by Danica Avet
He shrugged as casually as he could, considering his cock was hardening as they talked. Grant watched as her eyes drifted down his body to lock on his growing erection which grew even more under her avid gaze. She might not want to want him, but she did, and his dick preened under the attention.
“I’m not sorry, so why should I apologize?”
That brought her eyes back up to his face, though they were now dilated with suppressed passion. “You’re not sorry?” she repeated, her voice breathless. Her nipples were hard again. He licked his lips. She crossed her arms over her chest, effectively hiding her breasts but leaving the rest of her bare. “What do you mean, you’re not sorry? You should be! I could…I don’t know, kill you or something for what you did without my permission!”
“You almost did kill me, sweetheart,” he drawled, letting his grin slip into place. “You tasted so sweet, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.”
Her cheeks reddened again. “Shut up,” she ordered through clenched teeth.
Grant licked his lips again. “Sorry, honey, but I can’t stop thinking about it. Mm, it must’ve been a while since you had a man ’cause you’re so fucking tight I could come just from dreaming about how tightly you’d squeeze my cock.”
* * * *
Izzy wasn’t a prude. If anything, she was considered downright dirty-minded, but the way this minotaur talked to her had her blushing like a schoolgirl, and she hated it. She honestly did, but her body liked it. A lot. She was getting all wet again and she had to fight the urge to leap on his cock and ride him like a champion bull rider.
She didn’t want an apology. It had been the only lame-brained thing she could think to say to him. Her body had rejoiced in his attentions, but allowing her hormones to lead her into temptation again was so not happening. Uh-uh, she thought as she squeezed her thighs together. She’d been down that road before and all she had to show for it was a scarred back and an inability to stay in one place for long.
But this fucking man was tempting her oh so much. Her mouth watered as he shifted his stance, making his cock bob with his movements. She wanted him, gods she wanted him, but he wanted a mate and his godsdamned mother thought Izzy was it.
“I’m not your mate, you stupid bull,” she growled, her anger returning. Thank gods. “I’ll never take a mate.”
He didn’t seem bothered because he shrugged again. “You want me.”
Izzy’s lip curled in a snarl. “So the fuck what? I have control over myself, unlike some people.”
One of his gold eyebrows rose. “Oh really? Is that why your tribe exiled you here?” he asked her in a silky tone.
She frowned at him in confusion. “How do you know about that?”
The bastard tapped the side of his nose. “I have ways of finding things out, my sweet. Now, you think you can control this thing between us?”
Izzy sniffed, lifting her nose in the air. “Of course. I’m an Amazon, bull boy. We’re taught how to endure and overcome and I’ve taken a vow of chastity.” As of yesterday, she thought with a gulp.
A slow, sexy smile spread across his face. “Well then, how about a bet, babycakes?”
She’d kick his ass for the endearments later, but her competitor’s soul perked up. A bet? She liked bets. It was one of the things she knew she’d miss the most about the Blood Maiden tribe. There was always something to bet on, whether it was who was going to piss who off and how fast, or how many times Rosetta would change her outfit during the day. But this minotaur was tricky. He’d have some ulterior motive, and by the look on his face, it would be something she’d hate.
“What kind of bet?” she asked suspiciously.
“You seem to think you have enough control over your body to avoid me, and I don’t think you do. In fact, I think you’ll beg me to fuck you. So that’s the bet. If you can resist your hormones, I’ll turn myself over to your tribe for tithe.” He smiled broadly, pleased with himself.
“And if I lose?” she asked even though defeat wasn’t an option.
His eyes went pure black, and his nostrils flared. With the gold ring glinting in the early morning light, he looked wild and dangerous and oh so delicious. She shivered. “If you lose and beg me to fuck you, you’ll accept being mated to me with a smile on your face and we’ll investigate this nymph thing as bonded mates.”
