by Desiree Holt
The coffee was ready and somehow Regan managed to get two mugs down from the cupboard, pour the steaming liquid into them and find her way back into the living room without dropping anything or tripping over her feet.
Doing something incredibly stupid? Did he think having sex with her—because what else could he mean—was stupid?
Well, of course it was. For her too. They barely knew each other and they had a tragedy to deal with. More than one. With very bizarre circumstances.
She made it to the couch on legs not quite steady, sinking thankfully into the soft cushions. Cradling her mug in her hands, she sipped the hot brew. Dante slipped off his leather jacket and tossed it on an ottoman, folding himself into the armchair. It put him as far away from her as he could get. A good thing, she said to herself. Unfortunately, distance didn’t affect in any way the heat burning between them or her insane desire to forget everything and get naked with him.
Lack of sleep. It has to be that. What else can explain my weird reaction? This is just not me.
She didn’t react to men like this. Part of her control came from knowing she could never reveal her shifter side to any of them. And part of it was that no one had ever aroused her the way Dante Martello did. So fast. So intensely. Now she knew how people felt when they stuck a hand into a blazing inferno.
She watched him take a swallow of his coffee, fascinated by the play of muscles in his throat. It took all her self-discipline to look away. Drink some coffee. Focus on the situation.
He set his mug down carefully on the table next to his chair, muscles rippling beneath the black t-shirt he wore.
Stop it. Stop now.
“Can you walk me through everything about Night Seekers again? The explanation you gave me at The Black Wolf was pretty brief.” That should settle her, turn her focus elsewhere. Especially considering the well-funded team was hunting the very legend Reed had been chasing. “Who are all of you, anyway? Where did everyone come from? What exactly does your group do? How you do it?”
“If you’ll tell me whatever you might know. Like I said, I get the feeling there’s something pretty important you’re holding back.”
She swallowed a sigh. If she wanted access to everything they had, all their information and their ability to avenge Reed perhaps better than she could, she’d have to come clean. And take the chance he wouldn’t think she was nuts and walk out.
“All right. Yes. But you first.”
Patiently, in a quiet voice, he took her through everything again, only this time in greater detail. She insisted he show her the pictures once more, even though she nearly heaved up her coffee. She asked him every question she could think of, desperately seeking some rational explanation, but in the end she was left with few reasons not to believe Dante’s theory. Somewhere, a lunatic was breeding the devil beast for—for what?
She cleared her throat. “You said there was something else different about this particular killing,” she reminded him. “Besides the fact that it’s only the second time a person has been captured. Or whatever they do.”
He nodded. “Ric Garza and I scoped out the area at Pedernales Falls State Park this morning. Are you familiar with it?”
She waved a hand. “Somewhat. I haven’t been there but I’ve read about it. It’s not that far from San Antonio.”
“Right. And it’s a busy place. Hikers, campers. People taking pictures.”
He paused.
“And?” she prompted.
“And usually the creature goes for more isolated situations. Even if he finds his prey close to a populated area, it’s usually on the fringes of it. For the Chupacabra, this is akin to picking out a victim in the middle of a traffic jam.” He raked his fingers through his black hair. “Why wasn’t it afraid? And how did no one see this happen? I mean, according to the reports we read, no one saw or heard a single damn thing.”
A ribbon of cold stroked her spine. “What does that mean? Is it invisible, for god’s sake?”
“Not at all. We’ve all seen it. And seen the dead carcasses of each one we’ve killed.”
Regan held out her hands, palms up. “Then I don’t understand.”
“Neither do we. But somehow it kills and disappears, almost into thin air.”
Regan’s throat closed up and an indefinable fear crept over her. She didn’t think Reed had picked up on that in any of his research. When they believed the Chupacabra was merely a throwback type of beast, maybe a mutant of some kind, it had been scary enough. Track it, find it, shoot it, examine it, write about it. Now the terror of something otherworldly gripped her. She set her coffee down and twisted her fingers together in a failed attempt to stop the shaking that seized her again.
