Savage Revenge

by Shelli Stevens

  “Umm, you can put me down now.”

  His gaze met hers and he saw the flicker of awareness in them before she lowered her lashes.

  Almost reluctant to do as she requested, he forced himself to lower her onto the mattress.

  Christ, he needed to get laid. He’d come down on his own agents for thinking with their dicks too much, and yet here he was thinking of what it would be like to get Sage out of those clothes.

  If things had been different he might’ve been tempted to seduce her. To discover what kind of heat simmered beneath the skittish, almost adorably clumsy persona.

  Because she was aware of the chemistry, just as much as he was. Whether she would admit it to herself or not, and it was damn inconvenient for both of them.

  Things weren’t different. The woman he should’ve mated with was still being mourned as a victim after her savage death, and Sage—a stranger and victim in this all—was essentially his hostage. Things were just about as fucked up as fucked up could go.

  So yeah, screwing his hostage would be an epically bad idea.

  “I know I said I’d untie you,” he murmured, averting his eyes from her tempting curves, “but there’s a couple more things I need to do.”

  “Shocking.” The one, sulky word was all she said before she went silent again.

  “I’m going to run downstairs, but I’ll be back in like ten minutes.”

  “Fine.”

  She wasn’t happy and he couldn’t blame her. After adjusting the sheet tied around his waist, he turned and left her alone again.

  Ten minutes later he’d successfully placed a much-needed Amazon order and was currently taking a moment to read a major online news source.

  Again, no major red flags, until he visited a small northwest online paper and an article gave him pause. The picture of a woman in the article was striking a note of familiarity with him.

  He read the headline and his blood chilled. A woman’s body had been found outside of Cannon Beach. The cause of death was unknown and it wasn’t clear if foul play was suspected yet.

  There wasn’t much information about the crime, which wasn’t generally a cause for alarm, but the lack of details this time made something within him uneasy.

  Sometimes the vagueness of a media-covered death ended up being because shifters were involved.

  Nathan stilled, but it wasn’t the article that made him suddenly alert. No, it was the slight creak he’d heard on the stairs.

  He just barely saw the reflection on the monitor before Sage raced past him and toward the front door.

  Chapter Seven

  Sage had the door open, with one foot out, before he reached her and snagged her around the waist.

  “Son of a bitch,” he roared. “How in the hell did you get free?”

  He lifted her back into the house and slammed the door.

  She was apparently done being complacent, though. She squirmed, kicked and hit before he finally had to drop her to try and get a better grip.

  But it wasn’t that easy, because in an instant she had scurried away and grabbed any kind of makeshift weapon she could get her hands on.

  He ducked from the remote control that flew at his head and lunged toward her. He missed.

  “How did you get yourself untied?” he roared.

  “You seriously underestimate me.” She darted past him, throwing a small lamp at him in the process.

  It clipped his shoulder before crashing to the floor. “Clearly.”

  A growl of fury erupted past his lips as he threw himself at her full speed.

  He took her down linebacker style, rolling them both on the hardwood floors.

  “Get off me.”

  She slapped at his shoulders, trying to free herself, and he caught her wrists in one hand to get her under control.

  Her expression morphed from frustration to pain, and her sharp cry had his anger vanishing. Had he hurt her? He hadn’t realized his grasp was that tight.

  A quick scan of her body, though, and he dropped her wrists from his grasp after seeing the raw, red cuts there.

  “Jesus, woman, what the hell did you do to yourself?”

  She winced and gently cradled one wrist. “I cut them while freeing myself.”

  He leaned down and slid an arm around her waist, helping her to her feet. “You mind filling me in on how you even got free?”

  “I rolled myself off the bed and cut the rope on the metal frame. There’s a sharp corner that I’ve cut my foot on more than once while climbing into bed.”

  Smart girl. “So when I found you on the floor and scooped you back up, you were probably already halfway through your ropes?”

  “Pretty much.”

  He grunted and steered her toward the kitchen. “You’re bleeding.”

  “I’m a shifter—it’ll stop fast.”

  “Still, it wouldn’t hurt you to wash the cuts. That frame might be rusty and why risk any slowed healing?”

  “Does it matter? I have a feeling you wouldn’t mind seeing me suffer.”

  Christ. This again. “It’s not my intent to hurt you, Sage. I can’t stress that enough.”

  “Then what is your intent?”

  “I just need a place to lay low. To figure out a few things.” He turned on the sink and gently pulled her wrists under the water. “And you’re going to help me with that.”

  She winced as he added soap over her raw but already healing wrists. “Not exactly willing here.”

  Their heads were close and he was suddenly all too aware of her as a female. The wrist he held was delicate and soft, and the scent of her shampoo mixed with the citrus soap he was using to wash her wounds.

  “It would be a little weird if you were,” he finally agreed.

  Her gaze lifted to meet his. Searching. “Are you really a P.I.A. agent?”

  “Yes. And not just an agent. I’m also the commander of my unit.”

  She shook her head, her breathing not quite as steady now. Was it from the information he’d just divulged, or their proximity?

  “You sound as if you should be one of the good guys. What did you do?”

