Full Moon City

by Lia Connor

  Shanda heard the whooshing of air and a series of metallic clanks. She glanced up, half-knowing what she’d see, and spied her gun plus Hunter’s two fixed on the ceiling of the office. Too high for Hunter to jump, and the desk was too far out of reach for him to climb on and reach for the weapons.

  “I’ve fucking had enough,” Hunter warned, his voice a low, menacing growl. “Get this straight, Spirit Talker. I don’t believe in magic or whatever kind of show you’re trying to put on. Save your fancy tricks for someone else.”

  “No tricks. You have the power you gathered to yourself, and I have my own. But there will be no more shooting. If we are to fight, we do it man to man.” Mark’s fists flexed. He sounded interested, like the thought of tussling with Hunter appealed. “Are you game?”

  Shanda would have expected them to lock into it right then and there, but instead Hunter edged aside to look at her. “Coming out of whatever he did to you?”

  If she hadn’t known better, Shanda would have thought Hunter was concerned. She put a hand to her neck, feeling the teeth punctures, amazed at how they didn’t even sting. “I’m thinking so,” she said, her head starting to clear. “I’m okay, Hunter.”

  “You damn well better be, or I’ll rip his fucking head off.”

  “So protective. Is this the source of your anger?” Mark queried placidly. “I dared to take your woman?”

  “Shanda’s not…” Hunter paused, then bared his teeth. “We’re none of your business. And that’s all it is. Just business.”

  “So what I heard while in my prison was nothing more than a slightly more vigorous means of shaking hands?”

  The anger had begun to spread to Hunter’s eyes. Shanda pressed back harder against the wall, looking to shield herself. She’d never seen Hunter lose so much control before. If or when he did go off, the explosion would outdo any bomb.

  “Take it easy,” she warned. “Mark, Hunter’s right. The two of us -- we don’t love each other. We just take off a little edge. Uncomplicated fucks, no strings attached.”

  “Is that so?” Mark seemed thoughtful. “Then why does he defend you with such passion?”

  Hunter refused to answer in words. He growled instead, a sound that made Shanda shiver, remembering the wolves in her dreams before they started playing with her.

  She didn’t think Hunter meant to play.

  With growing clear-headedness came confusion. “Pack?” Shanda felt her wound again. Her ire started to rise. “What the hell do you mean, you marked me as Pack?”

  “Later, Shanda. I think Hunter and I have an issue to settle first.”

  “Fuck your ‘later’!” Shanda protested. “I don’t care how sexy you are. No one pushes me aside like I’m nobody.”

  Mark turned to look at Shanda over his shoulder. She could see the heat glowing in his eyes, two banked coals that promised her more of his fire. The rest of his expression was as peaceful as ever. “You are a rare woman, Shanda. I will answer your questions as soon as I may. For now, I deal with Hunter.”

  Shanda swore at Mark. He laughed and returned his attention to Hunter. Oh, but that got her back up. “You look at me!” she ordered. “We’re not done yet.”

  “Of course not. Hunter, what do you say? Do you want to hear the answers to her questions?”

  “I want to put you down.” Hunter’s fists jerked as if he wanted to knock Mark flat on his back. Shanda wasn’t sure if he could do it. She’d have bet on Hunter against anyone else, but Mark… there was something about him beyond the muscles. “Hand-to-hand, I’m fine with that. Let’s go.”

  “Ready when you are. But perhaps you should tell Shanda the truth first, about who brought me here, and why?” Mark’s voice teased lightly. “She ought to know a bit more about how few strings are attached to your business arrangement.”

  Shanda blinked, puzzled. “Hunter? What’s he talking about?”

  Hunter looked to one side.

  Realization dawned. “You son of a bitch! You were the one who caught him, not some ‘men’ you sent out. You’ve been sniffing around me same as he has. Stalking the stalker. Or were you planning something else?”

  Hunter remained silent but mutinous.

  “If he weren’t about to throw down with you, I’d get in there myself. Who gave you the right to mess with my life?”

  “I saved your ass, didn’t I?” Hunter snapped. “I didn’t know what this guy wanted. Guess he took it anyway though, didn’t he?”

  “Don’t you go getting jealous. What place do you have being all high-and-mighty, like you’re my main man or something?” Shanda snorted. “We are so going to have us a talk after this is done.”

