“It’s fine. I’m fine. I had a very good…doctor,” I said. I couldn’t exactly tell her I’d received a blood transfusion from a Valkyrie. She would have assumed that my head injury had turned me into a raving lunatic.
“Good doctor, you say?” she asked. “Yeah, no shit. I read about your good doctor in the paper. As I recall, he’s super-good-looking and has more money than God.” Suddenly her voice rose in pitch, like she’d just won the lottery. “I can’t freaking believe you hooked up with Tristan Wolfe. Like, seriously hooked up.”
Clarissa had been with me the first time I’d met Tristan. She’d seen him looking at me across the room, so she knew how intoxicatingly gorgeous he was, not to mention how enigmatic.
“I can’t believe it either sometimes,” I said. “It’s pretty surreal.”
“So? Is he amazing in bed?”
I nearly choked on the laugh that danced its way up my throat. “That’s seriously the first thing you ask me?”
“Fuck yes!”
“He’s skilled in the ancient art of exploring the female body,” I said. “That’s all I’m divulging, though, you perv. I don’t kiss and tell.”
“Damn it, what good are you then?”
“He’s also smart. And charming. And successful. Oh, and he has the nicest suits I’ve ever seen.”
“Okay, but I don’t care about any of that. Let’s get to the important question: are you bringing him to my wedding?”
“I’m planning on it,” I told her, reminding myself silently to broach the subject with Tristan soon. “He, um, has a plane, so getting to Chicago shouldn’t be too hard.”
“Holy shit, Ari. I can’t believe you’re hanging around with a guy who’s got his own freaking plane.”
I chuckled. If Clarissa knew what Tristan really was, the idea of a plane would seem like the least unbelievable aspect of him. “Yeah, it’s a jet. It’s pretty nice.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say that wouldn’t involve me blurting out, “He can also change into a giant wolf!” so I changed the subject. “How are the wedding plans going, anyways?”
“Good. Fine. I miss you, though. I don’t really know anyone here. I feel like I’m doing most of the freaking out on my own. I’d rather do it over copious amounts of wine with my bestie.”
“You’ll make friends quickly,” I assured her. “You always do.” Clarissa had always been better in social situations than I was. She was pretty, friendly and incredibly easy to talk to. People gravitated towards her like moths to a flame. I’d always been a little astounded that Tristan had singled me out on the night we’d met, rather than approaching my much more attractive friend.
Apparently my lover had unconventional—and fortunate—taste.
Or maybe he just didn’t like hitting on women who wear giant engagement rings.
“I’m sure I’ll meet people soon enough,” she said. “I’m just whining. But listen, I need to head out to some shindig at the hospital just now. But come visit anytime. I miss you! We’ll talk soon, yeah?”
“Yeah, of course,” I replied.
When I heard a click, signaling that our call had ended, a dose of sadness sank into my chest.
It wasn’t Clarissa’s quick hang-up that had hurt. It was the realization that something had changed between us over the last few months. She and I would probably never be close again, not in the way we’d once been. She had a new life. She’d soon be the wife of a cardiologist who worked at a major Chicago hospital.
But I knew perfectly well that it was my new life that was creating real distance between us. I’d chosen to be with a man whose life I had to keep secret from almost everyone I knew. Sometimes it felt isolating to live inside a world that walled itself off from humans.
I tucked the cell phone away, pushed out a quick sigh, and reminded myself that I was on my way home to a man who was the sum of all the most amazing hopes and dreams I’d ever had. Despite all our challenges, my relationship with Tristan was perfect in almost every way.
The truth was, I wouldn’t have traded my new life for anything.
A tingle of excitement swept over the surface of my skin when I finally started jogging down the stairs into the subway station.
I’d be home soon.
Chapter 3
The station was bustling with people as usual, bodies all but smashing into each other as they tried to escape onto the street above. Mindless beings at the end of their rope charging full speed ahead, eyes in front, ignoring any casualties they may have left in their wake. This was summertime in New York: grumpy, tired people with resting asshole face who were more than ready to bite the heads off anyone who got in their way.