  He was a good guy. Or so he’d used to think. He shrugged, not quite ready to answer that. Not quite sure he could.

  So he changed the subject instead.

  “This could’ve been so much easier on both of us, Sage. At the bar last night I was trying to make you fall for me. Trying to gain your trust so you’d willingly take me home.”

  “I’m sorry I was so uncooperative.” Her sarcasm ran rampant. “And I don’t take men home.”

  When he glanced up at her, her gaze had slid to his mouth.

  Interesting. Maybe she was a more aware of him than she cared to admit. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips and everything primal inside him responded.

  He turned off the sink and maneuvered her against it, straddling her legs with his own.

  “Well I guarantee you if I’d been the one kissing you outside instead of your pretty musician, you would’ve taken me home.”

  She swallowed hard and met his gaze once more. The amount of defiance there was outweighed by excitement.

  “For a criminal, you’re awfully full of yourself. It would take more than a kiss for me to have brought you home.”

  “Careful, Sage,” he warned softly and leaned in closer. His breath mingled with hers. “Because that almost sounds like a challenge.”

  He heard it then. The slow thud of her heart that had become a pounding thunder. She didn’t reply to his statement, and the wolf within him rose to the surface in an instant.

  Was he right? Was she as physically drawn to him right now as he was to her?

  Maybe he was going about this wrong. Maybe if he tried to seduce her mind—her heart—he’d have her cooperation. She’d stop trying to escape and break his skull in.

  Or maybe, you just want to charter the inside of her mouth with your tongue.

  Whatever it was, the primitive side of him was far too close
to the surface to be denied now.

  He lowered his head and lightly touched his lips to hers—waited for her to pull away. She was so soft. Wonderfully sweet.

  She didn’t move, though her shoulders tensed. A moment later she gave a stiff shrug. “See? That did noth—”

  He didn’t let her finish that thought before he’d crushed his mouth on hers again. Not gentle this time, but with the sole intent to explore that amazing mouth deeper. To conquer and take.

  She whimpered in shock before he effortlessly pierced her compressed lips with his tongue, determined to taste the soft warmth inside.

  For a moment, she tried to push him away, her hands shoving against his bare shoulders, but as he gentled his kiss—switched his intent from conquer to seduce—she grew pliant in his arms.

  As he flicked his tongue against hers in teasing, gentle strokes, she began to answer back. The hands that had tried to push him away a moment ago now kneaded and stroked the bare skin of his shoulders.

  The control that he always prided himself on—that had been so tightly wound—began to unravel. His thoughts grew hazy, and for a moment he couldn’t be sure who was actually in control. Who was seducing who.

  He reached down and caught her ass, lifting her easily onto the edge of the sink and stepping between her thighs.

  Her legs wrapped around him and the intimate heat of her body cradled the now rock-hard flesh of his dick.

  Christ, he was losing it, but he couldn’t stop.

  The shifter inside him was near the surface and riding the rush. If the basic human male’s instincts were to eat, fight and fuck, then the shifter male’s instincts for those were twice as strong. Nathan had managed to scratch eating off the list, but the other two were long overdue. There was adrenaline running through his blood, and fighting Sage wasn’t remotely an option.

  But maybe fucking her was.

  Delving his hands into the damp curls of her hair, he tugged her head back and pulled his mouth from hers.

  He trailed slow kisses down her jawline. Exploring. Tasting. Feeling her heart beating in the pulse beneath his tongue.

  “Nate…” she whispered, sounding almost drugged, and making no move to stop him now. “Is…oh…is Nate really your name?”

  “Nate. Nathan. Larson. Sir. I get them all.” How was she still able to talk? Maybe this was a good time to try and get information out of her. “You’re a writer?”

  While waiting for her to answer, he teased the wildly beating pulse in her neck again with is tongue.

  “Oh…yes.” She made a soft, fluttery sigh. “Romance novels.”

  Nice. He hid a smile but was all too aware of the curve of a full breast that was just inches from his chin. The need touch it—to taste it—was so fierce and blatant he felt like a horny teenager.

  But even as he moved his hand to touch her, he flashed back to last night and the way the musician had groped her. The way she’d flinched and drawn back.

  Slow down, asshole. Remember, this is about seduction to gain her cooperation, not about getting your rocks off.

  He trailed his kisses lower, to the curve of her breast above the sleeveless cotton dress. Then he paused. Waited to see how she’d react. If she’d push him away, freeze up or…

  The whimper she made was husky and needy, and her back arched just slightly to lift her breast higher toward his lips.

  It was the only invitation he needed to tug down the dress and thick fabric of her bra and bare her to him. Her breast spilled free, so milky white and full. The strawberry-colored tip was already hardened.

  Shit. If he’d had even the slightest bit of control left before, it had just disappeared.

  She was out of her mind. Out of her ever-loving mind, because though her brain was screaming at her to do something logical—like smash the coffee mug in the sink over his head—her body had different ideas.

  Instinct and desire had taken over. Nothing mattered right now—nothing—except having Nate’s mouth on her breast.

  His chest rumbled in a low growl as his thumb stroked over the nipple.

