Lover Beware

by Christine Feehan

  “My Explorer is this way.” He set off to the left.

  She thought of pointing out that her car was the other direction, decided it wasn’t worth arguing over. “Don’t grab my arm again.”

  “What?” His head swiveled. “Oh. Your gun. You want your right hand free. Sorry—I didn’t think of that.”

  “What’s the thing with your eyes?”

  His voice was clipped. “I needed to Change.”

  “Ah…are you okay now?”

  He didn’t answer. That worried her.

  They’d reached the corner. The light was red and a car was coming, so she stopped. So did he. The drizzle was heavier now. Lily’s clothes were damp, her face and hands wet, but the rain was warm and made her feel clean and private, alone with him on the street.

  As soon as the car passed they stepped together into a shiny-wet street—without a word, both of them moving at the same instant.

  Weird. Lily asked, “Is it because the moon is nearly full?”

  “He was threatening you.”

  “Biff is a bully and an asshole, but I had things under control. Until you played macho man and your eyes went spooky.”

  “It excited him to force himself on you. You couldn’t smell his reaction the way I could, but you must have known he enjoyed making you uncomfortable. A man who gets off on intimidating a woman in public is likely to do worse in private.”

  Lily wanted to understand. She wanted that with an urgency that strummed along her nerves like adrenaline, turning her skin sensitive, as if she could feel each tiny, separate drop of mist that fell on her. But there were so many pieces to him. Pieces that didn’t fit any pattern she knew.

  Inhuman pieces. “So,” she said, trying to sound casual, “this need to Change—that’s part of those protective instincts of yours? When you feel that a woman is in danger, you—”

  He stopped dead, grabbed her shoulders, and said fiercely, “It was you he threatened, Lily. Not some woman. You.” And he crushed his mouth down on hers.

  Chapter 9

  LILY’S MIND WENT blank. Unwilled, her hand lifted to his cheek and found it smooth, damp, and warm. Her head tipped back. Her mouth opened to his.

  His taste was like nothing she’d ever imagined—subtle, layered, clean as the wind. And necessary. She burrowed into him, the feel of his body a shock of pleasure against hers. Baffled by pleasure, buffeted by quick slaps of need, she lost her grip on herself. The sound she made held both protest and discovery.

  He tore his mouth away. “Sweet Mother.” He wrapped his arms around her, tight, and leaned his head atop hers. “Give me a minute. I need a minute.”

  So did she. Her heart galloped madly in her chest. If she let him go—if she couldn’t touch him, feel his skin, smell his breath—something inside her would rip open. “What have you done?” she gasped. “What did you just do to me?”

  His body was hard with need, but his hand on her hair was infinitely gentle. She lifted her head. He was smiling with such sweetness her breath caught.

  He started to speak—then his body, already taut, quivered. His smile evaporated. “They’re coming. Half a block behind us.”

  She’d heard nothing and, in the rain-muffled night, saw no one. But instantly she knew what he meant. Biff and his buddies had followed them. “Your car?”

  “The end of the block.”

  They ran, splashing in shallow puddles. But he jerked to a stop fifteen feet short of an alley and pushed her against the wet brick of the nearest wall, putting himself in front.

  Two men emerged from the alley.

  “No!” She shoved her way out from behind him, reaching for her weapon. “Let me handle this,” she said quickly, her voice low. “We don’t need a massacre here.”

  There was no more time to argue, to reason. Fear coated her mouth as she sighted on the chest of the nearest man, a blond guy with a droopy mustache. He held a knife in his right hand, point up like he knew how to use it.

  “Police!” she shouted. “Stop right there!”

  He did. The man beside him—tall, skinny, with dirty black hair to his shoulders—didn’t stop until she swung the gun barrel toward him.

  “Dammit, Biff, you didn’t say she had a gun!”

  “She’s a cop, asshole!”

  That was Biff’s voice, from her right. He and two more men emerged at a run from the veils of rain. Biff had a metal baseball bat. One of the others held the ragged top of a beer bottle. Lily swung her gun that way. They stopped—and the two on the left surged forward.

