“Good girl. My clever little witch,” he praised, running his hands over her as though checking for injuries. Breathless, his voice took on a dark edge. “Next time you think about taunting me, remember this. Next time,” he continued in that same arousing tone, “I won’t go as easy on you.”
Easy? Easy? Baylee swallowed a nervous laugh. Her legs had gone to mush, her central nervous system was fried, and he’d gone easy on her? Jesus, she’d hate to see what he could reduce her to when he upped his game.
She moaned and fell forward when he eased out of her, using her hands to brace herself against the seat. Their joint secretions slickened her thighs but she couldn’t muster the energy to do anything about it. She jolted, squeaked when his hands brushed the backs of her thighs.
“Relax,” he soothed. “Let me get you cleaned up. We’re nearly home now; hot water, shower gel and dry towels at our disposal. Sound good?”
Sounded like heaven, she thought, and tried not to get lost in the images that brought. Oh, to be clean again. Blueberry shampoo to get the grease and days of dirt from her hair, a good brush to work the kinks and tangles free.
In fact, she could spend hours just soaking in a hot, hot bath until every sore muscle faded into insignificance. Topping up the heat every thirty minutes or so, letting it soak into her. She might end up looking like a sorry excuse for a raisin but who cared?
A dry cloth stroked between her legs, rasping over flesh too tender to be touched. She yelped, jerked herself away from Dax’s attempt to tend to her. “Touching’s off limits!”
He turned her to face him, concern clouding his eyes, creating stress lines around them and at the corners of his mouth. “I hurt you. Fuck. Fuck, I never intended...”
Baylee pressed a finger to his lips, shushed him with a wicked smile. “I did. This was consensual, Dax. If anything, I pushed you into it. I’m not sorry for it, I’m just sore.” She gave a half-laugh and pressed herself against him, sighing in contentment when his arms encircled her. “I’ll tidy myself up.”
Daxon rubbed his cheek over the top of her head. “It doesn’t really work that way, baby. As the dominant in this relationship, it’s my responsibility to give you aftercare after a scene.”
“A scene?”
“Technically this wasn’t a scene as such—just a good old-fashioned fuck—but the way I see it is, you’re mine and when we’ve been together intimately, I’m going to damn well make sure you get the aftercare you deserve. Understand me?”
“Yes, Sir, if you insist.”
“Good girl. Now turn around and show me that pretty ass. I’ll be gentle, I promise.”
She obeyed because something in her couldn’t go against the tone of voice he used. She assumed the position he required and braced for the quick snaps of discomfort. Ordinarily, she’d prefer to take care of things herself but Daxon seemed determined to take over the task.
The cloth passed over each thigh, dry fabric rasping over her skin and erasing the evidence of their mating, she supposed was the best term. She hissed, fingers tensing on the seat when he stroked it between her legs.
“All done.” His lips pressed to the small of her back in a gentle kiss. His hands were just as gentle when he eased her around to face him again. He’d discarded the soiled cloth, Baylee noted, and had the shirt she’d been wearing in his grasp. “Better make you somewhat presentable.”
She smirked. “Living wild in the woods for ten days, being ravished a couple times, and you think you can work miracles now? Presentable is not the operative word here, Dax.”
His teeth flashed white in the darkness. She swore she saw his eyes glow an unnatural shade of his normal color. “I’ll rephrase: let’s get some clothing on you before I get the urge to fuck you again.”
“Too late,” she quipped as his cock rose in interest, and snatched the shirt from his fingers. She had it on and was back in the truck before he could make a grab for her.
Daxon donned his pants without taking his predatory gaze from her. That intense focus gave her the shivers; she knew what it felt like to be trapped in that stare while her body bucked beneath his in rapture. He had the power to hypnotize every rational notion out of her brain without effort.
He rounded the hood, climbed in beside her and started the engine. A dirty, wicked grin kept her focus on him. “Payback is gonna be a bitch, baby.” He shoved the truck into gear and peeled away from where he’d hastily parked up.
