Riktor

by Selena Illyria

  “I have to get rid of him without violence,” she thought to her wolf.

  A plan unfurled in her mind while the physical therapist worked on getting the knots out: confront Russell and send him packing, hopefully without draining her bank account. How the hell could she seduce and secure Riktor’s trust if she had a former—albeit dispatched—suitor lurking around to ruin things? Besides, Riktor didn’t need to hear the old gossip about her wild eighteen-year-old self. How could she explain her foolish, long-ago attraction to Winthrop to Riktor? He wouldn’t get it. Looking back, even she couldn’t think of a single reasonable excuse.

  A seaweed wrap, face mask, scalp massage, updated highlights, manicure, pedicure, and a thorough waxing later, she set off to her room to change for dinner, relaxed and focused on finding Russell Winthrop. Come hell or high water, he would leave this resort and allow her to focus all of her attention on Riktor.

  She showered, careful of her hair, and dressed with purpose. This time she chose a figure-hugging black dress with corset detailing, sheer, lace-top black stockings, and a pair of strappy, stiletto shoes. A spritz of Gucci Bamboo completed her toilet. Simple red lipstick, a bit of mascara, and she headed down to the lobby.

  She found Russell at the resort’s more luxurious restaurant. He sat alone in a corner that faced the entrance. Other diners gave his table wide berth.

  She didn’t blame them. Russell always oozed an aura of something wrong.

  She sauntered over to his table, putting a little hot sauce into her step and an extra sway into her hips.

  All eyes watched her, male and female.

  Her wolf preened at the attention, but disappointment tickled the back of her mind. Too bad Riktor wasn’t there to enjoy the show.

  Hopefully she’d see that he got his own show later on.

  Head back, chest out, arms swinging at her side with ease, she ignored the prickle of goose bumps on her skin and the warning grumble from her wolf as she approached Russell’s table and took a seat.

  A waiter stopped at the table, a clear look of distress on his face.

  She cut him off before he could speak. “White wine and a menu.”

  Russell gave her another of his annoying toothy grins. “What an honor. Michaela Shaw coming to dine with me.”

  “Can it, Winthrop. I’m not here for niceties. What do you want, how much do you want, and how did you find me?” she demanded.

  Russell wiped his mouth and placed his napkin on the table. “Direct as always. I found you through the grapevine. As for what I want, well, you said it—how much do I want? How about a million to start with and Riktor Brody, our dear, handsome, newly made alpha, won’t get a pack challenge from little old me, hmm?”

  She let out a low growl, but the tables closest to them heard it and looked up. Mickey shook her head at them. “Sorry,” she called out. She refocused on him. “Don’t even think about it, jizzwipe. You don’t need a new pack, much less one filled with alpha men who would punch you without being paid to.”

  Russell chuckled. “Tut, tut. No way for a new alpha to act, especially a female one. But I’ll overlook that. How about half a million now, hmm? And the other half a million once I’m back in my London flat, far away from your little crush. Oh, please, I saw the way you looked at him when you entered the spa. You didn’t even notice me. That’s dangerous.”

  Heat flared in Mickey’s cheeks. Had she been so blinded by Riktor that she’d missed Russell’s disgusting, swamp-wolf aura?

  “Shit,” she muttered.

  “Must be giving you good dick for you to miss me, one of your oldest friends. But I’ll let that pass if you give my bank account some sweet loving.” Russell leered at her.

  She rolled her eyes. “How about a hundred thousand and you don’t force me to test out how sharp my new manicure is.” Mickey raked her nails lightly over the table.

  Russell snorted. “Your threats don’t scare me, Mich-ae-la.” He pronounced her name like three separate words, much to her annoyance.

  “You’re nothing but a sniveling worm. Don’t think I haven’t heard the rumors about your depleting piggy bank, Russell.” She pointed at him. “I could tell Riktor that you may not even be able to pay for this dinner, much less the rest of your stay here or the airplane ride out,” she hissed. “Think he’ll care about my wild wolf days then?”

