by J. D. Tyler
“Jesus,” Aric bitched. “We’ll be right outside. Come on, man, give me a break.”
His boss hesitated, then reluctantly gave his assent. “I’m not picking up on anything, but don’t be long.”
“Sure.” Taking a last draw on his beer, he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the exit. As they stepped onto the wooden porch that ran along the front, he sucked in a lungful of crisp night air. “God, it’s good to get out of there. The noise and smoke were getting to me.”
“I feel like a sixteen-year-old running off to make out.”
“Is that what we’re going to do?” he asked hopefully.
His “date” giggled. “Oh, if you’re lucky.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Outside was quiet, the thump-thump of the country music muffled, thank Christ. There were no bar patrons hanging around, just the normal trickle of one or two coming and going at a time. Aric led her to the corner of the building opposite the parking lot, the side that faced the trees, and pulled her into the darkness, out of sight. Opening his wolf’s senses, he inhaled deeply. There were no smells other than the normal ones, earth and foliage and the regular nocturnal animals.
“What are you doing?”
“Making sure we don’t get surprised this time.” Pushing her back against the side of the building, he grinned and cupped her face. “I don’t plan on being interrupted.”
Before she could voice a protest, he crushed his mouth to hers. Licked inside to play with her tongue, loving her sweetness. Tequila and something else potent that was all Rowan. Skimming his palms south, he found the edge of her red crop top and journeyed underneath, finding the lush twin mounds he’d been dying to squeeze all day.
She moaned, arching into his touch, giving him permission to keep going. Her bra was some lacy thing, sort of sheer, and he had fun plucking her nipples through the material, teasing them to taut peaks. Then his fingers found the button of her jeans, making short work of that and the zipper.
His hand slipped inside her panties, sought her silky curls. Brushed through them to find that warm place between her thighs and rub her clit, spreading the moisture.
“Aric…” Her voice was breathy. Growing more excited.
“Let’s get these jeans out of the way so I can make you feel really good, baby.” Grabbing the waistband, he shucked them down along with her panties, leaving them at her calves. Then he spun her to face the building. “Hands on the wall, spread your feet out more.”
“Aric, we could get arrested for indecent exposure,” she breathed. But she assumed the position.
“Nick will bail us out.” Smoothing his palms over her hips and the round globes of her plump ass, he licked his lips. “Spread a little more. There’s a good girl. Tell me what you want, honey.”
“I—I want you to fuck me.” She poked her ass back, inviting him.
“How do you want it? Tell me.” With his right hand, he skimmed under the curve of her ass. Took two fingers and parted her folds, and rubbed the slit. Then worked inside to fuck her channel, drive her crazy.
“H-hard and fast. Fuck me like you mean it!”
His wolf rumbled in approval. Anticipation. His canines dropped and his heart sped up as he quickly freed his dripping cock. Brought the head to her entrance and began to push into the velvet heat.
“Shit, yes. You’re so hot and tight, baby. You just brace yourself, ’cause I’m gonna give you a ride to remember.”
“Do it.”
She begged so pretty, he almost came from that, and from the sight of his woman spread for him. Wet and ready for his cock. “Mine.”
“Yours! Oh, yes… all the way, I need you in me!”
He thrust to the hilt and stilled for a few seconds, gripping her waist. The need to bite her, claim his mate, was never stronger than at that moment. It took all his willpower not to succumb to the blinding, tearing need to bond. To make her his for always.
But he controlled it, barely, and began to take her in unhurried but powerful strokes. The slap of their slick skin drove him crazy, and her channel clasping, squeezing his rod sent him to the edge in minutes.
“I’m not going to last,” he warned her.
“Me, either. Please, do me hard!”
He increased the tempo some, but mostly the force, putting even more strength behind the strokes. Enough to send them both into ecstasy, but not enough to harm her.
Her orgasm hit suddenly and she cried out, undulating on his cock, milking him. His own release was explosive and he came endlessly, hard and deep. Just like she’d wanted.