  Rule made a sound low in his throat. “Stay back.”

  His voice sounded funny—soft and growly. Lily wanted to look, to see what was happening with him. She didn’t dare take her eyes off the men. Very low, she said, “You watch the ones on your side, let me know if they budge.”

  His whisper barely reached her. “They aren’t moving. Yet.”

  She recognized the ones with Biff. They’d been at the bar. The other two hadn’t. Where had they come from so fast? “Any of you idiots done time before? Assaulting an officer, that will get you three to five years’ hard time. That’s if I don’t shoot you,” she added casually.

  It almost worked. One of them muttered, another took a step back.

  Then two more men came running up from the right—a Hispanic man with a knife, and a second Biff. Same little head, bland features, and outsized body. Except this one’s cap was blue, and he was holding a tire iron instead of a baseball bat.

  Twin Biffs? Sometimes, Lily thought, God had a lousy sense of humor.

  The first Biff grinned a mean, gloating grin. “Hey, bro. Knew you wouldn’t want to miss the fun.”

  “Sent Pete and Baker to flank them, didn’t I? Needed to get my iron.” The second Biff slapped it against his palm. “Gonna see if a were’s brains look all pink and gray like a real person’s.”

  “Were bitch,” one of them spat.

  Lily was intensely aware of Rule beside her, fairly vibrating with needs she didn’t understand but could feel shimmering out from him the way heat radiates from hot concrete. He was very, very angry.

  She reached out without looking and touched him lightly, hoping he could hold on a little longer. Wondering just how stupid you had to be to push a lupus prince to the edge of control. “If all of you scatter real quick, I won’t charge you with assaulting an officer. Or shoot you. Lots of paperwork for me either way.”

  “Hell, we aren’t going to mess with you,” Biff said, that mean grin fixed tight to his face. He swung the bat back and forth. “All you have to do is walk away.”

  Oh, yeah, they’d like it fine if she and Rule separated. She shook her head. “You don’t understand about the paperwork. If you make a move, Turner here is going to smear pieces of the lot of you all over the street. You would not believe how many reports I have to fill out about that sort of thing.”

  The second Biff gave an ugly laugh. “Seven of us, two of you. The odds work for me.” Some of the others yelled agreement or insults involving weres, were-lovers, and how they ought to all be exterminated.

  They were working themselves up. They were almost ready to move. She could see it in the way they stood, the restless movements of their feet and hands. If they attacked, there would be a bloodbath. “Well, now, I guess you don’t read the papers? Or maybe you don’t have a good picture of what a lupus can do. Me, I’ve seen what’s left afterwards. This one guy had a knife. The lupus bit his hand off, knife and all, and spat it out. Then he took off the guy’s face. Then he killed him.”

  “We’ve read about the killings!” one of the men on Rule’s side shouted. “Lousy, filthy weres. We take this one out, we ought to get a medal.”

  “That’s right,” her second admirer from the bar said loudly. “And taking out a were’s whore, that ought to be worth a couple of beers.”

  “I’m a cop,” she said patiently over the jeering laughter while her stomach tied itself in queasy knots. “You really think you can beat me
up, maybe kill me, and the other cops are going to say, ‘Oh, well, I guess she had it coming’? You can’t be that dumb. They’ll take this neighborhood apart to find you, not because they give a shit about me personally. Because no one is allowed to make war on cops.”

  That worried them, but it didn’t convince them. She sighed. “Rule, I think they need to see to believe. Maybe you could show them how fast you can move.”

  “If I move, I’m going to kill someone.” His voice was really rough now and hoarse, close to a beast’s growl. “I want to kill them.”

  “Jesus,” someone whispered. Then the Hispanic one said,

  “This is stupid. This is just stupid. No one said anything about killing or getting killed.”

  Biff sneered. “You chickening out, Bobby? Fine, you go on home, let the little woman tuck you up safe in bed.”

  Bobby muttered something under his breath and turned to walk away. Another man hesitated, then hurried after him.