  Russell’s face contorted into something she couldn’t even describe. All sharp angles and no humanity. The blue drained from his eyes only to have amber filter upward until the whole iris glowed. He let out a low growl. “Don’t try it, bitch. I highly doubt Riktor will want to associate with someone who fucks every dick she can get her hands on. Whose nickname is ‘the pack world’s bicycle.’ He wants to know people who have actual morals, not a nympho like you.”

  Before she could reply, a deep male voice said from behind her, “Actually, I’d love to associate with a woman who owns her sexuality and celebrates it.” Riktor slid into a seat next to her. “And isn’t ashamed of her lusts, unlike cowardly wolves with roach brains.”

  He moved the chair closer until his leg pressed against hers. Heat flowed upward to encompass her whole body. Mickey resisted leaning into him. Her wolf whimpered for more contact, but she couldn’t go there, not yet. A part of her hated every second that she couldn’t indulge in her desire.

  At the moment she had a bigger worry to think about: what did Riktor think was going on between her and Russell, and was he about to kick them both off the island?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Riktor watched Winthrop shift in his seat. Satisfaction hummed through him at the odious wolf’s discomfort. Despite being confronted by two people who didn’t want him here, he still hadn’t skedaddled yet.

  Thomas, the head waiter of La Table du Loup, their more formal restaurant, passed by them. He placed a glass of white wine close to Michaela’s hand and withdrew, but not before giving Riktor a small nod.

  Riktor returned the gesture, grateful that Thomas had called him and informed him of the possible conflict. Worry for Michaela’s safety had fluttered in his heart. The sensation had left an uncomfortable heaviness in his chest. Sitting next to her had only amplified the emotion. He didn’t know why he was so concerned about her wellbeing. She was a stranger, an enemy who could take away his family’s legacy. Yet here he was, when he could be enjoying a night at Black Howl with a willing sub who could help him ease the tension that Michaela’s presence had stirred up.

  He relaxed into his seat. Now both his leg and arm pressed against her side. Riktor soaked up her body heat. Her sexy, exotic perfume with an undertone of sweetness became his air. His body buzzed with awareness. When she shifted next to him, a thrill zipped up his spine. His cock thickened and pressed against his fly. Desire beat out a tattoo in his blood. Need curled in his belly. Heat flooded through him in a rush.

  He resisted the urge to place a protective arm around her shoulder. Instead, he focused his ire on Winthrop.

  “Well, you can’t account for taste, hmm?” Winthrop finally responded. “But you’re a new alpha. You’ll learn should you survive a year or longer.” He gave Riktor what Riktor assumed should be a threatening smile, all teeth.

  Riktor just stared at him. Someone who filed their canines for extra sharpness was not someone who should be taken seriously, or at the very least someone who wasn’t very strong.

  Winthrop made a show of finishing his meal and wiping his mouth. “I’ve been an alpha for ten years. Michaela has only been an alpha for a year and a half, but at least she knows the rules, or so I thought.” He downed the rest of his red wine and settled back with a sigh. “I will say this, you have a top quality chef here. Are they for sale?”

  Anger flashed hot in him. He curled his hands into fists.

  Michaela reached over and placed a hand on his forearm.

  Calm flooded his body, much to his surprise. He glanced at her. How had she done that? Who was she?

  “Mate,” his wolf whispered in h
is mind.

  Riktor ignored the beast.

  “Chef Danny is free to do what he wants, but he’s under contract here, so no, you can’t poach him. Not that you have the money for it,” Riktor shot out.

  Ace had done some peeking into Russell Winthrop, which had led to more questions than answers. Despite very public investments, none of them could account for his wealth or lavish lifestyle. But if Michaela was right in her accusations of his money dwindling, maybe life had finally caught up with him. Ace promised to do more investigation.

  Winthrop chuckled. “You both need to update your gossip sources. I am quite solvent. I promise you, I can pay for my trip here and the plane ride back. Although, sad for you, I won’t just tuck my tail between my legs and disappear. I have business here, and I’m quite comfortable. Not as comfortable as Michaela.” He gave Mickey a pointed look, “But it will do for the time I’m here.”

