A Whisper of Sin

by Nalini Singh

  A blink, and when he raised his lashes, the eyes that looked back at her were in no way human. “Mmm, I smell a pretty little human in my territory.” A soft whisper against her lips, bright green-gold eyes daring her to respond.

  Her breasts brushed his chest as he pressed closer, her breath coming in jagged pants. “You’re behaving very badly.” It was a husky reproach.

  “You bit me.” He angled his head a little to the left, and though she couldn’t see those amazing eyes except for a glint through his lashes, she knew he was looking at her lips. “Say sorry.”

  She didn’t know what made her do it. Parting her lips, she said, “No.”

  His mouth was on hers before the syllable ended. She found herself being kissed as she’d never been kissed in her life. He took over her mouth, slicked his tongue in, and tasted her like she was the finest candy and he was starving. Against her, his body was a hot, hard, impregnable wall. Her hands were somehow under his T-shirt and on his back, touching skin that burned with a wild fever that made her moan in the back of her throat.

  A sound akin to a growl rolled up from his chest and into her mouth. Before she could process it, his hands were at her waist and he was lifting her up against the door. Wrapping her legs around him, she gave herself up to the possessive demand of his kiss. It fed fire through her body, a hot, pulsing storm. Then one of those big hands stroked down her back to squeeze her bottom.

  She gasped, breaking the kiss.

  He followed, taking her mouth again before she could do more than suck in a breath. Oh, Lord. He was stroking her butt, cupping and petting even as he devoured her mouth. It was wild, raw, primal. The heat in her stomach was matched only by the dampness between her thighs. Part of her was scandalized at her response, but that part was drowned out by the wild thunder of her pulse as pleasure sizzled through her veins, pure liquid flame.

  Emmett broke the kiss just as her head was starting to spin. An instant later, she felt those delicious male lips along her jaw, down her throat. And that hand on her bottom . . . she swallowed, tried to think, lost the thread when Emmett shifted his hold so that his fingers brushed the heat between her legs. She cried out. “Stop.”

  A fluttering stroke that arced electricity right through her. “Please tell me you don’t mean that.” His stubble brushed her throat as he leaned in to nibble at her ear. “Come on, mink. Just a little more.”

  God, the man was a devil. And he smelled so good. A faint hint of sweat, the luscious warmth of male body heat, and the unique scent that was Emmett. She found she was kissing his jaw, fascinated by the contrast between the stubble and his skin. “Random sex isn’t my style.”

  “Who said anything about random?” Another teasing brush, another rush of exquisite pleasure. “I plan to have sex with you on a regular basis.”

  The arrogance of the comment should have snapped her out of it. Instead, her mind bombarded her with images of naked limbs intertwined, a heavy male thigh pushing between her own. He’d be no gentle, easy lover. He’d demand and he’d take. He might even bite. “That’s assuming an awful lot,” she somehow found the willpower to say.

  A press of his fingers this time, not a brush. She sucked in a breath, her eyes closing as she waited for it to pass. But he didn’t stop. Instead, he lifted her until she was positioned just right . . . and began to rub himself against her in slow, grinding circles. She almost screamed. And then his fingers were on her again and she did scream.

  * * *

  Emmett caught Ria’s scream with his mouth as he continued to tease her with his body—torturing himself in the process. But the scent of her damp heat, it was pure ambrosia. He wanted to sit her down—no, lay her down—on a sprawling playground of a bed, spread her thighs wide and taste. His cock pulsed, the leopard’s hunger threatening to overwhelm the man’s control.

  Fighting the urge to tear off her sweats, he concentrated on driving her over the edge of pleasure. He hadn’t needed her to tell him—he’d known instinctively that Ria wasn’t a woman who took sex casually. He’d have to coax her into his bed. Taking her against the scarred door of a basement gym was hardly going to reassure her that her pleasure mattered to him. Mattered enough that when her body tightened, he grit his teeth and stroked her through the orgasm.

