by Aline Hunter
He knew he was fucked the minute he lifted her in his arms and all the beasts beneath his skin growled in contentment, each one brushing against the inside of his skin. They came at the same time, fighting for a place to break free and make their own unique mark of claim. The animal forms he possessed had chosen random females they’d appreciated over the years, but never had they voiced approval at the same time.
Holy fucking shit.
The sensation was jolting and set him off balance. He stumbled with her in his arms like a sloppy drunk and struggled to remain in human form. He willed his beasts to back off and growled when they didn’t obey. Cold air caressed the beads of sweat on his forehead, cooling him down until he was in control once more.
I have to get her the fuck away from me.
The thought brought him to his knees.
The pain of meeting the hard concrete was nothing compared to the agony of an inevitable shift. Not when all of the primordial parts of him were battling for supremacy. They’d rip him apart to gain favor and take control. It was an indisputable fact. Only one thing would soothe them, bringing each and every one of them together, but in the doing would cement his fate whether he liked it or not.
Unable to do anything else, he accepted the will of his animalistic halves and buried his face into the neck of the unconscious female, pulling her scent into his lungs. The fragrance was like a balm that tamed and calmed, starting in his nostrils and winding its way through his body. He darted his tongue out and tasted the skin along her throat, lapping reverently at her tender flesh. With that first taste of her sweetness the burning in his bones lifted and the tingling along the surface of his skin vanished.
Fucking hell.
Allowing the man to walk away was one thing, but this was something else entirely. He lifted his head and brushed a shaky finger against a chunk of pink hair, swallowing thickly.
“Let’s get you out of here, Pinkie.”
She weighed next to nothing, and with her short stature it was easy to situate her in his lap on the bike. The loud roar of the Harley didn’t rouse her, and he realized just how vulnerable she was. Like a tiny, helpless kitten nestled against his chest. Her small head notched under his chin when he lifted the kickstand with his heel and shoved it into place.
“Hang on,” he whispered into the softness of her hair and wrapped his right arm around her waist.
She didn’t make a sound when he guided the bike onto the road, put on speed and took off in the direction of home. This was the stupidest thing he had ever done, and he’d done some pretty idiotic shit in the past. Hopefully by the time she woke he’d have a handle on himself and they would have the opportunity to talk.
Talk. Now that was a laughable thought.
He couldn’t talk to her like this. Not with his rock-hard cock straining against his leathers. The fucking thing was practically begging her to touch it, pulsing against her soft bottom as if it were attempting to gain her undivided attention.
Christ.
Sure, they would talk. After he took an ice-cold shower and stroked himself to a good strong release…
The air carried her succulent scent to his nose and his muscles went taut before his entire body shuddered.
Better make that two.
Chapter Two
Something fuzzy brushed against Ava’s nose, rousing her from a restful slumber. She grumbled and swatted at the softness with her fingers, shifting her body slightly. Hot breath and the discernible funk of dog food crashed into her face as something cool and wet prodded her chin, followed by the brush of a rough, warm tongue.
“What the—” She opened her eyes, met the stare of an enormous beast and screamed loud enough to wake the dead.
Scrambling wildly, she fell off the side of an unfamiliar bed in a tangle of sheets, limbs thrashing, and struggled to gain her balance. The fact that she was clothed in nothing more than her underwear, in a room she didn’t recognize, didn’t register. Her focus was on the hideous canine that plopped down on its rear across from her and tilted its head to the side as if it were trying to gauge her reaction.
“Stay,” she ordered in a pitifully weak voice. The massive thing started to move and she swallowed loudly, inching toward a door on the left. “God, but you’re an ugly one. Aren’t you?”
The dog’s haunches came off the bed and it growled, baring teeth.
Not good.
“Whoa, ugly,” she ordered and lunged for the door. Once she’d snatched the handle, she turned it and applied pressure with desperate fingers.