  “Hey! The rest of you gonna turn chickenshit, too?” Biff Number Two cried out. “I came to kick some butt, clean this city of at least one were-slime. You with me, Pete? Baker? Let’s get with the program!” He smacked the tire iron against his palm again and started forward. Two others followed.

  Lily took aim. Her head was clear, but her heartbeat was going crazy.

  Across the street, a woman shrieked once. Twice. Lily didn’t take her attention away from the men for a second, but they looked.

  “She went back inside,” Rule growled. “She’ll call the cops. Some of your colleagues will be here soon, Lily.”

  Lily held her pistol out with both arms, one hand steadying the other. Aiming ostentatiously straight at Biff Two. “But we’ve still got a few minutes before they show up. You guys want me to fill out all those lousy forms, come on. Take another step.”

  “Hell.” The one with the beer bottle threw it into the street, where it smashed. “I’m out of here.”

  Two more of them left, tossing out insults to make themselves feel less as if they’d lost the battle. Only Biff One and Biff Two remained, but Biff Two was furious. His brother grabbed his arm, said something low and angry to him. Biff Two shrugged free and spat at them. The spittle landed well short of her feet.

  A siren sounded in the distance. That was all it took. The twins ran off.

  Lily needed to holster her gun, but her hands were shaking and her arms felt like noodles. It took her two tries. Then at last she was free to turn to Rule. His eyes held darkness, corner to corner. Tension drew grooves along his face. “You all right?” she asked.

  “No. Do you think that really is your colleagues on the way?”

  “We try for fast response time, but I doubt it. I’d just as soon not wait around and find out, though. I wasn’t entirely joking about the paperwork.”

  “Weren’t you?” A small smile ghosted across his face. “Let’s go.”

  They made it the last half-block to his Explorer without anything happening, and in complete silence. He unlocked both doors, locking them again as soon as they were in, and started the engine. Then he crossed his arms on the steering wheel, leaned his head on them, and shook.

  Lily didn’t mistake his reaction for fear. Whatever had been happening to him, he’d fought it and fought hard. There was a price to be paid for that. She unclicked her seat belt and slid over and put her arms around him.

  The shakes stopped. He went very still. Then, in one of those too-fast-to-see movements, he had his arms around her, pressing her up against him as if he needed to soak her up. He ran his hands over her sides, her back. His breath was harsh against her hair. “One heck of a meeting spot you picked for us.”

  “Sorry about that.” Sensation chased itself over her skin like thousands of tiny shivers. Everywhere he touched came alive, and there was a tugging down low in her stomach, a pulsing beneath. “God.” She clamped her hand on his arm as if gripping an anchor in a high wind. “I was so scared.”

  “You didn’t sound it. You sounded tough. And bored, as if you did that sort of thing twice a day.” He rubbed his face against her hair “But I could smell your fear. I wouldn’t have let them hurt you, Lily. They would never have touched you.”

  “I know. I was scared you were going to kill people. And that I’d have to.” Her voice hitched. She turned her face into the living cubbyhole formed by his neck and shoulder and breathed him in. Her insides seemed to be vibrating. She needed more. More touch, more skin, more connection. “I’ve never killed anyone. I’ve drawn my weapon, fired warning shots, but I’ve never had to aim to kill.”

  “Warning shots weren’t going to work with them. But you handled it. You talked them down. Lily. I’m coming apart.” He nuzzled the side of her neck, then licked it.

  A delicious tremor shimmered through her. The air was suddenly hot. Her fingers dug into hard muscle covered by cloth, and she wanted the cloth gone. He could smell her reaction, she realized. He knew how desperate she was for him. “What is this? I feel like I’m rattling at top speed over bumpy ground. Like everything’s about to shake loose. Is it you? Are you doing this, or is it me?”

  “It’s us.” He gathered her face in his two hands and tipped it toward him. His eyes shone in the dim light. Normal eyes once more, or so close to it she couldn’t tell the difference.

  “Us, Lily. This is what we bring to each other. I need you.”

  She stared at him in a vast, humming silence, her skin and bones and need a thin bridge stretching between one moment and the next, when everything would change.

