by Celia Kyle
“I have money, but I don’t spend every waking moment making that money. That’s my family. I save lives.” He forced himself to move, to ignore the message her musky scent broadcast. He’d never earn her trust if he tried to seduce her now. He had to give her time to get to know him. Her scent said one thing, but her body language said another.
Cole eased away from her and shrugged out of his dress shirt, white, crew-neck undershirt clinging to his upper body. If he stayed close, he’d take her up on the invitation she posed—conscious or not. He fought for self-control, unwilling to frighten her with his burning desire. Even when she glared at him, she was perfect.
He reached behind his neck and grasped the thin cotton, gathering it in his hands before tugging it over his head. Leaving him bare from the waist up.
He fought to ignore the way her gaze caressed him. How her eyes touched on every part of his chest and abs. She didn’t want to want him, but she did. And fuck if that didn’t make him crave her even more.
Instead of seducing her, he focused on what he needed to accomplish before morning. Like sleep.
He dug in one of his drawers and pulled out one of his favorite T-shirts. It was old, torn in several places, and it’d seen better days, but it had a lot of good memories woven into its threads. His tiger wanted to add Stella to those good memories—to draw her into their life.
“Save lives?” Doubt filled her tone.
“And end them when needed.” He nudged the drawer closed and turned to face her. He leaned against the dresser, not speaking until he had her full attention. “By the time me and my team are sent in, ‘upper management’ has decided that the only answer is death. We may be tasked with gathering intel first—like this weekend—but the eventual end is always the same.”
Stella paused in the middle of the room, arms wrapped around her middle, and he was reminded she was a civilian. Despite her attempt at killing James Walters, she wasn’t a killer at heart. “Do you enjoy it? The…the killing?”
Cole frowned and stared at the beige carpet for a moment while he organized his thoughts so he didn’t sound like a psychopath. Which wasn’t as easy as some might think. “I enjoy saving our people. Shifters aren’t ‘out,’ and the work I do with Shifter Operations Command ensures humans don’t find out about our kind. The council handles small one-off issues, like when a cub mistakenly shifts in front of a human. But SHOC protects shifters from the larger threats like Unified Humanity. We discredit them and we attempt to end them.
“No. I don’t enjoy taking a life, but I enjoy saving a shifter in the future by killing someone today. If that someone has done harm to one of our people…Well, I enjoy their pleas for mercy.” He lifted his head and met Stella’s stare. Might as well get it all out there. Give her the truth and let her realize the kind of male she’d be spending time with over the next few days. He could experience her reaction here, in the privacy of his room and without an audience.
Then the guys couldn’t ride his ass about having emotions and shit.
“I enjoy killing, but I enjoy seeing others live even more. I do what I have to do for shifter kind, and if others fear me because of it…” He shrugged and pretended others’ fear didn’t hurt. Pretended that most of shifter kind rejected him simply because he was an agent. That he was a threat merely because he breathed. “…then they fear me. I have my team, and I have the satisfaction of knowing I’m doing the right thing no matter how many people disagree.”
“Who disagrees?”
“We’re getting awfully close to sharing life stories, you know.” He lifted a single brow and got a perverse pleasure out of watching her squirm before he got on to answering her question. She might not want to tell him about herself, but he’d lay it all out for her. He didn’t have personal secrets. “You mean, other than you?” She opened her mouth to reply, but he continued. “My family.” He shook his head and copied his father’s usual tone. He pushed away from the dresser, clasping his hands behind his back as he strode across the room in equally spaced steps. “The Turner tiger pride doesn’t get their hands dirty. They don’t work.” He sniffed and looked down his nose at Stella like his father had looked down on Cole so many times in the past. “They hire people.”
Her lips twitched, and she pressed them together, as if she fought the urge to smile. “‘They hire people’?”
Cole chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, my dad isn’t usually such an elitist asshole, but he has a hard time understanding this—my choices.” He waved his hand, encompassing the room. “He wants to throw money at Shifter Operations Command so they can just ‘deal with the problem.’ I have three older brothers, and they always wanted to follow in our father’s pawsteps while I was driven to do more than sit in an office pounding on a keyboard. My parents and brothers hate the way I live my life, but they deal with the choices I’ve made.”