The dog barreled off the bed and she pushed at the door. Crying out when it gave way, she fell inside a pitch-black space. She didn’t think twice about slamming the thin barrier closed and facing the darkness. Dark she could handle. Deranged wildebeests with fangs the size of tusks were another thing altogether.
Heavy claws bore down on the other side of the door, scraping viciously. Growls became heavy brays, so loud the door vibrated with each deep bellow. Scooting on her palms and heels, she tried to place as much space between her and the hound from hell as possible, kicking away from the crack of light against the hardwood floor. Something brushed against the top of her head and she lashed out, squealing in terror while slapping at the flimsy thing with her hands. Objects fell on top of her, some light, some thick and heavy. The harder she thrashed and fought the more she became entangled in the mess.
The loud howls came to an abrupt stop when she heard a man order in a deep husky baritone, “Quiet, Oscar! Sit.”
The handle jiggled and the door opened. Sunlight poured in and she slapped at what she was mortified to discover were sheets and blankets. A large form appeared in the doorway and she froze. Memories from the night before rushed back, sending her into a panic. Vampires had attacked and the entire world had gone black. But she wasn’t dead and the sun was shining.
What the hell happened between then and now?
Desperate for answers, she reached out with her mind, homed in on her captor’s thoughts and listened. A big wall of nothing greeted her. It was daytime, so he wasn’t a vampire. She eyed the enormous shape before her. She couldn’t make out his face but he was big, big and big…
Oh crap.
Shifter.
“It’s all right, Pinkie,” the form said softly and crouched. “Don’t be afraid.”
“D-dog,” she stammered dumbly and hated herself for sounding like a complete ninny and idiot. Of course he knew a rabid canine was present. He’d called the damn thing off. Unfortunately she couldn’t think of anything intelligent to say.
“Let me guess.” His shadowed head tilted to the side and she detected laughter in his voice. “You called him ugly.”
“What?” She swatted at a sheet dangling next to her face and scowled at his corresponding throaty chuckle.
“Oscar.” He lifted a hand and flicked his thumb over his shoulder. “You told him he wasn’t much to look at. Didn’t you?”
Her face flamed in embarrassment. What if the dog wasn’t really a dog at all? She hadn’t been around a shifter in animal form before but the hideous thing was terrifying—and large—enough to pass for one.
“Yes.”
Clucking his tongue, he stood and flicked a switch on the wall. “I would suggest you keep those kinds of thoughts to yourself from here on in. Oscar is as docile as a lamb until you remind him he’s got a face only a momma could love. You might find this hard to believe but he was quite a heartbreaker as a pup.”
His words didn’t process, not when she got her first look at the owner of that deep, commanding baritone. Working in a dance club meant she saw her fair share of preternatural creatures—vampires, shifters and demons were common patrons of the establishment—and through it all, she’d learned one valuable lesson. Steer clear of them. They were as dangerous as they were sexy, able to tear people apart before they felt that first, telling bite of pain. She knew better than anyone not to take the stranger in, not to view him as a man or to allow herse
lf to fantasize about what could never be between them. But god help her, shifter had never looked so good.
He was barefoot, dressed in a snug pair of faded blue jeans and a thick brown sweater with a Cleveland Browns logo in the center. Rich black hair fell in thick strands to his shoulders, framing a face with full, sensual lips, a straight nose and a squared jaw shadowed with a slathering of equally dark stubble that made her heart skip a beat. His beautiful mouth curved in amusement when she did a double take and she quickly averted her eyes, knowing he’d caught her staring.
Busted.
“What happened? How did I get here?” she asked and licked her lips before bringing the bottom one between her teeth. It sounded like he groaned but she wasn’t willing to glance up to be sure.
“How much do you remember?”
He doesn’t know you’re aware of what he is, she reminded herself. Keep it that way.
“Two men tried to mug me. When I fought one of them decked me. I don’t remember anything after that.” She found the courage to meet his eyes and anything else she wanted to say died in her throat. His irises were a pure vibrant gold. There was no way he could pass for human, not with peepers like those.
