Rescued & Ravished: An Alpha's Conquest (A Paranormal Ménage Romance)

by Sophie Chevalier

“You—want me?” she asked, flabbergasted. Felt for me?

  “Did you honestly think I didn’t?”

  “Yes!” She stood up, leaving the quilt on the couch. “Yes! You? You’re gorgeous and—rich—and—talented—”

  “You’re gorgeous, Ginger. And you’re talented.”

  “I’m not a lawyer.”

  “Is that the only kind of talent there is?” He reached for her, pulled her back down onto the sofa. “I respect you. I enjoy you. You’re smart and capable… brave. A lot more fun than I’ve ever been.” He ran his fingers down the side of her neck. The light, surprising pleasure of it was almost unbearable. “You were so helpful to me. I could depend on you—trust you. That meant a great deal to me.”

  “Dane—”

  “Ginger.” He leaned in, tried to kiss her mouth—but she turned her face away. His lips grazed her ear, filling her stomach with heat.

  “I… I had sex with Hunter,” she faltered, feeling giddy, ashamed, confused.

  “For survival. Right? You stole from him.”

  “And that’s excusable to you?”

  “It’s understandable.” He kissed her temple; her underwear flooded. “You’re ingenious, Ginger… wily, when you have to be. Lively. You won’t lie down and die and I admire that.”

  “But—”

  “Sex with us is different. It’s a primal urge, common, and it doesn’t have to be binding. Only a few things truly are binding… and if he hasn’t done them to you, then I don’t—”

  “I don’t want to be bound to anyone. To either of you,” she blurted, even though he nipped the rim of her ear and her nipples sharpened to points. “I can’t—think about this now. I’m afraid I’m going to die, Dane! I can’t—”

  “Alright. Shhh.” He nuzzled her hair, like an affectionate animal. “Don’t think about it yet… I understand, Ginger. But trust that you’re safe with me.”

  “I—I do.” That was true. She did. At least, she believed she was as safe as he could make her. That might not be enough, against the combined manpower of the island’s bears and the disapproval of the elders. “I, um—I just—feel like I have to remind you that—humans aren’t—we aren’t—”

  You can’t be with me. You remember that, right, Dane? It’s against ursine law. Isn’t that what all of this is about? The crime of you being with me? But her throat locked up, and she let it go.

  “It’s late.” His breath was hot on her neck. “Try and sleep.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You can. Go back to bed and lie down and count backwards.”

  “I don’t want to be alone.” As soon as she said it she winced. That sounds like a two-dollar come-on. Smooth, Ginger.

  “Then sleep right here.” He put a strong hand on her shoulder and pressed her close to him. “Against me.”

  She didn’t resist. She curled up close to him and closed her eyes, counting backward. The heat and strength of his body soothed her. Eventually she was able to drift off, and not dream.

  ***

  He couldn’t forget the girl.

  Red-haired and hazel-eyed and beautifully made. Soft to touch, soft to smell. He coveted her.

  Hadn’t the elders told him he needed a woman? Hadn’t they challenged him to find one?

  And he’d found one. He’d spent himself thinking of her half a dozen times since the night he’d managed to lay his hands on her. The hot fullness of her breast… she hadn’t liked it when he’d squeezed it, had she? But the way she’d stiffened, afraid, had made him hard…

  She had no use for a scrawny black bear, did she? A seer from Saskatchewan? But he had a use for her.

  He had to have her.

  He had to have her, even if it came to fangs and claws with MacAlister. He must have her.

  He would have her.

  Chapter 24

  All too soon, Ginger was awake.

  Awake, and in Dane’s bed. He must have carried her there sometime in the night.

  What a prince.

  She stretched and yawned cattishly; the covers were deliciously warm. She knew she should get up, but a soft rhythm of rain against the windows lulled her back into a doze. It was easy to drift back toward sleep…

  The bedroom door opened, startling her. She sat up quickly—but it was just Dane, holding a mug. He came to sit on the edge of the bed and handed the drink off to her.

  “Black tea with mint. It’ll help you wake up.”

