Undressing Mercy

by Deanna Lee

  “Yes, I made a statement and submitted to a rape exam, but in the end I didn’t press charges.” I closed my eyes and lowered my head until it rested against the wheel. “I thought that if I tried to forget about it, that it would go away. I thought he wouldn’t matter.”

  “I understand.”

  “Will filing charges change anything?”

  “It’s a step toward justice, Mercy. Once you take that step, you’ll begin to heal again. I know you’ve spent a lot of time rebuilding what you lost.” She sighed. “What helped you make this decision?”

  “He’s invading my life. He broke into my apartment, and this evening he visited a close friend.”

  “Where are you?”

  “At the moment or geographically?”

  She laughed; it was a soft, pretty sound that I enjoyed. I felt my body relax, and my stomach slowly start to let go of the knots that had been there for more than hour. “I’m in Boston. I’m currently in my car on my cell phone.”

  “Go home.”

  “I don’t feel safe there.”

  “Is there a place where you feel safe?”

  “Yes.”

  “Go there, Mercy. Seek sanctuary from this, and in the morning, I want you to come to New York. We’ll start the paperwork, and we’ll make this happen for you. Fortunately for you, I am someone who never gives up. Every rape I’ve ever been assigned has a file with all the evidence I could gather, even the ones who later chose not to file a complaint.”

  “How do you do what you do?”

  “I remember that what I do might keep one victim out of harm’s way.”

  “I’ll book a flight to New York and call you back as soon as I know when I can be there.”

  When I got out of my car, the gallery door was opening. I paused and watched Shame as he looked around and spotted me. He shoved his keys into his pocket and walked toward me. I no longer wondered why going to him when I was upset seemed like the right thing to do, it just was.

  “Where have you been?”

  I motioned to my car. “Sitting in my car.”

  He offered me his hand and smiled when I took it. “Jane called me more than an hour ago. Why didn’t you pick up your cell?”

  “The last call I made killed the battery.”

  He said nothing as he pulled me along behind him. In the gallery, he locked the door and turned to me. Shaking, I let him draw me close, his mouth grazing my jaw before slipping down my neck to my shoulder. I dug my fingers into his arms as I pulled him closer. Desperate need seemed to bleed out between us. Sinking my teeth into the flesh of his neck, my hands dropped to his waist, and I tugged at the jeans he hadn’t bothered to belt. He pulled at my blouse, revealing the skin of my shoulder. I felt his teeth graze the flesh, and I curled my fingers against him. Hot, desperate lust pushed at my will.

  The button and zipper of his jeans gave way, and I slipped my hand inside. His cock stirred against my hand, warm and rapidly hardening. I let him go reluctantly when he pulled my shirt out of the waistband of my slacks. Shoving my shoes off, I pulled the shirt over my head, dropped it on the floor, and watched him with half-closed eyes as he followed my example.

  With careful hands, he pulled me to him and maneuvered us toward the stairs. I knew we weren’t going to make it up to the top of them. Sucking in a breath of approval, I nodded as he sat down and pulled me into his lap. I pressed my breasts against his chest and took his mouth in the kind of kiss that demanded about a thousand things. I knew he’d give me everything I needed, and exactly what I wanted.

  I stroked his cock and pressed it against my belly as his hands moved down my back to my ass. Fleetingly I thought about a condom, but knew we were beyond searching one out. He lifted me, and I arched in his arms as I slid down onto his cock. Hot and full, the sting of taking him inside was the most pleasure I’d ever known. As always, the pressure of his cock inside me reminded me of how empty I was without him. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I rocked on him.

  “Easy,” he whispered against my throat. “Just relax, Mercy.”

  I started to shake against him and buried my face in the side of his neck. “I can’t.”

  He laughed softly, dragging his hands down my back in a way that should have been soothing, but wasn’t. His hands felt rough and inexperienced, I understood what he meant then. I’d finally managed to reduce him to the same state he so often left me in. Gripping his shoulders, I met his gaze and saw the raw state of his arousal. The near violence of our need was pushing past any civilized veil we had in place.