Oh god.
She tore her eyes away and recalled all the reasons she couldn’t allow herself to fantasize about those lips, those eyes or what was sure to be a perfectly toned and sculpted body beneath his clothes. Yet even as she tried she felt her body respond, nipples going hard and panties becoming moist.
And he could smell her arousal.
Damn, damn, damn!
Stop thinking impure thoughts. You cannot have him. He’s from a different species that likes to bite, control and dominate.
“Who are you?” She choked out the question.
He approached oh so slowly and sweet Mary Jane if his body didn’t ripple with the movement. He knelt inches from her and reached out. His fingers were wide and thick, the tips blunt but slightly rounded, the nails trimmed short. Her eyes went wide when he slid his fingers behind her ear and palmed her jaw. Electricity accompanied his touch, sharp bristles of pleasure that zinged through her skin, traveled down her spine and went directly to her sex.
Gasping softly, she kept her eyes locked on to his mouth as he neared. The distance between them vanished and that glorious face of his came closer, then closer still. He smelled of soap and water—fresh, clean and undeniably male. When his lips stopped scant millimeters from her own, she detected the tantalizing aromas of coffee and sugar.
“Diskant.” He breathed his name against her mouth, so close she could taste him.
Diskant? The name struck a chord of recognition but the memory was hazy.
Lifting her gaze was foolhardy and dangerous but she did so anyway. Beautiful pools of shimmering gold stared back. The hand at her jaw drifted down, traveling along the length of her throat and past her collarbone. It was such a gentle touch, fingers barely skimming the surface of the skin. Goose bumps followed the path he created, a winding trail of prickling heat that shot all the way to her bones.
“Beautiful,” he whispered, never breaking the eye contact.
“B-beautiful?”
“Your eyes,” he answered. “So blue.”
Air escaped her lungs in a quiet sigh and her lids slid closed when his lips brushed against hers, side to side, left to right. The gesture was so innocent, so intimate. Her mouth opened in welcome and he accepted the invitation like a gentleman. His tongue slid past her lips, allowing her to taste him for the first time. The sweetness of hazelnut and sugar coated her tongue. She moaned, lifted her left hand and wrapped her fingers loosely around his wrist.
His tongue flicked against hers, teasing and taunting. She responded, mirroring the laps until the tips of their tongues touched, pulled away and met once more. It was a treacherous game of cat and mouse. He baited her, offering her his tongue before moving away, forcing her to chase and follow. Each pass fueled the fire in her veins and increased the pulsating heat wetting the skin between her legs.
When she felt him initiate more, delving deeper and tasting her completely, she was eager to give him what he desired. Her lips parted and she allowed him to take control, to dominate her mouth. He explored each and every crevice, tracing her lips before tasting her deeply. His teeth captured the tip of her tongue when she tried to follow his lead. He sucked the tiny nub, flicking his own tongue across the surface in agonizingly slow circles.
Her pussy throbbed, hammering inside and out while her clit pulsed. It was a miserable ache, one that caused her to writhe against the blankets and sheets. Never before had she wanted a man so terribly. With her ex-fiancé, Martin, she’d made love slowly, cautiously. But now she wanted to be reckless and wild, uninhibited and free.
As if sensing her thoughts, Diskant pulled away and pressed that clever mouth against the corner of her lips, then her jaw, neck and the hollow of her throat. The gentle fingers he placed on her collarbone went down until her breast rested in his palm. His thumb came over the thin lace covering the nipple and rotated, around and around, driving her mad as he stroked her.
“Christ, you smell good,” he rasped against the delicate curve of her shoulder. “I want to taste every single inch of your skin, starting at your mouth and working my way down.”
Her only response was an amiable whimper of consent and agreement. Even if it was dangerous, and even though she knew better, she wanted the same thing.
Abruptly Diskant’s head lifted and his fingers stilled. Her body screamed at the loss of his touch, demanding that she reach out and bring him back to her. The rim of her nipple prickled where he maintained contact, and the wet path he created with his lips and tongue was white hot yet impossibly cool.