All too soon they were spent and he pulled out carefully, placing a gentle kiss between her shoulder blades. “Thank you, sweetheart. You were incredible.”
“So were you.” Turning, she gave him a blazing kiss. When he pulled back, he couldn’t help but stare, awed by her beauty. And right then, the truth hit him like a bolt—he wasn’t just losing his life by not claiming Rowan.
He was losing a special woman, one who would’ve made him the happiest bastard alive.
If only things had been different.
Twelve
Rowan was sitting by Micah’s bed, holding his hand and reading aloud to him from Jim Butcher’s latest book about PI wizard Harry Dresden’s adventures, when it happened.
“Hey, Ro,” a voice croaked.
The book fell from her nerveless fingers and she raised her eyes, looking straight into Micah’s. “Oh, my God! You—you’re awake! You’re back!”
“I’m back? Where’d I go?” He smiled tiredly, looking more than a little confused.
“You were hurt,” she answered carefully. “Don’t you remember?”
His handsome face scrunched, the scar tissue from the burn pulling on the left side as he thought hard. Thankfully he hadn’t noticed it yet, but he would. She wasn’t looking forward to his reaction.
“I… We were sent out—wait, where am I?”
“At the Alpha Pack compound. You’re safe, sweetie. Nick and the others rescued you.”
“From where? Who’s Nick?” He began to appear alarmed. “You know about Alpha Pack?”
Sensing his mounting anxiety, she stroked his hair. “One thing at a time, honey. Yes, I know about your team and what you guys do. How you eliminate rogue demons and different kinds of creatures, all of it. You can guess how fun that was for a nonbeliever like me.” The humor was lost on him.
He took a long moment to digest this, studying his lap. When he finally looked at her again, his expression was one of quiet dread. He spoke with difficulty, his voice raspy from disuse. “We were sent to an abandoned building, to rescue some hostages from vampires, I think. Then it’s just a blank. Where’s Terry? Is everyone okay?”
Her heart turned over, aching for his loss. “From what I was told, that op was a setup and you were all ambushed. Sweetie, Terry and some of the other guys are most likely dead. I’m so sorry.”
“I— What? That doesn’t make sense. How… Oh, God.” He sank into the pillows, seeming so young and vulnerable. Nothing like the tough warrior she knew him to be. He was scared and he had no idea what was going on. She let him process it all.
He went on. “Who is Nick?” he repeated.
“Nick Westfall. He’s your new commander. Everyone really respects him and from what I gather, he’s fit right in very well in the time he’s been here.”
“How much time? I mean, he couldn’t have replaced Terry in just a few days.”
“Micah, the ambush was more than six months ago,” she said softly.
“But… where have I been? What happened to me?”
Her brother honestly didn’t remember. Christ help them all, how were they supposed to get him healed with him blocking the whole thing? But his mind slamming the door on the horror was likely the only reason he was awake and communicative now.
“You were held in several different buildings, labs where this guy Orson Chappell, CEO of NewLife Technology, and his band of merry lunatics are doing exper
iments on shifters and humans, merging their DNA. Does any of this ring a bell?”
He thought for a time, shook his head. “No.” His brown eyes were shadowed, though, and she wondered whether his brain was struggling to keep the events suppressed.
With a sigh, she gave him the rundown of events over the past few months, without going into details about what was done to his body by those insane bastards. It might do more harm than good to tell him what he’d suffered before he was ready to hear it. She’d have to talk to the doctors. When she was finished, he lay there exhausted. Thinking, she could tell.
“So, since I survived, Terry and the others might still be alive somewhere, waiting for rescue,” he said hopefully.
“Maybe, but nobody knows. I’m not sure whether it’s cruel to hope that’s true or not.”
Licking his lips, he glanced at the plastic pitcher and cup on the nightstand. “Can I have some water?”
“Sure.” She patted his arm. “Be right back.”
Taking the pitcher, she found Noah leaning over a counter looking at a chart. “Good news—Micah’s awake.”