  “You want me to fight him?” Hunter eyed her narrowly. “That begs the question: who do you want to win?”

  Shanda hesitated. Hunter’s lips pulled back over his teeth. “Thought so.” He threw all his attention back on Mark. “What are you waiting for?”

  Mark ignored him. “Shanda, know this. Hunter would never hurt you. I have read his heart and I know he would rather die than see you harmed by anyone else, much less by his own hand. And you need not fear he is insane. The man who protected you as best as he knew how has never killed except in time of war, and he dreams of those victims every night. The visions torment him.”

  “I did what I had to do,” Hunter spat.

  “Hunter, is that true?” Shanda put in her two cents. Forget suspicions, she should have known he was ex-military from his way with covert ops and how he could look death in the eye without flinching. His posture. His way of giving orders. The way he let nothing slip when he was in control. “Good as you are with a gun, what were you? A sniper?”

  “My past is my past, not yours,” Hunter barked. He swung his wrath back to Mark. “Even if you were right, how the hell would you know, anyway? Been poking around in records where you have no right to be?”

  Mark shrugged. “I knew nothing of you before I arrived here. As to how I know these things, I read what is in your heart.”

  Hunter made a rude noise.

  “Of course. You don’t believe in any powers beyond weapon and fist.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Is that what you’d like?” Mark shifted position, easing from aggressor to seducer without a hitch. “I could smell your own arousal when I took Shanda, despite how you protested. My nose is keen. A man’s musk has its own richness. My eyes are sharp, too, and see an erection not yet gone down. You were excited by the sight, Hunter. But, I wonder. Which gave you the bigger thrill -- watching Shanda, or looking at me?”

  Hunter lost the last shred of his control. He launched himself at Mark, fists flying in deadly arcs. Well-trained, Shanda could see it now in the way he moved.

  “Mark!” she heard herself crying out. “Careful!”

  Then torn -- “Hunter, don’t!”

  The men didn’t seem to have heard her. Mark dodged each one of Hunter’s strikes with ease, moving far too fast for any human. Nothing connected. Didn’t stop Hunter from trying though. He upped the scale of his attack, charging shoulder-first into Mark’s chest.

  Mark fell, but any fool could tell he was controlling his tumble. As he landed, his feet kicked out and tangled with Hunter’s, bringing the man down on top of him. Hunter sputtered in surprise before Mark flipped them over, pinning Hunter down.

  “I think you were interested in both of us,” he whispered, effortlessly wrangling Hunter into a stranglehold, riding his attempts to fight his way back up as if he were on a mustang’s back. “You wanted me as much as you wanted her. You still do.” Shanda watched in astonishment as Mark ground his pelvis against Hunter’s. “Tell me you don’t want this, Hunter.”

  “Get -- the fuck -- off of me!” Hunter barked, jerking against Mark’s inflexible grip. “I’m not playing. You’re a dead man.”

  “I think not.” Mark lowered his lips to Hunter’s shoulder, feathering it over with light kisses. Hunter snarled, doubling his struggles, but for all that Mark bar
ely broke a sweat holding his opponent in place. “You want to, but you would not kill me.”

  “Give me one good reason.”

  “Shanda. She is used to your coldness, I know, but she would shun you if you took a man’s life. Would you drive her away, never to return?”

  Hunter lunged upward, nearly knocking Mark off. “You leave her out of this. You don’t say her name again.”

  Mark rode the wave and regained his hold on Hunter. Spreading out his weight, he held Hunter flat on the dirty ground. “Shanda,” he murmured. “Sweet Shanda, come closer to us.”

  No sane woman would get herself tangled up in a street -- dog -- wolf -- why did she keep thinking about Mark as a wolf? -- fight, yet Shanda couldn’t stop herself from obeying Mark’s call. She took a slow, unsteady step forward.

  Hunter twisted and writhed. “Shanda, don’t you move!”

  She took another pace. “What are you doing to us, Mark?”

  “What I have to. Come, Shanda.” Mark fixed his hot gaze on her. “Join us.”

  “Shanda, don’t you do it!”

  “Shanda, walk to us as I have requested.”