  “And yet you were so eager to accept my offer,” Michaela pointed out.

  “One should never turn down money when offered. It’s rude. Now, I believe Ms. Shaw and I have business that doesn’t include you.” Winthrop stared at Riktor, challenge in his gaze.

  Riktor shrugged. “I won’t go unless Michaela wants me to.” He glanced over at her, waiting on her answer.

  She shook her head. “Why would I send away a witness to Russell’s odiousness?” She threw Riktor a flirty grin. “Also, I believe you owe me dinner.”

  “I didn’t agree to—” Riktor started.

  “Oh, maybe I fantasized it during my massage.” She snuggled up against him, sending his anger into retreat as his desire came roaring back.

  Heat flooded his face, neck, and chest.

  “You are so cute when you blush, and I love that I can make you do that,” Michaela teased.

  Winthrop snorted. “I need to leave before you make me upchuck my delicious dinner. We’ll meet again. Good night.”

  He pushed back a chair and left.

  Michaela exhaled and sagged into her seat.

  Riktor flagged down Thomas. “Two steaks, medium well, a side of garlic steak fries and asparagus and two glasses of red wine.”

  Thomas nodded. “Yes, sir, coming right up.” He dashed away toward the kitchen.

  “Thanks.” Michaela pulled a face. “Blech. Dealing with Winthrop is always exhausting.”

  “I still don’t understand why he came all the way here, just for you.” Riktor shook his head. “I’ll put Ace on it, see what he digs up.”

  “Oh, now you’ll put Ace on it.” She chuckled. “Not that you haven’t already done that. Anyway, I wish Everly were here. Maybe he can shed some light on things. I think you may need to expect a swarm of challengers.”

  Riktor straightened. “They can bring it on. I can take them. All of them. I will fight to protect my brothers and our legacy.”

  “You’ll have to, but not from me.”

  Riktor frowned. “I still don’t—”

  “You still don’t believe me. Yes, yes, I know. Time will show you. As much as I would love to have dinner with you, I think I’ll take my meal in my suite. Being around Winthrop has been exhausting, and I have a few phone calls to make. The Winthrop pack will need to pay for this incursion and for breaking of werewolf law.”

  Riktor turned his full attention toward her. “What does that mean?”

  Michaela gave him an evil grin. “Payback, my dear Riktor, payback. He tried to extort money from me. Even if I was willing to pay him to get him away from here, it’s not fair play. Plus, there’s the added bonus of the threats he made and the attempt to disparage my reputation with accusations, which you didn’t take seriously. Therefore, the Winthrops in America must pay a price to the Shaws on behalf of their alpha, even if he’s hunkering down in London. Walk me to my room, Prince Charming? I may faint and need a tall, dark, and strong glass of pure alpha male to lean on.”

  Her eyes darkened to the color of freshly brewed coffee. He took her in, sitting next to him. The dress hugged her in all the right places. Her simple makeup drew attention to her natural beauty, from her luscious mouth to the deep and endless seduction in her eyes.

  “Mate,” the wolf whispered again.

  Riktor shook him off, again. They couldn’t be together. She was the enemy, regardless of what his father had done. Too many lessons, beaten into his head about how Shaws couldn’t be trusted.

  “Those tricks won’t work on me, Ms. Shaw. But nice try. I will, however, walk you to your room, just in case Winthrop tries anything else.” Riktor flagged down Thomas again. “Sorry Tom, but Ms. Shaw will be taking her meal in her suite, and I’ll take my meal in my office.”

  Tom nodded and headed back to the kitchens.

  Riktor turned his attention back to Michaela. “Shall we?” He pushed the chair back and stood up. He held his hand out to her.

  “We shall.” She followed his lead and let him guide her out of the dining room.

  They crossed the lobby under the watchful eye of Ace. When Riktor had found out that Michaela had met up with Winthrop, he’d had Ace sit in the lobby and be ready for anything. Thankfully, they hadn’t needed him.

  “Your gargoyle looks concerned.” Michaela bumped her hip against his. “Maybe you should go soothe him? Assure him that the big, bad wolf in red lipstick isn’t gonna do naughty, naughty things to you.”