He turned with a bright smile. “That’s great! I’ll get him some water and then let the doctors know. Give me a minute.”
“Thanks.”
She went back to her brother’s room to wait. Neither of them spoke until Noah walked in carrying the pitcher.
“Here you go,” he said cheerfully. “Micah, it’s good to see you awake! We’ve all been worried, but you’re on the road to recovery. You’re going to be fine. Don’t worry.”
“Thanks,” he said hoarsely, trying to return a small smile. But the skin on his cheek pulled again, making the effort lopsided. “How are you, kid?”
“I’m good. Just small sips, okay?”
The nurse poured a half cup of water and placed a straw in it, then held it out while Rowan helped her brother sit up. He took more than he was told, faster than he should, and Noah removed the straw, placing the cup on the counter.
“Don’t guzzle it or you’ll get sick,” the nurse warned.
Nodding, Micah reached up to wipe his mouth. His fingers grazed the left corner where the puckered skin began, and Rowan held her breath. Frowning, he let the pads of his fingers explore his cheek, over the rough terrain to the bridge of his nose. Then down where it curved under his jaw. She and Noah shot each other a worried look.
“What the hell is wrong with my face?” he asked, panic creeping into his voice, eyes wide. “What is this?”
Rowan cleared her throat. “You were injured. There’s a scar, but it doesn’t look too bad.”
“I want a mirror.”
“I think we should wait—”
“There’s no we. It’s my face and I want a damned mirror!”
Rowan gave Noah a desperate look, and he stammered, “I—I’ll get one. And I’ll see what’s keeping Dr. Grant and Dr. Mallory.”
Hurry. Her brother was becoming more agitated, hands fisting in the sheets, glancing around the room, eyes a little wild. She couldn’t handle a repeat of when he’d leapt off the bed and attempted to tear out her throat. He didn’t even remember doing it, which was scary.
“Micah, calm down. Please. You don’t want the doctors to be forced to give you a sedative again, do you?”
“I don’t want to sleep. I just want to know what’s wrong with me.”
But he kept picking at the sheets, at the tape on his hand holding the IV in place. Feeling his scar. After what seemed an eternity, but was probably only a couple of minutes, Mac and Melina walked in, trailed by Noah. All were wearing neutral expressions. Mac was carrying a handheld mirror, the large round type one might find in a beauty shop—or a hospital, when a patient wants to look at an injury.
Mac moved to her brother’s bedside and gave him a broad, genuine smile. “It’s so good to see you awake. Do you know who I am?”
Rowan knew she was testing how “awake” and “present” he really was, checking for areas of concern.
“Of course I do.” He tried again to smile, but couldn’t quite manage it. “How are you, Mac? Pretty as ever, I see.”
She laughed. “Always the charmer. How long have you been awake?”
He looked to Rowan uncertainly, so she answered. “No more than ten minutes.”
“Ah.” Mac gestured to Melina. “Well, before we do anything else, Dr. Mallory and Noah are going to check your vitals, make sure you’re still physically doing well. Then we’ll get to the other stuff, all right?”
“Sure.”
“Micah, it’s good to see you back in the land of the living,” Melina said kindly.
“Thanks. Hey, you cut off your long hair.”
Melina’s smile was strained. “I did. It just got in the way, so I went into town one day and had it whacked off.”
“When we find Terry, he’ll want you to grow it back,” Micah said softly. “He loves it long.”
Everyone fell silent for a moment. Rowan knew he was just trying to offer hope in his own way, and apparently from her expression Melina did, too.
“I know. Thank you.” She got down to business. “Okay, just relax.”
Rowan moved into a corner by the window, out of the way, and watched. Noah took Micah’s blood pressure as Melina shone a light into his eyes, checking the dilation of his pupils. Then she had him squeeze her fingers and checked some other reflexes.
“What’s your full name and birth date?”
“Micah Lee Chase. October 4, 1979.”
