Wild: Hangman's Haunt Book 1

by Kay Elle Parker

  “What did you say?” Baylee closed her eyes.

  “That you’re special to me, to us as a group, and if he harms a hair on your head, he’ll be strung up from the nearest tree with his testicles stretched around his neck.”

  “That’s my bitch,” Baylee breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Your best bitch,” Allix chuckled. “Look, go have a good time with the mysterious stranger. I can have eyes in place if you need them. Go show him what Baylee Anderson is capable of. Knock his socks off...or maybe something more revealing.”

  Baylee blushed hard enough to feel the heat down her throat and shoulders. She turned away from Daxon to shield her embarrassment from him, but he simply set one big hand on her arm and held her firmly in place. “I’ll think about it. I love you, Allix.”

  “Love you too, bitch, now go have some sweaty fun.”

  Carefully, Baylee replaced the phone back into its charger, eyes averted from Daxon’s. The man had a strange hold on her whenever their eyes met, and she wasn’t sure she liked the effect it had on her. Brain cells disconnected from body cells, and she imagined she looked as though someone had given her a helpful bash on the head.

  “I’d be jealous if I didn’t know Allix was a woman.” That deep timbre slipped headily through her blood. “By rights, I’m not a jealous man.”

  She clenched her thighs together, fighting the surge of unfamiliar arousal. The hand on her arm seemed to burn, fusing them into one being. “Is that a promise or a warning?”

  Humor kissed his mouth. “Neither. Just stating fact. Not a jealous man but you could drive me to it. That’s powerful magic you weave, little witch.”

  Little witch, she thought and felt warmth at the endearment. No one had ever cared enough to give her a nickname or term of endearment. Nothing that stated there was another person capable of loving her—well, aside from her friends, she corrected with a guilty flush. Her friends were her world, whether they spent time with her or with their newest and sexiest boyfriends.

  They’d never forgotten her, even when they dated in double or triple pairs. She was always invited, always given the option of a really nice blind date. On the nights she needed company, she’d gone with the provision of no really nice blind dates.

  “I’m not a witch.”

  “Are you sure?” There was something...otherworldly in his voice. Soft, sinuous, compelling. A wolf in sheep’s clothing for sure, but the wolf was far too appealing. “I have a soft spot for...innocence.”

  Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Witches aren’t innocent.”

  “The good ones are. White witches, born of light, keepers of the elements, guardians of balance. They are the essence of innocence.” Somehow, he made innocence such a dirty word.

  Baylee laughed softly. “You talk about them like they’re real.”

  His smile flashed, eyes darkening with knowledge. “Aren’t they, little witch?” He stroked his hand along her arm from wrist to elbow, sending what felt like sparks skittering along her skin. “Like calls to like, Baylee.”

  Her nervous system erupted with electrical sensation, streaming through her blood like wild lightning. She gasped, yanked her arm away, but it was too late. Whatever he’d done took hold, making colors brighter and full of texture. Sounds echoed like bell gongs before humming into perfect clarity. “What the hell?”

  “You don’t even know what you are, do you?” Daxon’s head cocked curiously as he studied her face intently. “How interesting. There’s potential here, I’m just not sure what variety. What do you know of your origins?”

  “My-my origins? I was born in Hangman’s Haunt. My parents were killed in a fire when I was two. My grandparents raised me until Pops died when I was eleven, and Gran looked after me until she died ten years later. That’s my lineage.”

  His hand lifted to her face, drew her up to him. So close, his eyes were fathoms deep, sucking her in, pulling her down. “That’s your family, Baylee. DNA responsible for creating your body. I’m talking lineage, the blood running through your veins, coming from generation after generation of the unique.”

  He scared her. She knew she should feel fear but it came through muted, muffled. He talked of things she knew nothing about, things she’d been raised to believe as nonsense. But how could she deny the sparks, the connection between them? And he couldn’t be any calmer, any more serious about the subject. “Bullshit. I come from farmers and doctors and ditch diggers.”

  Daxon smoothed his thumb over her cheekbone. “Doctors or healers?”

  “They’re one and the same!” She snapped in frustration.

