Midnight Temptation

by L Ann

Deacon watched his older brother move stealthily closer to the wall, his silver-grey fur blending with the shadows. With a sigh, he turned to Shaun.

  ~ Come on. Let’s scout around. ~

  After an hour and having found nothing other than the scents of Sam Cooper, a similar one who they assumed was his father and an unknown female, Shaun and Deacon made their way back to where they had left Cormac. Jaden and Caleb were already there, sitting just out of reach of the lights illuminating the property.

  ~ Where’s Mac? ~ Deacon asked.

  ~ He’s on his way back. ~ Jaden’s head tipped, and his ears twitched in the canine version of a confused frown. ~ He appears to be bringing company. ~

  ~ What the fuck? ~ Deacon turned around to watch as his brother approached, in human form – a smaller figure slightly in front of him. In a blink, Deacon was also back in human form and strode forward to meet Cormac.

  As he drew nearer to his brother, he saw the figure with him was a female, dressed in a thin, filthy summer dress.

  “What the fuck, Mac?” he said. Now he was closer, he could see Cormac had one of the girl’s arms twisted behind her back and was pushing her forward.

  “She tried to trap me. It was kill her or bring her.” His silver eyes glinted in the moonlight as he glanced at the girl. “I’m considering re-evaluating my choice.”

  “Abomination!” The girl hissed and twisted her head around to spit in Cormac’s face.

  Cormac said nothing, wiping the back of his hand across his cheeks.

  “Feisty,” Deacon murmured. The glint of metal caught his eye and he frowned and leaned forward slightly. “Wait, she’s–”

  Cormac shook his head, warning Deacon not to finish the sentence. “If nothing else, she will be a source of information.” His gaze slid to the girl in front of him. “Until I tire of her, anyway.”

  “And then what?” she demanded, Her voice was low, husky and filled with venom. “You’ll kill me? Like the animal you are?”

  “Yes,” Cormac agreed mildly. “I’ll tear out your throat and quench my thirst on your blood while you watch.”

  “Bastard!” She threw herself forward and Cormac released her arm, watching silently as she stumbled and fell to her knees.

  Deacon took a step back, resisting the urge to catch her before she landed.

  “Are we walking her back to the car?”

  “No. Send Caleb and Jaden for the car. We’ll stay in the trees and wait for them.”

  With a final glance at the girl who was rising to her feet and brushing the dirt from her legs and skinned knees, Deacon turned and loped back across to the rest of the Pack waiting patiently.

  “Shaun, you need to shift. Caleb, Jaden – you’re to go get the car and bring it back for us. It looks like we’ve got an unexpected guest to take home with us.”

  Shaun, in human form, was standing beside him before he finished speaking.

  “Who is she?”

  Deacon shrugged. “No clue. Mac says she tried to trap him.”

  “And we’re taking her back to the Sanctuary?”

  “Seems that way.” Both men turned to look at their older brother, who stood with arms folded across his chest watching the girl.

  “She’s about to run,” Shaun murmured and, no sooner had the words left his lips, the girl bolted.

  Deacon saw Cormac’s shoulders lift in a faint sigh and, in the next instant, the big silver-grey wolf was streaking across the ground after her. His head hit the small of her back and sent her flying forward. She fell, face down, onto the ground and the wolf stood over her, lips peeled back from his teeth in a snarl.

  “We should probably go and collect her,” Deacon said, but neither of them moved, watching as Cormac shifted again and pressed the girl to the ground with his body. Deacon could see his brother’s lips moving as he spoke to the girl, and her body turned rigid beneath him, the colour draining from her face.

  Cormac rose to his feet smoothly, and the girl followed suit, her movements jerky and stiff. As soon as she was on her feet, he grasped her arm and pulled her over to where Deacon and Shaun waited.

  “Let’s get out of sight of the house,” he suggested once he reached them.

  They moved back into the trees, Cormac dragging the girl along beside him.

  “You don’t think this is all too easy?” Shaun asked abruptly, waving a hand back toward the property.