Though the holidays always ended up a clusterfuck of silent disapproval.
“Do they know about this weekend?”
He shook his head. “No one outside the team and our chain of command is aware of the op.”
“And me.” Stella hugged herself tighter, her gaze leaving him to focus on the far wall. She curled in on herself, as if making herself smaller would somehow change things.
“And you,” he agreed with a tip of his head. “I need your help, Stella. If we work together, we’ll both get the results we want. SHOC gets whatever intel we can find. The quicker that happens, the quicker James Walters will die by my claw. It’s a win-win. Your participation will help bring down the rest of the organization. This op will have far-reaching consequences. You’ll contribute to the end of Unified Humanity.”
He padded to her, and when he got close enough, he held out the shirt. “Go ahead and change. Take tonight to think about it.”
“Birch made it sound like I don’t have a choice.”
Cole shrugged. She didn’t, but if she truly opposed the situation…he’d figure something out. Even if it meant going rogue like Declan had for his mate, Abby. “I’ll deal with Birch.”
“Okay. I’ll…I’ll think about it.” Stella turned her attention to the shirt, her fingers twisting the fabric. The flavors of her unease scraped his lungs, and his tiger snarled with the scent. It didn’t like upsetting Stella. At all.
Chapter Eight
Just because Stella said she would think about Cole’s proposal didn’t mean she wanted to fill her head with thoughts about the weekend. Or thoughts about Cole’s hands on her. Beyond that, she didn’t want to remember the taste of his lips or the snippets of flavors that still lingered on her tongue. Her jaguar nudged her, wanting Stella to pounce and claim more of his essence. If she went to James Walters’s island, maybe…
She sighed and dropped the T-shirt on the counter, then placed her hands on the gleaming granite surface. Now wasn’t the time to ponder all of the wicked ways she could enjoy Cole’s body. This wasn’t about Cole. It was about ridding the world of James Walters and his twisted organization.
Stella stared at herself in the large mirror, the reflective surface taking up one entire wall of the massive bathroom suite, and finally admitted the truth. She couldn’t say it out loud—sure as hell wouldn’t admit it to Cole—but the knowledge was undeniable.
She’d failed in her mission. She’d failed to take vengeance.
Just…failed.
Her throat tightened, old emotions rearing their poisonous heads and attacking her heart and soul. She’d made a promise—to herself, to…her. A sob crept up her throat, but she pushed it down, unwilling to let it have free rein. Now wasn’t the time. This wasn’t the place. Later…Later she could think about what’d gone wrong.
Sure, she’d failed because Cole had interfered. But if he hadn’t intruded, she probably would have been caught by Walters and his group. Caught and then interrogated by some of the best.
Was that what she’d endured all those years ago? God, Stella hoped not, but she was a realist, too.
O
ne who knew it wouldn’t have taken much for him to identify her as a shifter—a blood test took no time at all. Then she would have been in for hour after hour of torture before he finally killed her.
Or they would keep her around long-term. A plaything he could revisit again and again. She’d heard that some shifters were used that way. Though she wasn’t sure how reliable those whispers were. A friend of a friend of a friend…
Stella’s eyes stung, moisture filling them, and she took a deep, cleansing breath while her mind spun through memories. Memories intermixed with imaginary “what ifs” that always stabbed her in the heart. Long ago she’d lost loved ones to Unified Humanity. Since then, every time she let her thoughts drift to them, her mind filled with disturbing dreams of blood and pain that eventually led to death. Except that death always took so, so long to come.
She wasn’t sure if her nightmares were anything close to the truth, but that didn’t stop them from coming.
Stella wanted to kill James in retribution, yes, but also to end those tear-jerking, agonizing dreams that chased her when she closed her eyes.
Helping Cole would give her peace with James Walters’s death. If they acquired the intel SHOC needed, it would lead to the end of Unified Humanity.
All she had to do was put her trust and faith in Cole. But could she?
Stella stared at her reflection and whispered, “Can I?”