Chapter Fourteen
Grant watched Isola’s face freeze at his words. It wasn’t just trepidation that made her resistant to mating. It was sheer terror. What the fuck had happened to her, he wondered as he waited for her to decide. It wasn’t that vow she was thinking of. No, someone had hurt her at some point and he wanted to know who and why. If she accepted his bet, Grant knew she’d make it nearly impossible to get close to her. He’d have to entice her, seduce her from afar. It would be hell on his cock, but mating her for a lifetime was worth much more than a few hours of sex. At least that’s what he told himself.
The squinty-eyed look she gave him told Grant she suspected his plans and would do her best to thwart them. He smiled. She was so perfect for him.
“Fine, but I want to make a stipulation.”
He nodded amicably. He could afford to give her some feeling of control, he thought with a mental chuckle.
“This bet ends a week from now at midnight.”
Grant ended his mental congratulations, staring at her with surprise. A week to seduce her. He’d wanted more time than that, but was certain she wouldn’t be able to resist their attraction for each other. His plan would have to be modified, but the end goal would be the same. His pheromones were already working on her body, urging her to ovulate. A week would be plenty of time.
He nodded. “Fine. A week from now at midnight, the bet ends.” Stepping forward, he gave her another slow smile. “Shake on it?”
Isola stumbled away from him, although he suspected she was really trying to remove herself from temptation as his cock was still rock hard for her.
“N–no,” she stammered, hopping off the bed in a move that made her ass jiggle in a way that had Grant hissing through his teeth. “I’ll just take your word that you won’t cheat.”
“Are you sure, sweetheart? You didn’t even ask if I’d fight dirty.”
She glared at him as she snatched the sheet off the bed, wrapping it around her body like a toga. “Of course I didn’t ask because I plan on fighting dirty as well, bull boy. And I don’t plan on losing.”
His cock twitched at her challenge. Gods, he loved her sass and her ass. He chuckled out loud, earning himself a dirty look as she stomped to her own room. Looking down at his throbbing erection, he vowed Isola would soon give it plenty of tender loving care to make up for this insanity. And she’d love every minute of it.
* * * *
Izzy was proud of herself for not letting Grant see just how freaked out she was. Oh, she was positive she could withstand any seductive lures he cast, but her real worry was herself.
Half drowning herself beneath the shower spray, she scrubbed her hair and groused about her body’s reaction to him. As a warrior, she’d trained and honed her body for battle. She could withstand excruciating torture and substandard living conditions. Thousands and thousands of years of selective breeding had made her a war machine, capable of great stealth, strength, and agility. Yet when she was within twenty feet of Grant Strickland, her body forgot all of her training and became soft, feminine, alien.
Izzy rinsed the suds from her hair and washed her body, trying to ignore the tingling sensitivity of her nipples. Grant had a very talented mouth, she thought with a sigh as she stroked the washcloth over her breasts. He had skills that belonged more to an incubus than a hardheaded minotaur. She shivered as she remembered exactly how he’d used that mouth on her body.
The shower curtain was thrown back and the minotaur in question stepped into the shower with her. Screeching, she slapped at him with the towel. Really, she was surprised at herself. For a moment, she felt like a normal, untrained woman instead
of a deadly Amazon.
“What are you doing in here?” she screamed, slapping at his head and trying not to look down at his rampant cock. It was so beautiful.
“Stop hitting me,” he growled, stealing the cloth out of her hands and throwing it over her head. “I conserve water around here, so you and I will be sharing the shower.”
Izzy spluttered as he moved her out of the way to wet his hair. She had soap sliding down her torso to the suddenly aching spot between her legs and he wanted to shower with her?
“I’ll get out,” she volunteered, knowing if she watched him bathe himself, she’d end up drooling.
He hooked his arm around her waist, pulling her back into the tub. “Babe, we’re just showering,” he said, his arm like a brand around her body.
Feeling his cock against her ass, Izzy closed her eyes. She wanted to rub up against him. She wanted to bend over and take him deep in her body until the empty feeling in her womb eased. “It doesn’t feel like you just want to shower.” She winced at the quiver in her voice.
