Riley’s jaw tightened under a shadow of stubble a shade darker than the deep chestnut of his hair. “You want to claw at me, kitty-cat? Come on.”
Her hands clenched. She really wasn’t this much of a bitch. But goddamn Riley had a way of lighting her fuse. “Sorry, I don’t beat defenseless puppies.”
He laughed. He actually laughed. She hissed at him. “What’s so funny?”
“We both know who’s the dominant here . . . and you’re not it.”
That did it. She was a sentinel. So what if he’d been a lieutenant longer? That didn’t change the fact that she occupied the same place in DarkRiver that he did in SnowDancer. The wolf had crossed a very defined line—and since she couldn’t have sex, she’d settle for violence.
Feeling more than a little feral, she pounced.
Riley was ready for her. He took the kick on the thigh without flinching, but stopped her punch with a single hand. She was already shifting, sliding into the next position, ready to take advantage of any vulnerability. He blocked every one of her moves, but made none of his own. “Fight!” she yelled. She needed a good, sweaty workout—it would take some of the edge off the gut-wrenching fury of her need. Her booted foot connected with his ribs.
She heard a grunt and grinned. “Not so fast are we, wolfie?”
“I was trying,” he said, blocking her next set of blows with his arms, “not to hurt you.”
“I’m not a frickin’ princess,” she muttered, aiming for the most vulnerable part of a man’s body—yeah, yeah, it wasn’t fair. But Riley had asked for it. Oh, man, had he asked for it. “ ‘Kitty’ this, Kincaid.”
“Damn it, Mercy!” He grabbed the foot that had been about to connect with his crotch and flipped her. Effortlessly. Gasping as she realized exactly how much he’d been holding back, she twisted in midair and came to an easy landing on her feet.
“I’ll give you one thing,” he said, crouching opposite her as they circled each other. “You know how to move . . . kitty.”
Adrenaline shot through her, a hot, liquid fire. “Better than a jumped-up sheepdog anyway.” She kept her tone even, but she was sweating under the slinky black tee she’d changed into for the dancing, her heart beating at a rapid pace. “Claws out,” she said and that was the only warning she gave as she went for him.
She didn’t even see it coming. One moment she was about to slash his face—okay, so she would’ve just scratched him, it wasn’t like this was a fight to the death—and the next, she was flat on her back with her wrists slammed to the earth, gripped in one strong fist. “Ooomph.” All the air rushed out of her as Riley’s lower body crushed hers to the ground. The bastard was heavy, pure muscle over solid bone.
“Yield.” His nose was almost touching hers.
“You wish.” She smirked into chocolate-dark eyes. “Come closer.”
“So you can bite me?” A flash of teeth. “First you yield. Then I’ll come closer.”
“Not on your life.” If she yielded, she’d be acknowledging his dominance, at least for tonight.
“Then I guess I’ve have to make you.”
“Try it.” Smiling, she went for his throat and almost had him, when—using a move that was all sorts of illegal—he flipped her again so her front pressed into the leaf-laden ground, her wrists still locked in his iron grip and pinned above her head. “Cheater.”
“So says the woman who tried to kick my balls into my throat,” he pointed out, even as he licked the salt off the skin of her neck in a lazy and highly provocative move.
“I’m going to kill you.” It was more hiss than sound.
He bit her.
In the soft, sensitive place between neck and shoulder.
She felt her entire body shiver from the inside out at the blatant show of dominance. “Stop it.” It came out husky, nothing like the rejection she wanted it to be.
He took his mouth from her. “I’ve pinned you.”
“That’s wolf shit. I’m a cat.”
“You’re still trapped under me.” He nuzzled at her throat. “And you smell all hot and wet and ready.” His voice was dropping, going wolf on her.
And the heat between her thighs was turning into a pulsing drumbeat. Her stomach twisted in a vicious wave of need. God she was hungry, so sensually hungry. And Riley had taken her, his hold unbreakable. At that moment, the leopard didn’t care that he wasn’t a cat. It just cared that he was strong, sexy, and aroused.
