by Eliza Gayle
He pulled hard on his dick, hoping the mixture of pain and pleasure would ease the intense pressure battling him at every turn. He imagined Chey on her knees in front of him, her mouth opening to take him inside.
He groaned at the agony that image created. His body ached. He pumped his hand several times, moaning at the agony and ecstasy of the moment. But Chey wasn’t with him. She’d fled the bathroom and left him to his own business. Malcolm groaned and released his erection. He would not get what he needed like this. The only solution for him was ten feet on the other side of the door—waiting.
He moved to the shower and turned the water to frigid. If a cold shower couldn’t relieve his own personal version of hell then God help Chey. Kane or fate had sent her here and he was spiraling out of control. Like it or not, what happened next was up to nature.
Chapter Nine
Chey gripped the edge of the desk, willing the hunger devouring her to ease. Whatever drug that bitch had fed her still hovered at the edges of her brain. But she’d regained enough clarity to know how close she and Malcolm dangled on the edge of serious trouble. Every touch of his fingers on her skin had burned through the effects of the drug until the pressure between her legs had grown unbearable. One word from him and she would have gladly bent over and begged to be taken.
He’d entered the room moments ago but she was afraid to turn around and face him. He’d smell the arousal, she definitely couldn’t hide that. One glance at him now and she’d be done. Cooked. Toast. Screwed.
Her nipples ached for the sweet heat of his mouth as he nipped and nibbled his way between them both. The skin from her hips to the aching bud of her mound felt on fire from simply imagining his touch there too.
“Jesus, Chey. Are you trying to kill me?”
“Don’t go there. I know what your senses are picking up but let’s simply chalk it up to an anomaly and let it go.”
The air in the room shifted, the only indication Malcolm had moved until he hovered so close behind her his heat brushed over her in waves. “You’re my mate. You don’t have to suffer like this.”
“I’m not your mate, I belong to…”
He pressed into her before she finished her sentence. His large body straddled her legs with the hard ridge of his erection pressing into her ass. The fact they both wore clothes seemed to mean little.
She gasped. Whether in protest or in pleasure she wasn’t sure. This was certainly trouble with a capital T. “Stop,” she pleaded.
“If you say you belong to another one more time I won’t be held responsible for what happens next. Is that what you want?” He pushed tighter against her backside. “Yes, maybe it is. If you need to have your control stripped away to find your pleasure then you, darling, have come to the right man.”
“You’re insane,” she cried.
In a flurry of movement, he grabbed her hands and pulled them behind her back, rendering her helpless against the onslaught of sensation his nearness created.
“Maybe. Denial does have a way of driving a person crazy.” He tightened his hold until she nearly cried out from the strain.
“Damn it. I want to bite you so bad I ache with it.” He flexed his hips. “Can you feel how bad?”
Spots swam in Chey’s vision as her head spun out of control. Everything narrowed to the desire pulsing between her legs and the ache in her breasts for more of what he offered.
“If I do though… ” He didn’t have to finish the thought she knew exactly what would happen. The one thing John had known about her and always worried about was the lack of bonding between them. She’d tried to tell him what they had was enough but he’d known better. His dying words to her had said as much. Chey choked back a sob.
“I need you so bad I can’t think straight, Cheyenne. Why did you have to come here? After all these years. Why now?”
Why did she come? Because Kane had implored her that Malcolm was their last hope? What did she care about their council politics? If she dug deep there were two very clear reasons she was trapped underneath Malcolm right this second. First, the trail from her husband’s death led deep into the heart of cougar country and it was the only way she could get in. Second, and this was much harder to admit even to herself, she’d needed to see him again. Although the outcome had not been what she’d hoped.
Before she’d arrived, she’d managed to convince herself that what happened all those years ago meant nothing. That the only reason Malcolm had walked away from her had been because he was nothing more than an asshole using a birthmark and her heritage as an excuse to get away.
