by Celia Kyle
The floor dropped out from beneath her, sending her feet lifting from the ground and she felt her stomach rise into her throat. The arm around her waist tightened, and Grant thumped her back down onto the platform, anchoring her as their elevator continued its rapid descent.
Just as quickly as the fall began, it ended, the floor slamming down onto the platform with a bone-jarring thud.
And still Grant didn’t release her. No, he dragged her bloodied body into the darkness of what she assumed was an underground parking garage. Their steps echoed off of the walls that surrounded them. Her suspicions were confirmed in a handful of steps when the telltale flash of lights and beep signaled a car unlocking.
The werewolf wrenched open the passenger door, and he shoved her inside, barely allowing her time to get settled before shutting her within the small car.
Rachel took a moment to look down, seeing the red fluid that coated her from head to toe, and she fought the nausea that threatened. The invisible patches of nothing were few and far in between.
Grant jumped into the vehicle, bringing it to life with the push of a button, and then they were tearing through the cavernous space. The car burst from the exit in a squeal of tires, skidding onto the street, and into the blackened night.
The adrenaline, the hormone that’d kept her standing for the last fifteen minutes, abandoned her with every slowing beat of her heart.
She watched the see-through patches of her skin turn translucent, filling as they eased toward opaque. She’d been able to hold the simple spell overnight when she was younger. Apparently children’s incantations didn’t work quite as well on non-practicing adults.
The blood coating her dried in burgundy patches on her clothes and skin, the disgusting coppery scent still clinging to her.
Rachel licked her dry lips, gagging when the heated burn of vampire blood hit her tongue. “What happened back there?”
She hoped it was simply contract related. Hoped it had nothing to do with her past…
“Vampires attacked.” Grant’s “duh” went unsaid.
She gritted her teeth. “Really? I hadn’t noticed. I thought they were a couple of assassins into extreme dental work. You know, chicks get boobs, crazy psychopaths get fangs. That sort of thing.”
“No longer worried about losing your job?”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “I’m probably dead after this is all over so losing my job isn’t big on my ‘freak out’ list.”
Grant growled. “You’re not going to die.”
“Well, the growl is comforting. Seriously, I know you’re renegotiating the territorial contract with the vamps. Do they always get PMS around this time?”
He barked out a laugh. “No.” He shook his head. “This is new. I think they threatened the human lawyers that handled the renegotiations. That’s why I wanted you to look them over.”
“Yeah, well…” She cleared her throat. “So, um, back to the dying thing. Really, what are the chances of me surviving the night? Sixty-forty? Seventy-thirty? I know you said I wasn’t gonna die, but is that just until this business is done or…”
The car jerked, slamming her against the passenger door, and it squealed to a sudden stop. Claw-tipped fingers beneath her chin forced her to give Grant her attention and glowing amber eyes met her gaze. “You will not die. Ever.”
Rachel swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Okay. No dying. Got it. Is that ever as in ever ever? Or…”
“Rachel…” His growl filled the cramped space.
“What? I’m just sayin’—”
Rachel’s words were cut off by a kiss. No, not a kiss, a possession. Grant’s mouth crashed against hers, lips smashing in a dominating seizure. His tongue wasted no time in sliding into her, taking control and ruling her mouth with deft precision.
She couldn’t help but respond, couldn’t stop her body’s reaction to his touch. She’d felt this draw, this pull toward him from the moment their eyes met, and she reveled in his greedy touch. She tangled her tongue with his, an intimate dance that stroked and teased.
Within her clinging top, her nipples hardened and grew stiff into firm nubs. She ached for his touch, a brush of his fingers over her sensitive flesh. Her pussy ached, heat tightening on air and her clit throbbed, desperate to be stroked. Well, once he wasn’t all claw-y.
They’d fought a battle, were coated in blood, yet nothing could have pulled her away from Grant.
Well, except the pinging of his phone.
Chapter Three
With a curse, Grant tore his lips from Rachel. He pressed his forehead to hers, sharing breath with his mate while he forced his wolf back from the edge. He wanted nothing more than to strip the witch and explore her curvaceous body with his hands, trace every hill and valley of her form.
His cock throbbed within his slacks, longing to be released and stroked by his mate. He could scent her arousal, the seductive musk rising above the blood and gore. Then he’d let his fangs shift, sink his cock into her waiting depths, and…
“Why did you kiss me?” Her chest was heaving, and he could see the outline of her hardened nipples beneath her stained shirt.
Good, at least she wasn’t unaffected. “Because I wanted to.”
Because you’re my mate and too damned tempting.
He dragged his focus to his cell phone, and a quick glance at the screen revealed exactly what he’d expect from his sentinels. “They secured the remaining vamp and Hagan is being tended by his mate.”
Rachel blew out a breath, seeming relieved.
And he was surprised. “You care?”
The average person would be concerned that someone was hurt, but it amazed him that a witch would distress herself over a wolf. Even if she was his mate.
“Of course I care. He was shot, at least three times, and was bleeding all over the place when you dragged me out of there. I’d have to be a heartless bitch not to care.”