  He stood, gripping me tightly. I clung and gasped when he lowered me to the glossy wood floor of his gallery. The wood was unyielding and hard beneath me, and he was just as relentless on top of me. With his hands planted on either side of my head, the rest of his body pushed heavy and demanding against me.

  “Shame.”

  “Hold on, Mercy.”

  It was all I could do. I held on to to him and let go of everything else. The ache built inside me, each thrust of his cock a heady reminder of the union I had craved. The light from the stairs fell across us, highlighting the paleness of my skin against the darkness of his. I loved the feel of him and the look of him. He was so beautiful, and in that hot, unspeakable instant, I understood that I truly had been waiting for him.

  An orgasm rushed against my clit, and I arched hard, deep from the floor. My nails dug into his back, and tears streamed down my face, his name a litany pouring from my mouth. Slick with sweat, our bodies continued to glide against each other. I felt the fleeting heat of his seed and closed my eyes at the primal sensation it woke in me.

  EPILOGUE

  Two Months Later

  “W hat’s happening in New York?” Lesley asked.

  “Jeff has an attorney, and he’s claiming our encounter was consensual. The DA took one look at the pictures of me and filed charges.” I grimaced. “I hadn’t seen the pictures until then. I don’t remember being so bruised. The indictment is pending, but they seem confident that it will go to trial.”

  Pulling my legs up in the recliner, I shrugged. “I want to feel good about what I’m doing. For a while there I felt guilty for it, and I know that sounds crazy. He’s threatened to file a civil suit against me for defamation of character.”

  “He lost his job, right?”

  Sighing, I nodded. “He was suspended from the museum pending the outcome of the case. Edward’s official statement indicated that he would not place the female personnel of the museum knowingly at risk.”

  “Why the guilt?”

  “I’m ruining his life.” The admission wasn’t something that made me feel guilty, at least not any more. “I want to believe that he made a mistake, that it isn’t something he’d ever do again. But I don’t.”

  “How are things at the gallery?”

  Grimacing, I shook my head. “Once the staff got wind of what happened to me in New York, they started to treat me like I was breakable.” Sighing, I tried to think about how I felt in the gallery. “I resented their pity, but then I realized that they really didn’t pity me. They were just afraid. Most of the gallery employees are female. Every time they see me, they’re reminded that rape isn’t a distant crime that won’t ever touch them.” I hated being a statistic, but I was. Every two minutes a woman is raped in America. The DA in New York had told me that. I could still hear the words coming out of his mouth, anger and conviction bleeding into his voice. “I’m not a number.”

  “No.”

  “Now that I’m Director, I have a lot more on my plate. Every time I turn around I have a new artist wanting to be seen, or an agent trying to talk me into a show. It’s a different world.”

  And it was. Jane was blossoming in her role as Assistant Director and had taken on the high-school project. It was going beautifully. All of the young energy in the gallery was amazing and refreshing.

  I walked around the alabaster and pulled the sheet free. Startled, I could only stare. He was done. The statue al
ready gleamed with polish. I touched the smooth surface of my face and then walked around to view the back. As most women would do, I checked out what was visible of my ass on the statue and felt relieved that it didn’t look too big.

  “What do you think?”

  “I never knew I could be this naked,” I responded honestly, walking back around to view my face. “Is this really what you see when look at me?”

  “Yes, I see a powerful and amazing woman.” He came to me and pulled me into his arms. “I learned something about you, Mercy.”

  “What is that?”

  “Undressing you had nothing to do with getting you out of your clothes.” He kissed my forehead and sighed. “However, the bronze will be the twenty-third piece for the Holman show. No one gets to see you this naked but me.”

  I laughed and looked to the woman in the gleaming alabaster. “It’s the most naked I’ve ever been.”

  He pulled me closer and wrapped him arms around me. “How’d things go with Lesley?”

