by Lauren Dawes
“No.”
He let her go and stepped away. “Let me make you something to eat.”
“I don’t—” Her words died when Drake prowled over to the cupboard and took out a chopping board. She glanced around at the kitchen, finding the modern stainless steel appliances and decor jarring against the overall Georgian design—just like the bathroom in her room.
“Sit,” he said, pointing to a set of stools pushed under the island bench. She couldn’t help but think they looked like dogs tucking their tails under the glare of their disapproving owner.
She didn’t sit.
She folded her arms. “If I’m going to stay here, you need to stop telling me what to do.”
Rounding on her, he snarled, “If you’re going to stay here, you’ll need to start listening to me. I told you not to leave your room.”
“You’re acting like my father—jumping at shadows that aren’t there.”
His top lip curled up into a smile. “Shadows are everywhere,” he replied. He popped open the seals on the fridge, a wall of condensed air rolling out and hitting his feet. “Sandwich? Turkey? Pasta?” He looked at her over his shoulder. “Something else?”
“I told you I’m not hungry.”
“A sandwich it is then.” He got busy pulling out some cold cuts and two tomatoes. Sliced cheese. A head of lettuce. A jar of mayo. He worked efficiently, and she had a feeling he lived like this, too. He cleaned as he worked, constructing half a dozen sandwiches and stacking them up onto a waiting plate.
“Are you trying to make me fat?”
“They’re not all for you, sweetheart,” he replied, sliding the last sandwich onto the pile. He cleared the chopping board and knife into the sink and pushed the plate toward her. She figured he wouldn’t let her go without at least eating one half of a sandwich, so she picked a half up, but didn’t bring it to her mouth. Drake kept his eyes on her as he took his own triangle.
“Eat,” he commanded.
She heaved a sigh and did as he asked, noticing he only took a bite after she had swallowed her first.
“Who was that?” she asked, propping a hip up against the counter and tilting her head back in the direction of the rec room.
“Mateo,” Drake all but hissed, darting his gaze to the doorway. She looked to see if the male had suddenly been conjured, but nobody was there.
“Another one of the Revenant?” She took another bite of her sandwich, the caloric injection much needed as she chewed and swallowed some more.
“Yeah, and I don’t want you to be alone with him again.”
“Why not? Does he not like females?”
Drake looked positively murderous. “He likes females just fine. He probably likes them a little too much. He was trying to seduce you.”
She shook her head. “I highly doubt that.”
“Don’t underestimate the power of your appeal, Neve,” he told her in a prowling growl.
She wanted to laugh. He was acting like she was a freaking supermodel and suddenly the most desirable female around. She was ashamed to say that she’d never had much contact with males other than the ones her parents had approved of. Drake was nothing like the well-bred, well-dressed, well-mannered guys she knew. They looked at her like she was valuable, but he looked at her like she was precious.
“You are precious, Neve,” he said, stunning her. Damn, he must’ve read the question on her face.
Clearing her throat, she said, “I haven’t had a lot of experience with male jaguars.”
He muttered something under his breath that sounded a hell of a lot like thank Christ for that. “Well, I have, and let me tell you that Mateo was figuring out the fastest way to undress you and have you panting. So do yourself a favor, give me a fucking break, and stay away from him.”
She nodded and got back to eating.
In the end, she ate two of the six sandwiches with Drake finishing off the rest. He cleared the plate away and planted his hands onto the counter.
“What would you like to do?”
She felt like someone had pulled her energy plug out, and she was draining quickly. Stifling a yawn with the back of her hand, she said, “Maybe just go back to my room. I thought I saw a TV mounted on the wall in there?”
“You did. I’ll come and get you at lunch time.”
She folded her arms across her chest tightly, hating how much the being watched like a hawk chaffed. “And what if I want to get a bit of exercise?” she snipped. “Stretch my legs? Do I call you? Do I ring a bell?”
His jaw tightened. “I’m not your slave. You’ll wait until I come and get you.”
