by Stormie Kent
She wiggled out of his grasp, and he released her left breast and right ass cheek reluctantly. He may have moaned.
“Wait here. I’ll be right back.” She headed for the bedroom.
He grabbed her arm. “No.”
“Yes. You’ll love it. I promise.”
He let her go and watched her hips rock as she walked away. He went into the kitchen, poured water from the pitcher in the refrigerator, and guzzled it down. It didn’t cool him off at all. Pacing the small kitchen didn’t help either.
“Nic.”
He returned to the living room and froze. He blinked, but she still stood there posed with both hands propped on her hips. This new costume was even skimpier than the one before. She wore a black police hat. A black bustier shelved her beasts, and presented them for his utter enjoyment. The skirt had a pair of fuzzy cuffs dangling from the waist and barely covered the important bits. Garters held up black fishnet stockings. The left one had a police badge pinned to it. Her shoes were black, open toe, impossibly high, and laced up her ankles with ribbons.
“Turn around and put your hands against the wall,” she said.
Her voice was so husky and she looked so hot he’d have gladly done anything she asked. Slowly, he turned and placed his palms flat against the wall. He heard the whisper of her stocking-clad legs and smelled the spice of her arousal as she moved closer.
He could play along. “What am I being charged with, Officer?”
“Carrying a concealed weapon. I’m going to have to frisk you.” She placed her knee between his legs and nudged his thighs apart. “Spread ’em.”
He widened his legs and pressed his hands more firmly to the wall as she leaned against his back. He clenched his teeth, and his fangs elongated. Her soft hands came up to lie on top of his wrists. She leisurely slid her palms down. He felt each stroke through his clothing. When she reached his shoulders, she dipped under his arms and around to the front of his shirt. She began undoing his buttons, caressing his flesh as it was revealed.
He groaned as her fingers found his nipples. “You’ve got the wrong man, Officer.”
“Oh, I have the right man.”
She unfastened the rest of his buttons and pulled the shirt open before exploring his torso. Her hands were soft, warm, and ignited a need he wasn’t sure he could control much longer.
Her palms traveled down. Her wrist bumped against his gun, and he began to reach down to remove the holster and his belt.
“Hands where I can see them, sir. I don’t want to have to get rough with you.”
He smiled and moved his hands back to the wall. He might like it rough. She loosened his belt and pants, then pushed them to the floor. She fondled his ass before sliding her palms around and slipping them inside his boxers. He hissed as her fingers found his cock. She wrapped her hands around him and smoothed up and down his shaft.
“I had the wrong man, huh? I’m afraid I’m going to have to take you in.”
He shivered at the sensual tone of her voice. It had gone breathy, and she sounded eager.
She pulled him free of the boxers and dragged the cotton swiftly down his legs. “Turn around.”
He did as she commanded. She knelt before him. Her eyes were framed by the brim of the black hat. Lust stared out at him from behind her eyes. It was a beautiful sight, just as enticing as her lush body presented for his pleasure.
She ran her hands up his thighs, and the muscles bunched under her palms. She massaged his balls and cock before taking a firmer grip on his shaft. He watched as her mouth opened and she slowly took him inside. He automatically reached for her, and he knocked the hat from her head as he grabbed handfuls of her hair.
She owned him. The sweet suction of her mouth, its warm, wet depths, and the little sounds of pleasure she made as she allowed him deeper and deeper into her mouth and throat intoxicated him. This one woman, this one pretty witch could bring him to his knees. Or tip him over into ecstasy.
He didn’t even try to last. He couldn’t resist her enthusiasm. He didn’t want to. His climax built. It overwhelmed him, sending all the blood rushing to his cock and leaving him light-headed.
“I’m coming, baby.”
She sucked harder. He watched her face for every nuance and change. She was so beautiful. One of her hands cupped his balls. Her fingers stretched out and rubbed the sensitive space between his balls and his anus. The shock of it pushed him completely over. He came with a growl. He closed his eyes involuntarily. He savored his climax because she’d freely given it to him.
