by Alana Hart
Connor steeled himself, watching as though it interested him. Frankie cracked a belt at the dogs whenever they started to ease up on the third.
He heard Casey’s quick intake of breath, but he was the only to hear it. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the horror in her eyes, the sickness and shock. He moved, stepping in front of her, blocking her from Frankie’s view. Why he did it, he couldn’t say. Perhaps it was because he was feeling the same way, and could hide it, but wanted to rage and rip Frankie apart. Perhaps it was because he needed to find out what she knew about him, how she found it. Perhaps it was because she might know his secret, and that in itself was an odd feeling. No one knew about him, no human anyway, and it gave him a strange sense of detachment from his pack, one that he sort of liked, and feared.
Frankie glanced in their direction, his dark eyes unreadable in the blood red light from the setting sun. Connor nodded in greeting. Frankie returned the nod, then gave his attention back to the dogs.
He whipped the belt at them, catching one of the dogs on its back. It yelped, snarled, and went for the kill.
It was over in a matter of minutes. The two fighting dogs stood panting over the corpse of the smaller dog, blood in their mouths. Connor kept his face impassive, all the while fighting the bile rising in his throat.
This was it, the evidence he needed to take Frankie and his whole crew out. He should do it now. Shift and kill them all. He could even command the dogs to help him if he wanted.
His heart beat too hard in his chest. Now is the moment, Connor, he thought.
But he hesitated, and he knew why.
Casey stood behind him, shaking. He turned, catching the fear in her eyes. He wanted to reach out and comfort her. But since he was a large part of the reason for her fear, he kept his hands at his sides.
As Frankie came toward them, Connor spoke quietly so only she could hear.
“You’re on, Casey.”
She stared up at him for a moment longer with those bright, pretty eyes, and then she straightened her shoulders, smiled, and though he could still sense her fear, she opened her arms to Frankie.
Connor stepped out of the way as she sauntered over, letting Frankie wrap his arms around her, kissing her. She was good, he had to give it to her. She kissed him as though he were the only man in the world that she wanted.
He bit the inside of his cheek and watched Casey rub herself against Frankie’s groin, Frankie’s hands grabbing her ass and lifting her.
Connor looked away.
Victor watched with interest and a hard on. There were four others in Frankie’s crew there. Two took the fighters out of the barn, while another disposed of the dead dog.
He knew what the alphas would say. No one outside the family knew about them. They married other shifters, were homeschooled by shifters, and grew up surrounded by shifters. There was no place in the world for anyone who wasn’t a shifter to know about them. Not that she definitely knew about him. He only guessed that she did.
Frankie surfaced, his dark eyes peering down into Casey’s light ones. He was also good at playing a part, Connor thought, as Frankie smiled. He glanced at Connor.
“Dinner’s in thirty minutes. Why don’t you go settle in, any room on the second floor is fine, and meet us behind the house?”
Connor nodded. “Your bike?”
Frankie wrapped an arm around Casey’s waist and led her toward the house. “My men will unload it. The parts will be here tomorrow.”
Connor watched him and Casey disappear through the fence. So Frankie was going to play it cool, wait to see if one of them slipped up. He could sense the suspicion in Frankie, smell the anger, but the man did nothing. Frankie was going to let this play out.
Connor smelled sweat and onions a moment before he felt the heavy form of Victor loom behind him.
“Luis, Gio, get the bike,” the big man barked.
Connor turned, nodding at him. He only glared in return. Two of the men hurried off, and Connor followed.
When he got to the car, Luis and Gio had already taken the bike off the trailer and were pushing it into a detached garage. Connor grabbed his things, left his car where it was, and headed into the house. Frankie sure went all out with this whole farmhouse thing.
Flowery upholstery on the couches and chairs, a huge wooden table in the dining room, creaky stairs leading up the second floor. There were four bedrooms, none occupied, so he took the one at the end of the hall, out of the way. His room was simple; large bed, old dresser, wooden trunk filled with extra blankets. It felt too much like the birthing room at home, but it had a view of the stable and barn out back. He could also see a table and chairs in a smaller area with lights strung around it. He assumed that’s where they would be having dinner.
Pausing a moment, Connor let the house settle around him, taking in the scent of apples, mint, and horse on the cool breeze, the feel of the branches scratching the siding, the pulse of the dogs outside.
And then he felt something else; a steady, panicked heartbeat. It came from overhead.
The heartbeat moved across the upstairs hall and down the stairs. She was running. He could let her. She meant nothing to him. She would actually be better off if she could get away. And, if they caught her, she’d be out of his life for good and he could get on with his job.
But, bastard that he was, he went into the hall to intercept her.
Chapter Eighteen
Casey paced in the room Frankie had left her in. He’d given her a long, sensuous kiss, one she tried hard to return, even though she wanted to throw up in his mouth. She had fully expected him to start his interrogation right then and there, but then he’d told her to freshen up and meet him outside for dinner.
The room was huge with pale gray walls and black silk sheets. It took up the entire third floor, and was adorned with an enormous bed, master bath, a sitting area, and a massage table.
She paced the room, staring out each window in turn, until she reached those that looked out back, on the barn.
