TheSmallPrint

by Barbara Elsborg

  Catch moaned into her mouth and she swallowed the sound. He pinned her arms behind her back with one hand, lifted the other to her face and brushed the pad of his thumb over the curve of her cheek. Matty felt the reaction in her core, muscles pulsed between her thighs and a rush of warmth wet her panties. She should stop this right now.

  In a minute.

  Or three.

  Or…

  Oh God. Finding two good-looking guys who made her knees quake with no more than a kiss had to be as rare as discovering a dodo nesting in the yard. Matty felt as if she’d been caught in a storm, battered by the wind and bruised by rain until her head pounded, her limbs shook and she trembled all over. Yet she didn’t want to escape. She’d not felt so exhilarated since Turner had— Oh fuck. Turner. What am I doing?

  Catch pressed his hips into hers and the hard ridge of his erection nestled against her belly. Or maybe it was another gun. Didn’t matter. It was a weapon of Matty’s destruction, and she had to escape while she still had functioning legs.

  One knee shoved hard and Catch released her with a howl of anguish. Matty yanked open the front door, slammed it closed behind her and bolted around the side of the house. By the time Catch got out, she’d be in through the back door and on her way to the attic.

  Fucking hell. Catch released a deep groan. That hurt. He took his eye off the ball for one freaking second, and she took advantage and nailed two balls. Shit. Though in a way he was grateful because he’d been about to drag her jeans to her ankles and fuck her where she stood. He straightened up, leaned against the wall and took a shaky breath.

  The ache in his groin wasn’t really the problem. Catch wished it was. He’d only meant to shock her with the kiss, expecting her to bolt like a skittish colt. Except he hadn’t been able to let her go and he knew she hadn’t wanted him to.

  Mate.

  She’s my fucking mate.

  Catch couldn’t believe it. He wanted not to believe it—sort of—but he knew it was true. A mongrel like him, part vamp and part shifter, he’d never expected to feel the pull he’d heard others talk about, but he’d felt it twenty years ago with Turner and he’d just felt it again with a frisky human full of weird tricks.

  There’d been no mistaking that moment of electrifying clarity when Catch first saw Turner, the instant recognition that he’d found the one, that precise second when sense of self was lost and yet he felt utterly whole and complete. Then Turner had gone and Catch had resigned himself to a life without the one he was meant for. Now he’d felt the same pull again but to Matty. The connection between them had been spine-tingling. Literally.

  A possessive growl broke out in his head and every nerve in his body instantly charged with energy as if a thunderbolt had broken inside him and gone raging down his back and along every limb.

  He wanted, needed, had to have her.

  Which was kind of a problem when he’d come hoping for a second chance with Turner, and also the reason he hadn’t raced after her and fucked her socks off. Well, that and the fact his little swimmers were currently lounging around somewhere above his kidneys in need of CPR. He could find her again. He would find her again.

  Catch could see the bolt still in place and yet she’d pulled the door open as though it wasn’t there. He ran his fingers over the frame and the locks. Had to be some sort of trick, but damn if he could figure it out.

  He picked up a chair and wedged the back under the handle. She wouldn’t be able to budge that. If she did, he hoped the dark wood chair wasn’t something expensive. Catch sighed. It was Turner’s, of course it was expensive. Catch had furnished his latest place in one mind-numbing trip to Ikea. Two hours of his life he could never get back buying furniture with names, for Christ’s sake, but he owned nothing he wasn’t prepared to walk away from. Particularly his Mildred chair. Shit.

  A couple of hours to go before sunset should give him enough time to do a thorough sweep of the house. The construction work outside made it easy for intruders to sneak up. Neither Dava nor Gabriel could approach during the day, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t found others to do their dirty work. Just because Catch’s boss Mason reported Gabriel as still behaving didn’t mean it was true. Catch wouldn’t be surprised if Gabriel hadn’t been running his ministry from inside prison. In fact, the slimy bastard had probably spent the last twenty years in some isolated mansion, being waited on hand and cock.

  Catch checked every window and door. All were alarmed, though he couldn’t see how that would help Turner. Milford Hall was huge. Why did Turner need a home this size? There were outbuildings too. He’d go through those after he’d explored inside.

  Only half of Catch’s mind focused on the job, the other half was consumed with Matty. Did she really live here with Turner? He saw no sign of a woman’s touch. How long had they known each other? Had they met since Catch’s last secret visit? Had she moved here with Turner? Or was she only saying all that so she got to stay and the other women had to leave? But then that hadn’t worked because she’d run away.

  The lump in his throat grew larger while his cock shrank. Were Matty and Turner an…item? More than an item? Catch believed Matty was his, but if Turner was his mate too, then Turner should feel the same way. Logic told him she was theirs.

  No point denying Catch wanted the pair of them, together and separately. As if that were going to happen. He’d always been greedy. Part wolf, part vamp, how could he be anything else? Catch needed to eat meat and drink blood. He could go out in the light but not in full sunshine. His hobby was fucking, and he’d take men or women with no preference for either. Until now. Now he had a preference for two in particular.