He opened his eyes to find her focused intently on him. She released him from her mouth slowly, as if she was reluctant to do so. It was so sexy he hardened again. Her eyes widened.
He smiled. “There are perks to being a shifter’s mate.”
“I can see that.”
He quickly discarded his pants and boxers before pulling her to her feet. He lifted her super-short skirt. She wore a black lace garter belt and no panties. He ran his fingers through her folds. They were swollen and dripping with her juices. Damn, she was sexy.
“You don’t wear this outside, do you?” he asked.
“I should say yes.”
The hand on her ass squeezed a little tighter.
She gasped. “No. The entire outfit is new.”
He picked her up and turned so her back was the one pressed against the wall. She wound her legs around his waist. Her soft pussy rubbed against his cock. He held her up with one hand under her ample behind and used the other to free her breasts. Her dark brown nipples were hard, enticing him to play. He ran his fingers lightly across them before lifting her and taking one into his mouth.
She moaned low, and the sound settled deep into the base of his spine. Every beautiful curve was wrapped around him. He sucked harder as she pulled his face closer to her breasts. He looked into her eyes.
She gazed down at him, eyes heavy-lidded and full of passion. “Nic, I want you inside me now.”
He’d wanted to take his time, but he was beginning to think he couldn’t deny her anything. As she spurred him on with a heel to his backside, he entered her as slowly as he could. He savored each slippery inch. What he cherished was her labored breath in his ear, the way she whispered his name over and over. He worshipped her with each thrust. Each scrape of her nails along his back drew him closer to her.
His legs quivered, and he buried his face against her shoulder where he’d marked her. His fangs fully elongated. The mark was proof she was his. Her passion was proof she wanted him. What he had with her was rare and special.
“Oh, Nic, you feel so good.”
He thrust forcefully at the same moment he bit into her shoulder and the mate mark. She screamed. Her sheath clamped down around him as she came. Pleasure from the bite and her snug flesh pulsating around his cock sent him over the edge. His release was so intense it was almost painful.
Leila mewled against his ear as he calmed. Her sheath still pulsed around his cock, sending little delicious shivers throughout his body. His fangs retracted, and he licked the wound closed. She quivered against him.
“No knot,” she whispered.
He laid his head against the wall and attempted to shield himself against his wolf’s satisfaction. “No.”
“Why?”
“Probably the same reason your heat broke early.” He remembered her reaction the last time he suggested she might be pregnant, and braced for anything.
“Crap, you’re definitely marrying me.”
Chapter Six
Leila stared at Radkin Lewis’s home from the bottom of the porch stairs. Large, dark, and creepy. An old farmhouse miles from the next residence, the structure looked as if it would fall down any minute. Peeling, worn paint and askew black shutters gave the house an abandoned feel. A large calico-colored cat ran over and jumped onto the porch railing. Its back arched, and it hissed at them before running off.
“Hopefully that isn’t an indication of what’s to come,” she
whispered.
“Stay behind me.” Nic walked up to the door and knocked.
It was eerily quiet, yet she could hear shuffling behind the door. The place spooked her, and she whispered a quick protection spell for her and Nic.
He banged on the door again. “I know you’re in there!”
The shuffling moved closer to the door. It opened slowly. The bright light of day barely pierced the interior of the house.
“Nic.” She wasn’t sure about this.
Stiffening a little when he cursed, she glanced from his stiff jaw to the tight set of his shoulders. She knew he wasn’t happy. He hadn’t wanted her to come, but she’d convinced him not to leave her with anyone else.
Nic held up his badge for a moment, then put it away. “I’m Detective Lobo with the Coldwell PD. Is Radkin Lewis home?”
“Come in.” The speaker sounded male and as if he smoked many packages of cigarettes a day.
Nic never took his eyes from the doorway. “Go lock yourself in the SUV.” His voice was so low she doubted she would have heard him pre-wolf girl.
“I’m staying with you.” He might need her.
He cursed again but entered the dark house.
