Sinead wondered if Cillian could possibly have any idea how much she wanted him. How much she wanted both of them. Something in the men’s protectiveness, their concern, their care, had managed to bewitch her. She’d come so close to saying it in the car. That she was theirs, if they wanted her. That she didn’t want to spend another night alone in her bed. She wanted every night to be spent by their sides.
But if Cillian felt the same way, he wasn’t showing it right now. His face was set in the determined expression of a man who wanted answers.
“There’s a shifter up ahead,” he said. “The young man in the blue coat.”
Sinead followed his gaze until her eyes settled on the figure he was talking about. He was young and wide-eyed, barely more than a boy, a look of fear making his irises flash bright and otherworldly. His human side had no idea what sort of danger he was in, but his animal seemed to be in a frightened panic.
She strode up to him and grabbed his arm, a low growl crawling up her throat. Leaning in close, she said, “You need to get out of here. It’s not safe for the likes of us.”
The man pulled back and looked at her for a moment before nodding silently. Quickly he turned on his heel and took off in the other direction like a frightened jackrabbit.
“There,” said Cillian, stepping up next to her. “You’ve just fulfilled your obligation to the task force. You helped me locate a shifter.”
“He’s a child,” she said bitterly. “So harmless and confused. That’s the sort of person the task force wants to throw into a pit.”
“Agreed,” Cillian replied. “They have no idea how many worse things there are in this world than shifters.”
Chapter 15
Sinead and Cillian made their way deeper into the crowd, keeping to one side to avoid the risk of entrapment.
Each time they spotted a shifter, they warned him or her quietly away, keeping watch as they fled. For the most part, the task was easy; anyone stubborn enough to resist gave in the moment Sinead described the prison where the task force had locked her away.
The two kept close together, holding on tight as they moved in and out between shouting strangers.
“I want to talk to a human,” Cillian said when they’d made their way to the side of the road. “Give me a moment.”
Sinead nodded assent. She was curious, too. As much as she disliked humans, she couldn’t help but recognize that the circumstances must have been overwhelming and confusing at best, for their kind as well.
“What are your thoughts on all this?” Cillian asked a spectator who was standing to the side of the road, watching the proceedings as they grew more and more chaotic. The man was middle-aged, dressed in a short parka and a pair of scruffy jeans, a sneer on his face that said he didn’t exactly approve of any of it.
“Fucking soft-hearted, shifter-loving sympathizers,” he said, “they’ll protest anything, so long as they can cause a stir. These shape-shifters, or whatever the fuck they are, have been coming into my city and killing my people, and here we are defending them like they’re sodding puppies in need of hugs. They’re killers. Brutes. Animals, and no mistake. They don’t deserve to walk these streets, let alone live in my city.”
“So what do you think we ought to do about them?” Sinead asked, working hard to mask the rage that wanted to creep into her voice. No doubt the bastard’s solution was to kill them all. He probably wanted what the task force wanted; to take them off the streets, lock them up, torture them.
“Throw the whole lot in jail,” the man said, confirming her suspicions as he turned to face her. But as he did so his expression altered as if his eyes had just landed on something intoxicating. “Or…better still…finish them off…” he muttered, but his words had lost the fierce tone of commitment.
“You think they should be killed,” she repeated. She took a step towards the man, who looked suddenly blissful to have such a woman come anywhere near him. Funny, she thought. The idiot was too aroused by her presence to think straight. Yet he was convinced that it was her kind that lacked control. Her kind that was animalistic and inhuman. Even though he was so fucking pathetic that he couldn’t utter a coherent sentence in the presence of an attractive woman. “Just because they’re not like you, you think they deserve to die?”
“Don’t you?” he asked, sidling up to her as though expecting some intimate physical outcome to result from this interaction.
“No I don’t,” she replied, venom seeping into her tone. She grabbed him by the collar of his coat and pulled him even closer. He had to be an inch or two shorter than she was, but she pulled him up to her eye level so that his toes dragged on the ground. “I only want to punish shite-heads who think themselves superior to everyone else in the world. I want to punish those who would kill others for not conforming to their idea of humanity.”
“But…the shifters…they’re not even British,” he protested. “You must realize that they don’t belong here.”
“Shifters have been on this godforsaken island for thousands of years,” Cillian said, reaching for Sinead’s arm, gently urging her to let the man go. No doubt he could tell that she was on the verge of an outburst; if her Lioness could have been set free, she would have unleashed her in a state of utter fury and clawed the man’s smug fucking face.
She let go of the bastard’s collar. It was probably wisest to release him, anyhow. Murdering him would only prove him right.
“Thousands of years?” the man sneered. “Prove it. I never heard of ‘em. Are you going to tell me that they have names like Mason and MacGregor?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Cillian moaned, taking Sinead’s hand and guiding her away. He yelled, “You’re an ignorant arse, and nothing will change your mind.”
“You’ll be sorry when they break into your home and kill you in your sleep!” the man shouted after them.
“That’s not bloody likely,” replied Cillian.
Up ahead, a fight was beginning to crescendo between two groups of people. “Protestors and counter-protestors,” Cillian said, his grip on Sinead’s hand tensing. “This won’t end well.”