There was no telling the horror inside from here, but she knew. And she had to get out. She had never seen one of the dogs killed before. Mariam had shown her pictures, and she had looked up plenty, but she had never been there to witness the carnage.
And she never wanted to see it again.
What the hell was she thinking? She couldn’t go up against someone like Frankie Sway. Didn’t Mariam tell her that before she went in as Jenny Cartwright? And now she was stuck here with a man who suspected her of hacking his computer and had just casually watched a dog get brutally murdered.
The sun finally set, blanketing the house and yard in velvety darkness. The only light came from the moon, stars, and the lights inside. She was going, that was it. Connor could take the fall, or tell Frankie it had been her, she didn’t care. She couldn’t stay here another minute. She and Mariam could come back for the dogs together. No, fuck that. They could call the police and report the bastard.
Grabbing her bag, Casey crept quickly from the room and down the stairs. She could walk to the edge of the property, hitchhike for a ride, and then head for Maine.
She was at the top of the landing on the second floor, about to head down to the main floor, when an arm snaked around her waist, pinning her against a hard body, and a hand clamped over her mouth. She knew that hand, that body, and her fear only increased.
She fought hard as he carried her back upstairs to her room. He shut the door, leaning against it, with Casey still held tight in his arms.
“Enough,” he growled into her ear. She understood now why his growl had sounded so animalistic; it wasn’t human. “You know what I am?” he whispered.
She hesitated. She could deny it; he wouldn’t know the truth.
“Casey…” his voice in her ear sent shivers down her spine, whether fear or something else she couldn’t tell.
She nodded.
“Then you know what I can do to you if you try to scream?”
She swa
llowed hard.
“I’m not going to hurt you unless you give me a reason.”
She nodded again. He moved his hand.
“How do you know?”
She knew what he meant and spoke quietly, afraid to make him angry. “Internet. Old story on Ronan. There was a picture.”
He sighed hard through his nose.
Slowly, he released her. Once free, she stumbled away from him, farther into the room. She had no doubt that if she even opened her mouth to scream, he would silence her. And honestly, did she expect help from Frankie and his crew?
No, she could use Connor to help her get away, couldn’t she? Or was she so expendable?
“Good girl,” he smiled, but there was no humor in his eyes. He glanced at her bag. “Where you headed?”
She shrugged. No use pretending with him. “I’m rethinking this whole mission. Doesn’t feel very safe anymore.”
“Because of me or Frankie?”
She stared at him, her eyes locked with his. Her knees only shook a little. “Both.”
He nodded. She had never truly appreciated how big he was. He wasn’t overwhelmingly tall, but he was wide and muscular, his shoulders and neck like a boxer’s. And to know that that body contained the kind of power a werewolf must possess was terrifying.
“You can’t leave,” he said simply, meeting her eyes with his cold ones.
“Why not? What do you care?”
“I don’t. But, Frankie will catch you. And if you run, he might call in more of his men to help find you. I have a job to do and it doesn’t include a fight with his entire crew. Just Frankie, and any witnesses.”
She stared at him, comprehension darkening her thoughts. “Me?”
He only stared at her, his eyes unreadable.
She glared at him. “If you’re going to kill me anyway, why not just let Frankie do it? Why not kill me now?”
She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth.
“All right,” he said and started toward her.
She backed away, into the wall. Connor reached her, and wrapped a hand around her throat, squeezing lightly. Was she going to die now? All because of her stupid, bleeding heart. Who was she kidding? She was Casey Keene, and she wouldn’t go down without a fight.
She dropped her bag, ready to take him on, but Connor grabbed her hands and squeezed her throat a little tighter. His face was close to hers and she watched, in horror, as his fangs slid into view.
“Not ready to die?” the growl in his voice was more prominent, deeper and less human. He released her, but stayed close, too close. “Don’t worry, I haven’t decided if I’m going to kill you yet.”
“Why not?” Shut up, Casey, she thought.
He shrugged. “The alphas will demand I kill you, and I’ve never disobeyed an order. I’ve been feeling rebellious lately.”
“Really?”
He smiled down at her. “Maybe. Maybe I’m hoping you’ll try to convince me.”
It took her a moment to catch on, and when she did, an actual spark of hope flared in her. It made her sick, but if she had used sex to gain access to Frankie’s life, she wasn’t below using it to save hers.
But he laughed, the sound quiet and deep. “You want to live?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then it’s not me you have to convince.”
She glanced out the window, wondering where Frankie had got to and hoping he never came back. “I can’t.” Her voice sounded small.
“You have to. He’ll kill you if you don’t.”
She glared at him. “Why do you care?”
His eyes bore into hers, searching for… what? He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t. But I went to a lot of trouble to get you here. Would be a waste of my time if you just gave up or got caught running.”
He didn’t care. Why would he? She didn’t care about him. She was going to leave him here at Frankie’s mercy. But he wouldn’t have been at Frankie’s mercy; he was a fucking werewolf. The man could handle himself.
“Tell me what to do,” she said, resigned.
“No more fighting?”
“Just tell me.”
“Act like he’s the only man you’ve ever loved and let him fuck your brains out.”