A voice called out from below, the sound muffled. “D!”
“Shit.” He rose in a quick motion that belied his size. “I didn’t expect anyone for another hour.”
Ava stared up at him dumbly, thoroughly aroused and achy. Her body clamored for release, her insides literally quivering for it. He turned and walked from the small space as if she wasn’t sitting in a laughable heap where he left her. Anger followed the curt dismissal and allowed her to focus on the matter at hand rather than her raging hormones.
She became fully cognizant of her surroundings, taking in as much as she could see. She was in a closet, partially clothed, in an unknown location. The hound from hell was still standing guard outside the door, his large brown eyes attentive. The sound of a nearby door being slammed was immediately followed by the distinct click of a lock being turned. Diskant reappeared in moments with an annoyed scowl on his face.
“I’m sorry.” His expression changed when he peered down at her. “It’s my turn to host game day.”
Diskant glanced at a few sweaters hanging on either side of the closet as if he were grappling with something. Then he turned his full attention to her and his gold irises flared yellow. Some kind of decision was made in those short seconds because there was a flash of possessiveness in his stare that wasn’t there before.
“Put this on.” He pulled his sweatshirt over his head, baring a tanned, chiseled torso and washboard abs, and tossed it in her direction. “Don’t take that off, no matter what you do. I have to go downstairs and tell everyone I’ll be indisposed. While I’m down there I’ll grab you something to eat and get your clothes out of the dryer, all right?”
Her heart slammed into her throat and her stomach did a sickening flip-flop that made her queasy and lightheaded. She said a silent prayer of thanks that Diskant was too busy choosing another shirt from the closet to pay her any attention. It was difficult enough to institute the exercises she used at the bar to keep fear at bay, taking deep breaths through her nose and exhaling through her mouth. The sleeve marking—much like a tattoo—that ran from his shoulder to his wrist told her what kind of shifter she had nearly fallen into the sack with, and it wasn’t good. Not good at all.
An Omega.
The intricate design w
as a mystical thing she’d read about while doing research on the paranormal after accepting the bartending job at Club Liminality. She knew if she looked closely she would find each of the shifter breeds in the design of the marking, their bodies etched into the skin just as they were embedded within the body and soul. Only those chosen to take over for the presiding Omega were gifted with the mark that arrived at maturity. A darkening of the skin like a tattoo that started at the wrist, covered the left arm and wound across the shoulder toward the heart.
Diskant Black was the Omega of the New York area. She’d heard the name while on the job but had never met the shifter. That cloud of confusion was long gone, leaving stark clarity in its wake. How in the hell had she gotten herself into this?
Silently, she slid on the overlarge garment, bringing as little attention to herself as possible. His scent was damning, imploring her not to listen to her mind but to her body and soul.
“I won’t be long,” he promised as he slid a black turtleneck over his head.
Rational thought kicked in. If she was going to get out of here she had to strategize. He thought she was human, without any knowledge of his kind. It was best to play stupid, wait for him to leave and then get the hell out.
“Can you take Oscar with you?”
His smile was nearly her undoing, both sexy and playful, and her insides wilted as another wave of heat attacked all of the erogenous zones of her body. He adjusted the collar of the formfitting sweater and returned to her, kneeling down.
“Yo, D!” the deep voice from below bellowed. “Where you at?”
Diskant cursed, lowered his head and stole a quick kiss before lurching to his feet. He walked to the door, stopped and turned on his heel. “I won’t be long.” She was about to remind him about the dog when he said, “Come on, Oscar.”
The moment he left the room and the outer door closed with a double snick she was on her feet and all but barreling out of the closet. The light came from a window in the left wall, and she made haste to the venetian blinds. After hiking them up, she pressed her face against the cool panel of glass and sighed in relief. The fire escape was ready and waiting. She glanced down at her bare legs, contemplating her choices. Now she just needed some kind of protection against the elements.