  “Good.” My therapy sessions weren’t something I discussed a great deal, and Shame accepted that private part of me with grace. The lack of pressure and his complete acceptance of me were always sources of wonder.

  Looking back at the statue, I was floored by the honesty of it. Every emotion I had was there, every victory and every tragedy bared before the world. I didn’t feel invaded, though I supposed that some people would have. I felt liberated by it, set free from all of the things I’d held close for longer than I cared to think about. However, more than my past was there; my future was there too. My hope and the love I’d never expressed for him showed in my face.

  “It’s true,” I said finally.

  “I know.”

  Anyone else would have said the words, I didn’t. He’d seen it in me before I’d even let myself acknowledge it. He saw hope in me before I even tried to have it. I would keep my words, at least for a little while. His hands brushed over my back and tugged at my shirt.

  “What are doing?”

  “I would think that would be obvious.” He carefully pulled my shirt completely free from my slacks. “Don’t ruin my fantasy. If you can’t contribute to it, just be quiet.”

  I laughed. Having my words thrown back in my face normally pissed me off. I curled my fingers into the front of his jeans and pulled at him. “I can make contributions the likes of which have never been seen by a mere man.”

  “Such contributions would be aptly rewarded,” he promised as he gently but firmly guided me toward his favorite chair.

  God, I love that red chair.

  The moon is out! The beast is on the prowl!

  Turn the page for a peek at SEXY BEAST!

  Available now…

  1

  O ne moment, she was a tall, elegantly dressed African American woman with long, darkly waving hair and eyes of brilliant amber. In less than a heartbeat, her dress lay on the redwood deck in a tumbled shimmer of blue satin. The woman had become the wolf, amber eyes glinting angrily in the last dying rays of the sun, canines glimmering like ivory blades. With a single low growl and a flick of her tail, she leapt over the deck railing and raced through the damp meadow.

  Anton Cheval threw back his head and laughed. Keisha hated to lose an argument, any argument.

  “You gonna let her get away with this?”

  Anton turned to the couple sitting behind him, snuggled close together on the big porch swing.

  Grinning broadly, Stefan Aragat lifted his wine glass. “She is your mate. You better chase her down. We’d help, but Xandi and I plan to enjoy the sunset before we run.”

  Anton glared at Stefan for a brief moment, then shook his head in resignation. Stefan was right. If he didn’t chase after Keisha and work this out now, he’d never hear the end of it.

  Anton’s abrupt shift from human to wolf left his clothing in a messy pile on the deck. So unlike him, he thought, not to remember to undress first and fold everything neatly. He glanced once more at the dark pants and black cashmere sweater lying in an untidy heap, then cleared the deck railing and the garden beyond in a single bound.

  Maybe laughter hadn’t been his best response.

  Only Keisha could leave him so flustered.

  Or so turned on.

  Anton’s powerful forelegs stretched out and he gathered speed with each thrust of his haunches, but his mind was not entirely the wolf. No, he was reacting like a very protective male, no matter the species, and he knew it irritated the hell out of his alpha mate.

  It didn’t matter. He was not, under any circumstances, going to allow her to return to San Francisco by herself. It went against all he stood for, all that the Chanku were. Their strength lay in the pack, not in the individual.

  The memorial garden Keisha had designed for Golden Gate Park was moving forward according to schedule. She’d made enough trips, accompanied by either Anton or Stefan, to ensure everything would be perfect for the dedication. There was no reason she needed to go back early.

  Not with that damned tabloid reporter, Carl Burns, once more on her trail.

  Anton snarled and almost missed the leap across a small, partially frozen stream. The mere thought of the persistent reporter raised his hackles, made his heart race faster, his blood run hotter.

  Burns was the one man who could expose them, the one person who not only suspected the existence of Chanku, but had actually witnessed Keisha’s shift from woman to wolf.

  Anton knew his ability to mesmerize was extraordinary, but even he had his limits. He’d hoped the mind-job he’d done on the tabloid reporter would erase the smut-peddler’s memories of Keisha for a longer time than they had, but the bastard had suddenly reappeared in their lives on Keisha’s last trip to the city.