23
Drake’s cat was still close to the surface of his consciousness, the animal hissing as it paced within the cage of his skull. It didn’t like seeing its mate walk away from it. It also didn’t appreciate that Mateo had touched her. Even though she’d denied it, he knew the bastard had—he could smell him on her. But what was worse than that? The fact Mateo had been fucking aroused too only made him want to cleave his head from his body and punt it across the room. He grinned sardonically. The bastard wouldn’t be able to self-heal that.
A vicious snarl bubbled up his throat, and he pushed out of the kitchen, his feet taking him in the direction of the rec room. When he stalked into the room, he clapped eyes on the guy, and a surge of protective instinct burned through him. He was suddenly deaf and blind to everything else but the male who had threatened his mate.
Mateo turned around and smiled. “Who was that sweet piece of—”
Drake didn’t let the male finish his question, choosing instead to pile-drive the bastard into the couch. He recovered first, straddling the male’s waist and raining punches down onto his face. His rage fueled him, the sound of flesh hitting flesh a soundtrack going stereo. Behind him there was a shout, and he was suddenly popped into the air—an arm like a steel band locked over his chest—and dragged off his brother.
Drake bared his fangs at whoever had stopped him, his cat spitting and hissing too.
“Drake, come on, man,” Grayson said into his ear. His voice was cool and calm, like he hadn’t just walked in to see Drake pounding the ever-loving shit out of Mateo. Thanks to Grayson’s gift, the anger and protective instincts were drained from him just as suddenly as they’d surged, leaving him blinking at Mateo’s bloodied face.
Mateo only stared at him, blood leaking from one nostril and his split lip gushing. “What the fuck, D?” he spat, rubbing the back of his hand over his mouth and looking at the bright red smear left behind.
Drake shook his head and said to Grayson, “You can let me go. I’m tight.”
“Are you sure?”
The guy was smart. He could sense the residual rage bubbling in him, but Drake was locking down his cat so he couldn’t take over. Grayson’s arms finally loosened, but he didn’t step away.
Drake rolled his shoulders and unkinked his neck. “I’m fine. Really.”
Grayson must’ve looked at Mateo for confirmation because it was only on his nod that he stepped away.
“What’s going on?” Grayson demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. “Usually it’s Jett and Mateo I’m hauling apart.”
Drake rubbed a hand over his face, suddenly wired and weary in a simultaneous jerk around of his emotions. “I think we need to have a meeting.”
Grayson bobbed his head. “I’ll take care of it.”
Drake walked over to the bar and poured himself a drink, then got one for Mateo, too. He wasn’t sorry he’d pounded the shit out of the guy for touching Neve, but he was sorry that he’d lost control.
He handed one to Mateo, holding his eye. “I apologize, my brother.”
The guy shrugged. “The cuts are already healing.” Grinning in that easy way he had, he added, “Plus, I probably deserved it.”
Drake noticed his tattoos pulsing with power, but turned around when Grayson returned with Jett and Sasha. Sasha was in her gym gear, sweat staining the front of her shirt. Her lo
ng legs were on display, thanks to the short-cut running shorts, her shoes sporting the same logo. There was color on her cheeks, her usually somber eyes brighter than normal.
Jett, on the other hand, looked like he’d been dragged through broken glass backward. His hair was disheveled, dark crescent-shaped rings under his eyes. Without looking at anyone, he made his way to the wet bar. Sasha pulled up in her usual spot, looking out at one of her gardens through the French doors.
With his drink in hand, Jett’s eyes scanned the room. “What the fuck happened to the foosball table?”
Drake cleared his throat. “I have something I need to tell you all.”
“You won’t be docking my pay to replace the foosball table?” Mateo asked, taking a sip from his glass and hissing when the liquor hit his cut.
He shook his head. “The Black Claw Leo has entrusted me to keep his only daughter safe while he and his mate take a trip over to New York.”