Uh huh. But John had warned you what would happen if you ever saw him again and even in death you refused to listen.
“Kane insisted no one else could lure you back. I disagreed of course but your brother can be quite insistent when he wants to be.”
Malcolm dragged his teeth along the edge of her exposed neck and clamped down on her shoulder muscle. As long as she stayed perfectly still there was no chance of him breaking the skin. Seconds ticked by while he held her in his mouth like a mother would carry her cub. Her skin itched, ached with need. She fought the need to struggle, to arch into him until his teeth sank into her skin. Oh God, she craved his bite and cock something fierce.
Slowly the pressure of his teeth lessened and he lifted from her skin. “I could slide my cock into your wet pussy and bury my teeth in your flesh and you would simply scream in ecstasy.”
“Malcolm, we can’t do this.” She cringed at the husky tone of her voice. She couldn’t hide how much she wanted this.
“Shh,” his hands roamed her overheated skin as he soothed her. “I only need a minute to touch. Please, baby.”
Chey fought the instinct to lift her robe and spread her legs for him. The moisture flooding her sex in response to every move he made should have embarrassed her but she was way beyond that now. She wanted him so badly her mind could think of little else. Not with the hard ridge of his erection poking incessantly at her bottom.
He arched his hips and pressed deeper in between her buttocks. His fingers slipped between the fabric of the robe and stroked her thigh. The rough skin on his hand created the most delicious friction she’d ever experienced as he worked his way to the crease of her thigh.
“Can’t…so bad…not good…” Her protest died on a soft gasp when he cupped her overheated center.
“Just a little more,” he insisted. Before she could respond, he parted her labia and slid two fingers through the hot juices hidden between her folds.
Her brain fired into overdrive under the onslaught of sensations. Fire raced along her spine, tingling all of her nerve endings. This had to stop before she melted on the floor or they both let things go too far.
“Have to stop, Malcolm.”
On a low groan, he jerked away from her, taking all of his body heat and sweet friction with him. Chey slowly eased her feet from their perch on her tiptoes and readjusted the robe around her. She fought to breathe and regain control while her body pleaded for the release it craved—at his hand. The thought of turning to face him held little appeal at the moment but staying in this vulnerable position would be even worse. She rolled to her backside and sat up, doing everything she could to avoid eye contact.
“We keep messing this up.” She sighed as he forced his legs into a pair of clean jeans he’d grabbed from a drawer.
“Hell, at the moment I don’t even know what this is. One minute we’re screwing each other’s brains out; the next, you’re telling me you already have a mate, then we have a dead body, and then we don’t, and now you no longer have a mate either. And on top of all of that, I can’t stop thinking about being inside you. Fuck, Chey. My head is spinning.”
Chey sucked in a deep breath. She didn’t want to deal with any of this either. “We’re both on overload.” She pressed her hand to her now aching head and tried to sort through all the data flying by. “It’s almost as if… ”
“As if what?” Malcolm growled and too
k a step closer. “What are you thinking?”
“It’s probably my own heightened paranoias.” Ever since John’s death she’d not trusted anyone.
“Tell me.”
“All of this happening at once is almost too coincidental. Like you said, why would Kane ask for me? And if Kane didn’t send Carl to follow me, then who did? There are a lot of what if’s and how the hell did this happen going on. It’s as if someone wants to distract us. Or me,” Chey pointed out as she took a few steps to the side, putting a little more space between her and Malcolm.
“Or me.”
Chey bit at her bottom lip and considered the possibilities. “Okay so if we indulge this craziness for a minute… What would someone have to gain by distracting one of us?”
Malcolm shrugged. “Hell if I know. I’ve been on my own for a while now just trying to deal as best I can.”
“What do you mean deal? I thought you were busy living the high life out here. What, with no responsibilities to the clan and no one to tie you down, you’ve been positively free as a bird.” The minute the words left her mouth she realized she’d just made a huge mistake.
