, he’d easily put the idiot on his back.
Chapter Three
It took Vivienne long seconds to realize that she was being led toward the exit. Everything outside of Conall was a vivid haze of bright colors, streams of light and incoherent sounds. Shaking her head and fighting against the waves that seemed to be pulsing through her body, she tugged at Drew’s hand. Except for a quick glance over her shoulder, Drew neither slowed nor stopped. It was not until they were outside, in the bitter chill of the night, that Drew turned to Vivienne with a look of concern over her face.
She placed the back of her hand against Vivienne’s forehead.
“Drew—I’m fine,” Vivienne began, her voice both breathy and shaky as she thought back to what had happened in the club. Her heart and pulse still raced frantically, and her body still felt erotically sensual, but her brain was functioning once more.
What the hell did I do?
“You didn’t look like it in there,” Drew interrupted, using both of her hands to cup Vivienne’s face. The streetlights shined down on them but even in the dim light, she could see the dark brown of Drew’s irises and the little flecks of black in them. Drew blinked, and the movement was so slow that she saw hundreds of curved lashes meet before separating once more.
Vivienne’s eyes bulged before she blinked rapidly. At that moment, her ears picked up on something. A strange sound like a quiet grinding. As she looked around every other sound faded except for the brief crunching. The two bouncers stood before the door leading into the club, and one was staring down at them with an expressionless face. The other man was popping something into his mouth—peanuts? Her head tilted as she continued to stare at him. Impossible. It was impossible that the sound that she was hearing was his chewing when she was at least ten feet away.
The bouncer staring at her suddenly turned to the one eating nuts.
“Have you seen her before?”
“No. Why?”
“She looks suspicious….”
They both turned so that they could properly scrutinize her and Vivienne spun away from them.
The sound of blasting music hit her ears, causing her to wince before it quieted to reveal other voices.
“How awesome is this place, Terry?”
Who was Terry? Who was speaking—whispering, actually, as though from a distance? Her eyes frantically looked around, passing over Drew, whose lips were moving rapidly.
“—take you to the hospital—?”
Another voice interrupted.
“Hold him! Ah shit—grab his legs, Sloan!”
Her eyes scanned the sidewalk and street once more. Who was speaking and where were they? There wasn’t anyone outside except for the bouncers and Drew.
“I can’t believe you’re breaking up with me, Daniel.”
Her eyes shifted back and forth as the number of voices increased, and grew louder. A fine sheen of sweat broke out across her forehead and perspiration trickled down the crease between her breasts.
“Stop!” Her voice was hoarse, ragged.
“Calm—down. She’s human— It’s not worth it.” That was followed by a loud grunt, as if the person speaking were now in pain.
“How about we leave here, and head back to your place?”
She lifted her hands to her ears, trying to stop the sounds, as her eyes squeezed shut.
“Shit! The cage! Put him in the cage!”
“Stop it! Oh, God, stop!”
“Stop what? Viv, are you okay?” Drew’s voice faded out toward the end.
“What’s going on out here…what’s wrong with Viv? Viv!”
Someone was shaking her. As Vivienne’s head snapped back and forth, she tried to regain a sense of control. The voices still raged on, overlapping, mixing, contorting, confusing, but she managed to pry her lids open.
Max stood before her. His hair was tousled badly, as if he’d recently run a hand through it, and the expression on his face was one of concern mixed with rage.
She could see Drew off to the side of Max. Her phone was to her ears and her eyes were focused on Vivienne.
Her head felt like it would soon implode.
“Stop,” she muttered again, and before she could elaborate on what she meant, her eyes rolled back and her world went peacefully quiet.
***
“Release me.”
Conall’s voice was the equivalent of a whiplash, quick and harsh, as he paced the silver-reinforced steel cage into which they’d thrown him. His quick strides took him from one side of the square cage to the other, and back again.
Raoul Salazar and Sloan McTavish, his betas, both stood in the room with him, their arms crossed over their chests a
s they lifted brows at his command. Half an hour had passed since they’d subdued him long enough to get him into the cage, and they seemed to have no intention of letting him out anytime soon.
“Release me now,” Conall repeated, locking his angry gaze on each of them in turn.
“No,” Sloan replied calmly, shaking his close-shaven head in the negative.
“Our laws prevent the murder of humans unless it cannot be avoided,” Raoul interjected, a trace of humor in his voice. “No matter how much it’s deserved.”
Conall snarled and glared before beginning a new round of pacing. His nose was still filled with her scent, but it was also filled with the scent of the human male. He would find him and sacred law or not, kill him. He would not stand for anyone—human or immortal—coming between them.
A thought entered his mind and sent him into another frenzy. Was the man her lover?
Red obscured his vision, and his canines punched into his mouth, before he remembered her scent, free of any others, and calmed enough to see clearly. Vivienne did not have a lover, had not had a lover for months, perhaps years.
He remembered her eyes, clear and open, and his rage gradually began to subside. The scent of sunlight and ripened peaches overwhelmed him and he took his first controlled breath following his encounter with her. She was human. He could not have this type of attraction to a human. It was dangerous, for both of them. Wolves mated for life, and humans, fragile, mortal creatures that they were, died easily. He’d heard of instances where male wolves took human females as their mates, and the females died during a particularly intense mating session or the birth of the pups. It was their fragility more than anything that rendered them unsuitable mates for his kind. Another half an hour of controlled breathing and thoughts like those, and Conall found it easier to quell his attraction to the human. He could also sense she was no longer as close as she’d previously been. Her scent had faded.
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