He wanted to stake a claim on Neve to make sure none of the others made a pass at her again, but he needed time to figure out if she felt the same way about him as he did about her. He sure knew what she was to him, but maybe she didn’t. A blood bond could only be formed if both parties were willing.
“Wait,” Mateo said, putting down his glass. “That was the Leo’s daughter?” For the first time, the male looked chagrined. “Fuck.”
“Yeah.” Drake scrubbed his knuckles over his head. “Her name’s Neve, and since these abductions have gotten all the Leos twitchy, Greg figured it was a good idea to keep her under wraps.”
“What did the Trinity say to this request?” Grayson asked, settling down onto the couch.
Drake sucked in a breath and let it out. “They don’t know.” He stared at Sasha when her head swiveled around, her gray eyes stormy. Turning back to the others, he added, “Greg came to me directly.”
Ever the realist, Grayson said, “You’re setting some kind of precedent here, D, you know that, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I know, but desperate times.” He shrugged. “Better to ask for forgiveness than permission.”
“Where is she staying?” Jett asked.
“The bedroom next to mine, and I expect you all to treat her with respect.”
A chorus of of course, yeah and one natch went up. His gaze went to Jett, who had returned to the wet bar, hanging onto it like the thing was responsible for keeping him vertical. “What about you, my man?”
Jett’s blue eyes ratcheted to Drake’s face, but he nodded. “Yeah, I also have a guest.”
“You got yourself a female?” Mateo asked with a smug smile, stretching out his legs. “It’s about fucking time.”
“Yeah,” Jett replied softly. “My sister, Katya.”
Grayson visibly stiffened as he picked up on Jett’s emotions. “Your sister?”
When Jett’s jaw tightened, Drake asked, “Want me to tell them?”
Wordlessly, Jett begged him to take the reins. The rawness of his youngest sister’s abduction was already wearing on him, and she’d been gone less than seven hours.
“This morning, Jett found out that his ten-year-old sister didn’t make it to school. And no,” he added, cutting off Mateo’s next question, “there’s nowhere else she would go.”
“And she’s only ten?” Grayson asked, disbelief coloring his words.
“Yeah. So that’s it. We have two females in the house—the Leo’s only daughter and Jett’s sister. I don’t have to tell you that both are off-limits.” He was such a hypocrite because he was already thinking about getting Neve naked and claiming her. He glanced around the room. “Am I understood?”
As a chorus of yes, boss rang out around him, he nodded.
“Right. Good. We have to start finding where these girls are going, and we need to do it fast.”
“Are there any leads?” Grayson asked.
Drake shook his head. “Besides Luce, all the girls were snatched under the cover of darkness. This last abduction is a change in MO. Whether these bastards are getting greedy or cocky, they’ve just changed the game. Daylight means potential witnesses, so I think we need to break into the school’s security feed to see if she was taken from outside the school itself.” He turned to Mateo. “Can you do that?”
“Piece of cake,” he replied with a wolfish grin, tipping the rest of his drink down his throat. Being their resident hacker and IT whizz helped on more than one occasion.
“Are the human cops involved?”
“No,” Jett replied. “I called the school to let them know Luce turned up at home, complaining of feeling unwell. That should keep them at bay for at least a few days.”
“And after that?” Mateo stood up for a refill, his split lip almost completely healed.
“If it takes us longer than twenty-four hours to find her, we’ll be cutting her survival rate in half. Another twenty-four hours, and it’ll be half again. We need to find her and all the others.”
“Do you think they’re being kept together?”
Drake swirled the vodka in his glass around a few times. “It’ll be easier to manage the operation and to keep the unit contained. Multiple sites leads to multiple opportunities for a fuck up by one of them.”
“And we have no leads at all?” Grayson asked.
“Nothing.” Drake folded his arms. “Once we get some more information, we can move. In the meantime, the Leo set up a text check-in service for the pride. Grayson, you’ll be in charge of checking the services twice a day—every twelve hours, starting at eight p.m. tonight. I’ll get you a list of names to mark off as they confirm their safety.”