  Her fingernails dug into his shoulders through his T-shirt—he wished like hell he’d taken the damn thing off. He wanted those marks on his skin, wanted to know she’d put them there. Next time, he promised the cat. Next time. “Beautiful,” he murmured, nuzzling at her neck as she shuddered against him, her body going limp. “Pretty and soft and beautiful.” And mine. The leopard bared its teeth at the thought, even as the man bit back a rawly possessive smile.

  Finally shifting his hold from the gorgeous curve of her butt, he ran his hands up her sides as he kissed and petted her through the aftershocks of pleasure. Her eyes were still a little unfocused when she said, “Put me down.” It was an order.

  The leopard snarled, but he did as asked. She pressed her hands flat against the door and looked up at him. “You’re . . .” Color streaked across her cheekbones.

  He gave her a smile that he knew held a distinctly savage edge. “I’m thinking I want lots and lots of time when I slide into you.”

  “Are all cats as arrogant as you?”

  He shrugged and leaned in close. “I’m the only cat you need to be thinking about.”

  * * *

  Ria couldn’t not think about Emmett. That night, as she sat across from her parents at the dinner table, she kept finding herself drifting off in the middle of conversations. Emmett’s scent seemed to have become locked in her brain. She was fantasizing about burying her face in his neck, his strong body hard and taut against hers when Alex’s voice penetrated.

  “Ria!”

  Jumping, Ria met her mother’s eyes, hoping the guilt didn’t show. “Sorry, what did you say?”

  “Tom’s popping by for coffee tonight. Why don’t you change into a dress?”

  Ria’s fingers turned to iron around her chopsticks. Enough, she thought. And strangely, it had nothing to do with Emmett. Perhaps he’d pushed her to this point faster, but she’d always been walking toward it. “Mom,” she said, putting down the abused chopsticks, “I have no interest whatsoever in Tom.”

  Utter silence.

  Simon was the one to break it. “What’s gotten into you, Ria? You and Tom grew up together—he knows you. He’ll make a good husband.” The tone of his voice said the matter was settled.

  Ria looked into her father’s face. “I love you, Dad, but not even for you will I marry a man who thinks I should be patted on the head once in a while and put in the corner like a good little girl the rest of the time.”

  White lines bracketed Simon’s mouth. “That boy’s only ever treated you with respect.”

  “He treats me like a dimwit,” Ria said, skin blazing with temper. “Last week, he told me I wouldn’t have to worry about finances when we were married, that he knows math confuses females.”

  Alex made a choked little sound that succeeded in ripping Ria’s attention from her father’s disapproving face. Alex’s expression was a mix of outrage and disbelief. “He did not say that. You’re making it up.”

  “Popo?” Ria turned to her right.

  Miaoling ate a fried shrimp and nodded. “He said it. Then he smiled as if expecting praise.”

  Alex’s hands clenched on the tablecloth. “And who does he think does the books for the shop, huh?”

  “Alex.” Simon closed his hand over his wife’s. “We’re getting off topic.”

  Taking a deep breath, Alex nodded. “You’re right. Sweetheart, Tom is a very good match for you. You never had a problem with him before you met that disreputable leopard.”

  Ria supposed Emmett was disreputable—that stubble, those hands that had squeezed and petted, those eyes that told her he wanted to do all kinds of wicked things to her. But . . . “He’s an honorable man.” That core of honor was so much
a part of him, she wondered if he was even aware of it. It was why it had been so easy for her to lose control in the gym today—she’d trusted Emmett to take care of her. And that, she thought, was a dangerous thing . . . the kind that could lead to a broken heart if she wasn’t careful. “He’s protecting our family.”

  “Exactly,” Jet said, jumping into the conversation. “Maybe he’s making time with you while he does this duty, but he won’t marry you, Ria. Those cats stick together.”

  Ria’s stomach twisted, because she knew her brother was right. “This isn’t about Emmett. It’s about me. I will, under no circumstances, marry Tom.”

  “Why not?” Alex asked, eyes flashing. “He’s intelligent, handsome, has a good job, and brings you flowers.”

  Frustrated, Ria threw down her napkin and rose to her feet. “If he’s that great, you marry him. I will not marry a man who hasn’t even attempted to French-kiss me the entire year we’ve been ‘dating.’ ”

  Her parents yelled her name, but Jet’s incredulous voice drowned them out. “Seriously? Not even a little tongue? You’re right—dude is lame.”