They went through some other simple questions, like when he’d joined Alpha Pack, what his job entailed, who was president of the United States. He answered them all with no more than the normal thoughtful pause in between, passing with flying colors. Until Melina addressed the most recent events.
“Micah, do you remember your rescue, or anything since you were brought here?”
“I… No, it’s all a blank.” His brows furrowed. “Was I ever awake? I must’ve been, or why would you ask?”
“You awoke several times, but you weren’t yourself.” Melina paused, but obviously decided not to mince words. “The first time, you shifted into your wolf form, leapt out of the bed and attacked your sister.”
“What?” He glanced at Rowan, and the rest of them, stunned. “I would never hurt Ro!”
“Like I said, it wasn’t really you,” the doctor replied gently. Despite her rigid demeanor, Rowan noted she did have a soft heart when it came to her patients. “You were hurt, in pain and traumatized, and your wolf was only protecting himself and you from further injury.”
“I went nuts is what you’re saying.” Collapsing back, he stared at the ceiling. “I attacked my own sister. This is so fucked up.”
Melina pulled up a chair and sat. “Micah, you’re going to get better, and we’re going to help you. But first we need to know what you remember from the time you were taken up until your rescue.”
Again, he appeared to try hard to remember. His frustration was evident as he sighed and buried a hand in his hair. “Not a damned thing. It’s all a blank, like one minute I was with the Pack and we were about to hit the building where some vampires were holding hostages, and the next I wake up and Ro is here—six months later? And half of us are maybe dead? God.”
Melina appeared shaken. Understandable when one of the men believed dead was her mate. “Yes, and I’m sorry. More than you know. But right now our priority is to get you healed, inside and out.”
“I want to see my face,” he demanded stubbornly.
After hesitating, Melina agreed. “Okay. Dr. Grant.”
Mac handed him the mirror. He took it with the hand not encumbered by the IV and heaved a deep breath. Lifted it and stared for endless moments at his reflection. Then slowly his hand began to tremble. And then shake until his fingers lost their grip and the mirror landed in his lap. Mac retrieved it and gave it over to Noah, who hovered anxiously.
“I’m a freak,” he whispered. “I’m a goddamned fugly son of a bit
ch.”
“No! You’re not. You’re still handsome and—”
“Why? Why would anybody do that to me?”
The explosion Rowan feared didn’t come, but the quiet anguish was worse somehow. His chin dipped to his chest and his shoulders started to shake. She hurried forward, nudging Mac aside, gathering her brother in her arms. “I don’t know why anyone would hurt such a wonderful, beautiful man as you,” she choked out. “I wish I could kill them all for you.”
He clung to her as he’d done when they were kids, wrapped his arms around her and hung on. She hated what he’d been through, how thin he’d become. His tears soaked the front of her T-shirt.
“How did it happen? What did they do to me, Ro?”
“Sweetie, I don’t think—”
“Tell me.”
She cast a look at Melina on the other side of the bed, silently begging for help with the subject. Melina gave a quick nod, indicating that she’d take over. Rowan eased back from Micah and he gave the doctor his attention, wiping his eyes.
“The damage to your face, and the fact that the skin scarred the way it did, suggests your captors poured hot silver on you.”
“So it’s going to stay this way?” he asked with a catch in his voice.
“I’d say it’s highly probable, yes. There is a chance that with our advances in healing various types of shifters something could eventually be done, but it’s beyond our capabilities at this time.”
“What else?”
“What do you mean?”
“What else did they do to me? I want to know everything.”
“We don’t know everything your body was physically put through, and we may never know. Even if your memory returns, you might not be clear on certain things. We have ascertained that you were tortured, extensively. There were also incisions to your torso and groin, indicative of experimentation. What this group hopes to gain is to create a breed of super-shifters.”
“Ro filled me in on this Orson Chappell guy and his operation, and that there’s a Seelie prince living here now whose father is probably this guy’s boss.”
“That’s right.”
There was a heavy silence before her brother spoke again, bitterness creeping in. “Finish. I know there’s something else you’re chewing on.”