  There weren’t many like him, which made the world a lucky place. Catch had been born this way, the result of his mother being given vampire blood in an attempt to save her life after she’d been attacked by a werewolf. She’d died giving birth to him and he’d never been taken home from the hospital—well, not by his family. Instead, he’d been fostered by a long succession of weres who’d supplied his background once he grew old enough to ask.

  Catch was a rare mutant half-breed no one expected to survive. He’d been tossed aside like trash. He always lied about how he got his name. Nothing to do with playing ball with siblings and a father, though he’d watched his family play from a distance. It was the way he’d been thrown from one guy to the next when he was a kid, and they’d taken turns abusing him. It didn’t break him. It made him stronger. He kept the name to prove it. His past was stuffed firmly where it belonged—in the past.

  His weakness was here in this house. Turner. The first and only person Catch had dared allow himself to love. Catch couldn’t help but wonder if he’d wanted Dava to run so he had an excuse to speak to Turner and find a way to make things right between them. Only now Catch had discovered another weakness—a cute woman who smelled of roses, with huge gray eyes and fire in her belly, who’d probably launch another kick at his balls if he tried to kiss her.

  When—not if.

  He gave a quiet chuckle. Catch could scent her all over the house, and his cock grew harder with every step that took him nearer to the attic.

  * * * * *

  The moment Matty got back inside Milford Hall, she snuck up to her room and threw herself onto the mattress. Her head felt as if a swarm of bees had gone in one ear and were looking for a way out through the other.

  Along with Turner and George, Catch could see her. Did that mean she was getting better? That something was changing?

  He’d kissed her.

  She’d kissed him.

  Oh God.

  She shouldn’t feel disloyal to Turner. After all, the guy was constantly trying to get rid of her, although there was something between them. The same something she suspected was there with Catch.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  Oh, not a good word to even think because Matty was on fire with lust. She didn’t used to be like this, not before everything in her life had turned weird. She wasn’
t a one-night-stand sort of woman. She was the committed-relationship type. Matty had only had a few boyfriends, and she’d stayed with all of them past their sell-by dates because it was easier than telling them they’d become boring. So the fact she’d wanted Turner to fuck her on the library floor, the fact she’d sort of hoped Catch would take her up against the wall scared her rigid. But it didn’t stop her from wanting them. Both of them.

  Fuck.

  She turned on her back, closed her eyes and slipped her hands under her sweater to cup her breasts. No bra. All the ones she had were too small, though she had noticed she seemed to be losing weight. Not eating would do that. She smiled. Not eating or drinking anything should have killed her, but it hadn’t.

  Had it?

  Her nipples were already hard, but under her fingers they tightened to diamonds and she moaned. Her eyelids fluttered as she slid a hand down the inside of her jeans and panties to the soft folds between her legs to rub her fingers in her moisture.

  She brought two faces into her mind. Turner and Catch. How bad am I? A gush of cream wet her fingers. Very bad. Her breathing quickened as her head fogged to everything but release. She stroked the nub of her clit, letting the nerve-rich bud slip under her finger. Matty breathed through the gentle clenching of her muscles and pressed, swirled and thrust her way toward orgasm.

  When she felt it coming, she slid out her hand, willed herself to not to fly, and waited until her spring uncoiled a little. She decided Turner’s hands were on her breasts, Catch’s on her ass. Daydreams with two weren’t a rare indulgence, but the fantasy was heightened by the fact these guys were real—living, breathing, gorgeous hunks. Matty smiled and began to play again, this time trapping her clit between finger and thumb, pressing down with the palm of her hand in time with the beat of her heart.

  She imagined Turner’s mouth open, his tongue licking his lower lip. Catch smiled and those green eyes darkened. Then Catch’s hand cupped Turner’s groin.

  Oops.

  Matty groaned. This dream is drifting away from me. She pictured the hard ridges of both men’s cocks outlined under their pants and her fingers moved faster. They rubbed against each other and then pulled her between them. Matty’s chest clenched to the point of pain and her breathing grew more erratic. Fingers slippery with her cream struggled to maintain the pressure and she brought her other hand down, stuffed it into her jeans and dragged her fingers on either side of her swollen lips, crushing her clit in the middle.

  Her head roared, every muscle tensed and Matty let herself fall into the void. She clamped her mouth shut but muffled groans escaped as the spasms bit. Moments of sweet ecstasy faded too fast to sleepy, satiated pleasure. Even before the last clenching bite had died away she wanted more.

  “That was hot.”

  Her eyes flashed open and she yanked her hands from her pants. Catch stood leaning against the door of the attic. Oh fuck.

  “You could have knocked,” she snapped.

  He grinned. “Now where would be the fun in that?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Matty watched without blinking as Catch looked around the attic space and took in her makeshift bed, her scattered clothes and her books until finally his gaze landed on her. She was mortified he’d caught her with her hands down her pants and her heart raced as she waited for some smartarse comment. When he narrowed his eyes and licked his lips, Matty shuffled away on her butt off the side of the mattress.

  “You live up here?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  The moment he stepped far enough away from the door, she would run. Something about the guy had her all mixed up inside, fear and desire wrestling for control of her brain and body.

  “Why?”