“You got it, boss.”
“Jett, stay tight with Katya. You have enough shit on your plate right now. Mateo, since you’re the computer god, keep your ear to the ground and check the scanners for any chatter about missing women.” Drake glanced over at Sasha, who kept her eyes locked on the garden outside. “Make sure to keep your ear on the Trinity, too, Mateo.”
“You got it, boss.”
“Right. I’ll check in with you all later with any official updates we might get from the Trinity.”
Leaving the rec room, Drake walked up the stairs, intending to get changed and hit the gym to burn off some of that destructive energy still battering his body, but he found himself outside Neve’s room instead. Whenever he got this worked up, the only way to calm him down was a burst of endorphins. Working out or sex were his two outlets, and right now, he could only think of Neve dulling his sharp edge.
Even though it was a bad fucking idea, he raised his hand to knock, but stopped at the last moment, his fist clenching and unclenching with indecision. He sucked in a breath, his hand beginning to shake with the effort to not follow through. After an internal battle that wouldn’t have happened if Neve weren’t there, he lowered his arm slowly. With a growl in his throat, he reined in his self-control and spun away.
“Drake?”
He turned around again to find Neve standing in the doorway, a towel wrapped around her body as she rubbed another through her wet hair. He practically vibrated with need.
“Did you need something?”
His hungry gaze drifted down, mentally stripping the towel from her body. He prowled toward her, taking note of the scent of her lust as he approached. She backed up a step as he did, retreating into her room. He followed her inside, shutting the door behind him.
She came to a stop in the middle of the room, her chest heaving, loosening the towel around her breasts. He bet she was warm and soft under all that terrycloth. She may even be a little damp, right between her legs. Would she spread those perfect thighs of hers when he slid his hand down to her cleft? Her eyes darted to his mouth before heading south. He felt stripped bare by her, the scent of her lust hitting him square in the fucking chest, like she was a defib machine for his libido. He stopped when there was less than an inch between their bodies, staring down at her upturned face.
He tugged at the edge of the towel, letting it fall to the gr
ound. He watched it lick past her smooth skin before pooling on the ground at her feet. A fine tremor shook her body when he skimmed his fingers across her cheekbone, but he enjoyed her sharp inhale of breath. His gaze focused on her mouth. Would she accept him if he kissed her? Would her lips be soft and pliant? He leaned down, brushing his mouth against hers in a whisper touch.
Pulling back a little, he scanned her face for a moment before she brought her lips to his once more. The flick of her tongue over his bottom lip lit a fuse he had no hope of extinguishing. He gripped her bare waist, a possessive growl creeping up his throat as Neve melted into his touch. Skimming one hand around to the small of her back, he dipped the other down her ribs, over her waist and hips, before finally wrapping his hand around her thigh and hooking it around his waist.
She gasped when his erection prodded at her opening, and she ground against him like a cat in heat. Reaching between their bodies, he found her sex, stroking his fingers through her wet heat and making her squirm. She clutched at his back, her blunt nails digging into his shoulders. He hissed, licking down her neck and leaving her trembling against him.
He needed to be in her.
Now.
Wrapping her other leg around his waist, he picked her up and took her over to the bed. Placing her down gently, he stood back and stripped the shirt from his body. Neve’s eyes darkened, her gaze dropping to take in his bare chest. He nearly came when her pink tongue darted out and swept over her bottom lip.
Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his sweats, he drew them down his legs and kicked them away. As she stared at him, his skin began to grow hot, his cock aching and straining with need. Neve’s legs fell open a little, a subtle invitation that Drake was definitely going to be taking her up on.
He crawled up the length of her body, kissing her thighs, her hips, her stomach, between her breasts. Threading her hands through his hair, she kept him in place, writhing beneath him, trying to find that friction she wanted so badly.
“I need to be in you, Neve.”
She moaned softly, wrapping her legs around his waist, digging her heels into his lower back. “Then what are you waiting for?” she asked on a breathy moan.