Grant chuckled, the sound vibrating up her back, making her nipples tighten painfully. “The shower’s plenty big enough for the two of us.”
“You mean the three of us,” she croaked, pulling away from him.
She heard the lid on the shampoo pop open. “Three of us?”
Keeping her back to him, she finished washing herself. She could do this. She was a friggin’ Amazon! “Yeah, you, me, and Mr. Longfellow,” she muttered, risking a glance over her shoulder to see he had his eyes closed as he washed his hair. Swiftly washing her tender folds, Izzy was finished by the time he opened his eyes again.
He laughed loudly, the sound bouncing off the tiled walls of the shower. “Sorry, Isola, he just knows he’s in a shower with a beautiful woman.”
“Well he won’t be for long,” she shot back as she jumped out. She had a towel wrapped around her before the shower curtain was pulled back revealing a wet, mouth-watering Grant with suds slipping down his forehead.
“You didn’t rinse off!” he scolded.
“It’ll be just fine, Mr. Conservationist,” she answered as she stalked to her room with his laugh following her. She slammed the door closed behind her and locked it.
Resting against the solid wood, Izzy gave a sigh of relief even as her brain bombarded her with images of Grant dripping wet and naked as the day he was born. Her body quivered with unfulfilled desire. He was walking sin, no two ways about it.
* * * *
Grant kept things on an easy level after the shower. He didn’t want to rush things with her. He wanted her to get to know him and vice versa. It would be much easier to build a mating on friendship and chemistry than lust alone, he figured. So towards that aim, he suggested they try tracking the nymphs.
His mate’s hand went to her hip as she treated him to an insolent, calculating look. “Are you any good at tracking?”
He blinked. “I thought you were, but if you need help…”
Oh he just loved it when she got her back up. Her eyes swirled with dark fire and her lips tightened like an old schoolmarm. It made him want to kiss the irritation right out of her. He licked his lips.
“I—” She pointed at herself, which drew his gaze to her breasts. She frowned at him and lowered her hand. “I am an excellent tracker. One of the best in the Blood Maiden Tribe.”
It wasn’t easy acting like he didn’t believe her, but he scrounged up a humoring expression from somewhere. Maybe he should’ve been an actor, he thought, because she looked pissed enough to chew nails. “Well, if you think you can do it…”
He could hear her grit her teeth from across the room and hid a smile by turning to pick up his keys and cell phone.
“I don’t think I can do it. I know I can do it.”
“In that case, why were you asking if I could track?” He turned back to her with a frown.
Her hands were curled into little fists and he knew she was dreaming about punching him in the face. She dragged in a deep breath, her chest rising and falling as she visibly fought for patience. Grant figured he was doing his part to teach her the self-control her tribal sisters wanted her to learn. And gods knew he had fun doing it.
“I’ll go alone because you’ll only slow me down.”
Ouch. “You think?” He sauntered towards her. Her left foot lifted as though she was about to take a step back before she realized she would be retreating. His little mate stood her ground, glaring at him. “I’ll always be able to keep up with you.” He let his gaze trail over her body. She was so delicious. “No matter what we’re doing.”
This close, he could see how her pupils dilated at his words and had to fight his own reaction. She was perfect for him. Vow or no vow, he was going to have her and she’d love every minute of it.
Isola seemed to snap out of it, her eyes narrowing on his face. “In that case, let’s get goin’, LaMotta.”
Mentally rubbing his hands together at the thought of working with his female, Grant let her lead the way and watched her hips sway. This was going to be a piece of cake.
* * * *
She was going to kill him. Grant wiped the sweat off of his face and watched her bend down to study some tracks. He loved the position she was in, but he was too fucking tired to get excited about it.