Dante was beside her in an instant, pulling her from the couch and holding her against his body. One arm banded around her as the other stroked her hair. He tucked her head against his shoulder and made soothing noises.
And for the first time since the discovery of Reed’s body, her iron discipline fractured and the tears came.
Dante lifted her in his arms. He settled back in the armchair, cradling her in his lap. Holding tight to him, warmed by his embrace, she sobbed more tears than she thought it possible to have. Great gulping sobs shook her and she cried until her throat ached and her eyes burned.
He continued to murmur comforting words, stroking her hair with those lean fingers of his and nuzzling her forehead with his lips. The force of her sobs faded at last, leaving her emotionally drained. She leaned into his body and let the heat of it soothe her.
She wasn’t aware at just what point his touching moved from comforting to arousing. Maybe when her nipples hardened and peaked against the satin of her bra. Or when she suddenly realized her bikini panties were damp with her juices. Or maybe when she felt the hard thickness of Dante’s cock pressing into her bottom.
Obviously he wasn’t unaware, because he shifted her on his lap, the movement rubbing her against his cock.
“I told you I should get the hell out of here,” he muttered against her hair. “Last chance to kick my ass out the door.”
But that was the last thing on her mind.
Instead she settled deeper into his lap, clenching the cheeks of her ass around the outline of his cock. He groaned and dipped his head to take her mouth in a searing kiss.
And just like that, every sense and nerve ending zoomed to full alert.
It was as if someone had flipped an On switch for both of them, revving their bodies with the full strength of a powerful V-8 engine. Dante’s lips were like flames as they moved over hers, his tongue like a firebrand sweeping into her mouth. She was hot inside and out, the sheer feel of him kicking up the pulse in every one of her erogenous zones.
She slid her fingers against his cheeks, with their late afternoon stubble, and into the rich silk of his hair. She dove into the kiss as if she were parched and it was the only thing to quench her thirst. And maybe it was. Maybe this was what she’d been craving for such a long time.
Her tongue danced with his, dueled with it as she sucked his deep into her mouth. Her fingers tightened in his hair, holding his head in place as much as he was holding hers. She gave a small cry when his lips left hers but then he was sliding them across her cheek, down her neck, up to her ear, where he bit lightly on that so-sensitive spot. A moan vibrated against her throat.
Dante’s hands stroked over her while his lips warmed her skin with kisses and his teeth nipped at her neck and ears. His tongue traced the shell of each ear again and again before he dipped his head to lick the hollow of her throat, pressing against the powerful throbbing of her pulse.
She moaned in protest when he removed his hands from her body but then in the next moment, he had her sweater up and over her head and tossed to the floor. His lips wrapped around a nipple, drawing the bud and the satin fabric covering it into his mouth. He suckled hard, drawing cries from her that rose up from deep inside her body.
One hand cupped the other breast, kne
ading and squeezing as he worked magic with his lips and teeth. Electricity crackled through her veins, heating her blood. She rocked back and forth over his rigid shaft, his teeth biting down harder and his grip on her breast contracting in response.
Her skin was on fire, her nerves sizzling. In a frenzy of need, she reached back to unsnap her bra and drop it to the floor, but that wasn’t enough. She pushed his head away from her body, reached for the bottom of his shirt and yanked it over his head. Then she pushed her breasts against the hard plane of his chest and the soft mat of fur covering it. She wanted to rub herself all over him, lick every inch of his skin.
Regan couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so intensely aroused. Her body had gone from zero to sixty in a matter of seconds, her level of need off the charts, the rush of desire consuming her.
Dante rose from the chair with her in his arms and set her on her feet. He gripped her arms hard, as if reaching for self-control, and that dark gaze bored directly into her eyes again.
“You can still tell me to stop.” He ground the words out through clenched teeth.