Baylee wisely resisted the urge to show him her ass again.
FIFTY MINUTES LATER, she’d managed not to fall back asleep—barely. The rhythm of the truck, the warmth, and Dax’s woodsy scent enticed her to succumb. She cracked the window, let cool fresh air wash over her face, shock her back to brief alertness.
At the edge of Hangman’s Haunt, Daxon braked gently to a halt. He glanced at the clock, noted it was gone one a.m.—no doubt their arrival would make some of the locals sit up and take note. He wanted Baylee inside and out of harm’s way before the gawkers came sniffing.
“Oh shit,” Baylee breathed, her eyes wide and staring down the street. She’d lost two-thirds of her color in a matter of seconds. “Definitely dead. This isn’t good.”
He scanned the area. “What have you seen?”
“What do you see?” She countered absently.
For a moment, nothing seemed out of the place. The town looked no different than the day he’d left. A long stretch of street flanked by houses, shops, and businesses. Then something shifted, twirled in a soft breeze, and Dax hummed in quiet reflection. “They do this every time someone from this town dies?”
Baylee nodded slowly. “It’s a mark of respect.”
Black bands adorned every tree, every street light, perching on top of bushes. The houses and businesses he could see that boasted small flagpoles outside their doors had hoisted black flags waving limply in the wind’s caress. Those that had short poles attached to their outside walls flew more petite flags.
“They’re everywhere,” he noted.
“They stay there for three days after the funeral of the deceased. A mark of respect,” she murmured again, “that I don’t deserve. I’ve never been important to the town, not in a way that warrants this display.” She choked on the words. “This is...”
“Awesome,” Dax supplied. He reached out and took her hand, squeezed it. “You might not believe it, Baylee, but the people here love you. Nobody goes around tying black ribbon to everything they can find out of a sense of duty.”
She fell silent for a few minutes; Daxon gave her the time she needed to sort out whatever thoughts troubled her, his thumb brushing rhythmically over her knuckles.
“What’s going to happen to us, Daxon? I belong here, you don’t. Your family’s miles away, missing you, loving you. Mine’s here. But we’re part of each other now, connected in ways I don’t understand. I don’t see how we’re going to—”
“Shush. Now’s not the time, Baylee. There’s enough to deal with once we get you home. This—us—can wait until everything else settles. For the moment, time’s on our side.”
Baylee looked as though she wanted to argue; Daxon just shook his head firmly and brought her hand to his lips. “Hell will become a luxury ski resort before I leave you again, baby. We’d die for you.”
She blew out a long breath, drew one back in. “Okay. Okay. Let’s go face the music, I guess.”
“That’s my girl.” He set the truck into motion again, driving slowly, carefully along the quiet streets, every black flag catching his attention. His eyes flicked to her store as they passed, and the stream of flowers beneath the front window. “Think you may have to add a florists’ shop to the bookstore,” he commented.
“Oh my God,” she murmured, craning herself around him to study the tribute. “They’re beautiful.”
She raises a valid point, Vex said softly.
Dax scowled. Shut up. Now’s not the time to make decisions.
This could sway her decision as to where s
he spends the rest of her life. We have a duty to the clan, to the lineage. Next in line to lead our people, Vex reminded him. We can’t do so from Montana, and we can’t fulfil our responsibilities without our mate by our side. Not properly.
Frustrated, Daxon growled low in his throat. She doesn’t have to decide right now, Vex. It must be her choice—we have to respect her wishes. Alphas have the right to rescind leadership. Father will understand. He was given the same choice when he took the crown from my grandfather.
Will he? Clan priorities are changing. Outside dangers to the clan are more prevalent. Kaiyan ran from his responsibilities, and Efran...Efran does not have the temperament, patience or loyalty to lead.
Don’t question their loyalty, Dax snarled.
If I don’t, who will? It’s our survival at risk here, mine and yours. Ours. Baylee must be made to see the correct path. If she doesn’t see what’s in front of her, she dooms us all, down to the unborn kits she carries.