  “They’re really not. I’ve spooked you.”

  “No shit, Sherlock!”

  He had the good grace to look perturbed, but he wouldn’t relinquish his caress against her cheek. “I’ll apologize. I didn’t mean to start the evening this way. If I asked for forgiveness and another chance to start over, would you give me that?”

  She jerked back in surprise. She’d expected him to be arrogant, overbearing in his pursuit to feed her all this crap, but at the first sign he’d unnerved her, he’d backed right off? Never mind apologized and asked for a second chance? What man did that unless he...what? What did he want? “Why?”

  One dark eyebrow shot up. “Why?”

  “If you’ve blown it, why do you want a second chance? Honestly,” she added, and stared him in the eyes. For this conversation to continue, she needed to see honesty, even if eye-to-eye contact made her dizzy.

  Daxon blinked. Not the rapid blink-blink of someone trying to fabricate lies, just a normal bodily reaction. Then his gorgeous jungle-cat eyes held her captive. “Because I’m drawn to you as much as you are to me. I’m not phobic about long-term relationships but I don’t seek them out either. For me, commitment takes two people, and it runs its course as long as they want it to.” He stroked strong fingers over her wrists, right where the blood beat in thick, lazy pumps. Those damned sparks hissed. “That right there? Not common. Not something to be taken for granted.

  Your scent reeled me in the first time I caught it. Sweet and innocent and so potently addictive...” He growled low in his throat, a caged tiger waking from sleep. “I want you, Baylee. I’m possessive, I’m dominant, and I’ll do things to you you’ve never dreamed about, but I’d never harm you.”

  Her knees went weak. “Dominant.”

  Straight white teeth flashed in a grin. She had an insane urge to push her hand between her thighs and work frantically for the elusive orgasm she never managed to achieve on her own. This guy should be illegal, banned from all contact with any females within five hundred yards. Devastation on legs, she thought. Tall, sexy, irresistible devastation and she’d been caught in the middle of the chaos.

  “Dominant,” Daxon confirmed in a calm tone.

  “Is that...” No, Baylee corrected, don’t ask a question. Make it a statement. Let him know he can’t intimidate you into stuttering idiotic questions. “That’s why you can do this to me. Why you have a hold on me.”

  “No, baby,” he said in a soothing voice. “That’s just primal instinct on both our parts. I see what I want, I make sure I get it. You know I want you; maybe you’ll fight me, fight against yourself, but part of you wants to relinquish to me.”

  She huffed indignantly, even as her womb liquified. “Don’t mistake arrogance for sexiness.”

  “My apologies.” Dax inclined his head slightly. “I’m not used to this part of the dance, I’m afraid. Mating rituals are a little different where I come from.”

  Mating rituals? “I don’t think mating is what I had in mind.”

  His nostrils flared in an erotic way, delicately tasting the air. The look on his face became rapturous. “I think it is, little witch. At least, your body is. This beautiful, toned machine,” his hands ran down her sides, barely skimming the fabric of her dress, “is ready to open her engines and go for one hell of a run.”

  Her breasts tingled, flesh vibrating with the need to have
his hands on her, his mouth devouring her. She wanted to know what it felt like to have those sparks spread over her like a lovely blanket wherever his touch blessed her. “I’m not ready. I don’t know you.”

  Daxon nodded and sighed. “I know. It’s a moral predicament for me, I must admit. So. I’m going to be a gentleman and take you out on a date, if that’s agreeable with you, Baylee?”

  Baylee gave a small whine, barely a squeak of disappointment. How much of a slut would she be if she told Daxon she didn’t want him to be a gentleman? Humor crinkled the skin around his eyes, altered his face completely. Still focused, still appealing, but lighter and more...approachable?

  “I’d like that.”

  Daxon smirked. “May I do something first?”

  Her heart bunny-hopped into her throat, pulsed there like a hummingbird on a sugar rush. She swallowed hard, nodded her agreement, then gasped when his warm fingers wrapped loosely around her throat.

  “Shush, baby. Just relax.” Dax shifted his fingers until they covered the pulse point in her neck, smiled gently at her. His free hand moved, tucked wayward strands of her hair behind her ear to hold her cheek in his palm.