“No.” She could hardly breathe. “Don’t stop. I want this too.”
The words seemed to enflame him, stripping away his control. In seconds he dispensed with the rest of her clothing and all of his own, adding them to the growing pile on the floor.
Regan sucked in a breath at her first sight of him naked. The only word for his body was powerful. Or maybe magnificent. He was solid muscle, from his broad shoulders to his lean hips and long legs. The dark curls on his chest narrowed to a vee through his groin to cradle the most magnificent cock she’d ever seen. Long and thick, the head already a deep purple with the rush of blood to the tissues, a thick drop of precum glistened on the tip.
Tentatively at first, then more boldly, she reached for his shaft, closing her fingers around it. Using her thumb, she spread the liquid on the velvety skin, watching his eyes as she did so and seeing fire blaze in the darkness.
For a moment he stood there, letting her touch and feel and stroke. Then he grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away.
“When I come, it won’t be in your hand,” he gritted. “Not this first time.”
Before she could blink, she was on the couch, one foot resting on the floor, the other on the edge of a cushion, and Dante was kneeling between her thighs. His tongue traced a circle around each nipple before trailing down the valley between her breasts to her navel, where he followed the outline of the furled flesh. Every place he touched ignited nerves just beneath the surface of the skin. The flames in the fireplace seemed to have burst forth to consume her body.
Her breath hitched when he tugged lightly at her pubic curls with his teeth, but when he gently pressed open the lips of her pussy and trailed his tongue the length of her slit and back, she was sure she stopped breathing completely. She was so aroused, her scent so thick in the air that it drifted to her own nostrils. She grabbed the fabric of the couch cushions, clenching it in her fingers to ground herself.
He licked and lapped at her like a hungry man at a feast, every stroke stoking the blaze inside her and sending ripples through the walls of her cunt. Deep inside, the coil of release began to unwind, slowly at first then faster. As she teetered on the brink, Dante slid two fingers inside her, she clenched them, and the orgasm exploded with the force of a hurricane. Shudders racked her and the scream that broke from her lungs was like the sound of some exotic cat.
At last, when every bit of strength had been drained from her, she collapsed into the soft waves of aftershock. And finally into stillness.
Moving up her body, Dante rubbed his lips over hers, sharing her taste, before sliding his tongue into her mouth. Regan was limp beneath him, spent by the unexpected force of that first climax, but she had barely caught her breath before Dante was coaxing her into another one.
One hand cradled her head while the other stroked softly over her shoulder, her arm and across to her breast. Strong fingers kneaded and squeezed while, between her thighs, his knee created friction against her wet pussy. Electricity crackled through her system and her pulse thudded with rising desire.
His mouth was everywhere again—her cheeks, her jaw, along the line of her neck. His mouth covered each nipple in turn and all the while his knee kept up that steady rub, rub, rub. Arching up in frustration, she tried to reach for his cock.
“I wanted to be inside you the first time I came with you,” he growled in her ear. “But sex has been missing from my life for so long I don’t even carry a condom with me anymore.”
Her eyes widened. Holy shit!
“I have some,” she told him in an uneven voice. “Let me up and I’ll get one.”
“Where are they?” His words vibrated against her skin as he nipped at her neck and licked the hollow of her throat.
“In-in my bedroom.” She could hardly put words together coherently. Regan had never shied away from sex, but no one had ever inflamed her the way this man did. Suddenly and inexplicably, she was frantic with need again. Already she was perched on the edge of another climax and he’d barely touched her again.
She could feel her inner wolf roaring to be let loose. Dante was no shifter. But his rampant sexuality called to the hungry wolf inside her, and she ruthlessly suppressed it.
He swept her into his arms. “Which way?”
In her bedroom, he snatched the covers back from the bed and deposited her on the smooth sheets.
“In here?” He yanked open the drawer of her nightstand.
“Yes. Hurry.”