  “JET!” It was Alex. She flew into a rapid stream of Mandarin.

  Miaoling looked up at Ria and winked. “Sit. Eat.”

  And oddly enough, Ria did. The family fought through the entire meal, but now her parents were mad at Jet because he figured Tom had to be gay.

  Alex glared at her son. “Maybe he’s just being respectful of your sister.”

  “No effing way.” A skeptical snort. “Men aren’t that noble when it comes to women they want.” Jet turned to his wife, his voice dropping. “When I saw Amber, all I wanted to do was—”

  “You finish that sentence,” Alex threatened, “and you’ll be breathing fire I’ll put so much chili in your food.”

  Amber grinned and blew Jet a kiss. “You know, it sounds to me like Tom’s planning to marry Ria and get himself a nice, respectable wife, while having a bit on the side.”

  Simon’s mouth fell open at this scandalous contribution from his flawlessly elegant daughter-in-law.

  Miaoling ate another shrimp. “She’s right. Like father, like son.”

  Silence. Deeper. More shocked.

  FIVE

  Simon cleared his throat. “Mother,” he said, his tone that of a man who knows he’s done for, “is that true?”

  “You think I’m lying?”

  “I think you’d do anything for your favorite granddaughter.”

  Leaning back, Miaoling actually cackled. “This time, I don’t have to. Wait.” She got up and headed toward her room.

  Ria shrugged when all eyes turned to her. “Don’t look at me.”

  “Eat some tofu,” Alex said when they just sat there. “It’ll go bad if we don’t finish it tonight.”

  Everyone ate. But the instant Miaoling walked back into the room, all implements were abandoned, food forgotten. Wearing the same smile she always displayed when she came out of Mr. Wong’s, Miaoling sat down and opened an envelope. Ria’s eyes went wide when she saw the photograph in her grandmother’s hand—Tom’s father with his tongue down the throat of the woman everyone knew as his secretary. “Oh, my, God.”

  “Don’t show me,” Alex said, slapping her hands over her eyes. “I can’t bear it. Essie’s one of my best friends!”

  Miaoling waved off the objection. “She knows. Doesn’t care—it keeps Tom Sr. from interrupting her hobbies. She’s making lanterns this year.”

  “Popo,” Ria said, choking, “how did you—”

  “What do you think Mr. Wong and I talk about?” She turned her gaze to Ria’s parents. “Want to know about the apartment Tom bought his mistress?”

  Alex looked like she was about to keel over. “Mistress?” It was a thin sound.

  A sense of fair play induced Ria to attempt to defend Tom. After all, she was now involved with Emmett. “Grandmother, no one has mistresses anymore. Tom was probably just waiting for the right time to tell me he’d fallen for someone else.” Yes, he should’ve been man enough to stop the charade of their non-engagement soon as he met his girlfriend, but Ria wasn’t going to beat him up about that. Chances were, he’d needed time to work up the strength to stand firm against familial pressure.

  “I talked to her.”

  Jet whooped at Miaoling’s words, while Amber shushed him and said, “How, Nana?”

  “I’m a weak old lady, always need so much help.” Miaoling’s eyes gleamed. “Nice girl, too nice for Tom. She’s so sad for him because he has to marry some plain, fat girl—”

  “That snake!” Alex’s hand clenched on a sharp knife as Ria’s sympathy for Tom died a quick and permanent death.

  “—but nothing’s going to change between them after the wedding. Tom’s set it all up so he can visit her on his way home every night. He’s even promised to take her to Paris after he explains how things are to his wife.”

  Simon looked at Ria, a tic in his jaw. “If you even think about marrying Tom, I’ll hogtie you and send you to live with my parents in Idaho.”

  “Yes, Dad.” Grinning, Ria walked around to hug her parents. But she waited until she was alone with her grandmother to ask, “Was that in case I didn’t get up the guts to pull myself out?”

  “No, it was just backup.” Miaoling’s wrinkled hand was a touch of love against her cheek. “I always knew you’d find your voice. Don’t ever let anyone take it away from you.”