  Muscles tautened to trembling wires, energy pulsing through her. She quivered under his touch, a hormonal maiden mare being teased by the experienced stallion. “Daxon, I...”

  “Shush,” he repeated, and she closed her eyes when his lips touched the corner of her mouth. “I won’t hurt you, Baylee. Frustrate you, yes, but never hurt you.” His lips shifted to the other corner, touched and spread warmth. “With you, I’ll be gentle.”

  She found him true to his word. His mouth covered hers like a benediction, soothing and yes, gentle. His tongue traced a line of heat against the seam of her lips and she opened instinctively.

  Her hips jerked toward him, dancing on their own in search of the new and exciting. She wanted something against her there, pressure to hold her together or tear her apart.

  “Lift your dress,” he murmured against her mouth.

  Blindly, she obeyed, hiking the long sheath of material up to her waist. His whispered Clever Girl did wondrous things to her fevered brain. The lean length of his powerful thigh slipped between her legs, and he used the shelf of the counter to raise it high enough to seat her fully on him.

  Baylee opened her eyes with a startled cry as her pussy made firm contact with his leg. The heat of him surged through her wet panties and into the heart of her. She dropped the fabric clutched in her hands and grabbed his shoulders instead, nails digging into the leather of his jacket.

  “Jesus,” he hissed on a long breath. “I wish you hadn’t said you’re not ready, Baylee. God help me when you are.” He claimed her mouth again before she could reply, but her delighted moan echoed into him.

  She rocked against him, shuddering at the pleasure friction brought. Tongues thrust, clashed, warred. She sucked on his, heard—felt—the startled groan rip through him. His hands grew rough, pulling her into him, locking her against him with steel-core arms around her back.

  Her heart hammered in her chest.

  “Hey! Hey, you son of a bitch, get your hands off her!”

  Daxon broke the kiss first, much to her vocal disappointment, his eyes flicking over to the door then back to Baylee’s gaze. She could barely see him, didn’t care, too overwhelmed by desire. She wanted that mouth back, magic mouth and magic hands.

  In irritation, he scowled. “Another friend of yours?”

  “Wha?” Baylee blinked at him, cupped her hand around his head and tried valiantly to pull him back down to her.

  “Easy now,” he soothed, sliding her off his thigh and carefully adjusting her dress into position. When she staggered, he grinned at her and held her upright until she got her balance. “Catch your breath and go open the door before the little redhead breaks it down.”

  Little redhead? Baylee almost snarled. She’d been riding his leg like some demented sex-deprived slut and his attention was on a little redhead? She should slap him. No, no, punch his lights out.

  “Baylee! Baylee, are you okay?”

  “Brenna?” Baylee shifted her gaze to the door and felt heat erupt beneath her skin from forehead to toes. “Oh shit. Shit, I’m never going to live this down. How long has she been standing there?”

  Daxon shrugged. “A few moments. Your friend knows some inventive curse words. Go on, I think she’s turning the same shade as her hair.”

  He’d hit the target as he seemed prone to do. Brenna brayed her fist on the glass door, waves of fury visibly rising from her petite frame. Her teeth were bared.

  Baylee had a swift and unwelcome pang of sympathy for the man at her back. He’d stirred her up something chronic, left her skin twitchy and tight. She glanced back at him, leaning cockily against the counter with the faintest smirk on the lips that had just kissed her senseless, and wondered how he’d fare against the mighty temper of the true redhead.

  Just for the smirk, she wouldn’t warn him.

  She crossed the room on unsteady legs, fumbled with the locks. The door burst open before she could open it and Brenna stormed into the store with murder in her vibrant amber eyes. She stopped for half a second, eyed Baylee with assessing eyes, then aimed all that fury at Daxon.

  Baylee shut the door hurriedly, then made a grab for her friend, but Brenna was a fire-tipped missile on collision course with a dangerous man. “Brenna, wait!”

  “Who the fuck do you think you are, putting your grubby fucking hands all over her!” Brenna rammed her hand into Daxon’s chest, knocked him off balance. “Don’t think she’s alone just because she’s too fucking stubborn to hire someone to help in here. I’ll kick your ass, you bastard.”