“Should we do something?” she asked.
“There’s not much we can do without giving ourselves away. My Dire Wolf is already itching to get out and have a go at these bastards.”
With that, a young man raced by and smashed hard into Cillian, who hardly flinched at the blow. The man turned around, grabbing his arm and staring hard at the shifter, clearly puzzled as to why it felt like he’d just slammed into a brick wall. He stepped forward, reaching for Cillian, ready to instigate a fight.
“Who the hell are you, then?” he shouted in a hard Cockney accent. “You one of them?”
Suddenly another group turned their way and stared, looks of shock and awe taking over their faces.
“I’m no one,” Cillian said calmly. “Just a guy out for a walk with his lady friend.”
“We’ll see about that,” the man said as he strode closer, pushing the crowd out of his way. He was big for a human, and Sinead could smell beer on his breath. He probably didn’t even give a toss about the protests; he was just some drunk fuck looking for fisticuffs.
Suddenly she wished for Cillian’s Dire Wolf. She wanted to see him in all his glory, to watch him take the bastard down. But it would have been dangerous and foolish, and she knew it.
“What do we do?” she asked.
Without a word, Cillian pulled her behind him protectively. “I’ll use my fists if I have to,” he replied. “I won’t let him hurt you.”
A surge of warmth engulfed her. Even if she couldn’t see his Wolf, she could feel his heat as Cillian barricaded her with his body. He would lay down his life for her if he had to, and she knew it. She’d known it from the first moment her eyes had met his.
As the young man leapt forward, he threw a punch, which Cillian ducked adeptly. But when he rose back to his full height, a chorus of gasps filled the air around them. The powerful scent of a Dire Wolf me
t Sinead’s nose. But humans didn’t have her keen of smell; surely it wasn’t only Cillian’s scent that had given him away.
She grabbed him and spun him around to face her. When she saw his eyes she knew what had happened. His Wolf, unable to hold back, had shown himself in Cillian’s human eyes. There was no hiding what he was. No going back now.
“Fuck,” she muttered. “Oh, fuck.”
“He’s one of ‘em! I told you so!” his would-be assailant cried, lunging forward once again.
But this time, someone crashed between them—a large man, at least as big as Cillian, wearing a brown coat and dark jeans—and grabbed hold of the drunk. The large man’s hair was jet black, his expression fierce. A thick scar cut through his left eyebrow, evidence of an altercation that had no doubt taken place long ago. The man was a fighter, no doubt about it.
After a second a deep, rumbling voice yelled, “You’re wrong about that, mate. He’s no shifter. I, on the other hand, am most definitely one of them.” He shoved the drunk backwards, slamming him into a pile of onlookers. The sound of crackling bones filled the air, and seconds later, a massive Grizzly stood between Cillian and the bastard who’d tried to out him.
“Quick, we need to get out of here,” Cillian said, turning to grab Sinead again. “We need to get you somewhere safe. Come with me.”
With that, he pulled her in the other direction to work their way along a series of buildings until they found a narrow alleyway between two shops. They raced in, pushing themselves against into the shadows, hearts beating fast.
Sinead turned to watch the ever-increasing crowd in the distance, the shouts growing louder and louder as anger crescendoed to a fever pitch. No doubt the Grizzly had set off a wave of new violence and mayhem.
He’d also very likely saved their lives.
She reached for her neck, breathing hard, pain shooting down her spine as steel pressed into her nape.
“What is it?” asked Cillian, but after a moment he looked like he understood. “It’s the brace, isn’t it?” he said. “That fucking brace.”
“It’s my Lioness,” she replied, trying and failing to nod. “She wants out. I try to hold her back, but every time she tries to come out, it’s so painful. Like my neck is breaking.”
Cillian pressed her gently against the wall and slipped his fingers around her scarf until he’d found the collar, looking around its edges for a weakness. He studied it for a moment. “Trust me?” he asked, his eyes so bright that she could barely look at him. His Wolf’s strength had come to his surface. She could smell him on the air again, feel his power around her.
She nodded. She trusted him as much as she’d ever trusted anyone.
He grabbed the metal and pulled hard, his muscles pressing against his coat so that it looked like the fabric would explode from the pressure. She watched the struggle in his face, his neck turning red as he forced the thick clasp to give way under his strength.
Finally a snap echoed through the alley, and she was free. For the first time in days, Sinead felt like she could breathe.
Cillian held up the twisted piece of metal in his hand. “Fuck them for doing this to you,” he said, tossing it to the ground with a clang. “You all right?”
She nodded. “I think so,” she replied, breathing hard. “Only, the thing is…I’m not. Not really. Who was that man?”
Cillian shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know why he helped us, either, but I’d like to. He risked his life for us. That’s not like the Grizzlies I’ve met. They despise us.”
“Yeah, so I keep hearing,” Sinead said. She pressed her head back against the wall and closed her eyes, trying to take in everything that had happened. Trying to absorb the touch of the man who stood so close to her, his scent wrapped around her mind like a beautiful silken net.