  Pleasure jettisoned through her and she couldn’t stop the high-pitched gasp, or the way her chest thrust closer to him.

  What was wrong with her? Leaf had touched her breast last night and it had been nothing like this. She’d been so distracted, so uncomfortable, it had been more like a clinical doctor’s touch than a lover’s.

  But what was happening to her now was mindless. Passion on drugs. God, she needed it. Craved it.

  She bit her tongue, determined not to call out his name and beg him to suck on her, but oh she wanted it so badly. Needed to know what it felt like.

  Her request would’ve been too late anyway, because his head dipped and he finally drew her into his mouth. His tongue laved over the tip before he abandoned the sweet torture and sucked her nipple hard.

  Pleasure shot in a line from her breast to between her legs, starting an ache that could only be resolved in one way.

  It was all so new. So completely overwhelming and incredible, that she was so tempted to keep going. To see how far this went—and while the writer part of her brain would chalk it up to research, she knew the other side was just plain primal urge.

  Even as he nibbled and flicked and sucked, she knew she had to call a halt to this.

  She opened her mouth, ready to tell him to stop, trying to get the willpower to say the words.

  He lifted his head before she could. His mouth slashed into a grim line as he tugged her bra and dress back into place.

  “This isn’t going to solve anything,” he muttered.

  Her cheeks filled with heat and she turned her gaze away. Of course it wouldn’t, and now, as the seconds ticked by and common sense filtered back in, she wanted to smash the coffee mug over her own head.

  “You said you wouldn’t touch me.” It was lame, but she couldn’t stop the husky accusation.

  “No.” The word was hard. Cold. “I said I wouldn’t force you, Sage. I’m an alpha. It’s in my nature to take what I want, when I want it. And you challenged me.”

  Her gaze flew back to his and she saw the warning there. She had a sudden sense of what it must be like to be under his command.

  “You’re putting this on me? That’s bull crap. You shouldn’t be able to use the alpha excuse to bypass respect and human decency—”

  He caught her chin in a hard grasp and her words trailed off on a squeak.

  “Don’t finish that thought, Curls.”

  Why not? Anger sparked in her belly against the flutter of nerves. “Look, you’re not my alpha.”

  “You sound like a five-year-old.” He flashed a hard, humorless smile. “And you will show respect to an alpha—any alpha—it doesn’t matter whether you’re in their pack or not.”

  Good God he was a pain in her ass. All of the alphas were. They were so overbearing. So arrogant. So damn dominating.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have kissed you,” Nate went on before she could reply. “But don’t go throwing a shit show because you’re self conscious about the fact that you liked it. That if I hadn’t stopped things I’d be fucking you until your eyes were crossing.”

  She blanched, before the heat stormed back into her cheeks. “You’re crude.”

  “Get used to it.”

  “It was a physical response,” she ground out. “I’m not going to lie and say it didn’t feel good—because clearly it did. But I’m not going to lose my head over you. Over this situation.”

  “A little late for that.”

  “And if you think seducing me will make me trust you, then you’re wrong,” she continued, ignoring his jab. “What you just did—we just did—makes me realize you’re not above sexual manipulation.”

  Surprise flickered in his eyes before his gaze hardened. She’d been dead on, and it hurt her heart a little to realize it.

  Of course his touching her hadn’t been motivated by passion. That stuff happened in the books she wrote, but not so much in
reality.

  Oh, he was far more dangerous than she’d originally thought. He didn’t need to force her—clearly he was skilled at seduction. The emotional mess that would come with having sex with him was something she couldn’t risk.

  Not that she’d be stupid enough to have sex with her captor. Though she’d been pretty close to it a minute ago.

  God, there was a name for this. Stockholm Syndrome? Yup. She was going with that. The only rational excuse.

  Seeing the hard glitter in Nate’s dark eyes as he stared at her made a lump form in her throat. Had he even felt anything while he’d been touching her? Or had it all been a means to an end?

  Was she easier managed if she fell in love with him?

  Fell in love…? Crap, her thoughts needed to just stop. A hazard of what she wrote, no doubt.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, Sage.” His words were quiet, but firm with warning. “My intention is to see you through this safely. But if you do anything to threaten me, to try and out me, things might not be so amicable.”

  “This is amicable?”

  “Seeing as you’re alive? Unfucked? Yeah. That sounds pretty damn amicable.” He stepped back from her and helped her down from the counter. “Let me see your wrists.”

  Without waiting for her to show him, he’d caught them and pulled them in front of her.

  “Nicely healed already. You must have good shifter genes.”

  She grunted. “They’re decent enough.”

  “Good.” He nodded toward the other room. “So now’s the part where I need your help.”

  Hmm. Of course he did. She stayed silent as he led her to the computer and gestured for her to sit down.

  Immediately her gaze was drawn to the article on the screen about a woman found dead in Oregon.

  “Hang on a second.” He reached past her and quickly closed the window, which left an Amazon screen up showing that an order had been placed.

  “Did you buy something?”

  “Picked out some clothes and paid to have them overnighted.”

  “Wait,” she paused and tilted her head slightly. “But you don’t have any money. Unless you’re hiding a credit card somewhere the sun doesn’t shine.”