She found herself raising her body against him without realizing it, her bottom rubbing, enticing, inviting. “You tell anyone, I’ll carve out your heart.”
“Talking’s not what I’m interested in right now.” Releasing her hands, he let her twist onto her back . . . only to push apart her thighs and settle his erection snugly against her. It was all she could do not to moan out loud.
He raised himself up on his arms, looking down with eyes gone wolf—the black pupils circled by a ring of amber that echoed through the rich brown of the irises to turn his gaze night-glow. “How rough?” His sexuality was a primal force crashing against her skin.
“Hard.” She wanted to be marked up, used until she was wrung out and comatose from pleasure. And she wanted to do the same to him. Fisting a hand in that thick, silky hair she itched to feel against her breasts, she pulled down his head and kissed him, snarling in the back of her throat. He gripped that throat with one hand, squeezing lightly. “Behave.”
She bit him this time.
A full growl poured into her mouth as stick-in-the-mud Riley Kincaid gave in to his wolf and showed her exactly why he was SnowDancer’s most senior lieutenant. Her tee was in shreds before she could blink, her bra gone the instant after that. His hand squeezed the rounded curves of her bared flesh, and when he tore his lips from hers to move down, she knew she was going to feel teeth.
What she didn’t know was that Riley would suck on her nipple like it was his favorite treat before he sank those strong teeth into her delicate flesh. Her back arched up off the forest floor and she gripped the slick heat of his shoulders. Where had his own shirt gone? She didn’t care. All she knew was that she had gorgeous male flesh under her hands and oh it felt good.
Ignoring his growl, she tugged up his head from her breast and bit at his lip again. For a wolf, Riley had a beautiful mouth. She’d been wanting to take a nip out of it for months. So she did. Then she slid her lips along his jaw and over the cords of his neck. Salt and man and wolf.
Wolf. Enemy.
Her cat snarled again.
But the snarl was buried in pure heat. He tasted good.
When he wound his hand in her waist-length hair and dragged her head back for another kiss, she didn’t protest. It was as wild as the first, wet and deep and coated with the promise of raw sexual pleasure, no holds barred. “Now,” she ordered as they broke apart, her body close to vibrating with ever-tightening need.
“No.” He slid down her body and suddenly her dress pants and panties were gone. She felt the kiss of claws against the insides of her thighs and knew it had been on purpose. No pain, not even a real touch. Just a hint.
Just enough to remind her cat that he could take her.
More than enough to shove her arousal into the stratosphere.
“Goddamn wolf.” A choked-out imprecation.
Spreading her thighs with strong, callused hands, he put his mouth on her. She screamed. Riley was apparently in no mood to go slow and easy. He licked at her in hard, firm strokes, sucked then nipped. The orgasm tore through her so ferociously that she knew her muscles would protest tomorrow.
He continued using that mouth, those teeth on her until she could feel her body tightening again after a ridiculously short interval. But she wanted more than another burst of pleasure. Grabbing his shoulders, she pulled him up, knowing she wouldn’t have been able to do it if he hadn’t cooperated. It would’ve been annoying . . . in any other situation. “Do it, wolf.”
A hand in her hair, wrenching back her head. “What’s m
y name?”
She scratched trails down his back. He didn’t even wince. “My name, kitty. Say my name.”
“Mr. Mud Stick, Muddie for short,” she said, even as she rubbed herself against the hard thrust of his denim-covered erection, the roughness of the fabric an exquisite sensation. She would’ve liked naked skin even more, but he wasn’t budging.
“Say it, or no cock for you today.”
Her mouth fell open. “Fuck you.”
“You’ll be doing that shortly.” He kissed her again, a tangling of tongue and teeth and untamed male power. “Now”—he thrust against her, letting her feel the heavy, dark heat that she could have—“what’s my fucking name?”
It was tempting to continue to snarl at him, but her skin was slick with sweat and he was big and wild and delicious over her. And she wanted him in her. Now. “Men and their egos,” she muttered, just to piss him off a little. “Now do it, Riley. Or I’ll find someone else.”