Chapter Ten
More flowers covered the porch of the house. God knew where they’d come from; the cooler weather didn’t exactly make for ideal flower growth. They made a colorful carpet, bathed in the soft glow from the porch light someone had left on.
The house was dark, top and bottom. Colleen usually went to bed early, and no doubt her grief over losing Baylee had exhausted the old lady. For that reason, Baylee closed the truck door with barely a ping of sound.
She smiled when Daxon copied her precaution, then walked around to meet him on the sidewalk. Her hand slipped naturally into his; his fingers curled around hers tightly. In the soft light, his eyes looked almost feverishly bright with something she couldn’t place.
“You okay,” she murmured.
He searched her face carefully. “Absolutely. How do you feel?”
“Nervous. A little sick,” she admitted and pressed her free hand to her uneasy stomach. “I’ll be better once we get inside.”
“I can carry you.”
“What? No, I’m fine.” She gave a light laugh then shushed herself by covering her mouth. “We just need to be really quiet.”
She wanted to be inside, out of the spotlight. It was too late for anyone to be out and about wandering, but you just never knew. She’d kill for a shower, something to eat, and then her bed for a few hours before she had to face her resurrection.
She tugged him toward the porch and they climbed the steps soundlessly. Depending on who’d cared for Colleen in Baylee’s absence, the front door could be locked, or it could not. She tried the handle as though handling a live bomb triggered by a pressure plate.
To her relief, the door swung open, sparing her from having to rifle around under Colleen’s flowerpots for the key. She slipped inside, Dax on her heels, and nudged the door closed behind them both. Luckily, she didn’t need to tell him to be quiet, he simply shadowed her up the stairs to her door.
How weird it felt, she thought as she stepped into her sanctuary, to be back here after her time in the woods. She’d stormed out of here without a second thought, intent on finding Daxon, and nearly lost everything.
She flicked on the living room light, squinted into the glare. Nothing had changed in her absence; every knick-knack remained in place, her books were still in order. “Bedroom’s through there,” she said on a yawn, gesturing to the closed door. “I’m going to grab a shower first.”
“Baby, you’re tired.”
She could admit that, Baylee thought. Fatigue permeated her down to the marrow in her bones. “I am. I also stink to high hell, my stomach is about to cannibalize itself, and I need to pee as much as I need to breathe.”
He cupped her face; she tilted her cheek into his palm. “Let me go turn the bed down, and I’ll join you in the shower. I want you to rest, Baylee. You’ve been through a lot, and you’ll end up sick if you’re not careful.”
“Don’t worry about me.” She nuzzled into his hand, then stepped away with a weak smile. “The water’s going to be hot; hope you can handle it.”
“Neither of us has the energy to follow through with that innuendo,” Dax commented as she disappeared into the bathroom.
The sad thing was, he was right. The shifting, the traveling, the sex—oh God, the sex—had taken its toll on her. She wondered if a bath would be wiser; her legs weren’t confident about keeping her upright for much longer.
She turned the water on and, as it performed its usual hiss and sputter before the pressure kicked in, stripped off Dax’s ruined shirt. She caught sight of herself in the mirror and stared at herself.
Dirty skin stretched over a body much leaner, more honed than it had been only a couple weeks ago. Her arms and legs were considerably more defined, the muscles sleek and rather nice, she decided with a grin. Her hair was a vicious black tangle—possibly a pair of opossums had nested in it—and Baylee cringed at the thought of Daxon seeing her in such a state.
But he hadn’t said anything, had still rutted the hell out of her, so it must not have bothered him as much as it concerned her.
Baylee started to pick twigs and dead leaves out of the mess, then whirled around at the sound of a scream. A feminine scream, she thought wildly, but without the high-pitch of fear. This sound was one of outrage.
Naked, she shot out of the bathroom and rapped smartly into Daxon’s back; she summed the situation up in a matter of seconds, despite her foggy brain.