When she opened her eyes, they moved to the face of the gorgeous man in front of her, who sealed his delicious lips and grimaced. “Tell me,” he said. “What can I do for you? Sinead, I want to help. I want you to feel better. I can’t stand seeing you in pain. I can’t fucking stand the thought that you’re suffering.”
“You want me to feel better?” she asked. She slipped towards him and grabbed him by the collar, just as she’d done to the man on the street. For a second she wasn’t sure what she was going to do to him. Part of her wanted to slap him, to tell him that if he wanted her to feel good, he should let her go. Let her disappear like a ghost into London’s underground. Let her be, let her forget she’d ever met him or Brigg. Maybe one day she’d get over her infatuation. She’d learn to forget that they’d ever existed.
But there was another part of her that wanted something entirely different, something even more intense than a desire for escape.
“I want you,” she said, so close now that she could almost taste him. “God help me, I don’t know what to do about it. Between you and Brigg, I feel like you two men are tearing me apart. One minute I think I’m falling for you both, which is completely insane. The next, I want to run a million miles away and find freedom from all this. From feeling so fucking much. From excitement. From…from you.”
“I want you too,” he said, “and I think you know it.” Breathing hard, he reached out and slipped his fingers into her long, dark hair. For a moment he held her head, his eyes locked on hers, sending a ripple of dangerous excitement through her body. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me right now. You don’t know how much I wanted you the moment you walked out of that fucking prison.” With that, he pressed his lips to hers, possessively, hungrily, his tongue searching hers out. He was demanding, dominant.
And for once in her life, Sinead submitted. She kissed him back, pulling her body to his until she could feel his hard length pressing into her belly, until she knew that he hungered for her as much as she did for him. She’d craved this so much. She’d lusted for some proof that he was aroused by her, that he wanted to bury himself deep inside her. Some part of her had wanted that power more than anything.
And now she had it.
Cillian pulled her coat open and kissed her neck, his body slipping downwards, lips finding her cleavage, her breasts, seeking her nipples through her cotton shirt. She was all too aware of the crush of bodies that still drove itself forward not twenty feet away. At any moment, any set of eyes could have turned to them, seen what they were up to. But somehow the thought of it only made the moment more exciting.
Tear my clothes off. Show them what it is when two shifters find intimacy. Let’s prove what animals we really are.
“I want to be inside you,” Cillian whispered when his lips were near her ear.
“Fuck, yes,” she moaned, pulling her head back as she felt his lips trail along her jawline for a second time, “I want that too.”
“I’m going to have you, you know,” he growled. “I’m going to take you so hard. I’m going to fucking claim you, Lioness.”
Claim.
Sinead froze.
Cillian seemed to sense her paralysis. He pulled back, staring at her, his bright eyes questioning as hers narrowed in defiance.
She wanted him. She craved him, even. But there were some terms she would never accept. Life in chains was no life for her.
“You don’t get it, do you?” she blurted out, pulling back and yanking her coat shut over her chest. “I don’t want to be taken. I don’t want to be possessed, by you or anyone. Fuck, I may want your body, but I also want to be free.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he protested, reaching for her.
She flinched away, a low growl rising from deep in her chest. . “I know what you meant,” she said. “You’re just like everyone else. You want to own me, to control me. That’s all anyone’s ever tried to do. Either own me or throw me away like a piece of rubbish.”
“Oh, for God’s sake!” Cillian threw his hands up in aggravation and rolled his eyes so hard that they looked like they might embed themselves in his brain. “You know that’s not what I w
as saying, Sinead.”
“I don’t care. It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I know what you meant. I don’t care what you think you were saying.”
“Yes, you do. You’re just afraid to admit that I might actually have feelings for you, because it means this is real. It means you’re more to me than some object that I can send away. You’re afraid to deal with the fact that maybe, just maybe, we’re meant to be together.”
She stared daggers at him, anger surging inside her. Told herself that she was furious with him for kissing her. For tempting her. For letting her get so close to him, for letting her want him so badly. But the truth was, her rage wasn’t directed at him.
It was at herself.
Chapter 16
Cillian and Sinead looked like angry statues, glaring at each other in the shadows of the alleyway. Brigg didn’t need to sniff the air to feel the tension between them, or the silent battle of wills raging. He could see it in their faces—the passion, the rage, the frustration.
Only the promise of sex could bring about such a tacitly bitter exchange.
“There you two are!” he called out loudly, striding forward as though he hadn’t noticed a thing. Best for now to pretend that all was well. There was no point in trying to extract any personal details from the two silent ragers.
“Yes,” Cillian growled, avoiding Brigg’s eyes, “here we are. Standing in a fucking alley, when we should be in the streets, helping our own kind.”
“Well, it’s a little late for that,” Brigg said. “Things are getting insane out there, so I think we’d best make our way home before the military is called in. Come on, the car’s around the corner, and quite frankly, I don’t want it to end up on its roof.” He forced a smile, hoping to diffuse the situation. When no one moved, he spoke again, this time with a less friendly tone. “If you two don’t come with me now, you’re walking home, and no dinner for either of you.”
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