  Deacon’s brows pulled together into a frown, considering the question.

  “I don’t think so,” he replied slowly. “They probably don’t expect us to make a move just yet. It’s been a week and, until last night, we had no way of knowing Damien was still around. As far as we know, he could have sent that text from a completely different state.”

  “He’s here.” Shaun’s tone was flat.

  “I know that, brother.” Deacon turned his attention to the girl. She stood beside Cormac, hands clenched into fists as she glared up at his brother. “Something doesn’t feel right about her.” He stepped closer and she shrank back before she controlled the movement and froze. “You just happened to be wandering around outside late at night, did you?”

  “I heard a noise,” she snarled.

  “We don’t make noise,” Deacon responded.

  Her laugh was derisive. “You are clearly the fool of your Pack.”

  Deacon growled, the sound rumbling out of his throat.

  “Not now.” Cormac placed his free hand on Deacon’s arm.

  “That’s right, dog. Hide behind your Alpha.”

  Before Deacon could respond, Cormac had released her arm and curled his hand around the girl’s throat. He hauled her closer and bent his head.

  “If you want to survive for at least the next twenty-four hours, I highly recommend you stop talking,” he told her. Her fingers came up to clutch at his wrist as he tightened his grip, slowly cutting off her air supply. “I will not hesitate to snap your neck, little wolf. Just give me an excuse.”

  The three shifters watched as the girl’s face first paled, then slowly reddened as she gasped for air. She attempted to pull Cormac’s hand away, her eyes widening as they locked onto his blank features.

  Cormac showed no expression as he watched her struggle and Deacon could feel Shaun beside him fighting against the urge to demand their brother let the girl go. He knew how his twin felt. It was built into their DNA to protect those weaker, their women, and to watch as Cormac slowly choked the life from the girl in front of them went against everything they were raised to be. But they were also raised to trust in their Alpha, and so they both stood, almost quivering with the need to take action.

  When the light in the girl’s eyes began to fade, and her struggles weakened, Cormac released his grip and let her drop. She fell like a rag-doll, limp, to the ground at his feet.

  “They will kill you,” she gasped out.

  “They’re welcome to try,” Cormac replied.

  The sound of a car’s engine could be heard approaching, and Deacon turned away to investigate. The vehicle slowed, the engine idling, and Deacon lifted a hand in greeting as Jaden hopped out.

  Jaden tossed him and Shaun a pair of sweats, then handed a pair of black pants to Cormac. Deacon’s lips twitched into a smile. His brother refused to wear something as casual as sweats, it was rare to find him in jeans. Suits and shirts were his clothes of preference. All three shifters dressed rapidly while Jaden watched over their new prisoner. Once they were ready, Cormac bent and dragged the woman to her feet.

  Deacon hid a smile at the way she tried to resist, digging her heels in and attempting to stop Cormac from moving her toward the car. He was impressed with the way she refused to give up, squirming and twisting her arm in an attempt to free herself from his brother’s grip. A laugh escaped him as, with no change of expression or break in his stride, Cormac shifted his grip and swung her over his shoulder. Her stomach collided with his shoulder and he heard the breath leave her body in a pained grunt.

  Cormac waited until Sha
un had slid onto the backseat before he slung the girl in, then stepped back for Deacon and Jaden to climb in.

  “There’s rope under the seat if you need to stop her from escaping,” he told them, and moved to the front of the car to take the passenger seat.

  Deacon strode through the quiet house. He had left Shaun and Cormac to deal with the girl, not seeing the point in all three of them needing to be there to oversee locking her in their temporary safe room. Cormac had called ahead to ask Chase to organise a room within one of the other buildings, one they knew could be locked and guarded as her makeshift prison cell.

  The closer they came to Sanctuary, the more he’d found his mind turning its focus on the woman he’d left within its walls.

  Was she sleeping or was she waiting for him? Would she even want to wait up for him?