He knew he was in great shape. He was a shifter for gods’ sake. He could run for hours in either bull or human form and then perform bedroom aerobics for the rest of the night. But none of that had prepared him for keeping pace with his mate when she was on the hunt.
They’d started out at the Black Dog Camp since that was the last place the nymphs had been. Isola had looked at his truck with disdain before loping off in the direction she sensed the women had gone in. Rather than look like a wimp and trail behind her in the vehicle, Grant had tightened his belt and followed on foot. Now, he wished he’d have at least taken the time to pull his snowmobile out of the barn. The damned woman had the stamina of a team of sled dogs. Which was a compliment, he reminded himself as he strove to catch his breath, because in no way would he imply his mate was a bitch. No, he’d just say it.
Leaning against a tree, Grant let his muscles rest for a moment. Isola studied something on the ground, her face screwed up in concentration. He didn’t know how in the hell she could track the nymphs in the snow two days after the incident, but she seemed to know what she was doing. He’d seen the footprints leaving camp, but after a while, they’d faded as though the nymphs had simply vanished. Isola though, had doggedly followed a trail only she could see. She was…amazing.
“Did you rest enough yet?”
He was going to strangle her. Grant stood straight, ignoring the heavy ache in his muscles. She was still staring at the ground, but her lips were curled into a smile. The little witch.
“Do you see anything?” he asked, changing the subject. He wasn’t weak, dammit. He’d just have to start working out more. He eyed her ass. He could almost imagine the cardio workouts he’d get with her in bed.
“They came this way.” She stood, frowning to the west. “But the trail stops here. They might have grabbed a portal out, although I don’t get the feel that there was a warmage or demon around here.”
“Couldn’t they have bought a portal spell?”
Isola shrugged, her hands going to her hips in what he was beginning to realize was her thinking pose. “It’s possible, but those things are like, muy expensive since warmages have to pool a lot of power into them.” She turned and started walking back towards him. “Did they give you any clues? Mention anything other than Ormond’s name? What were they wearing? Did they look like locals or outsiders?”
Grant grimaced because his brain hadn’t been on what the women were wearing. He hadn’t cared as long as it could be moved to the side or taken off quickly. “Er, they didn’t mention any names. They didn’t even call each other by their names.”
“What about their clothes?”
He rubbed the back of his n
eck even as he felt blood rush to his ears. “Um, you saw them! Why are you asking me about their clothes?”
She crossed her arms over her chest with a fierce frown. “Maybe because you sat down with them, then drove them here with the express purpose of getting them out of their clothes. I, on the other hand, didn’t get a chance to exchange fashion tips before we started fighting.”
Shit, of course, she was right. He ran a security business. His job was to notice details and he couldn’t remember much. “Er, they were wearing skirts. Short skirts.”
“And?”
“Tight…sparkly shirt things?” He was a man, what did he care about fashion except how it looked on a woman?
Isola closed her eyes and he knew she was counting to ten. Or maybe a hundred because she kept them closed for a while. “Look, I have to ask you this—are you fucking with me?” Her eyes opened, revealing Isola in a full temper. “Seriously dude, are you playing here? Because this sounds like bullshit to me. Pun intended.”
“Of course not!”
“Then explain to me how a reasonably intelligent male can’t remember a single thing about the six women he was going to fuck two nights ago! Were you drunk?”
Grant was getting pissed. “No.”
“Had you taken any sexual enhancement potions?”
He saw red. “No fucking way, babe; I don’t need them.” His voice was low and dangerous, but she didn’t seem to notice. She paced in front of him, hands still on her hips.
“Something’s not right,” she muttered under her breath. She came to a sudden stop, her head coming up sharply. “Did they touch your skin, your clothing?”
Grant hiked one of his eyebrows at her. “Of course they did. They were crawling all over me.”
Her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits and he felt a moment of triumph. His inner adolescent male wanted to pump his fist in the air. She was jealous! He fought the urge down although he couldn’t help the smile that teased his lips. She was j-e-a-l-o-u-s.
