He said it so simply, she couldn’t do anything but believe him. And, damn him, he piqued her curiosity. “Does this mean I’m your bitch now?”
“My bitch?” He looked genuinely surprised. “No. My lover, most definitely. Anything else...we can discuss that later, if you would like to. I have a dominant nature, Baylee, but that doesn’t mean I’ll force you to be my submissive. Even if you have the potential to be a fine one.”
Baylee preened a little. It pleased her immensely to think he might want her on all levels. She lifted her hips a fraction, sank back down. Over and over again, gaining a little speed, building momentum.
Her eyes roamed over his physique, the carving of muscles, flesh honed into rock. Definition in his arms and shoulders into his chest. She fought the urge to lick every delectable plane, starting with his nipples. She eyed them wickedly, wondering if he could experience the same pleasure she did through them.
Beneath her, his pelvis rose to meet her downward drives, spearing the rigid length of his erection into the heart of her, urging the digit in her ass deeper. Twinges of climax zipped through her system, making her lower body work harder, straining for the full finale.
A single spark flickered in front of her eyes, divided, multiplied into a glorious thing of release. “Can you see them?” she panted, reaching a hand toward the rapidly-growing cluster. “Dax, can you see them?”
“I only see you,” he growled, each word an individual effort.
What were they? She’d never seen them until she’d met Daxon. Were they a manifestation of her feelings for him or simply a product of what they created together? How could they go from swarming over her skin like pulses of electricity to frolicking in the air of their own accord?
Multiply, multiply, multiply. As rapidly as the sparks divided from one into thousands, her body responded just as quickly, scaling the walls of orgasm until she reached the top. Everything tightened, focused on that rapturous moment.
“Now, Baylee. Come for me right now.”
He brought his hand between them, found her clit standing proudly erect and stroked her lightly. She shattered, the pieces tumbling over the precipice into a freefall, crying out in wonder. She quivered, absorbing the heat of Daxon’s own powerful release, managing a tiny smile as his low, pained rumble eclipsed the last notes of her orgasm.
Baylee dozed for a while, her head on his shoulder, lulled by his heartbeat against her breast and the way his hard panting eased into quiet breaths. His hands ran up and down her spine languidly, almost as though he needed to feel their connection through just that touch. God knew she did; she’d come to rely on his caresses, his reassurances and the Daxon brand of comfort.
After a long few minutes, Daxon sighed and stirred beneath her. “I’d best get you home and tucked up into bed.” He cupped her head, drew it back so he could study her face. A smile tugged at his mouth, cocky and smug. “Looks like I’ve exhausted you, baby. Time to get some rest.”
“Can’t,” she mumbled, head lolling drunkenly. “Got to open shop.”
“Open the shop and your customers will find you curled up in a corner somewhere, dead to the world. Take a day off, Bay. Don’t make me give you an order,” he warned sternly when she opened her mouth to reply. “I give an order, I expect it to be obeyed.”
“Yes sir,” she said mindlessly, already drifting away again.
Beneath her, strong muscles tensed and then she thought she must be flying until he set her down on the couch. She offered her arms when told to do so, grumbled when Daxon began to dress her, starting with her bra and finishing with her sneakers. He draped her purse over her head, under her arm.
“My clothes are at the entrance to the woods, Baylee. I’m going to shift; when I’ve done so, I want you to climb on my back and take hold of whatever you can, okay? I’ll get you to the track and change back, walk you home. Do you understand all that?”
Not much of it, she thought blankly. “Hold on?”
Daxon laughed and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Ready?”
She nodded, eyelids heavy. Fighting to stay awake, she missed his transformation and simply blinked at the nudge of a cold wet nose against her hand. She blinked again, focused on the small car-sized sandy beast in front of her, then beamed dopily. “Hey Mister Lion!”
He growled at her in exasperation, and Baylee realized she was meant to do...something. Hold on. Yes, that was it. Climb aboard and hold on, the pussy cat train’s heading out of the station. Shoving up from the couch, she lost her balance and fell head first into him.