He held her head where it was for another long second before lowering his face to hers, those amber eyes telling her exactly who was in charge inside him at that moment. “What did you say?” Quiet, quiet words.
She clawed his back again. This time, the wolf growled at her and the next few minutes passed in a fury of torn clothing and ravaging kisses, cries of pleasure intermingled with moans. And suddenly he was naked above her. Strong, hot, beautiful. She rose up against him, feeling her eyes go leopard as he put one hand on her thigh to hold her down and nudged at her with the aroused length of him.
She went to reach down, but he growled at her. Normally she’d have growled back, but he was making her feel so-damn-good. So she wrapped her other leg around him and thrust her hands into his hair, rocking her body upward. “I want you in me.”
He began to push in. She sucked in a breath. The man was hard as rock and thick enough to make her muscles stretch to the edge of pain. She shuddered. “More.”
He took her at her word, thrusting into her with a slow, intensely erotic focus that had her inner muscles starting to spasm in ecstasy even before he was fully inside. Then he was and she’d never felt so taken in her life. But he gave her only a few seconds to get used to him before his lips took hers once again, even as his body slammed in and out of her with a power her leopard gloried in. Wolf or not, this man was worth dancing with.
She moved with him, kissing him back, running her hands over his body and nipping at him just because. He kept her pinned to the earth as he took her, as if he knew just how damn much she needed a good, hard ride. When she orgasmed, it was with a sharp cry, a lush clenching around the thick heat of him, and a burst of starlight behind her eyes.
Lights that continued to flicker even after she came back down to earth. Riley was still hot and aroused in her, moving with unapologetically powerful thrusts that pushed her to another peak in moments. She bit his neck in the wolf way this time, and it finally pushed him over the edge with her.
CHAPTER 2
Early the next morning, a willowy Psy female walked into a breakfast and dinner—no lunch—restaurant just south of San Diego, and sat down, placing her briefcase beside her. She was dressed in a dark gray suit, with a jacket that cinched at the waist, and tailored pants in the same material. Her shirt collar was crisp and white, her nails manicured so they were short and clean.
The waitress smiled, but didn’t expect a response. All Psy—well, except the ones who had defected recently—were emotionless robots. She’d heard rumors that they weren’t born that way, that they trained the emotion out of themselves. Damn fool thing if you asked her. What was life without love, without laughter? Yeah, there were a few tears along the way, but hey, that was life. To be lived.
But she said none of what was on her mind—Psy were emotionless, but they tipped exactly on the correct percentage. Which was better than some cheapskates who ran her off her feet then left a quarter behind. She’d serve a Psy ahead of them any day. “What’ll it be?” she asked, holding up the old-fashioned order pad. That was how this place stayed in business—folks came for the “ambience,” as the boss called it.
She laughed at him—the old flirt was her husband, she had to keep him on his toes—but he was right. People liked the checkered tablecloths over wooden tables, the real-people service as opposed to order pads built into tables, even the crackling old jukebox they cranked up at night. That’s why they got a lot of human and changeling traffic.
The few Psy who came in were mostly strays on their way to a meeting in the city. This one looked the type. Pretty, too, with those bright green eyes against skin that was a nice, pale bronze. Psy really were striking a lot of the time—probably messed with their genes in the womb, the waitress thought. “Honey?” she prompted when the woman didn’t respond.
The Psy female blinked, staring at her.
And the waitress could’ve sworn she saw desperation in those eyes.
Then the briefcase exploded.
CHAPTER 3
Riley woke to find his brother, Andrew, sitting at the foot of his bed, mug of coffee in hand and a shit-eating grin on his face. “Nice trick, bro,” he said. “Showering before you went to bed. Probably dunked yourself in a stream before you came home, too.”
Riley just waited. Drew was really good at getting people to spill their guts with sly hints that he knew everything anyway. He blamed it on being the middle child. Riley blamed it on him being a smart-ass.
“But you forgot to empty the laundry hamper.”
“Sniffing the laundry now?” He raised an eyebrow, knowing Drew had nothing. His clothes had been destroyed—he’d come home in wolf form. And he had dunked his ass in a freezing lake before he returned. “You really need to get laid.”