  “Thank you,” she said, meaning it. Thoughtful. She tried it: it had a cool, dark kick. “It’s good.”

  “How did you sleep?”

  “Alright.” She sipped. “How about you?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Dane! You didn’t?”

  “It’s alright. I can go a few days without it with no harm done.”

  “Everyone thinks that, and everyone’s wrong.”

  “I’m not wrong.” He smiled slightly. “Grizzly bears are awake for twenty out of twenty-four hours in the autumn, when it’s forage time. Do you know how little sleep that is? I’m fine.”

  She frowned at him. “You sure have a lot of… animal… superpowers.”

  He actually chuckled. “Superpowers? I’ve never thought of it that way. Maybe. There are drawbacks, though.”

  “Cat mentioned something about that. Drawbacks.” She cocked her head. “Like… how all your… animal instincts keep you from living life like normal people.”

  “They do. That’s part of why I leave the city whenever possible—so I can be a bear.”

  “Oh yeah? So, you go to the woods”—she gestured to the window—“become a bear, and—what? Prevent forest fires?”

  He laughed again, a gorgeous sound. “So I can do what bears do, Ginger. Hunt. Fish. Roam.” He shrugged. “It takes a lot of self-control for me to live among humans. I have to drop the charade sometimes, or I risk losing my restraint.”

  “Why do you live with us?” she asked. “Shifters don’t seem to like us or respect us. I mean, what’s the appeal?”

  “The possibility of success is the appeal,” he said seriously. “My family built a small fortune timbering over the past two centuries. Enough for me to pay for schools, living expenses, degrees—enough, in short, for me to transfer myself into your society. I’m a bear, it’s true, but I want more from life than these same forests, these same coasts. I want commerce. I want professionalization. I want respect.” There was a glimmer of gold in his eyes. “I want the challenge—the thrill—of litigation and defense. I want material luxury. Wealth.” His hand closed on her knee, squeezed. “I want the world. The whole world.”

  “Where is your family?” She leaned back on the headboard, watching him. His ambition was almost too much, too intense, but it was also—attractive. Very. A man with this level of determination—and this level of achievement—was as rare as raw silver. It… well, it turned her on. “No one’s mentioned—”

  “My clan’s extinguished,” he answered, speaking across her. “We’d been dwindling for generations. There’s just me left.”

  She flushed, embarrassed; her fingers tightened on the mug. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “Don’t be sorry. I never really knew them. My mother died when I was a cub.” He shifted, crossing his arms; she had to admire the way it made his biceps harder. “It was an ancient clan, well-respected… powerful, even. Now I’m the last.”

  There was the bass rumble of thunder, far away. Out at sea, maybe.

  “Is that hard?” she asked slowly, honestly sympathetic. “I mean… to represent a whole lineage alone…”

  He looked at her closely, penetratingly. “You’re kind to ask that, Ginger. Yes. Sometimes it’s hard. But we all have responsibilities we can’t walk away from. Identities we can’t ignore…”

  She had the urge to kiss him, or at least to cuddle close against him—to comfort him, somehow, because she could hear how tired he was. Tired, and alone.


  So she set her mug on the nightstand, crawled forward, and pressed a light kiss to his unshaven cheek. He mm’d, turned into it a little.

  “Ginger…”

  “Are you lonely?” she whispered.

  “Yes,” he confessed lowly. “But I didn’t realize how much until I met you.”

  “Dane…” She knew she should back off. But his heat, his closeness, his smell—smoked wood and hot skin—was intoxicating, especially on a cold, rainy morning like this. “What do you even want from me?”

  “Your touch… at least, to start with,” he breathed. “Touch me, Ginger. I’m begging you.”

  Touch him how? Where? Just—touch him? Any way I want?

  Tentatively, and unable to think clearly about whether it was a good idea or a bad one, she trailed some soft, hot kisses down his neck. He growled with pleasure, and began to unbutton the front of his shirt, giving her more skin to tease.

  He tasted like he smelled—cedar-y—and she loved it. She wriggled closer to him, teething his throat, and his arm went around her.