Baylee smelled the wildness of him, the dirt and the blood and the heady aroma of alpha male bred centuries-deep into his blood. Inhaling deeply, her hands kneaded at his short coat. “Pussy cat smell nice.”
Daxon sighed heavily, lowering his front end so she could swing her leg gracelessly over his back to sit just behind his shoulders. When she thought herself comfortable, she patted him before sliding down to press her nose against his unruly mass of mane. Her hands slipped into it, running through the tangles. Gripping handfuls as Daxon walked off slowly, heading into the trees.
He set a steady pace, moving no faster than a walk which Baylee appreciated. Even in her fatigued state, she knew if her crotch made rough impact with him, her scream would send the birds flying from the treetops. She’d been well and truly mauled in the best sense possible.
“Will you stay with me?”
The lion made a low sound she couldn’t interpret.
“I’m going to take that as a no.” Disappointment welled inside her.
She buried her face in his mane, let the ride pass her by as slowly as thoughts manifested in her head. Like molasses, thick and syrupy. She gave a soft uumph of protest when she rolled delicately from his back onto the soft, damp ground, then simply turned onto her side and decided sleeping here wouldn’t be so bad.
She heard gentle rustling, then entrusted herself to the arms that scooped her off the floor and against a solid chest.
“I can’t stay with you,” Dax murmured with a touch of regret. “Not today. I have some things to do while you sleep the day away, and then I was hoping we might take a second shot at that first date.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. That’s if your band of merry friends haven’t hung, drawn and quartered me for my sins.” He carried her as though she weighed nothing more than a bouquet of lovely blooms. “We need to talk about your aversion to perfection.”
“When you’re perfect, you’re not allowed to fail.”
“What put that idea in your head? Failure is a part of life, baby; we all fail at some point. It’s what you learn from your mistakes, how you come back from them, that makes the difference. You can be perfect in every way that matters and still be human. Trust me.”
“Big softie,” she said with a contented sigh. The motion of Daxon’s body turned into a lullaby, rhythmic and soothing. The curtain of dreams dropped, and she knew nothing more.
WELL.
The woman in his arms was more trouble than he’d anticipated. Not only had she tied his cock in knots, he’d bet his inheritance she’d given him more than just her virginity during the night.
Daxon could never be called a stupid man; far from it. Shifters from his lineage were notoriously intelligent, possessing the innate cunning of the cat. He’d heard of the equine shifters being flighty of brain—not that he’d tell his mother that—and quick of feet; canine shifters were fiercely loyal and could be as daft as puppies.
Emerging from the woodland onto the track, Daxon glanced down at Baylee. Fast asleep, dark circles under her eyes and the barest hint of a smile touching her sexy little mouth. Whatever she dreamed of, it made her happy.
She’d offered herself completely to a stranger; body and heart included. Some might see that as naively stupid, others as it being romantic. Daxon thought she’d been remarkably brave, especially after she found out what he was at the core.
Strangely enough, the revelation
of his shifter heritage hadn’t repulsed her. He’d expected her to run, screaming fitfully about the wild cat haunting the woods. Chances were, the locals would have laughed her off but there might have been one believer in town who saw fit to hunt Dax down. His gratitude for her inner strength couldn’t be measured.
She had potential to become his life mate, he mused with trepidation. Compatibility in bed: check. Strong, independent woman: check. Submissive tendencies: check. He found her ridiculously attractive and insanely sweet, a pocketful of sugar. Spending the rest of his life with her, watching her grow round with a litter of cubs, raising those cubs with her...he could see it quite easily, he discovered, like snapshots of the future.
She’d make a wonderful mother. A passionate, enthusiastic wife. Daxon desired fire in a relationship, something he’d not yet found with any of his former lovers or submissive partners. Or perhaps more truthfully, they just hadn’t had enough fire to satisfy him.
Baylee was fire. She burned bright, and when they came together, sparks flew. Literally. He’d felt them running beneath her skin, dancing wildly in the flames of her passion.