She pressed close to his back. When he stopped, she ran into him. The man shut the door and enclosed them in full darkness. She quickly cast an illumination spell, formed a ball with her hand, and infused it with the magic from her spell. Blue light filled the narrow hallway.
The older man flinched from the light. Was this Radkin Lewis? He was unbearably gaunt. Dark, dirty hair hung limp around his face. His eyes were dull. He was dressed in a too-large flannel shirt and questionably clean khaki pants.
He started off down the hallway and entered a room to the left. They followed, and Leila watched as the man walked to the fireplace. A small wooden table and chair comprised the only furniture in the room.
There was something wrong here. She could feel it.
“Radkin Lewis?” Nic asked.
“Yes.”
“Where were you the night of July twelfth, Mr. Lewis?” Nic sounded agitated again.
“I was here in my home, Detective. I don’t get out much.” Radkin Lewis smiled. It was a sight she never wanted to see again.
“Is there anyone who can corroborate your story, Mr. Lewis?”
Leila’s skin prickled. She inhaled deeply. There was a sulfuric stench in the air. The smell became more overwhelming the longer they were in the sorcerer’s home. She wanted to keep her focus on the conversation, but it was becoming increasingly difficult.
She whispered, “We have to leave, Nic. Now.”
Radkin turned to her. “Your magic is surprising.” He stepped closer. “Delicious, even.”
“Keep your eyes on me, Lewis.” Nic’s body seemed to swell, and he stepped toward the sorcerer.
She tried to raise her hand and jerk him back, but her body wasn’t responding to her directions. She knew he shouldn’t be anywhere near Radkin Lewis. She would drag her mate to safety as soon as she figured out what the sorcerer was doing to hold her in place. She whispered the words to a simple unbinding spell and added a short burst of her innate power to it. Her foot slid forward slowly.
Lewis’s gaze never left her face. “I think I will invite your witch to stay awhile. I think she might prove entertaining.”
Her limbs returned to her control, and she shook out her arms. Her goal was to get them out of the house as quickly as possible. Nic went for his gun just as Radkin reached back and pulled a lever she hadn’t even noticed on the wall near his shoulder.
A rumble was followed by the sound of creaking, like someone walking on extremely old wooden floorboards. Leila stumbled as the floor began to shift under her feet. The floor was moving, sliding out from under her feet. She lost her balance and fell backward. Right into the empty space where the floor used to be.
“Nic!” She clutched desperately at the edge of the trapdoor but only caught it with her fingertips.
He fired on Lewis before turning to reach for her. She tried reaching back but lost her grip instead. A silent scream welled in her throat as she plummeted. Her legs and arms flailed. Her back slammed into something hard, and she started to skid along a smooth surface. She grabbed at the metal, but it was sleek and burned her hand like a playground slide when you go down too swiftly on bare skin. She couldn’t find purchase or stop her descent.
There was red light below her. She was in some type of tube. It veered to the left, and her head banged against the side. Her eyes closed, and pinpricks of light flashed behind her lids. Suddenly she was free-falling again. Her legs and arms thrashed.
She expected to crash into a hard, unforgiving surface, cracking bones. Instead, she smashed into something far more yielding and prickly. The impact still jarred her bones and caused her to bite her tongue. She lay there for a moment, swallowed the trace of blood in her mouth, and attempted to still her racing heart. She reached up to clear her face and winced at the pain in her shoulder. She clutched the thin sticks covering her and pulled them away. She opened her eyes. Hay. She’d fallen into a big pile of hay.
Old, moldy, stinky, and lifesaving hay.
She sat up and immediately collapsed into the dried grass. Her head pounded, and her back didn’t feel much better. Trying again, but more slowly, she managed to sit upright. She looked around and gasped. She was in a gigantic cage. Scrambling to her feet, she stumbled to the bars. Fearing a shock, she tentatively touched the metal. Nothing happened. She grabbed the poles and shook them frantically. They didn’t budge. She moved around the enclosure, shaking the bars. Only the door jiggled, and it was locked.