  “Yes.” His voice was quiet, ragged. “Harder.”

  She bit with more pressure; he made a thick, masculine sound of pleasure.

  And then he tilted her chin up with a hand, away from his neck, and kissed her.

  It was a hot, meaningful kiss. It communicated things to her—that he had been serious when he said he wanted her, felt things for her, cared about her. She melted like chocolate under its power.

  “Dane,” she gasped, when he broke it. “I—that was… but we can’t. We need to stop now.”

  “No, Ginger. I want more.”

  “This is forbidden. You’re supposed to be proving I’m nothing to you.”

  “You’re not nothing,” he said huskily, and then he kissed her again.

  She softened against him, letting him kiss her and kiss her—long, deep kisses, full of relish. The fear was thinning, drifting away, leaving her. There was only this moment, only this pleasure. She’d wanted him too, for so long—had felt things for him—and now, finally—

  He shifted, gripped her waist, and then moved her further back on the bed, pressing her down.

  “Dane—” she said, a little shrilly, trying to stop him. She wasn’t ready to fuck him yet; in fact she was far from sure that they should ever have sex.

  We shouldn’t. We can’t… But it had gotten so hard to think.

  “Don’t speak, Ginger. I promise this will make you happy.” He gripped her sleep bottoms—plaid pajama shorts on loan from Catríona—and pulled them down and off her legs, tossing them over his shoulder. Her breath hitched.

  His big, powerful hands settled on her thighs and opened them. She knew her underwear was damp, knew he could see the wet circle of her arousal on the gusset. He settled between her spread legs and kissed the tingling skin right above her pussy.

  “Dane—” she whispered, not sure if it was an encouragement or a discouragement.

  The velvety kisses he pressed to her inner thighs made up her mind for her. She wanted this too much. Her head fell back; she sighed.

  He’s right. I’m going to love this.

  His strong hand rubbed slowly and gently up and down the bridge of her panties; the heat and pressure of his palm through the silky fabric made her clit harden up like a marble. She bit her plush bottom lip, trying not to moan… but when he started kissing her folds lightly—so lightly, too lightly—through her panties, she couldn’t hold back a whimper.

  “Smells so good,” he burred, right against her pussy. She bit a knuckle, hard, while watching him.

  He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her panties and started to roll them down; she shimmied her hips to help him. He drew them along her thighs, forcing her legs high and feet together to pull them off. Those got thrown in a corner, too; and then he pressed her legs wide open again.

  “Just beautiful,” he murmured, and his breath was hot on her wet, puffy flesh. “So pink.”

  “Lick me,” she sighed, losing restraint.

  “Lick you?” he echoed, kissing her outer lips.

  “Please lick me.”

  He licked her thigh.

  “No!” she whined. “Don’t tease me. Lick me!”

  He licked her other thigh.

  “Dane!”

  “Mm-hm?”

  “Please, please lick me! Lick me!”

  “Lick you where, Ginger?” he growled. “Tell me where you want my tongue.”

  “Lick my pussy,” she begged. “Lick my clit. Make me come, Dane.”

  “Words to die for,” he murmured—and then his hot, damp tongue was running slowly over her flushed, swollen lips. Her back arched against the mattress.

  “Ah… yes…” she breathed, eyes flickering closed. The wonderful sting of his stubble on her thighs and pussy only made the gentle wet heat of his tongue that much better.

  A couple of his fingers pressed lightly at her lips, testing whether she’d want one inside her; she started rocking her hips, urging him to do whatever he wanted. His tongue circled her stiff clit, making her clutch the bedspread—and then he closed his mouth on it in a seal, sucking gently.

  “Oh, Dane. Oh, Dane,” she gasped, blushing everywhere—her face, her neck, her chest. The excitement was almost too much.

  A thick finger sank inside her, a satisfying shock of penetration while he pleasured her clit. She could feel how absolutely wet and foamy she was; the bedspread had to be damp.

  “Delicious,” he sighed, coming up for air.

  “Am I?” she asked breathlessly, her hips rolling.