Brenna advanced from the bedroom, her hair as wild as Baylee’s but without the nesting materials. A look of indignant fury warred with stress lines on her friend’s face. The small, deadly handgun in Brenna’s hand aimed at Dax’s chest with a cool steadiness Baylee had to admire.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing in here?” Brenna snarled.
“Brenna, look, this is a complete misunderstanding,” Daxon said in a calm tone, his hands raised and open. “We didn’t know anyone was here.”
“We? Who the fuck is we?”
“Sweetheart, a little help would be really appreciated right now,” he muttered over his shoulder. “Your friend seems open to shooting vital parts of me.”
“Brenna, put the gun down.” Baylee hooked her hands over Dax’s shoulders, peeked over, trying to conceal her nakedness as much as she could. “There’s been a huge mix-up; not everything is as it seems.”
“Baylee?” Brenna’s furious gaze locked onto Baylee’s calm one, and relief shuddered through the petite redhead’s slender frame. The amber of her eyes cooled from molten in the same few seconds it took for her to lower the gun. “I knew you weren’t dead. I knew it.”
Baylee smiled. “At least someone has faith in me.”
Daxon shifted uneasily. “Maybe I should let you girls talk this out. Coffee anyone?”
She squeaked and gripped his shoulders tighter. “Don’t move, I’m naked!”
At the same time, Brenna narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re not going anywhere, buddy. You have some explaining to do.”
“Fabulous,” he muttered.
“Brenna, get the coffee on. We need to shower, the pair of us aren’t fit for company. We’ll get cleaned up and then I’ll explain everything, I promise.” She felt more than heard Dax’s meaningful cough. “Everything.”
His growl vibrated into her.
Brenna eyed them both. “Ten minutes. And no hanky panky,” she pointed a finger at Dax that was as lethal as the gun. “I hear any sex noises from in there, I’m coming in with a carving knife the size of my forearm.” She stomped off toward the kitchen, securing the safety of the gun as she went.
“Well, that’s me warned.” Daxon bent slightly, hooking his arms around Baylee’s bare legs and hitching her up onto his back. “She’s feisty. I have a brother who’d love her.”
Baylee contained her squeal and wrapped her arms more securely around his neck as he carried her into the bathroom. “You need to get on her good side before you even consider setting her up, pussy cat. She eats men for breakfast.”
Steam enveloped them.
In a fast move that had her head spinning, Dax whipped her around so she straddled his front. “How the hell did you do that?”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m gifted.”
“Yes, you are,” she murmured.
“Back to Brenna,” Daxon said before his lips touched hers. “Efran has a talent for taming fiery women. He likes to play with fire, with some success. Say the word and I’ll tell him to come out and work his magic on Brenna.”
Baylee considered it. If Daxon’s brother was anything like Dax, he’d be a world apart from anyone Brenna had dated before. The spitfire seemed to draw weak-willed men, pushovers, and Brenna needed someone with the same iron-will as her. “Maybe. He could be good for her.” She batted her eyelashes. “Is he good-looking?”
“Family genes,” he replied with a smirk. “We’re all incredibly attractive.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as he let her slide to the floor. He helped her into the shower like a gentleman, and she moaned in relief as hot water cascaded down her body. “Don’t make noises like that. I think she meant it about the carving knife.”
“Oh, she did.” Baylee grinned and, reaching out, grabbed him by the hand and pulled him into the tiny cubicle with her, shutting the flimsy curtain behind him. “She can’t get you if you’re in here...I’ll protect you.”
“I bet. Fucking hell, woman, could you have this water much hotter?”
Baylee plucked up a bottle of blueberry shower gel, dumped a river of it into her palm and began lathering her arms and breasts as she turned her back to him. “Be thankful the hot water system’s having a good day. We’d be ice cubes by now if it was in a mood.”
His hands came to her hips, his mouth running along her shoulder in delicious little bites. “I’m in a mood.”
His mood pressed enticingly between her buttocks, she realized with a smile. If it was anything to go by, he was feeling pretty damn good. “So it would seem. Want me to give you the same treatment I give the shower?”
Wild: Hangman's Haunt Book 1 Page 14