  Daxon righted himself easily, held his hands out to the side in a peaceful gesture. Those cat eyes latched onto Baylee’s with amusement. “Is she always this feisty or does she tone it down?”

  “Don’t talk to her!” Brenna shoved him back a step. “You talk to me. You tell me why the fuck you had your hands all over Baylee before I start taking you apart.”

  “Whoa there, firecracker. What you saw was mutual.”

  Brenna snarled. “The fuck it was. I’ve never seen you before, Baylee’s never said a word about you, and she wouldn’t let you put your hands all over her if you’d just met. She’s a fucking virgin, for God’s sake!”

  Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. Baylee leaped forward, but too late. Too late to take back the words from Brenna’s mouth, too late to stop her future disintegrating like dust through her fingers. “Brenna!”

  Daxon moved fast, collaring Brenna’s wrists in his hands as she tried to smack him again. “Enough. You’ve embarrassed your friend, firecracker. Good job I already know she’s a virgin, otherwise she might never have lived through the humiliation of you blurting it out.”

  “You know?” Brenna and Baylee chimed together.

  He rolled his eyes, then released Brenna and walked to Baylee. He took her hand and ran his thumb over her knuckles. “I know. You have no idea how to kiss, baby. Knocked my bloody socks off, and it’s refreshing not to have a lady suck my face off, but you kissed as though it was your first one. There are tells; not one hundred percent efficient, of course, but you hit some of the warning signs.”

  Disappoint and hurt hit her hard in the belly. “You knew. You knew? So all this was...what? Ridicule me, lure me in and spit me out?”

  Brenna made a savage hissing sound and curled her hands into claws. Baylee knew in her heart, her friend would defend her honor to the end, and make a mess of Daxon in the process.

  “No. Baylee, no. I wanted to kiss you so I did. The plan was to take you for a walk through the park, maybe go over to the lake for the afternoon. I walked to the restaurant a block away and made a reservation for seven-thirty.”

  Baylee’s bottom lip quivered; Daxon stroked a fingertip over it. He’d tried to make an effort. Even when she’d thought the worst and decided he just wanted a quick fuck, he hadn’t. He’d taken th
e step toward their first date.

  Brenna cleared her throat. “You made reservations at The Crosstie?”

  Daxon sighed. “Yes. It still stands, if we haven’t all cocked this up and turned it from something quite lovely into a clusterfuck.” He kissed Baylee’s knuckles. “I’ll go, for now. Talk to Brenna, sort this out between you.” He set a business card on the counter top. “If you still want to try for that first date when you’re done, give me a call and I’ll come back and pick you up. Deal?”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered brokenly.

  Daxon gathered her into him and pressed his mouth to her ear. “Don’t be. I’m not. First kisses are special, Baylee. Firsts are imperative, they make us who we are from the start. I’m happy I was your first kiss.” He kissed her again, short and sweet, before nodding at Brenna and stalking out of the store.

  Brenna blew out a long breath. “I really blew that for you, didn’t I?”

  Baylee staggered, sat hurriedly on the chair behind the counter. Shell-shocked, she simply stared at her friend. “Yeah, pretty much. I don’t know whether to kill you or thank you.”

  “That intense, huh?”

  Baylee just covered her face with her hands and expelled a short, sharp breath. “Intense is too mild a word. It’s like saying jalapeños are warm.”

  “You managed to keep him quiet; I didn’t think you had it in you to be this sneaky. When did you meet him?” Excited, Brenna clapped her hands together. “A secret romance! It can’t have been going on too long if your first kiss was only today, but Bay, you’re a bad girl for keeping him on the lowdown!”

  Shit meet fan, Baylee thought wearily. “I met him today. Not even two hours ago.”

  “Bay...” Shocked, Brenna turned huge eyes on her. “Two hours and you were letting him do that to you?”

  Oh, come on, all they’d done was kiss. Baylee knew for a fact all three of her friends did quite a bit more than just kiss a guy when they all went into Helena on girls’ nights out. “We were just kissing!”