When they reached town, he found himself at a loss. He knew where her store was, but he hadn’t the faintest idea where she lived. Her cell phone was in her purse, he could call one of her friends to ask for directions, but he didn’t want them swarming around Baylee while she rested; she needed to sleep, to recharge, without the grief they’d give her.
As gently as he could, he roused her. “Baylee, baby?”
She mumbled, turned her face into his shoulder.
“Baylee, I need your attention for thirty seconds then you can go right on back to sleeping.”
“Mmpph?”
“Where do you live?”
“Hmm. 16 Prairie Drive...just off Main Street...next to Post Office.” She made the sexiest little purring sound before she drifted away again.
Daxon cursed as his cock lifted its head at the sound, tried to adjust himself without his hands. He swore again when the pressure behind his zipper intensified. “Wonderful. Walking hard-on. Just what I need.”
By his estimate it wasn’t much after eight a.m. but the street was quiet, thank God. He didn’t think the locals would give him a second to explain why he carried an unconscious Baylee before they stood him on a horse-drawn trailer with a rope around his neck under the bough of the nearest hanging tree. He could imagine the slap on the horse’s ass, the way the wheels would rock unsteadily before the world dropped beneath his feet.
No, thank you.
After a wrong turn, he finally found her place. Standing at the door, he read the numbers on the side and wondered which apartment she lived in. Maybe, he hoped, she’d have her keys in the purse dangling from around her neck, and they’d have a number on. He tried to juggle her around to reach it.
The main door opened, revealing the feisty redhead he’d had his head ripped off by the day before, and Daxon felt his day begin to worsen.
She stared at him with odd amber eyes, mouth set in a prim line. A pretty woman had she not beamed rays of death at him. There was something...other about her, the vaguest sense of familiarity. “Did you hurt her?”
“Hello again, Brenna.”
She wore a dress the color of a mossy forest, which made him a little homesick. The color suited her hair, accented her eyes and the hips she’d fisted her hands on. She’d be perfect for his brother, Efran. He liked them short, fiery and suspicious.
“I asked you a question.”
He refused to break the stare. Dominant or not, he’d made himself a man who wouldn’t back down from a fight, be it with another shifter or a redheaded faerie who barely reached his navel. “I could tell you I haven’t, but you wouldn’t believe me. So ask Baylee when she wakes.”
Her lip twitched. “Do I need to take her to the hospital?”
“For fucks’ sake, woman, she’s not injured. She’s exhausted. She needs her own bed, and a good meal when she wakes up.” His hackles rose slowly. “Now are you going to let me in so I can put her to bed or do I have to take her back to the guest house with me?”
To her credit, Brenna didn’t flinch at the bite in his tone. Her lip finished twitching and curled up, flashing him a glimpse of teeth; much, he admitted, as he’d done with past foes. “Upstairs, jackass. One wrong move and I put you down.” She stepped aside to let him past with less welcome than a doormat.
Daxon fought back a growl. His beast demanded the proper respect befitting a hunter. Not sure Baylee would appreciate him giving her friend one hell of a what-for, he gritted his teeth and carried his treasure inside.
He took note of the plain beige walls and the mediocre painting of a ship on the water hanging in the foyer. There looked to be only one door, clearly labelled 1A. He lifted an eyebrow at Brenna.
“It’s a two-story house. Colleen lives down here,” Brenna nodded toward the door. “She owns this place but it became too much for her. When Baylee’s grandma died, Colleen made upstairs into an apartment, gave it to Bay on the condition she looked after Colleen if needs be. Deaf, mostly blind and incapable of managing the stairs now, Colleen’s reliant on Baylee and a couple other people.”
Daxon looked down at Baylee’s lax face, smiled a little. He could see her being that person, the one others looked to for help. She’d give it, regardless of the personal cost. “You don’t need to tell me she has a good heart, Brenna. One look at her and you can see the light shining through her like gold.”
She slipped in front of him, leading the way up the stairs. She paused for a moment, looking down at him. “I’m not telling you she has a good heart, Daxon. I’m telling you she can be easily broken whether you mean to or not. That’s what I want you to hear.”