His eyes darkened and the lethal tips of his canines poked from the sides of his mouth. “Hasn’t anyone ever warned you not to poke an animal, little girl?”
The question was snarled not spoken and the vibration of it rolled over her senses, setting the hair on her skin to standing. “Don’t even think about trying to scare me Malcolm Gunn. I bite back.”
“Is that a promise?”
Chey rolled her eyes. She’d forgotten what an arrogant ass male kitties were when backed into a corner or refused their favorite toy. Lucky for her, it was exactly that attitude that managed to cool the lust she felt for him.
Before she could deliver her scathing retort a loud knock sounded at the door. Both their gazes flew in the direction of the sound. “What?” Malcolm demanded.
“You’ve had plenty of time alone. It’s time to get your asses out here and finish answering our questions.”
Chey scented the all too familiar smell of deceit. “He’s lying.”
Malcolm placed his finger over his lip, urging her to not say anything else. With her instincts screaming trouble stood outside the door, she immediately rifled through Malcolm’s drawers for some clean clothes. No way did she want to face trouble in a fucking bathrobe.
“We still have to finish getting dressed.”
“Don’t tell him that. Jesus,” she whispered.
“Get over it. But hurry and get dressed. We’re going to blow this Popsicle stand. I think your theory is beginning to make sense and I have a feeling one or both of us is about to be hauled in for murder.”
“What? Why?” She grabbed a pair of his sweat pants and pulled them up her hips.
“Call it a hunch.” Chey watched him disappear into the closet, drawers being opened and closed the only sound he made. When he returned, her gaze was drawn to the weapons he’d strapped to his body. A gun at his hip and knives strapped to each thigh. If she’d ever doubted the man knew how to handle any situation, he was quickly proving it.
“Wait. How the hell are you going to shift like that?” She threw on a found T-shirt and tried to ignore the appreciative way he looked at her breasts.
“I’m not. But you are so hurry the hell up. If we don’t get out there in five minutes or less they’ll be pushing their way in here.”
She wrinkled her face in confusion but they didn’t have time for explanations now. Once they cleared the property and found a place to hunker down she’d demand some answers.
Malcolm slid the window open without making a sound and waved for her to go through. Without looking back she sprang through the opening and landed on her feet in the grass. So far so good. Chey surveyed the area, allowing the brief seconds she needed to focus her senses. Someone in the house was talking and judging by the muffled responses, she’d guess cell phone.
A displacement of air behind her was the only sign Malcolm had followed her out the window. She motioned to him with hand signals she knew he’d understand to apprise him of the situation. Malcolm nodded and pointed to the tree line. Seconds later, they both raced from the cabin. The only chance of a clean getaway was if they got into those trees without being spotted.
From what little of the conversation she’d picked up, Malcolm’s guess had been correct. It sounded like they were preparing sedatives for them both. Boy, when she got her hands on Kane he’d be lucky to survive. None of this behavior had been expected. She’d trusted him implicitly in this situation and he’d screwed her and the brother he supposedly wanted brought home.
Lies and deceit. It seemed no one was immune.
Chey pumped her arms and legs harder and thanked her DNA for her quick reflexes. Once she shifted she’d be able to move even faster. Good considering they were about to be pursued by two pissed off animals. The bitter taste of betrayal filled Chey’s mouth. Charlie was one of her kind. They were supposed to protect each other from outside clans. It was their way.
Thirty seconds from the tree line shouts and commotion sounded behind her.
“Don’t look. Just move faster!” Malcolm yelled.
Chey ducked behind the first row of low bushes and scrambled to remove her clothes. Malcolm grabbed her arm.
“After you shift follow the scent of the water. Don’t stop and don’t waste time looking back.”
“What about you?” she heaved.
“I’ll meet you there. I’ve got what we need stashed on the other side of the river. Make it to the water and everything will be fine.”
She hesitated for a second, staring into his eyes searching for answers.