I made my way into the station’s depths, my eyes scanning the wave of strangers’ faces as they came at me. I’d always enjoyed making a game of seeing if a single person would dare to make eye contact. No one ever did, of course; eye contact was too intimate for angry people. It meant acknowledging that the other person had a soul, and that narrative didn’t exactly work for those who used their bodies a rush-hour battering rams.
Something—maybe it was my near death experience, maybe it was the fact that I was deeply in love—had made me lose the frenzied sense of hurry that afflicted most residents of Manhattan. Maybe it was the fact that my sexy lover had lived for over two centuries, but the man never seemed desperate to get anywhere. Well, except into bed with me.
Tristan seldom panicked. He ran this entire city in secret, armies of shifters at his command. He should have been a veritable knot of stress and worry. Yet in some ways, he was the most relaxed person I’d ever met.
Fantasies about his gorgeous face, his chocolate voice, his hard, chiseled muscles misted my mind as I strolled on light feet towards my platform, my mind lost in a sexual reverie.
That was when a slow-moving, solitary figure caught my eye, yanking me out of my blissful haze.
He was about fifteen feet away, and unlike everyone else in the station, this particular denizen of the underground wasn’t avoiding my stare. In fact, from the look on his face, he seemed to want nothing more than to attract my attention.
As I studied his features—astonishingly handsome ones; he was all cheekbones, a square jaw and just enough stubble to accent perfect bone structure—a wave of nausea crashed over my insides. All of a sudden I regretted my decision to evade the shifter sentinels high in the sky whose sole job was to see to my safety. I regretted heading underground, where no one would heed my whimpers for help.
My pace slowed to a stop, an all-consuming paralysis setting in alongside a sense of stark, unrelenting nervousness. My heart began to race like I'd spotted a long-forgotten lover in a crowd. But the thing was, he was no lover of mine. He was the farthest thing imaginable, in fact.
I’d been arrogant enough to tell myself that Jack was my only enemy in this world. I’d forgotten that I had another, far more frightening one.
The man was bigger, even, than Tristan, his shoulders broad and round with taut muscle. His hair was the same shade of brown as my lover’s, his eyes the same piercing shade of blue.
He stopped a few feet away from me even as I tried to will my body to move away, to find the nearest flight of stairs. For a few seconds he eyed me up and down before an odd, chilling smile slid its way along a set of full, sensual lips which were so similar to Tristan's that I couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to have the man press me against the wall and taste my mouth.
But even as the thought of the imagined kiss took shape, I shook my head hard, reprimanding myself for even letting my mind go there. How could anyone even have pushed such a notion into my loyal head?
I loved only one man. I wanted only one man…and that man was Tristan Wolfe. The stranger? He was nothing but an infiltrator. A cruel manipulator, one who sought only to tear me apart, to break me down.
I could see it in his eyes just as clearly as if he'd spoken the words out loud.
Unable to muster the strength to run, I glared
at him, anger boiling up inside me. If I couldn’t flee, I’d confront him. I’d challenge him, ask him what he was doing here, why he insisted on invading my life with his toxicity.
Manhattan was Tristan's domain, damn it. My lover ruled these streets.
Infiltrators were not welcome.
I half expected him to say my name, or to grab me. Something, anything, to end this silent duel of ours. But without a word, the man picked up his pace and moved past me. As he did so, some sensual, masculine aroma filled the air, swirling around my body and mind in erotic, enticing tendrils that seemed designed to arouse me, to pull my mind away from thoughts of Tristan.
My body unlocking from its frozen state, I turned to see the man running up the stairs two by two. I pressed my right hand to my chest, willing my heart to slow its pounding. I finally exhaled hard when I saw that the stranger had made it to the top and rounded the corner to disappear from view.
