Mated (Dark Ties Book 2)

by A. Vers

  He pouts a little. No easy feat for an over six-three demon. “But I like them.” I just wait. With a sigh, one agile, pale hand motions and hellfire scorches my nose. The studded monstrosities disappear in favor of a pair of steel toes like mine.

  I raise a brow as his goth attire remains. “You are aware you’re going to sweat your fucking balls off in all black.”

  He joins me on the small porch and closes the door behind him. “I’m Asmodean, cat. I am used to heat and humidity far worse than anything here. This is cold to me.”

  Considering with the heat index, we are kissing a hundred and two … “Remind me to never visit your home.”

  His expression blanks, and he walks off down the steps without looking at me.

  For a second, I consider letting it go. But a cat and it’s curiosity …

  I dive and grab his shoulder. He wrenches away, hellfire eyes glowing behind those huge sunglasses. I hold my hands up. “Sorry.”

  His lips curl. “I am going with you for the chance to sample more of Silver Rock’s delicacies. That doesn’t make us friends, comrades, or even co-workers. I’m a demon that needs to feed in this backwoods Podunk town you call home, and it just so happens that your mission will allow me to do so.” He steps closer. “Will that be a problem, cat?”

  I grin, but my teeth are longer, sharper as he crowds my frame. “Not at all.”

  He stays turned to me long enough my proverbial hackles rise. It’s not a good idea to go toe-to-toe with a shifter the night before the full moon. But apparently no one told him that.

  My hands ache to let my claws slip free, to swat him like the bug I’ve always thought him to be.

  No. Not a bug, a parasite. At least vampires start out mostly human. Demons are naturally evil. Born that way.

  “Damn, boys, if I knew there was going to be a fight, I would’ve stuck around.” Nisha’s voice has the exact opposite reaction that it should.

  Instead of calming me down, that southern glide of syllables makes a low rumble pour from me. The sound is part purr, part growl. I roll my head on my neck before turning slowly to face her.

  Hellfire fills my nose and suddenly the world is darker.

  I peer at Nisha from a set of sunglasses I do not own, but smartly keep from looking at Caine. Whatever he saw … He knew I needed them.

  Nisha raises a brow at me. “Nice shades, Top Gun.” My eyes catch on the smooth skin of her bare shoulders and then flow down against my will.

  Her bronze body is clothed in a sports bra and short, ultra-tight shorts. The material looks mildly shiny, soft.

  Spandex?

  It makes her plump ass full, bubbly. More of that sound flows out of me. And I can’t stop it.

  All her thick hair is up in a high ponytail, leaving nothing to detract from the lean muscle under her skin, or the perky swell of her breasts.

  Hell, is that a belly ring?

  Her scent flows to me as the wind picks up, forcing it deep into my lungs. My dick swells to a point of pain.

  Fucking Christ.

  “At least I’m wearing clothes,” I grumble. Her body was made for athletic positions. Bendy ones where all that silken skin is pressed against mine—

  Whoa. Nope. Not fucking going there.

  Her seafoam eyes glint in the early morning light. “I’m supposed to run in jeans and a sweater in this weather? Are you fucking kidding?”

  My eyes take in the slight sheen of sweat making her body gleam. Mini-me pulses in appreciation.

  “Good point,” I say, careful not to look directly at her anymore. “Well, good morning, and good day.” I grab Caine’s arm, and this time he allows it without any shit. Nisha remains in place, eyes wide.

  Pulling him with me toward my truck, he seems almost high. His lean frame stumbles a bit, but all he can do is laugh under his breath. “Fuck Silver Rock. Just let me watch.”

  I growl. “Shut it.” I shove him toward the passenger side door. “Get in or stay here. Your choice.”

  He chuckles but opens the door. “Damn, cat. I thought Ruin and Lilah were bad.”

  “Caine, so help me …”

  He climbs inside, and I duck around the hood to the driver’s side. And slam to a stop. “Son of a bitch,” I hiss.

  Nisha leans against my door, arms crossed and an IPOD in her hand. “So … Where you going?”