His laugh had a raspy sound to it. “Someone else is frenzied too.”
She watched him slide the condom onto his shaft, his hands shaking with need. Then he was looming over her, spreading her legs wide, bending her knees back to fully expose her. Hunger glittered in his eyes as he stared for a long moment at her cunt. Then he nudged her opening with the head of his cock, pushing gently at first.
Do it! she wanted to scream and tried to press herself closer.
He just shook his head and eased himself inside, his thick shaft stretching her walls. Little by little, filling her. When she’d taken every bit of him, every inch of his length, she wrapped her legs around his waist to pull him closer and tighter. And the internal hunger spiked even more.
“Do it,” she said, in a voice she barely recognized as her own.
“Look at me,” he demanded.
She lifted her gaze to his. Saw heat and desire curling in the dark eyes; saw the lines of hunger and need etched in his face. Felt the tightening of every muscle in his body.
“Please,” she begged.
As if that were a signal he’d been waiting for, his hips began a steady thrusting motion, his heavy cock rubbing the sensitive walls of her pussy as it dragged over them, moving in and out. Regan’s entire body was alive, every inch focused on the myriad of sensations rocketing through it. Her nipples tingled, still hard from Dante’s mouth and teeth. Her breasts ached for the feel of his hands again.
But all those feelings coalesced at the center of her cunt, where his cock was pulling and rubbing and raising her desire to an unimaginable level.
A muscle twitched in his jaw and those in his neck corded with an obvious effort at control. He was waiting for her, watching to make sure she’d be ready to tip over the edge of the earth with him. Sliding one hand between them, he found her clit, rubbed it with two fingers.
And just like that, she was there.
“Now.” She nearly screamed the word. “Now, now, now!”
They exploded together, a cataclysmic eruption of epic proportions, both of them tossed into space and spun around by gale-force winds. Regan lost all sense of self and time and place. Nothing existed except this man, his touch, his glittering eyes and his shaft pulsing rhythmically in her pussy. She convulsed over and over, consumed by the massive tremors and the thick cloud of erotic pleasure.
At some point, Dante moved his hand from its place on her cunt and l
eaned forward, braced on his forearms. Their bodies pressed together, slick with perspiration, and she wasn’t sure if the heart thundering through her was his or her own. Aftershocks rippled as her breathing gradually evened out and her pulse steadied itself.
Although the heaviness of Dante’s body weighed down on her, she had no desire for him to move. When he did, she gave a tiny cry of protest and tightened her arms.
He brushed his lips over hers then trailed soft kisses over both cheeks.
“Condom,” he reminded her and eased himself from the wet clasp of her body.
She lay in bed completely undone, her body lax and sated, limp, as if she’d just run a marathon. The flex of muscle in his ass as he walked to her bathroom and the ripple beneath the taut flesh of his back mesmerized her. Her mouth watered just looking at him. She heard the sounds of him disposing the condom in the bathroom and washing his hands. Then he was back, striding toward her and climbing back into bed as if he did so every day.
He pulled her against his body, spooning her and resting his chin on her head, his arms cradling her. “We have to talk.”
Her stomach knotted and her muscles tensed. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what was on his mind. “I hate it when people say that. It always means they’re about to tell me something I don’t like.”
He stroked her arm slowly, idly, a soothing touch. “I guess it’s only bad depending on how you look at it.”
“Might as well let me have it then.” She bit her lip, determined not to be upset no matter what he said.
For a long moment he was silent, an absence of sound that had an ominous feel to it. When he spoke, his voice was flat, toneless, as if the words were difficult for him to get out.
“You should know I haven’t been with a woman since the death of my wife five years ago.”
Some of the pain he felt stabbed into her.
“I didn’t intend to ever be with anyone else,” he continued. “Felicia was the love of my life. Of my heart. When she died, I felt as if my heart was cut out and replaced by a well of pain. That agony and the determination to find the abomination that killed her have kept me going all this time.”