“Oh, we’re not talking about my sex life.” Another smug smile. “Yours is much more interesting.”
Riley remained on his back, feeling a soft ache in his shoulder. “Why are you here? You’re supposed to be in Los Angeles this week.” Drew had recently been promoted—to a role that necessitated him roving around all the different cities under SnowDancer control and reporting back directly to the SnowDancer alpha, Hawke.
It was a needed responsibility.
Because as SnowDancer had learned in the snow-white chill of the previous winter, not every wolf was good. Not every wolf protected. The lesson had struck the pack deep in the heart, and they were still bleeding from it. But that pain hadn’t stopped them from fixing it so it couldn’t happen again.
Hence, Andrew’s new position as Hawke’s eyes and ears among those who might otherwise be overlooked. He led a small team of men and women who were known to be absolutely loyal to SnowDancer, people who would cut out their hearts rather than harm the innocent. They were all also quick to smile, easily made friends.
Drew, in particular, could get anyone to talk to him about anything. Which was why Riley had learned to be very wary of his younger brother’s apparently guileless questions.
“I swapped with Kieran,” Drew now said. “He wanted to avoid somebody in the den.”
Riley knew precisely who the other soldier wanted to avoid. “He broke up with his latest girlfriend.” The fact that Kieran was technically human, having been adopted into SnowDancer as a child, didn’t seem to stop him from acting the part of a wolf on the prowl. “Woman’s out for blood, from what I hear.”
“I figured.” The glint returned to his eye. “So, who was she?”
“I thought you knew?”
Drew scowled. “I know you got laid. It’s only a matter of time before I sniff out the truth.”
“Knock yourself out.” He began to get up, then realized why his shoulder ached. Mercy had scratched him hard. It might’ve given a human male pause. It made Riley’s wolf smile. Wearing her claw marks was a badge of honor—because it meant he’d driven her to such pleasure that she’d forgotten herself. If she’d been his lover in truth, he’d be showing them off.
But he didn’t know what she was to him. Except the woman who m
ade him hotter and angrier faster than any other. So he remained on his back, brutally aware that once would never be enough. Not even close. His gut tightened. “Go away, Drew. I’ll get up in a little while.”
“Hmm, he wants me to leave. Why?” Drew sipped his coffee. “Could it be because the little she-cat marked our esteemed lieutenant?”
Riley barely kept himself from reacting to the “she-cat” comment. He had no intention of hiding his entanglement with Mercy—she might be frustrating as hell, a royal pain in his ass, but she was also an incredibly strong, sexy woman, someone any male would be proud to call his lover. But he needed time to figure out how he was going to deal with it. The instant that thought formed, he heard Mercy’s voice in his head, a fragment of memory from their many scuffles.
“Jesus, Riley, do you ever just react?”
“When necessary.”
“When necessary.” She mimicked his voice perfectly. “I’d call you Psy but I think that would be an insult to the Psy.”
“I feel.”
“But your feelings go through about ten different filters before you let them out.” She flipped her hair, tied in a high tail, over a shoulder. “Doesn’t bother me—except when you drive me insane with these plans.” The word “plan” was about seven syllables long. “We’ll deal with some situations as they arise. We don’t need a color-coded flowchart.”
He hadn’t had a flowchart, of course. Mercy simply liked to jerk his chain as far as possible. “I think you need to go see Brenna,” he said to Andrew when his brother remained seated. “Word is, she and Judd had a fight.” Riley liked Judd, but the man was mated to his baby sister—Riley reserved the right to hassle him periodically. And use him as fodder to distract Drew. “She won’t talk to me—go make sure he didn’t push her around.”
Drew left so fast, he created a breeze in his wake. Riley wondered if Judd would punch Drew for his unwanted—and entirely unnecessary—interference. “Serves him right,” he muttered, rising and stealing the coffee his brother had left behind. Judd would cut off his arm before hurting Brenna. That was why he was still alive. Because while Riley wasn’t Mercy, with her breathtakingly vivid nature, he felt deeply.
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