  Why hadn’t Keisha let Anton file harassment charges? Carl Burns was a menace, a threat not only to Anton’s mate but to the pack as a whole.

  No matter. Anton’s meetings in Boston would be over in less than a week and they could make the trip west together. He had a lot of money riding on this latest investment. Stefan was learning the business, but he wasn’t up to handling an entire board of directors for a multi-national company all by himself.

  Following the frosty trail with his wolven mind, working through the problems concerning Keisha with his human side, Anton loped across the familiar ground. He still wasn’t certain what he could say to make her wait, but somehow he would convince her of the danger.

  He had to.

  Danger!

  Keisha’s warning hit him like a solid object. Another scent assaulted his sensitive nostrils. Anton ducked low, twisted and slipped off the trail.

  Male. Not Chanku. Human male. More than one, very close. Anton raised his nose and sniffed the air. He scented excitement, fear and the sour sweat of unwashed human.

  Keisha’s scent was strongest, to the right.

  Pain. Anger. Fear.

  Her emotions washed over him, impossible to understand, beyond speech, beyond coherent thought. Anton veered off the main trail and, keeping his body low to the ground, raced down a narrow, bramble-filled ditch. Tufts of dark hair clung to some of the thorns. He scented blood and his hackles rose. Either she was so pissed she was ignoring the thorns, or something—someone—had hurt her.

  All thoughts of meetings, investments, humanity, evaporated. Pure wolven rage filled Anton’s heart, seared his thoughts. His lips curled back in a dark snarl, exposing sharp canines.

  Anton!

  Keisha’s mental cry, clear now, ringing true as a bell in his mind, sent ice running through his veins.

  Anton! Take care! Poachers. Armed with crossbows.

  He skidded to a halt, one foot raised, his sensitive nose finding Keisha’s scent, smelling blood along with her unique, feminine fragrance, pinpointing her location. At the same time, he reached out with his thoughts to touch Stefan and Xandi.

  The connection was instantaneous, their response immediate. Satisfied, Anton raced toward his mate. I’m coming. Are you
hurt?

  Just grazed. Stay low. Can you reach Stefan? I can’t find him.

  I’ve already contacted him. He’s on his way. He’ll bring the four-wheeler and he’s armed. Xandi’s called the sheriff. Where are the poachers?

  Near the pond. They’ve built a blind at the far end, above the beaver dam.

  Anton passed the information on to Stefan. Scanned the thick underbrush along the near edge of the pond. Keisha’s scent and the odor of fresh blood were strong, her fear and anger a palpable thing. Where are you?

  Near the birch stand. Low, in the bramble patch.

  He found her there, curled into a tight ball, her blood dripping steadily into the remnants of one last patch of crusty snow. She’d packed the shallow wound in her shoulder with ice, at least as well as she could in wolven form. Tiny crystals tinged with blood clung to the stiff whiskers along her muzzle.

  Anton inspected the wound, licked the matted fur around it, grabbed a mouthful of ice and pushed it tightly against the seeping gash. Thank goodness, it didn’t appear life threatening.

  He licked Keisha’s muzzle, wiping away the bloody snow with a careful swipe of his tongue. I should kill them. They need to die. Anton’s thought ended on a snarl of pure rage.

  No, you should have them arrested. They’re idiots. Let the law deal with them.

  Keisha’s calm statement helped slow his racing heart. Still, he growled, unwilling to concede too easily. I will, but I don’t have to like it. I’d rather kill them.

  Keisha raised her head and glowered at him through eyes shimmering with pain. Sighing, Anton nuzzled her once more and waited impatiently for Stefan to arrive with clothing for both of them…hopefully before Xandi brought the sheriff.

  This made the third set of poachers on their land this season—all of them hunting wolves.

  Naked, Keisha sat on the toilet seat lid, hunched over in pain and seething with anger while Anton cleaned the shallow gash across her left shoulder. Her body trembled, a delayed reaction to the shooting.