  Inside my truck, Caine falls over the dash, his big body shaking with laughter.

  “Move,” I growl at her.

  She watches me with a grin. “Are you going somewhere fun?”

  “It’s coven business, now please move.” The please irks, but I add it anyway. Beast I may be, but I’m not a savage.

  Not unless I’m in the bedroom.

  “Are you looking into who attacked me?” Her bronze skin pales a bit, but I will give it to the woman, she remains poised otherwise.

  I exhale. “Yes.”

  She nods and pushes away from my truck. “Cool. Give me like ten, and I’ll come with.”

  My jaw drops. “No.”

  “Why not?” she asks, eyes narrowing.

  “You’re still mostly human, and you’re a liability.”

  “But I’m strong naturally, and I’m fast. I can help—”

  I thumb my finger at Caine. “I have back-up, and I don’t have time to babysit.”

  Her eyes flash. “Wow. Douchebag, much?”

  “When I need to be … Yeah.” I brush past her and open the truck door. It’s impossible not to notice the new heat to her skin, or the richness of her smoky fragrance. But I keep my back to her. “Take a cold shower to help with the fever, then hit the diner in town. You need protein.”

  “Thanks, mom.”

  My shoulders tighten, but I climb up in the truck and slam the door. I crank the old metal death trap hard, nearly snapping the keys in the ignition. The old clutch grinds. I spin the wheel and floor it out of the lodge parking lot.

  Caine opens his mouth next to me and my claws burst from my fingertips. They dig into the steering wheel. For the first time since the demon came to Lock Lake, he shuts up and turns away.

  Thank goddess.

  It’s a summer fucking miracle.

  I take the next left and head to Silver Rock, praying the whole way that one of the pack wants to fight. Because I need to fuck someone or hit something, and where Nisha is rapidly being concerned, it may need to be both.

  Chapter 10

  Nisha

  I sprint to my cabin, snare a pair of regular cut-off shorts and a tank before running to my Jeep and climbing in.

  It takes little detective work to deduce which direction Tanner and the goth guy, Caine, went. Though, as far as goth’s go, that one was fine to a point I’m willing to claim try-sexual status.

  In other words, I’ll try anything once.

  My face scalds.

  All the heat in my veins should have dispelled. It hasn't. In fact, it's gotten worse. Running into Tanner, his tan body wreathed in a solid white tee two sizes too small and jeans that look like he poured them over his muscular thighs and that tight ass ...

  I want to sink my teeth into his ass. Hell, into his neck, the muscle of his arms, and every damn defined ridge of his abs.

  Even after I succumbed to sleep, his scent seemed to pour in from the air conditioner. And it was no surprise when he found his way into my dreams. Dreams that morphed into fangs and claws until I bolted upright a little after 8 a.m. Leaving me late for my shift.

  When I called in requesting a few days off, the Captain had little to say. I didn’t mention the attack. Instead, they can all go on believing I am hiding from Chuck. I have bigger problems now.

  There was no chance to go back to sleep, to rest anymore. I won't rest until the bastard that attacked me is behind bars.

  And Tanner is trying to hunt for him on his own.

  What was it he called me? A human? A liability?

  “So what exactly are you then, Mr. Tall, Dark, and fine as hell?” I lean ov
er my steering wheel as the truck nearly a quarter of a mile ahead dips out onto the highway. I pull out behind them and merge into traffic.

  But he doesn’t head toward town. Instead, he drives down a few exits and slips out onto an old dirt road. My Jeep has no problem following.

  Trees line the old byway, their branches interlock above to create a cool patch of road. The temperature in the car drops further, and I welcome the change.

  No houses seem to adorn the less populated area. Indeed, only one driveway juts from the road between two high posts and a sign completely indiscernible in the dimness.

  Tanner turns between the posts and pulls down the long rutted drive.

  I pull over on the side of the road, engine running as my thumbs drum the wheel.

  To follow or not to follow?