  For the past week, he’d stayed close to Sanctuary, been settled in front of a games player or watching a movie by the time Gemma went to bed. Consciously – okay, maybe subconsciously – he’d known she couldn’t sleep, wouldn’t settle until she sought him out and curled up near him. Never too close, usually on the opposite end of the couch.

  He knew he’d forced things to a head over the last couple of days, that he’d pushed her to the limits of her comfort zone. A smile tipped up his lips – with satisfactory results, he felt.

  His mind replayed the way she’d fallen apart under his hands, and he felt his dick begin to stir.

  Very satisfactory results.

  He headed up the stairs to his room, anticipation coiling in the pit of his stomach. And what was that all about, he wondered. Could it simply be because he hadn’t had sex since arriving in Greene Valley?

  Sexual frustration? His wolf grunted its disagreement. Deacon refused to think about the alternative. He wasn’t the settling down kind – that was all Shaun’s thing. He pushed open his bedroom door and stepped through.

  The room was in darkness, and he tilted his head, sampling the air, listening intently. Other than him, the room was definitely empty.

  Where is she?

  Turning around, he left his room and padded back downstairs. He paused in the hallway to lift his head and take in a breath, finding her scent and following it.

  A smile tugged his lips up when it led him to the TV room. He opened the door quietly and slipped inside. The only light came from the TV which was playing an old episode of Fawlty Towers – one of his favourite shows – and he watched as Basil Fawlty marched across to his car with a tree branch and proceeded to beat it while ranting. He snorted quietly and prowled forwards until the figure lying across the couch came into view.

  Deacon slowed to a stop, his eyes sweeping across her, taking in her closed eyes, how one hand was tucked beneath her cheek, and coming to stop on her parted lips.

  Don’t be that asshole, DJ, he told himself as he crouched in front of the couch and reached out to trace the outline of her lips with one finger. Her eyelids flickered at his touch but didn’t open, and he brushed the back of his fingers along her jaw and across her cheek.

  What was it about her?

  Even before Damien took her, he’d found it difficult to stay away from Gemma. From the moment she had turned up at the house looking for her sister, he’d been fascinated. He’d never met a human female before with the strength and resilience she’d shown while Cassie had been fighting for her life. He had purposely disrupted her day, finding out what time she would visit the hospital and arrive with the sole intention of getting under her skin.

  When Damien had taken her, his wolf had driven him crazy, wouldn’t let him rest until he had discovered where she’d been taken, and now … now the need to make Damien pay for hurting her … for touching her … was always at the front of his mind.

  That, and the overwhelming need to touch her, taste her for himself. His wolf wanted her. Hell, he wanted her, and he knew she had wanted him, at least until Damien had …

  He cut off that line of thinking, feeling his wolf grow restless with the need to take revenge.

  No, he was sure she still wanted him. There was no way she could be faking the way she responded to his touch.

  Shaking his head, he curved a hand over her shoulder and squeezed gently.

  “Gemma?” His voice came out as a raspy whisper, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “Starshine?”

  Her eyelids fluttered again and half-opened. “Deacon?” She blinked sleepily and moved to sit up.

  Deacon slid his hands beneath her, scooping her up into his arms. “Hold on like you mean it, Starshine,” he murmured, and straightened.

  Her arms circled his neck and her head dropped heavily against his shoulder. Deacon knew she wasn’t fully awake or aware of her own actions, but his wolf still huffed contentedly inside his mind.

  Deacon retraced his steps back up to his bedroom, mindful of the woman drifting back to sleep in his arms, and keeping his steps smooth. He shouldered open the bedroom door and placed her gently on the bed.

  “Do you need to anything?” he asked, and she shook her head, burrowing down beneath the sheets and burying her face into the pillow.

  He hovered over her for a second, unsure whether he should stay or find somewhere else to sleep. While he debated with himself, Gemma rolled over and caught the hem of his shirt in her fingers.

  “Please stay,” she whispered, and pulled him down.

  He went willingly, unable to deny her request. Her fingers plucked at the material of his shirt.

  “Take it off.”