  She drew closer. As she moved toward them, she could smell their sweat, ripe and pungent, and… something more. She couldn’t identify the scent. Was it coming from Mark? Smelled wild, like Shanda imagined a forest would. Like the brief flashes she remembered from her dreams. The odor hit her like a slap to the face, and to her shock sent ripples of arousal coursing through her to her lower belly. Her pussy muscles contracted involuntarily. “What… what…”

  “The scent of the Pack. The Heat of the Pack. It makes you horny, hungry, desperate. You need what the Pack can give you: sex, life, breath, blood.” Mark grinned savagely, his teeth far too white, sharp and pointed. “I want you by our sides, Shanda. You can do this.”

  Shanda’s feet carried her forward. They didn’t stop until her toes were all but touching the men’s sides. “I’m here. What the hell do you want from me?”

  “To tame that tongue, for one, but such will come later. For now, kneel beside us. You will not be hurt.”

  Her body obeyed Mark’s commands, bringing her down on her knees. She didn’t like this, not one bit. She was Shanda, for God’s sake, and she didn’t bow to any man whether big or small. Summoning up some of the balls she’d worked so hard for, she glared at the Native. “How come you can jerk me around like a rag doll? Tell me what’s going on.”

  “I will do better. I will show you. Touch my back, Shanda.”

  Her hand did as it had been commanded. Mark’s skin felt almost too hot, burning as with a fever. His muscles trembled under her touch, her first clue that his holding Hunter down was tougher work than it looked like.

  When Shanda’s touch registered, Mark inhaled deeply. “Oh, yes. Good. Very good. We are almost fully connected.”

  Hunter gave another mighty heave, probably hoping Mark would be distracted enough to let him slip. Uh-uh. Mark fought back, knocking Hunter back down hard enough that his head hit the floor with a resounding thump.

  “Enough,” Mark said firmly. “We could dance all night, and perhaps you would wear me down, Hunter -- yes, you have the strength -- but I cannot afford to let that happen. Shanda, keep your hand on my skin.”

  Shanda got a sudden, terrifying suspicion about what Mark was going to do. She clutched at his shoulder, trying to pull him back. Damn! Might as well try and drag a mountain with your teeth. “No. Don’t you even,” she ordered, beating at him. “Don’t.”

  “I must.” Exerting enough pressure to turn him rigid, Mark pinned Hunter in a grip no one could get out of. He lowered his mouth to Hunter’s neck -- and bit.

  Hunter yelled with fury and thrashed his head. “Fuck you! Animal!”

  Mark withdrew his teeth. “In a way. You will see. Now, it is done.”

  Blood smeared across his lips, he tilted his head back as a wolf would to the moon, and howled.

  Chapter Six

  Shanda shuddered back from the purely animal noise ripping from Mark’s throat. No man should have been able to make that sound, not even the best of mimics. The clamor of the wolves in her dreams filled her mind, wolves baying and yelping, close enough to her heels to sink in their teeth.

  Biting. Just like Mark had bitten her, and then Hunter. Shanda touched her own wound and flinched at the feel of the punctured flesh. She wasn’t bleeding, but Hunter was, red trickling down from the teeth marks to drip on the floor.

  Speaking of Hunter, he’d lost all pretense at playing cool and collected. He fought Mark like the beast in Mark’s howl, turning into a whirlwind of kicks and punches that finally hit home, driving Mark off him in a four-limbed shove. Mark’s howl cut off in the middle, but he laughed -- laughed! -- as he rolled away on the floor.

  Hunter dragged himself into a sitting position, touching his neck and swearing viciously at the sight of his own blood. “Crazy son of a bitch,” he spat. “You’ll pay for what you just did.”

  Mark chortled. “Will I?”

  “What’s so funny?” Hunter pulled himself up a few more inches. “You got some other game up your sleeve?”

  “No sleeves.” Mark spread his bare, bronzed arms. “But I am not done here, no. I have only just begun. Shanda! Return to me.”

  Shanda fought against the urge, but that same damn note of power in Mark’s voice rode right over her sense of self-preservation. God, she’d come here tonight just looking for a little information, and what had she ended up with? A man out of her dreams, who had fucked her into a puddle, and who’d sunk his teeth into both her and Hunter. A man who couldn’t be beaten, and treated the whole mess like some kind of joke.