  Now, that I'm here, a part of me doesn't want to know what I will find if I follow him. The other, louder part calls that one a pussy and makes me maneuver the car to a hollow in the trees just past the drive. I pull in far enough that the Jeep won't be readily visible. Climbing in the back, I slip my sweaty clothes off, wipe my body down with some of the camping wipes I keep just for this occasion, and redress.

  My hair is a lost cause, the thick mess I got from my mother's side of the family needs another relaxing treatment before I can do much else with it. So I run a comb through the strands and leave it high at the back of my head in a ponytail.

  Slipping on my worn out kicks, I climb from the car, lock it with the fob, and stuff the keys in my pocket.

  A soft breeze pulls at my tank top as I walk through the narrow opening Tanner went down. High magnolia trees span the length of the drive, adding more shade and their pungent fragrance to the air.

  In the distance, voices rise in a mix of bawdy laughter, excited screams, and a few rather unique roars.

  Where the hell am I?

  I keep walking and come to an old parking lot bordered off with railroad ties. The grass tries to grow over the old wood, thick, green, and fluffy despite the heat. A low brick building with an open screen door sits just beyond. And past that, several cabins wait with window units purring on high.

  The gravel is sandy under my sneakers, like the rain from days ago didn't quite reach this part of Louisiana. I scan the immediate area. But even though I can hear them, whomever is out here isn't as easily visible.

  I walk to the low building and peer into the shady interior as low voices emanate forth.

  “And he has every right to be here,” a dark-haired female says, her hands on her full hips as she glares at a tall, thick male before her.

  The man is probably my age, a few years shy of thirty. But his beefy frame is well-kept with muscle under a simple tee and jeans. “I told you to alert me the minute he got here. Not let him and his sidekicks gallivant around the territory. I am alpha here, Diana. Not him.”

  The woman frowns, a ready retort no doubt on her lips. I shift closer and my sneakers kick up a few pieces of stone onto the low brick of the building.

  They both turn.

  The man is fast to recover. His hazel eyes trail from the top of my head down, and he holds up a finger. “Just one second please.”

  He hauls the woman with him halfway down the hall, his hand mottled over the lean line of her arm. I have the distinct urge to remove it for her and shove it up his ass.

  His voice floats back to me, low and commanding. After a moment, she storms off and a door somewhere in the rear of the building slams closed. The man walks back, a soft smile on his face.

  “Welcome to Silver Rock plantation. What can we do for you?”

  I pause.

  Silver Rock? As in the pack lands?

  Holy shit. How much land do they own?

  I shake myself. “Hi. Umm ... I was looking to speak with someone about becoming part of the pack. Who would I need to talk to?” It's total bullshit, but now that I know where Tanner is, I can't exactly walk back out.

  Whoever attacked me may be part of the pack. Which is no doubt why Tanner is here.

  The man’s smile grows. He steps forward, hand extended. “Alpha Callus Reed. And you are?”

  “Nisha. Nisha Rawlins.”

  He nods. “What pack do you originate from?”

  I shift. “Well, I don't.”

  He waves it away. “You wouldn't be the first rogue we've taken in.” He walks back to the desk and opens a drawer before pulling out a thin stack of papers. “You will need to fill these out. Most of it is pretty basic. Emergency contacts, sponsor information, and a copy of your health records.”

  I look at him. “Sponsor?”

  His smile is bright. “You have one, right?”

  My face heats before I can stop it. “Umm, not quite.”

  He props one hip onto the arm of the chair beside him. “Since your sponsor has to vouch for your character, your strength level, and your ability to play with others, we request it be one of our own.” I don't miss the twinkle in his eyes as he speaks.

  Something pours from him in a cloud of musk. My nipples tighten and I lean closer to inhale the masculine fragrance. His smile broadens. “Now, you don't have to have a sponsor since you’re not transferring in from another pack. If you can find a pack member to vouch for you, I will accept that.”

  I sigh, and the sound is shaky as that damn scent seems to pool between my thighs in an ache that leaves me disconcerted, confused, and hot.

  What the fuck?

  Shaking my head, I step back, and then take another step as the air clears marginally. “Okay. Theories on how to do that?”