  Riktor shook his head. “No need. I’ll update him later. I just want to get you to your room.”

  “Not to do filthy, wicked things to me? Too bad.” Michaela pouted but got into the elevator with him.

  The ride up to her floor took forever. Each second that ticked by allowed his fever for her to increase until his shirt stuck to his torso and his face was bathed in sweat. He reached up to wipe away the moisture.

  She handed him a handkerchief.

  “Thanks,” he muttered. “Not sure what’s wrong with me.” He patted down his face and neck.

  She reached over and undid a few buttons of his shirt. “The full moon is one day closer and also…” She leaned closer and sniffed. “You’re emitting mating pheromones. That can affect your temperature and increase your libido.” She glanced pointedly at his groin.

  He didn’t bother covering up his raging hard-on. Instead, he continued to mop up his sweat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She snickered. “Sure you don’t. When you cum from an intense dream or find yourself wanting to hump furniture, look me up. I can help you. I’ll even let you tie me down without a safe word.” She winked at him. “Here’s my stop, wolfman.”

  She stepped off the elevator. “Walk me to the door?” She held out her hand to him.

  For a moment he stared at it, wanting to touch her. To ravage her mouth with kisses. To pull her body tight to his and teach her a lesson she would never forget. At the same time he fought to keep his cool and deny the mating urge. He was the alpha. He was in control.

  Mickey leaned forward, giving him an eyeful of cleavage. His raging hard-on turned painful. He grimaced. Without thinking, he reached down and adjusted himself. He might be in control, but she was damn well making it, and him, as hard as possible.

  “You know, if you just undo that belt and fly of yours…” She straightened and pointed at his fly. Amusement glinted in her bottomless eyes.

  “Just get to your room,” he growled and pulled the sides of his jacket closer together.

  She smirked. “Fine. But not before giving you this.” She moved toward him.

  A tremor of alarm raced down his spine. His heartbeat kicked up. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

  “This.” Mickey rose on tiptoe and pressed herself against him. Her curves melted into the hard planes of his body. She lifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck. One hand sifted through his hair. Her fingernails scratched his nape.

  A delicious shiver drifted over his back. Tingles broke out at the base of his spine. His cock pressed with even more insistence against his fly. Riktor wrapped his ar
ms around her waist and pulled her even closer to him until he couldn’t tell where she ended and he began. It wasn’t enough. Frustration welled up within in him. His wolf demanded more. He growled and held her harder to him.

  She groaned and pressed her mouth to his in a harsh, biting kiss. Bursts of pain erupted but didn’t deter him. It only added fuel to his need. He ran a hand over her back and down to cup her ass.

  “Please,” she muttered against his lips.

  He pulled his hand back and gave her a sharp spank.

  She groaned. “More.” Mickey rocked against him. Her kisses became more insistent, harder.

  The light tang of blood drifted up between them. Pheromones drifted on the air. His sense of time, space, and inhibitions evaporated.

  God he wanted her. He wanted this forbidden Shaw, this rival alpha and enemy to his family. But the moment that thought entered his brain, he knew he was standing on the cliff edge. He could not do this. Not with her. Not with a Shaw.

  He grabbed her by the waist and effortlessly lifted her up and set her down out of reach. His wolf and his cock protested fiercely enough to have him almost panting. The effect she had on him was staggering. But he was in control here.

  Her eyes shimmered with both lust and outrage. Her smile was almost feral. “You can’t fight this.”

  She didn’t think he was strong enough, did she? He would show her. He narrowed his eyes and kept his tone cold. “Thank you for your opinion on the matter. I wish you a good night.”

  She shrugged. “No problem. Dream of me.” She blew him a kiss and left the cabin.

  The doors closed behind her. Riktor leaned against the wall, feeling like he had just gone twelve rounds in a boxing ring. His erection still throbbed for attention, and desire saturated his blood. The second she left, regret filled him at not taking her up on her offer. It had felt so damn good to indulge her and give her a spanking, however brief it had been.