  * * *

  Pleased and frustrated in equal measures by his earlier encounter with Ria, Emmett forced himself to focus as he ran his early-evening class through some hand-to-hand combat moves. There were only four in this group—he preferred to spend more one-on-one time with the older, higher-level students.

  “Jazz,” he said, when the sole girl in the group smiled slowly at one of the boys before blowing him a flirtatious kiss—the poor kid lost his rhythm completely.

  Emmett’s cat found her little tricks amusing, but he put on a stern face, knowing if he didn’t, she’d keep on doing exactly as she wanted. Female leopards were a handful—throw teenage hormones into the mix, and no wonder half the pack had sent him sympathy cards when Lucas put him in charge of this lot. The other half had offered to take him drinking.

  “Yes, sir?” An innocent look.

  “Unless you plan to beat your opponents with nothing but a smile and a hip wiggle,” he said, “I suggest you work on your hand to eye coordination. It’s off.”

  “It is not.” Her back went ramrod straight. “I can move smoother than anyone else in this class.”

  He met her militant gaze. “Ten laps. Now.”

  Swallowing at his unusually harsh tone, the ebony-skinned girl took off to do the required laps. Emmett turned back to the three boys who remained. “Gentlemen, you have something to say?”

  One of them, a slender kid named Aaron, stepped forward. “She’s right—she is better than all of us at the hand to eye stuff.”

  “Not today—she’s too busy playing head games.” Sending them back to their training, he waited for Jazz to return.

  “Grab a drink and a seat,” he said when she did, red-faced from having done the laps at full changeling speed as required. After making sure the boys had enough to carry on with, he walked over to hunker down in front of her. “Why do you think I made you do that?”

  A shrug. “I was mouthing off.”

  “Yeah.” And because he knew something of young female pride, he reached out to tug on one of her braids. “You are top of the class.”

  A small smile peeked out.

  “But, kitten,” he said, meeting her gaze, “that won’t get you far if you can’t hold your temper. You can still be Jazz, still be a smart-ass, too, if you want”—that got him another small smile—“but you need to learn to work within a hierarchy.” Because that was how changeling packs stayed strong, though they were often far fewer in number than either of the two other races. And if his mother was correct in her predictions, that internal strength would
become even more important in the years to come. These kids were all highly independent predatory changelings—his job was to start teaching them to work as a unit.

  “I think I understand,” Jazz said after a thoughtful pause. “It’s how the sentinels and soldiers work to protect the alpha—they know they can always rely on each other.”

  “Exactly.” Rising, he tugged her to her feet, “Go on, finish your training routine, and then we’ll do some one-on-one combat.”

  A sharp grin. “I’m going to kick the boys’ butts tonight.”

  Chuckling as he watched her slide easily into the graceful rhythm of combat, he wondered what Ria would think of the measures DarkRiver was taking to protect its future. Would she understand, or would she be repelled by the threat of violence, by the aggressiveness that was an inherent part of a predatory changeling’s nature? Not that he had any intention of discussing those things with her—not as long as he could avoid it. She’d clearly been brought up in a sheltered environment—why ask her to worry about things she didn’t have to? Protection was his job. His plans for Ria Wembley were all about pleasure . . . of the most decadent, delicious kind.

  His entire body thrummed in anticipation.

  * * *

  Ria stayed home for two days after the explosive events in the gym, seeing Emmett only to say hi.

  He scowled at her when she looked out the window on the second day. She had a good feeling she knew what he was thinking—that she was running scared after coming apart in his arms—but tempting as it was to head out and put him straight, she stayed in.

  Of course, that temptation wasn’t the sole one where Emmett was concerned—her body wasn’t letting her get much sleep. Now that it had had a taste of real pleasure, it wanted more. The sleepless nights left her frustrated in more ways than one, and she intended to punish the damn cat for it.

  But first, she had to do something.

  On the third day after he’d crushed her up against the basement door and kissed her senseless, she walked out dressed in a deep peach skirt suit teamed with a white silk shell. Emmett looked her up and down, then did it again . . . slow. Her cheeks felt like they matched her suit by the time he finished.