She rested her forehead on the cool metal she still clutched with both hands. There wasn’t any time to feel sorry for herself. Nic needed her. She had to get out of there.
She took a deep breath and looked outside the cage. And froze. It felt as if her heart stopped, then began thudding again almost painfully. She blinked. The walls were covered with words. Words formed into enchantments that gave off a neon orange-red glow. She averted her eyes so she wouldn’t accidentally read anything more. The entire room was cursed and protected by dark magic.
She whimpered, then searched the rest of the room, avoiding the walls, for something to help her. She could call objects to her, though the process depleted much of her strength, and she wasn’t sure her magic wouldn’t backfire with all the dark wardings. She recoiled at her first sight of the altar in the corner. Human and animal skulls were prominent. There were small burlap bundles scattered on the floor before the velvet-draped altar. Something red was splattered over all the items. She forced herself not to speculate on the origins of the substance.
In the center of the floor sat a steel table and, underneath the table, a drain. She shuddered. A stand next to the table held an ax, a mace, a saw, and several ornamental daggers. The smell made much more sense now. The choking odor of sulphur, the tinny scent of old blood, and the rancid tang of a charnel house filled the room.
Her knees gave out, and she slid to the floor of the cage, frightened to search its contents.
She was trapped in Radkin Lewis’s torture chamber.
* * * *
Nic snatched his hand back as the trapdoor closed on his mate. He jumped to his feet and began to stomp on the seam. Dust and dirt billowed along the cracks in the floor. Nothing happened.
“Open the door!”
The sorcerer laughed. He initiated a chant. Nic shot him in the arm. The sorcerer howled in pain.
Nic partially shifted and leaped toward the old man. Lewis held his injured arm and hunched over. His fear rolled off him in waves. A wolf shifter partially shifted had inspired the human’s werewolf legends. His muzzle full of fangs and hands of claws descended on the other man.
“I’ll pull a limb off at a time until you take me to my mate!” His speech was more growls than syllables, but the sorcerer nodded anyway.
Nic grabbed Lewis by the nape of the neck and haule
d him upright. He ignored the man’s whimpers.
He shook Lewis. “Where is she?”
He needed to find her now. She could be lying broken and hurt anywhere in the house, and he had to get to her. Lewis slowly shuffled toward the door. Nic used his grip on the man’s neck to shove him. The man needed to go faster. His mate needed him.
“Take me to her now, or your right arm is the first thing I pull off.” His beast was riding him, forcing him to do or say anything to get to its mate.
His wolf didn’t care about his human job as a policeman. In hybrid shift, with his mate in danger, the wolf was stronger. His claws dug into Lewis’s flesh. Blood dripped down the sorcerer’s neck. They moved forward at a pace too slow for Nic. “Tell me which way!”
Lewis whimpered. “Third door…on the left…in the hallway.”
Nic dragged him out of the room. He kept a tight hold on the other man’s neck so he wouldn’t have an opportunity to cast any spells. The air was stale, and the walls in the hallway were a dull gray, as if there’d been a fire and no one had cleaned up afterward. He cautiously pulled open the third door and was greeted by a downward staircase.
Just as he went to take a step, his human half stopped him. What if there were traps? Would he trigger them and be of no use to Leila? He lifted Lewis in front of him.
“You go down first. If I die, I’m taking you with me.” The smell of the man’s fear didn’t soothe Nic as it should. He wanted his mate.
Nic crowded Lewis until they reached the bottom of the stairs. Lewis turned left down a dark passageway. Nic’s wolf growled at the overwhelming scent of blood. Old blood, fresher blood—the smells overran the space. The damn witch’s Council had so much to answer for. They knew there were insane rogue sorcerers in their area, and they weren’t doing a thing to manage them. And his mate was trapped in this monster’s house.
Lewis stopped in front of a set of double doors and opened each side with his working arm. Nic had the vague impression of red-covered walls before finding Leila locked in a padlocked cage, knee-deep in hay. There was hay in her hair, and her eyes were wild in her face.