  “So sweet.” He kissed her lips—once, twice. “So clean.” Then his mouth fastened on her clit again, sucking harder than before. She cried out. It was so good.

  She lost track of time while he ate her. The rain pattered—then drummed—on the windows. The bedside clock ticked away. Her breathing ran ragged.

  It was pure bliss, getting oral from him. She could barely keep her eyes open.

  “Dane,” she groaned, finally. “I’m close… it’s so good, I can’t…”

  “Come for me,” he growled, nipping her clitoral ridge. Her hips bucked.

  I will, I will, I will! She pressed a hand on his head, encouraging him to suck faster, firmer, more mercilessly. He did, sucking with a force and abandon that lined her lashes with tears.

  “Dane—Dane—Dane—”

  She couldn’t stop moaning and undulating her hips, and he didn’t stop sucking, didn’t stop fingering her. She was—almost—there—almost—

  She came. She came hard—the orgasm white-hot—with a cry of ecstasy. Sweaty, writing on the bedclothes, she was lost in the magma of the climax; it obliterated her, in the best way.

  When she finally started coming back down, she had to close her thighs and wiggle away to escape from his greedy, still-sucking mouth.

  Her breathing was heavy, uneven, her skin hot and sticky. She could feel her pulse racing in her neck. It was a wet mess between her legs.

  He sat up, sucking his drenched, gooey fingers. “Was it good for you?”

  “Is that… a serious question?”

  “Yes, actually. It is.”

  She half-laughed, winded. “It was… amazing.”

  He crawled on top of her, put a hand on her face, and kissed her; she gripped his muscular wrist as he did. The taste of their kiss was sugary, wholesome. Is that my taste? Wow, he wasn’t lying. I’m not bad.

  “What about you?” she asked against his mouth. She shifted a knee and pressed it gently into his crotch: he was as hard as brick in his jeans.

  “Don’t think about me, Ginger,” he said, but his voice was sandpapery. “It’s alright. Later.”

  She reached down a hand and put it over his straining cock; he sighed, obviously trying not to groan. His size made her wet all over again—he was big, thick. Heavy.

  “I could do something for you. I want to,” she whispered,
kissing his face, his jawline. Sweet little kisses she could tell he loved.

  “No,” he said thickly, even though his cock jerked against her palm. “We’ll save it.”

  Save it?

  “For when?” she asked, very softly.

  The mood cooled; he rolled off of her.

  “We’ll have time. Ginger, I swear, I won’t let anything happen to you tonight.”

  “I know you’ll try.”

  “Don’t you believe I can protect you?”

  “I believe you’ll do everything you can.” She wriggled closer to him, kissed his mouth. She’d been dreaming of this for months—of being with him, of being adored by him—and now that it was finally reality, she was facing down death. Worked out great.

  He kissed her back. “Do you think you can say you like me more than Beaumont now?”

  “Dane!” she bristled. “Now is not the time to force—”

  “Sorry.” He kissed her again. “Listen, I have to go.”

  “No! Don’t do this again! Don’t leave me alone while you go off and—”

  “I have to. I have to tie the yacht up in the harbor.”

  “Make someone else do it!”

  He hesitated. “No, it has to be me. I have to look compliant.”

  “Dane… don’t…”

  “Ginger—”

  “Please.”

  His brows knit. “Don’t beg me, Ginger. I’ll be back soon.”

  She turned away and got up, going to the bedroom’s corner where her underwear was. Frowning, she stepped into it. “Fine.”

  “I will be.” He got up, too, and came over to her, taking her shoulders.

  “Yeah. I know. I just hate it when I’m left all alone here.” She held his eyes, upset. “I have no idea what’s happening, I don’t feel safe, I—”

  “You’re safe here—as long as you stay inside. That’s a taboo even Gunnar wouldn’t break.”

  “I guess.” She sighed.

  He turned her chin to look at him. “Wait for me.”

  She gazed at him, letting her silence be her grudging agreement.

  “Ginger,” he said, and his voice softened, “You know I love you? I love you.”

  You know I love you. I love you.