  “There’s a hotel.” His hand trembled as he brushed her hair back. “Six or seven blocks from here. It isn’t what I want for you, for our first time together, but I don’t know if I could make it to my apartment, or yours.”

  He needed her. “Yes,” she said. And her voice came out clear and strong, just as if she knew what she was doing.

  LILY WOULD HAVE insisted on driving if she’d been sure she was in better shape than Rule. They were lucky the traffic was so light.

  They rode in silence. She kept waiting for doubts to surface, for common sense to point out all the reasons this was a bad idea. What did sex really mean to Rule? She didn’t know, couldn’t guess. She wasn’t sure what this meant to her, either. Though she tried to persuade herself her hunger was fueled by reaction, the aftereffects of adrenaline and danger, her decision felt vast. Like she was taking a leap off a crumbling edge, straight out into darkness.

  Yet for all those seven blocks, and the minutes she waited in the hotel lobby while Rule procured a key, the urgency thrummed in her and the doubts never spoke. She wanted this, wanted Rule with a ruthless clarity that didn’t shut down thought. Just dismissed it.

  The hotel was about ten bucks a night above seedy, but the elevator worked, their room seemed clean, and the door locked. Other than that, Lily only gathered a quick impression of orange—a tangerine bedspread, faded peach wallpaper, a bad print of a New England autumn scene hanging above the bed. Then she was in Rule’s arms.

  “I want to make this right,” he said, nuzzling her hair. “Ah, you smell so good. I wish you could know…” He put his hands on her shoulders, slipped her jacket off, letting it fall to the floor, and kissed her.

  The urgency remained, the pleasure and the sense of having opened a door on a vast unknown. But something new lapped over her. From his mouth she absorbed the knowledge of his delight, a wordless rejoicing. His hands stroked with slow intimacy over her back, her hips, telling her they were alone now, and they had time. All the time they needed.

  Still her fingers trembled as she found the buttons of his shirt and, one by one, undid them. She ran her hands up his chest to his neck, leaning back slightly so she could see his face—the heavy-lidded eyes, the smile on his beautiful mouth. And she touched his hair, ran her fingers through it, testing the weight, the curl. Such freedom, to touch as she wished.

  He glanced down at her shoulder holster, his expression wry. “Would you mind taking
care of that yourself? I don’t like guns.”

  That made her laugh, and laughter made her fingers less clumsy, so she was able to unfasten the buckle and lay her weapon in its holster on the bedside table. Rule came up behind her then and put his arms around her waist, pulling her to him. He’d slid off his shirt while she took care of her weapon, and she felt the heat of his skin through the linen of her shirt. The hard length of him nestled against the small of her back.

  Her breath caught. He bent and grazed his teeth along the cord of her neck. A shock of pleasure vibrated through her and wrecked her breathing. He ran his hands over her body slowly, luxuriously, breasts to stomach, pubic mound, thighs—and her vision hazed.

  He unfastened her shorts and pushed them down. She stepped out of them and would have turned around, but he clasped her to him, her back to his front, and carefully unbuttoned her top. Undid the catch on her bra, and removed it. And eased her panties down.

  Then she turned and reached for his belt buckle. Her hands weren’t steady. Neither was his breathing. The heat in his eyes made her fingers fumble, because she couldn’t look away.

  When he was as naked as she was, he said, “I don’t think I can go slow. I want to. I want to spend hours on your body, but I can’t. Not this time.”

  “Thank God.” And she looped her arms around his neck, bringing their bodies together. They touched, skin to skin, and the world changed.

  He lifted her, tumbling her onto the bed and following her down. She wrapped herself around him, trying to touch all of him at once while he tried to kiss her everywhere. His hand snaked down between her legs, where he stroked the slick folds. Her stomach went hollow. The muscles at the tops of her thighs clenched and quivered, a kinetic percussion with her heart pounding out the accompaniment.

  She dug her fingers into his waist. Hurry. He slid up her body. Instinctively, her legs opened and the head of his penis teased her inner folds…the soft, silky, bare head of his penis.