She frowned. “You are so tactless.”
“No room for tact in sex, love.”
She looked at him quickly, the endearment catching her off guard, but his face was a mask of indifference.
“It might not work.”
“No, but what else can you do?”
There was no way she was going to be able to do this. Faking it when they were miles and miles away, so far from the horror, was easier than faking it when the scent of death hung in the air.
Connor stood before her, watching the thoughts run through her head. Was he really a werewolf? Who was she more afraid of, Connor, the monster who seemed to, for whatever reason, be trying to help her, or Frankie, the murderer, the psychopath?
Even without his fangs, Connor sent fear spiking into her belly. Or was that something else? But she hated Frankie. Connor was myth. Frankie was real evil.
She could die if that’s what Frankie decided. Maybe Connor could help her.
“Show me,” she said.
“Pardon?”
She squared her shoulders, meeting those eyes. “I have to pretend I’m enjoying letting Frankie fuck me, and you seem to think you’re an expert. Show me. Fuck me now and let me practice.”
He smiled, his amusement irritating. “I already did.”
“That was not a fuck.”
“I’m not Frankie.”
“No. He disgusts me. But fear and disgust are close enough, right?”
“You’re afraid of me?”
“Of course I am. You’re a werewolf.”
He frowned. “Shifter.”
“Whatever.”
His eyes searched her face. She did all she could to appear calm, but her heart was racing and she knew he could hear it.
“Sex is a deep thing, Casey. You don’t want to go giving it out to just anyone.”
“Sex is unimportant,” she said quickly, beginning to lose her nerve. “The only thing that matters is acting like I enjoy it. If I can do that with you, then I can do it with Frankie.”
“Ah,” he said, understanding lighting his eyes. “We’re both monsters.”
“So?” she said, the wall holding her up as her knees trembled.
For a moment that lasted forever, Connor stared at her, his eyes probing hers, their blue-green depths deeper than the sea, his thoughts just as unfathomable.
Finally, he cocked an eyebrow.
“Should I shift first?” he asked, and his fangs slid out.
“No!” she didn’t yell, but he got the message. His fangs slid back in, and he laughed.
“Very well.” He reached for her belt and began to loosen it. The button and zipper on her jeans followed, his hands gentle enough to lull into her into a sense of safety. “You’re sure?” he said.
She took a shaky breath, meeting the heat in his eyes with her own. “Just get it over with.”
He grinned and leaned toward her. She froze. His breath was warm in her ear when he spoke. “You’re supposed to act like you’re enjoying it.”
Shit. They’d barely started and already she was a scared mess. Still leaning against the wall, Casey yanked Connor’s belt off and unbuttoned his jeans. She hesitated only a moment before sliding her hand into his pants and finding him, hard and huge.
His growl in her ear did odd things to her. On the one hand, she was terrified he would shift and devour her, and on the other, his voice sent heat into her belly and all she wanted was his mouth on her.
“Better,” he said. “How should we play this?” His hand slipped inside the back of her shorts, cupping her ass, his fingers spreading her cheeks. “Slow and sensual or fast and rough?”
She was having a hard time catching her breath. “Fast,” she said, her voice breathy. Fr
ankie could back in at any moment and then they’d really be fucked. “Make it fast.”
“You got it.” He yanked her shorts down over her boots, leaving those on, and opened her shirt. He glanced down at her unmoving hand in his jeans. “Do better than that, love.”
She squeezed him, feeling him throb in her hand. His breath caught, and a smile ghosted his lips. “Come on, Casey” he growled. “Convince me you want it.”
She slid her hand up and down, milking him. He shook his head, glaring at her. “I’m not convinced.”
“What the fuck do you want from me? I thought I was supposed to be giving up control? Let him have his way with me?”
“All right,” he said, and he pushed her thighs apart. She gasped as he thrust his fingers into her hard enough that he lifted her feet off the ground for a moment. “Your turn, Miss Keene.”
He pumped his fingers hard and fast. She matched his rhythm, coaxing a quiet groan from him. Triumph made her smile, but it didn’t last long.
Connor bent his head, sucking a nipple into his mouth, and she jerked in his arm. She arched back, swallowing her moan. If he kept that up, she thought, she would come just from his tongue on her breast.
As if he could read her mind, Connor lifted his head, his grin devious. His fingers left her, and she whimpered. When he smiled she saw his fangs, four of them, huge and sharp. Fear spiked through her, but she had no words as he turned her so she faced the wall, her hands reaching out to hold herself up. He spread her legs and he drove himself inside.
They froze, as her body swallowed him. Casey had had sex plenty of times, with many different men. She enjoyed sex, enjoyed taking over, pushing them down and being in control. But with Connor pulsing inside her, his fangs bared as he gritted his teeth, she felt an animalistic desire to be taken, mounted, fucked.
She pressed herself back, against him, and was rewarded with a low growl.
Connor lifted her around the waist, still inside her, and dropped her on all fours on the bed. She arched her back, spreading for him.
Frankie, the disgusting man that he was, had mirrors around the room, and Casey lifted her head to see herself reflected in one, Connor behind her. He caught her eye in the mirror.