  He points behind me. “Most of the pack will be around today and tomorrow for the full moon. You're welcome to walk around, talk to people. See if this is really the pack for you. We want you to be happy with us. And a pack is so much more than a group of beasts howling at the moon. We’re a family.”

  Some of my unease fades at the sincerity in his words.

  Oh.

  He seems decent despite his rougher treatment of Diana, and I feel stupid for thinking he was trying something with his shifter powers. Maybe the guy just smells that good.

  Which I would have never noticed before but the new abilities are hard to grasp. To control. It may not be his fault at all.

  My cheeks heat. “That sounds cool,” I say, and mean it. “Would it be possible to check out the full moon too?”

  He grins. “Why, Ms. Rawlins, I was hoping you would.”

  Chapter 11

  Nisha

  The fields of Silver Rock are open flat plains of green. A few food trucks park at intervals in the shade, awnings up as people, no, shifters crowd the windows. Small children, maybe as young as six and as old as thirteen, play corn hole and toss footballs back and forth. A handful of stereos blare everything from heavy metal to rap. One or two blast an older country station, the speakers trying to drown out the rest of the music as their owners sing off key to the songs.

  It's like a fucking family barbecue of the furry sort.

  Across the fields, what looks like a running track has been set up and a large crowd has formed as several older teens race around the old dirt oval. Beyond that, picnic tables rest under a few tall pines, offering a mediocre amount of shade from the oppressive heat that only seems to grow worse the longer the sun is in the sky. I walk toward them, fully intending to sit down and just watch.

  The ground slopes off on the horizon beyond the tables, and a network of rocks and roots span in the shade of several towering oaks.

  I walk closer, taking in the largest crowd yet.

  At the edge of the basin, the ground rolls down, packed tight with small, jagged looking rocks. The only thing that would make them appear deadlier would be if they were already covered in blood.

  But on the basin floor, in the center of a ring of shifters, two men brawl. One is darker skinned in jeans and no shoes. But the other? The other makes me stop breathing.

  Tanner is shirtless, his jeans low over the gorgeous v of his hips.
His back ripples as he locks his arms around the other male's neck. His size makes sense now, the agility. He’s a natural born brawler. An MMA artist.

  The tattoos I only glimpsed yesterday span across his arms, pecs, and top half of his shoulders as his fists fly in a blur. Smack after smack echoes through the basin. He walks the other male back one punch at a time. And I wince with every blow that falls.

  And boy do they fall.

  Blood sprays in an arc, staining the compacted dirt and Tanner’s skin. But he never stops.

  The man is all machine and single-minded focus. A chill goes down my spine. Tanner locks his hands into the other man's waistband, leans back, and lifts.

  My eyes pop damn near out of my skull as he tosses the man like a Frisbee across the earthen arena. The man starts to rise and slumps to the dirt.

  Tanner throws his head back, arms wide, and roars.

  The crowd goes fucking nuts, women screaming and men cheering. He turns slowly, a grin of power and pure strength plastered across his face, but his teeth are too long, too pointed.

  His eyes glow like silver moons, and his damn hands have long claws protruding from the tips as he claps hands with Caine. I stare at Tanner.

  Shifter.

  He's a fucking shifter.

  That heat inside me grows.

  He can fix this, ease this…

  Embarrassment floods through my veins.

  What the fuck is wrong with me?

  Tanner is a stranger. A damn brawling monkey.

  My eyes narrow.

  Tanner’s goth compatriot, Caine, stands sideline, fists lined in fives, tens, and twenties as he peers around with Tanner's sunglasses on top of his head. The shades match his and seem to be keeping his dark hair from his face.

  My temper flares.

  Wow. Look at how much they have gotten done. They’re obviously doing a whole hell of a lot in the way of looking for the asshole that attacked me.

  Sure.

  I try to navigate my way down the slope gracefully. But it's hard when there are no fucking steps.

  My sneakers slip and slide in the rocks, and the last few feet I damn near ski across the dirt. The back rows of shifters turn. Their eyes glow softly, ready smiles fading to ones of open curiosity, and, in the case of a handful of women, discontent.