“Go now.” He disappeared behind the trees to her left and Chey shifted. Bones popped and muscles stretched. The pain didn’t register thanks to the adrenalin coursing through her. Over the years, she’d grown accustomed to the changes her body made and barely noticed the pain. Although stress often made the shift more uncomfortable.
Fur covered her arms and legs, and in a matter of seconds she no longer looked human. She noticed the usually dormant white fur covering her limbs. The scent of the approaching cougar had made the wolf come out. The sudden sound of extra voices caught the wolf’s attention. Her ears perked up.
“We’re moving out now. It shouldn’t take long to capture them and then we’ll bring them in.”
A deep rumble formed in Chey’s throat during the pause. For some reason she couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation.
“Yes, Sir. I won’t. That’s right, I tagged him.”
Chey desperately wanted to hear the rest of the conversation but the scent of the woman was drawing close. It was now or never for her own escape. She crouched low and moved quickly under the brush, using the low hung branches and debris to hide her trail. They’d still scent her but she already had a plan in place to buy them a few minutes to spare.
Once she cleared the edges of brush, Chey took off at a dead run, not looking back. The colors of the forest passed her in a blur and the different scents of nature overwhelmed her. Luckily her keen sense of locating water kept her moving in the right direction. She calculated the river was less than a mile in front of her. Her mind wandered back to earlier that morning when Malcolm had lain on the ground writhing in agony. His human form more misshapen than anything she’d ever seen before. Normally when one of their kind shifted it happened almost instantaneously. His acute pain and odd formed features scared the hell out of her.
And why the hell was he out here with weapons and clothes instead of fur and muscles? Something was very, very wrong. And now that they had a band of merry council warriors on their ass it was about to turn to total shit. Chey pushed her body faster, stretching the deepest muscles of her hind legs to propel her faster than any ordinary wolf. In open territory, the cat might outrun her but the wolf knew this type of terrain much better.
About a quarter mile from her destination she turned sharply to the r
ight and headed west for about five hundred yards before doubling back. When she returned to the point she’d originally turned from, Chey quickly shifted to cougar and leapt across two wide boulders until she could reach a solid tree branch. From there she moved tree to tree until she reached the riverbank.
Chey leapt from the thick branch she stood on to the ground thirty feet below. The moment she stopped to survey the area, she picked up on the familiar and oh so delicious scent of Malcolm. For a second her body froze, her heart pounded harder and blood rushed through her veins. His scent alone had the power to command her attention.
“About time you got here.”
She whirled to face him. Protocol insisted she shift but there was something about making him see her like this that gave her too much satisfaction. She studied him carefully for any signs of offense. It probably wasn’t every day he saw a white cougar. The anomaly that served as a big red flag that said, “Half breed over here.” Her breath caught in her throat while she waited for his response.
“We don’t have time for this. I’m sure they’re not far behind. Can you cross the river? I have a vehicle hidden on the other side.”
Chey nodded. She took a deep breath and sought the space inside that corralled her ability to change. She imagined it opening and allowing her human form to run free. By the time she opened her eyes the process was complete and she crouched naked at Malcolm’s feet.
He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her up. “I don’t even want to get into how much that just turned me on, baby.” He nipped at her lip and released her. “Let’s go.”
She followed him down the steep embankment and into the cool spring water. The temperature of her body began to immediately drop.
“Hurry, Chey. I can already hear them.”
Damn. Her little trick had not bought them much time at all.
Malcolm dove into the water with a splash. With powerful strokes he pulled his muscular frame across the river effortlessly. She yearned for him now more than ever. Only the voices in the distance getting distinctly louder got her moving again. Despite the lack of clothes, Chey followed him across. She didn’t love swimming but she got by on just enough skill to keep her alive. The current in this part of the river was not strong thanks to the narrowing of the canyon surrounding it. Obviously Malcolm had staked this area out well in advance in case of the need for a quick getaway.