Grant looked at her from the corner of his eye as he got the car moving once again. He split his attention between the road and his mate and noted her annoyance. “I’m not trying to be an ass. It’s just that most witches…”
She snorted. “I’m not a witch, Grant. I’m not part of a coven. I don’t rock out with any chants, spells or casting of circles. I inherited a little power, but that’s not what my family does. We—” Rachel snapped her mouth shut, lips forming a stiff line.
So many secrets. He held a few of his own. “We?”
Their destination loomed before them, and he pulled into the driveway, continuing into the garage as soon as it opened. “We’ll be safe here tonight.”
“And tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow night I meet with the clan’s patriarch and figure out what the hell kind of game they’re playing.” He turned toward her, the dim light of the garage doing nothing to hide the sparkling, pale blue of her seductive eyes. “And you’re going to help me.”
“The fuck I am.” Rachel opened the door, and he reached for her, fingers just missing her wrist as she climbed from the car. “I do have a sense of self-preservation.”
“Rachel…”
She spun to face him. “You know, you say my name a lot. And usually not in a nice way. How about, ‘Rachel, I’m sorry I got you into this.’ Or ‘Rachel, I’m sorry that, through my actions, I led the vamps that probably killed your parents to your front door.’ Even ‘Rachel, I’m an ass—’”
“Vampires killed your parents?”
She growled at him and gave him her back as she stomped toward the door that led to the house. She left it ajar, but didn’t wait for him to follow.
The vampires killed her parents? Probably? They tended to keep to themselves, living on bagged blood or donors they’d discretely acquired through the years. But to outright kill…
Grant stomped after her. “Rachel…”
A yell came from deep within the home. “Again with the ‘Rachel’. Didn’t we just cover that? Were you slow in school? And why the hell did you kiss me?
”
He followed her voice. He needed to know about the vamps. Wanted to figure out what they were trying to play at with the contract. Was desperate to discover why they wanted Rachel and killed her family. He’d heard the vamp back in his office, heard that creature say that the clan’s patriarch had been hunting his witch.
But most of all: he needed her.
The gentle patter of water against tile told him she’d found one of the house’s showers and his cock hardened in his slacks once again. He imagined her pale body clean and rinsed free of blood. Envisioned her soaping those curves, fingers dipping and sliding over her breasts, between her thighs…
Grant palmed his cock, stroking his length and then shifting it to a more comfortable position. He needed to be calm. He could check on her, make sure she had everything she needed. But he couldn’t pounce on her in the shower. Couldn’t explore her with his tongue from head to toe. Couldn’t…
He paused in the hallway and took a deep breath. The wolf was nudging and pushing him toward her, alternating between whines and growls as it encouraged him to mate her. Now. Before anyone could harm his little witch. As a wolf, she could protect herself and her body would ensure a rapid healing.
Following the drumming of the shower, he found her in the master bathroom. Or rather, he found a trail of clothes that led him through the large bedroom and toward the shower.
With its glass door and walls not yet clouded by steam, Grant was gifted with an unobstructed view of his lovely mate, her back to him. Her skin was pale as milk and unblemished from head to toe. It was silken and smooth and seemed to beg for his hands. He wanted nothing more than to pet and stroke her until she purred beneath him, around him.
Her hair was slick and wet, reaching the middle of her back, and he wanted to sift his fingers through the strands, force her gaze to remain on his as he slid into her that first time. He’d have her come on his cock and then… Then he’d slide his teeth into her vulnerable neck and claim her for all time.
How he wished she’d turn around and let him look at her abundant breasts. He imagined them overflowing his hands as he kneaded the lush mounds. Then he’d take a single, pert nipple into his mouth and lave the hardened nub until she begged—
“Excuse the fuck outta me?” Small hands disrupted his appreciation of her body, and Grant dragged his gaze up to clash with a beautiful, yet supremely angry, Rachel.
He cleared his throat, wishing his arousal away and nudging his wolf to the back of his mind. His beast had been at his internal side as he traveled through his fantasy.
Blushing like a virgin, he turned his back, fighting the urge to join Rachel in the shower. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Riiight.” He didn’t miss her sarcasm.
He felt like a kid who had his hand caught in the X-rated cookie jar. “I’m going to leave some clothes on the bed for you and then I’m going into one of the other bathrooms for a shower. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
And when he said “clothes” he meant a T-shirt and shorts…and nothing else. It’d be torture knowing she was bare beneath the clothing, but it’d be the most pleasurable torment known to wolf-dom.
* * *
Rachel was still mad. And embarrassed. Mad and embarrassed and aroused. But aroused was a bad thing since the wolf could probably scent the state of her need.
Damn it.
But that kiss…
And then the look in his eyes when she’d caught him spying on her. Wowza.
Apparently his distaste for witches wasn’t enough to keep him from ogling her.
She was still trying to figure out if she was more aroused or annoyed.
Leaving the master bedroom, she found Grant barefoot in the kitchen, cooking in nothing but a pair of ratty jeans and a tight, threadbare T-shirt.
Now, she took her turn at watching him, letting her gaze travel over his toned and muscled body. Like this, dressed in casual clothes and doing something so normal, she forgot he was a werewolf to be feared. And a gazillionaire. She wasn’t sure which freaked her out more.