I pressed my back to the station’s cold tile wall, my breaths struggling their way in and out of my body as though my windpipe had shrunk ten sizes in the last thirty seconds.
“Krane,” I muttered, “why are you doing this to me?”
Chapter 4
By the time I reached Wolfe Tower, I’d managed to calm my mind and body down enough to convince myself that it was more important than ever that I keep silent about spotting Tristan’s brother. I could only imagine the look on my lover’s face if he knew that Krane had been so close to me. Tristan would be out for blood, and I couldn’t imagine that the confrontation would end well for either of them. I didn’t know much about dragon shifters, but I suspected that a fire-breathing flying beast could beat Tristan’s wolf in a one-on-one fight without too much trouble.
“After the ball, I’ll tell him everything,” I vowed again, “just like I promised Marcus. But right now I’ve got to be sensible about this.”
Satisfied that I was both keeping my word and opting for the best possible outcome, I pushed open one of the rotating doors that led into Wolfe Tower’s foyer, repeating my bullshit mantra. I was protecting Tristan, I told myself. I was making sure my lover was safe.
Surely that was all that mattered.
* * *
By now Jim, the building’s evening security guard, had learned to smile and grant me access to the penthouse’s private elevator each time I entered the lobby. He knew full well that if he didn’t get me to Tristan as quickly as possible, he’d get his ass handed to him by the man himself.
Nothing was more dangerous than a powerful man with a painful hard-on, lying in wait for his lover’s arrival.
Having full access to the skyscraper should have made me feel like the Queen of New York. But in spite of the fact that I’d somehow become the lady of the manor, I still felt out of place whenever I wandered into the lobby, even when I was dressed relatively nicely. Hordes of fancy business people always seemed to surround me, perpetually on their way to some important professional meeting or other. They were alway perfectly put together, always seemed to have job that was far more important than anything I could be doing.
Little did they know that my sole purpose in life was the most crucial of anyone’s. I needed to get to my lover, get his clothes off and satisfy both our cravings as quickly—or slowly—as possible.
Desperate to avoid any more eye contact with strangers, I headed straight for the private elevator the moment the security guard saw me, relieved to know that within a minute I’d be standing in Tristan’s living room.
As I stared at the ornate art deco doors, waiting for them to slide open, a surge of heat began to surround me, as if the building’s air conditioning had suddenly stopped working. For a split second I wondered if I was having some kind of premature hot flash. But then the scent met my nose.
Musky, sexy and masculine.
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” said a deep voice from somewhere close behind me. I spun around to find Tristan’s perfect face smiling down at my own. In a flash, all lingering thoughts of Krane melted away, my mind entirely consumed by the glorious man whose very presence destroyed me in all the best ways.
He was dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, his white collar open as always, revealing the hint of collarbone that always rendered me wild with desire. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his pants, which only served to stretch them and reveal an enticing, mouth-watering bulge beyond their fly.
“What?” I asked. “Are you saying you don’t want to get on the elevator with me?”
“On the contrary.”
“Good.”
When the doors opened I backed inside, taking Tristan by the lapel and yanking him in with me.
“I missed you,” he said, pressing the door-close button. The elevator surged upwards, beginning its rapid climb to our place.
The air was filled with sexual tension, Tristan’s scent reminding me how good it felt to have him inside me, to have his lips locked around a nipple, his fingers slipping expertly over my flesh.
His hair was slightly disheveled as always, but the thick coat of stubble covering his jaw line was perfectly groomed, giving him a look that was both wild and completely in control at once. My man was a study in opposites, a sexy wolf shifter with an abundance of secrets.
“Where have you been?” I asked. It had to be seven-thirty by now. Tristan was usually home by this hour, tucked away into the penthouse with me or working out in his private gym.
“I had a late meeting,” he said. “With a few other shifters.”
“Oh?” I asked, my adrenaline surging to recall the time we’d attended a secret meeting under the city with the leaders of the shifter factions. “What about?”
Please don’t say Krane. Please don’t say Krane.