  Matty scrambled to her feet and readied herself for flight. “Because I can.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “It’s in the contract Turner signed. I’m allowed to live in the attic.”

  Catch frowned. “Why would you want to live up here? There are plenty of bedrooms.” His mouth twitched in a smile. “Want to go and try out a couple? Bounce on a few beds?”

  “I don’t think Turner would like that.” She stepped nearer freedom.

  His scowl returned along with tensed shoulders. “So are you…together?”

  “Yes.” In a manner of speaking.

  “Have you fed him?”

  What sort of question was that? Did he really think a woman’s place was in the kitchen? And what was with the clenched fists? “Well, I offered to feed him.”

  “What? And he refused?”Catch’s beautiful eyes widened.

  Matty could hardly force food down Turner’s throat. He’d eaten some of the birthday cake. “I persuaded him to have a little nibble at—”

  Catch made a weird noise in his throat that sounded uncomfortably like a low growl. She slid a step nearer the door.

  “Like to come and show me how those trick bolts work?” he asked. “You have me intrigued.”

  “No.” Matty sidled past her books and trembled as Catch came after her. “I need to speak to Turner. He might not want you in his house.”

  “No point trying until after sunset.” Catch glanced at the skylight and Matty sprang for the door.

  She heard him give a whoop of glee, and even as she registered he was thrilled at the thought of chasing her again, she realized the idea excited her too. Damn it. Matty didn’t step on the treads but almost flew down the stairs. She laughed, bolted along the gallery and dashed down the final flight only to slam to a halt when Catch landed right in front of her, green eyes flashing like some weird alien. He’d jumped from the landing?

  Matty squealed and made for the dining room. There was another exit in there, but she dashed around the table, doubled back, sprinted to the breakfast room and into the butler’s pantry.

  When the door opened, she was crouched in a tiny space behind the wine storage unit. No way could he see her and she doubted he’d find her. Matty had hidden here as a child and never been caught.

  “You do realize all this chasing after you has made my cock hard as iron,” Catch whispered. “It’s fighting a battle with my zipper and winning, though it’s going to come out tattooed with zip marks.”

  Matty grinned.

  “I know you’re in here,” he said.

  Her grin evaporated.

  “I can smell you. All sweet and luscious and flowery. Do you taste as good as you smell? Can I at least lick those naughty fingers?”

  Oh God.

  “Might as well give up,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere. You have to come out eventually.”

  That was true. As good a hiding place as it was, there was no other way out of the room, and what was a comfortable space for a child was a bit tight for an adult.

  “You didn’t count to twenty before you ran after me,” Matty said, and stood up. “You cheated. I want another go. Close your eyes.”

  Catch sighed. “Okay. One, two…”

  Matty fled the room. Her heart pounded as adrenaline surged. Could she get to the secret compartment in the hall and get inside it before he saw her? Doubtful, and she didn’t want to give away another hiding place. Oh this is fun.

  Catch brought her down in the middle of the hall, her knees and elbows colliding with the hard surface, and she groaned. As she tried to wriggle free, Catch dragged her back by an ankle. Matty gave up scrabbling and flipped onto her back.

  “Okay,” she panted. “Your turn now. I’ll count to twenty. One, two…”

  Catch jumped to his feet but only took a couple of steps before he turned and glared. “You’re not even going to look for me, are you?”

  Damn. “Might take awhile.”

  “You little tease.” He threw himself at her.

  Matty yelped and rolled to one side but he anticipated her movement and landed to wedge her hips with his knees, her shoulders with his hands. Lust surged through her veins and her panties dampened. She thought he’d kiss her, but he wrapped her wri
sts together, yanked them over her head one-handed and tickled her under her arm. Matty was instantly hysterical, alternately screaming and laughing as she struggled to get free.

  Turner opened his eyes and sighed. He’d had a dream. One of those embarrassing ones where he suddenly found himself naked in a public place. Matty had been there with a load of women…and Catch. The fucking treacherous bastard otherwise known as Logan. Turner rolled over and sat up.

  Even before he stood, he registered the scream and ran.

  How come my door’s unlocked?

  Turner wondered if he should have stopped to find a weapon or at least yanked on pants, but when he reached the top of the stairs and saw Matty struggling underneath a big blond guy, he didn’t hesitate. With every cell urging him to kill the bastard, he launched himself over the banister, landed behind Matty’s attacker and hauled him off.

  “Turner, it’s okay, we’re playing,” Matty shouted.

  He had his arm tight around the guy’s throat, but without seeing his face, without needing to take in Matty’s words or her horrified expression, Turner knew who it was. Clamping his lips together so Matty couldn’t see his fangs, Turner jerked Catch around to face him and then let him go.

  Oh God. It can’t be. It can’t.

  “Hello, Turner,” Catch said.

  Shit.

  “We were playing chase.” Catch rubbed his neck. “You know what a problem I have if someone runs. It’s in my genes.”

  Turner stared at the hard ridge in Catch’s pants. “So it is.”

  “You okay?” Matty asked.

  Was he okay? In the space of a few moments Turner moved from murderous fury to complete confusion and back to fury, though no longer murderous.