  “I won’t say please. But come on. What do you want?” she asked, proud at sounding steady. Hell if she’d let him know how badly he was freaking her out. “We don’t roll over and show our bellies. You want a fight, we’ll give you a fight.”

  Mark’s look piercing her with another shock wave of arousal. She struggled, but that traitor body of hers thrilled under Mark’s heated gaze. Why? He was just a man. No one should be able to melt her with just a look. No, not just melt her. Make her want to jump his bones, no matter how crazy all this was.

  God help her, she wanted to fuck him right then and there. Him -- or Hunter. When she looked at the blond man, Shanda felt the same hungry throb of desire. He looked good enough to eat.

  Eat. Oh, yeah. She’d strip him bare and run her tongue along his skin, tasting the saltiness of sweat and the tang of his adrenaline. Tease his balls with flicks of her tongue. Take his thick cock in her mouth and suck until she made him yell and give up a load of thick, bittersweet spunk.

  Then travel up his body to his throat, where she’d sniff the blood already spilled, bare her teeth, and…

  “Oh, Christ, no. No!” Shanda pulled back. “What have you done to me?”

  “Be at ease. The urges will pass soon.”

  “Will they?” Shanda asked warily. Hunter was looking at her much in the same way she’d imagined herself to have been staring at him -- like food. Underneath the loose cotton of his sweatpants, she could see his cock standing up thick and tall. She could smell his musk and the rich scent of pre-come bubbling through his slit.

  He wanted her the same way she’d wanted him. On her back, helpless against the desire while he tormented her from the ankles up, ate her pussy until she screamed, and then savaged her throat.

  Caught between a crazy man and a wild beast, and I half don’t know which is which. Shit, am I going to die tonight?

  “Fear not,” Mark soothed. “Hunter, down.” He laid his hand on Hunter’s knee. “Fight this as you fought me. You know you would never hurt Shanda, not in your right mind. Cling to the thoughts of how much you care for her. Be at peace. Peace.”

  Shanda could see the struggle on Hunter’s face. So odd, seeing all those tangling emotions conflict on features she’d only ever seen before as cold and passionless, even when they fucked. “Shanda,” h
e said in something halfway between a growl and human speech. “Shanda?”

  “I’m here.” It didn’t make any kind of sense, but Shanda wrestled forward to take Hunter’s twitching hand in her own. He quivered when she touched him, then blazed with that bestial fury. “Hunter, please. It’s me. It’s your Shanda.” God, she ached to kiss him, to hold him. When had she started feeling tender toward this man? Tonight? Or had she always cared for him this way, and just been lying to herself?

  Some of the wild wrath cleared from Hunter’s face and eyes. He clutched her hand back. “Shanda.” His voice was normal, if urgent, instead of cold and clipped. “Run. You have to run.”

  “Not going anywhere without you.” Shanda tightened her grip. “Can’t anyone beat us down. Come on. You’re tough as nails, Hunter. Stomp this thing flat.” She rounded on Mark and let him have it with both barrels. “I want the truth, you bastard. What did you do to us? How? Why? You start talking, or I come after you myself.” She let a little of her own animal fury slip through. “Let’s see how you like me now, huh?”

  “Peace.” Mark gestured for them to be still. That damned power of his rolled across Shanda, forcing her to go lax no matter how she wanted to fight. She could see Hunter slumping as well, a blaze of rage at Mark etched on his face as he went slack. “We are bound, the three of us.” He pushed and shifted at the pair of them like they were dolls, neatly sliding between their bodies. “We are ready.”

  He placed one hand over Shanda’s left breast, her heart, and one over Hunter’s chest. “Bound by blood and by the touch of the Pack, I call upon you now.” His voice rolled with the power of thunder across a stormy sky. “Spirits, come to me and the two I bide with. Spirits, come and give us your wisdom. Spirits, come and judge us. Spirits!”

  There was a pause. Mark looked around himself, eyes sparkling, as if he were expecting something wondrous. Shanda felt a prickle of fear running down her back and into her gut. His prayer -- was it a prayer? -- sounded like pure Hollywood showmanship, but she’d seen… she’d felt… there was something about Mark that made her think if there were spirits out there, they’d be on their way.