He reached over, grabbed my purse and yanked me towards him, his lips tasting mine possessively. “Nothing for you to worry about,” he murmured when he’d pulled back just enough to speak. “All is well.”
“Good,” I replied. “I don’t like worrying.”
“Neither do I. But do you know what I do like?” he asked, a wicked grin telling me that he definitely had sex on his mind.
“I have some idea,” I said, biting my lower lip as I traced a finger down the front of his shirt. “But why don’t you tell me so we’re on the same page?”
Tristan spun around and hit the emergency stop, which jolted the elevator to a standstill. Turning to me once again, he pushed me back against the grab bar that ran parallel to the mirrored wall. He nipped at my neck, pulling down the straps of my dress and yanking down my strapless bra until he’d exposed my breasts. He slid downward to tease one nipple then the other with his lips, drawing a sharp series of gasps from my chest.
When he rose to his full height again he pulled close to me, his hard-on pressing into my belly, telling me in no uncertain terms that he wasn't prepared to wait sixty more floors to get what he desired.
I was glad to have worn a thin cotton sundress. I’d learned by now that light, airy garments were the greatest aphrodisiac for my lover. Tristan was incapable of keeping his hands off of me when he knew he could easily reach inside my clothing and roll a nipple between his devilish fingers. If he saw an opportunity to slip his hand between my thighs, to feel how wet he made me, he took it without hesitation. Even in crowded restaurants or movie theaters.
I’d climaxed in almost every public space in Manhattan by now, always at the mercy of his skilled fingers. Of course, in the more private locales, he’d used his tongue. The man could bring me to orgasm as easily as he could breathe.
Hitting the emergency stop in the elevator, however, was a new adventure for us both.
He kissed me and like a well-trained reflex my lips parted, welcoming the sensation of his tongue seeking mine. My mind reeled, intoxicated by a shot of the most potent aphrodisiac imaginable. I dropped my purse to the ground, my dress drooping down still farther as if deliberately assisting my lover in getting me naked.
“Fuck, I want you
so much right now,” Tristan moaned as his lips found my left nipple, peaking it to an impossible firmness. “I can smell how wet your pussy is, lover,” he added, nipping gently, drawing the blood to the small, hard summit he’d created.
It was at that precise moment that a loud voice came over the elevator’s speaker, startling us both into a jump.
“Is everything all right, Mr. Wolfe? I see that you’ve stopped moving…um…” the security guard’s concerned voice trailed off as though he’d only just realized what might occur when two sex-crazed lovers found themselves sealed into a metal box alone.
A giggling fit rose up in my throat before I had a chance to cup my hand over my mouth. I could all but feel the flush in Jim’s cheeks.
“We’re fucking fine,” Tristan growled while I dextrously undid his belt and unzipped his trousers. His voice grew strained when I pulled down the waistband of his boxers and knelt down to stroke my tongue over the engorged head of his cock. “Better than fine, in fact. I’m having a very important…private…meeting...with Miss Clarke.” As he uttered the words, I wrapped my fingers around his thick length, squeezing gently to convey tacitly that he was about to enjoy all the benefits of a patented Ariana-style tongue-and-hand massage, also known as a mind-shattering blow job.
“Very good, Mr. Wolfe,” Jim’s sheepish voice replied, his mortification palpable on the air. “Very good.” With that, Tristan pressed a button and the line went silent.
“I’ll bet Jim wishes he had a camera feed to this elevator right about now,” my lover breathed as I yanked his pants to the floor and took him in my mouth, stroking him until he was so hard that he felt like he was going to explode under my tongue’s lashing.
“Not yet,” he groaned, reaching down to pull my hands away. He drew me upwards and unceremoniously stripped my dress over my head, spinning me around to face the mirrored wall at the back of the elevator. As he snapped off my bra and dropped it to the floor, my hands gripped the grab bar in front of me, knuckles white with erotic tension.
Alpha’s Hunger Box Set: Books 1-3 Page 19