Loud and clear, he thought. Message received.
“Could be I come to like you,” she continued in a mild tone. “Could be I help Baylee stick many, many pins in a voodoo doll made of your image. In several...sensitive areas. I’d enjoy that. It all depends on you.”
He winced slightly, tried not to show it. “Being at odds with you, any of you,” he said pointedly, “has never been my intention. You’re Baylee’s friends and you come first in her life. Chances are you’ll be here for her long after I’m just a memory—fond or otherwise.”
Brenna’s eyes narrowed. “So you’re planning on leaving?”
“Not right now, but when are there ever guarantees? I could promise Baylee forever and die next week.” Dax sighed, shrugged his shoulders. “Hate me, if you need to. I won’t blame you, I won’t retaliate; I have nothing to hate you for.”
Brenna seemed to weigh that up. She huffed quietly, eyed him again, then made her way up the staircase, one pale hand trailing up the rail. He followed without another word, wondering if they’d actually negotiated a truce.
She opened a door at the top of the steps, closed it behind him as he got his first look at Baylee’s inner sanctum. Initial impression? Simple. Homely. Cozy.
She liked books, that much became obvious in short order. They lined the variety of bookshelves like stiff-spined soldiers awaiting orders from their General. Numerous authors, even more genres. Baylee’s brain should have swollen to triple the normal size if she’d read every book she had in here.
“There’s more in the bedroom,” Brenna commented with a smile. “And the bathroom, and the kitchen. Baylee loves books. They’re her refuge when life gets hard.”
He looked around again. Warm colors, plenty of cushions and blankets and comfort. Photos on the walls of a solemn-faced child, barely three or four, with a bob of short black hair, in the embrace of a woman in her fifties or early sixties. More of a happier, older Baylee—almost a teenager now—stood between the same woman, now also older, and a tall, broad-shouldered man with silver hair and a wicked grin. Their arms slung lovingly around her shoulders, and in turn, hers were hooked around them.
Shots of young-Baylee with toys and friends with hair shaded blonde, and red, and brown. A
timeline appeared, and Baylee’s life became clear. No wonder her friends were so protective of her, Dax thought. They’d been with her all her life, even after the older couple had faded from the timeline.
“Tell me now if you want me to walk away from her.”
Brenna blinked. “What?”
He growled, his beast thrashing against the cage in rage. “I won’t repeat myself, Brenna.”
“I can’t make that call, Daxon.” She frowned. “For you or for her.”
“You know her better than anyone,” he argued, automatically soothing Baylee as she stirred fitfully in his arms. He began to feel the strain now, pulling at his shoulders and neck, tearing at his arms. “I can put her to bed and walk away, Brenna. When she wakes up, I’ll be nothing more than a dream to her. I can do that, now, before my feelings for her override every survival instinct I’ve got.”
His beast erupted, flinging itself against constraints, trying to claw its way free. Free, it would wreak havoc. It had claimed her; she belonged to him, to them, as no other ever had.
Brenna looked torn. He knew she balanced the heavy scales with difficulty; he knew what her decision would be. “After last night, you’d just...leave her? No explanation, no nothing?”
“No. No, that I trust to you. If you order me to go, I will. But with your promise you make sure Baylee understands I don’t want to. You take care of her, and you keep her on the right track.” Daxon clenched his jaw tight as he gazed down at her. “Don’t allow her to think I used her and ran.”
“You love her. Or part of you does.”
“Doesn’t matter if I’m no good for her.”
“Then go. That girl in your arms? She’s sweet and innocent and full of life to give to the right man. She wants family, she wants children. She deserves love.” Brenna’s eyes sheened. “You might be a good man, Daxon; God knows she thinks so. But if you’re not the man for her, just go.”
Something ripped away inside him. Dax prayed it wasn’t his tenuous hold on the beast. He’d have to run and run far before he allowed the change to take him; he wouldn’t be able to stop the beast from charging back into town to find their mate.
Wild: Hangman's Haunt Book 1 Page 9