“You done staring? I can strip if you want.” Grant, eyes sparkling with mirth, glanced at her over his shoulder. She rolled her eyes.
“No, I’m good. Thanks for the offer. I may take you up on it later.” She ignored the heat that came with her statement. She’d never been good at flirting and always blushed at the drop of a hat.
“Your loss.” He shrugged.
Yes, it was her loss, but she wasn’t born with balls. Of any kind.
Within minutes, he had food on the table, presenting her with a pan-fried steak and sliced potatoes. “It’s not much. We have to keep the place stocked with non-perishables, so the potatoes came out of a bag. Steak’s from the freezer.”
Rachel didn’t hesitate to dig in and moaned when the delicious flavors hit her tongue.
Grant was still beside her, body immobile, and a glance showed that his eyes were once again amber. And focused on her. “What?”
He shook his head and turned his attention to his food. “Nothing.”
“Mm hm.” She popped a bit of potato into her mouth. “So, you brought the contract?”
He nodded, taking a bite, but not commenting. Apparently there was no separating a wolf and food. Then again, she glanced at his steak. She wouldn’t touch that bleeding, rare hunk of meat for all the money in the world.
When he passed over the sheaf of papers, she flipped through them, alternating a bit of reading with another bite, hunting for the reason the vamps and the wolves would even bother with a contract. Exhaustion beat at her, but she wanted to get through this bunch of garbage as soon as she could. Once the contract was dealt with, she could leave him to making plans with the other wolves. The ones that would probably love to see her as an appetizer.
“You realize that there’s nothing that benefits the pack in here, right?”
Grant stilled, fork halfway to his mouth. “Other than continued residence?”
“Well, yeah, but… Why would you sign something like this?”
He chomped on the piece of steak. “Because it’s necessary? I can’t very well move the entire pack. I haven’t read it yet, but the lawyers said it was essentially the same as the last. With all their terror, ‘essentially’ didn’t sit well with me.”
She quirked a brow but ignored his comment. There had to be more hidden within the words. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe…
Another flip of paper. “And you’re going to pay them a billion dollars per year?” She coughed, choking on a bit of meat. Or the amount of money.
“It’s reasonable.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” She opened her eyes wide, mouth hanging open.
He shrugged. “It’s gone up over the years, but considering the economy, cost of living, etcetera.”
“You can tell ‘et’ to go ‘cetera’ itself.” She shook her head. Maybe she didn’t actually get the politics of interspecies relations. She was a witch. Actually, not even that, but she couldn’t imagine the wolves would enter this kind of agreement. Not when…
Her eyes practically popped from her head. “And a thirty percent stake in Hemming Industries? Seriously?”
Again, he paused. “You may be my ma—” He bit off the word, and she wondered what he had been about to say. “I know I asked for your help, but I need to know if there’s anything that would be harmful to the pack. We renegotiate every hundred years, and I want to make sure that I’m not committing to personally feeding them until the term ends.”
Okay, then.
Rachel rolled her eyes and got back to work, alternating between reading and noshing. Silence enveloped them, only the click of silverware against plates breaking the quiet.
Grant lingered in her periphery, his gaze occasionally wandering to her and she was torn between focusing on the contract, the future of his pack, or the Alpha himself.
She readily admitted her attraction to him, the physical pull she felt toward the ma
ssive werewolf. She didn’t fear the wolf and her feelings went against everything she’d been taught. Her parents had always warned her away from the weres, but Grant…
I want to jump his bones and ride him like a donkey. There, I said it. Well, thought it. I should seriously stop having these conversations with myself. But that doesn’t change the fact that I wish he’d lay me on the table and go to town “downtown”.
The mere thought of him making love to her with his mouth had her pussy aching once again, begging for something only the wolf beside her could give.
A slight flaring of his nostrils, and his deep breath, was immediately followed by a cocky smirk. Damn, he had to have scented her arousal. Stupid wolves with their stupid super-smell. She ignored him, disregarded the heat that suffused her face, and did her best to concentrate on the papers before her.
“How you doin’?”
“Fine,” she snapped, pissed at herself.
“Hmm…”
At least he didn’t bust out with “Rachel” again.
With a roll of her eyes, she shoved away her lingering arousal. Stupid, cocky, even-if-he-deserves-it man.
Rachel scanned another page, ignoring the stupid clauses. She couldn’t believe what Grant was about to concede. And why? What was she missing?
The last section was too much for her to take. “Really? Grant, I get that you’re the big, bad, kick ass Alpha and stuff, but you’re going to agree to step down and hand the pack over to a vamp?” She slapped the pages onto the counter and turned to him, ignoring his amber eyes. “There is no reason to sign this shit. If it benefitted you in some way, okay, I’d get it. But the original agreement between the Farleifr clan and the Hamr pack was meant to last a thousand years with a caveat that some terms could be renegotiated every hundred. Some. The biggest and most important notation, though, was that it could never be extended past the original thousand. Ever. That expires this year.” She huffed. “There’s no reason, none, to sign any of this, let alone give them money, a part of your company, and your damned position!” She didn’t realize she was yelling until her shout echoed through the kitchen.