  Silently he pulled his t-shirt over his head and threw it to the floor. Leaving his sweats on, he climbed into the bed beside her, settled onto his side and propped his head up on one hand.

  What are you doing, DJ? He questioned himself.

  The answer to that became all too clear when, moments later, Gemma moved again, curling up against him, her hand sliding up over his arm and making the breath hiss between his lips.

  Deacon gritted his teeth, forced himself to hold still as Gemma’s fingers danced across his skin, following the pattern of the Park markings covering his arms. His entire focus was welded to the sensation of her fingertips moving over his shoulder, sliding up his throat, along his jawline. When the tips of her nails dragged along his bottom lip, he swallowed back a groan.

  “Gemma.” Her name was a warning to her, to him, to his wolf.

  She moved closer until her mouth was on his throat, pressing soft and warm kisses to his rapidly increasing pulse. When she shifted, stretching up to run her tongue along his jaw, he could feel her nipples brushing against his chest through the thin material of her t-shirt.

  “Fuck,” Deacon breathed, battling against both his wolf’s demand and the purely male need to roll, pin her beneath him and take what she was offering.

  He needed to stop her, pull her exploring fingers off his body and yet he lay still, the breath caught in his throat, as her fingers changed direction.

  Her palm burned a path down his chest and the groan lodged in his throat escaped on a curse when her fingers dipped under his waistband. He caught her wrist, pulled her hand above her head, rolled and settled between her thighs.

  Ignoring the way his erection fit snugly against the centre of her, the way her heat surrounded him, enticed him, he used his other hand to catch her jaw and turn her head.

  “You need to stop.”

  Blue eyes glinted from beneath thick lashes. “You wanted me once.”

  “Still do,” he bit out.

  “Damien changed everything.”

  “He changed nothing.” Her hips rocked up against him, and he growled. “You’re killing me, Starshine.”

  “I need this, Deacon,” she whispered. “I need you to do this for me.”

  “Fuck …” Deacon’s head bowed, her plea destroying his resolve. His grip on her jaw loosened, and he swept his thumb across her lips. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

  “Everything.”

  She felt Deacon freeze above her and held he
r breath.

  He had told her time and again that what Damien had done didn’t matter to him, that it changed nothing, but Gemma knew words were easy. She needed to know there was truth behind the words he spoke. She needed proof there was a way out of the darkness and that what he offered was more than just comforting words.

  Did he understand what she was asking? What she needed from him?

  She heard him sigh, a soft sound, but one which made the anxiety twisting in her stomach turn to a heavy stone and she blinked, feeling the sting of tears.

  His words had been nothing but a way to ease her hurt. Damien’s actions mattered.

  “I asked you once before. Please don’t do that.”

  His rough words brought her eyes up to meet his, brow furrowing.

  “Do what?” She hated the quiver in her voice. Before Damien, she’d rarely cried. Since him, she’d become an emotional mess.

  “Don’t cry.” His lips found the corner of her mouth. “I’m barely in control of my wolf and your tears …” He pressed a kiss to the opposite corner.

  “But you don’t want me. I’m broken, dirty.” She gave a bitter laugh. “Used goods.”

  “Is that how I make you feel?” he demanded, and the anger in his voice startled her.

  Look beyond how you feel about yourself. Look at him.

  Gemma squashed down her anxiety attack and listened to that inner voice. She looked at him, the blazing gold of his eyes, the way he held his bigger heavier body above her, careful not to crush her with his weight, and shook her head.

  “No. Out of everyone, you make me feel normal.”

  “You are normal.” His mouth found her cheek, pressed his lips to it. “You are beautiful.” He kissed her other cheek. “You are strong.” Another kiss to the pulse beating in her throat. “You drive me crazy.” A string of kisses along her collarbone. “I’ve thought of nothing but the way you came apart in my arms last night. “His breath feathered across her lips. “From the moment we met, I’ve walked around with a hard-on like a fucking teenager whose never had a female before.” His fingers found her chin, tipped her head back to meet her gaze head-on. “So, don’t tell me I don’t fucking want you.”