She wanted to shout an unmistakable yes to the world. She would put her trust in him. She would risk everything in the belly of the beast for the good of shifter kind. She would…admit to herself that facing the human she hated most in the world for a full weekend scared her shitless. If she had Cole at her side though…
Two quick knocks broke the silence in the bathroom, followed by Cole’s voice booming through the door. “You okay in there?”
Not really.
“I’m fine.”
She pushed away from the counter and stood tall, reaching behind her for the dress’s zipper. She couldn’t stand around in the bathroom thinking all night. Morning came early, and she’d either be dropped off at home or hauled away in a private plane.
“All right. Let me know if you need anything.”
As if. The man was way too tempting. She wasn’t about to ask for anything from him. At least, not until she’d made a decision.
Stella stretched for the hook and eye just above the zipper, straining and pushing to reach the stupid loop. She squirmed and wiggled. Even did a little shimmy and shake with an added twist at the end while her fingers scraped the sequined fabric. When her left arm wasn’t successful, she tried grasping the closure with her right. Of course, that didn’t work, so she went back to her left. Then right. Then…Dammit. She’d gotten the dress on. Why couldn’t she get it off?
She dropped her arms to her sides and let her head fall forward, chin to her chest. She closed her eyes and huffed, accepting defeat no matter how much she hated having to ask for help.
She turned to face the door, licking her lips and swallowing hard, her nerves making her mouth dry. His presence had taunted and tempted her jaguar before. Now she’d be half naked with the tiger shifter, and she wasn’t sure she could resist him.
“Cole, I could use a little help with my dress.”
The door whipped open so fast she knew he had to have been standing on the other side, waiting for her to ask for something. And that grin on his lips…It should be outlawed. The way the corners of his mouth curled up combined with the blatant desire in his eyes…Way. Too. Sexy.
“I’m happy to do anything for you.”
The cheesy line stomped down some of her craving for him, so that was a plus.
“Yeah, okay.” She turned and presented Cole with her back. “Can you unzip me, please?”
He eased closer, his warmth bathing her shoulders and the skin above her dress. He ran his fingers over her bare flesh, sliding down to the edge of her dress. He teased her with the softest of touches, caress not ending until he reached the zipper. It took him no time to unhook the small hook and eye, and then he focused on the zipper. On taking his time as he drew the slider down to expose more of her.
Stella shuddered as the bathroom’s cool air kissed her newly bared skin, causing goose bumps to rise along her arms. Cole continued to lower the zipper, revealing more and more of her, and she fought a battle inside herself. Her human mind urged her to rush him along and change already. Nothing good could come from being half dressed in Cole Turner’s presence.
The jaguar wanted to shred her dress and dance naked for the tiger. It seemed her jaguar was a bit of a whore.
The longer he worked, the looser her dress became, and she hugged the bodice to her chest, saving herself from flashing the dangerous tiger. She clutched the fabric, clinging to the sequins and silk like a shield, while he drew the slider down the last few inches.
Cole didn’t move and neither did she, frozen and engulfed by the sensual tension bouncing between them. Her jaguar wanted to shred his clothes along with her own.
“No bra?” he murmured. “Naughty kitten.”
That squashed her human half’s arousal. “Kitten?” Holding the dress in place, she spun to face him. “Really? You don’t have anything more original?” She snorted. “‘Sweet’ is better than kitten.” She shuddered. “Gag me.”
That was about the time she realized that facing him was a mistake. A huge one. Because Cole Turner in a tux was hot, but Cole Turner in nothing but a pair of baggy shorts that barely clung to his hips…Sexy. As. Hell. She got to see all of those delicious lines of his abdomen as well as the deeply carved V at his hips. Her fingers twitched and her mouth watered. She ached to stroke and lick every one of those muscles.
“Need me to help you out of anything else? Maybe keep you steady while you step out of that dress?” He licked his lips, his gaze sliding up and down her body, and she swore she could feel his stare as if it were a physical touch. Warm hands, calloused palms, and a seductive pressure that was just enough to send tingles down her spine.
“No, I think I’ve got it,” she drawled, and rolled her eyes, pretending she didn’t want him doing more than helping her undress.
She hadn’t taken time away from Cole to focus on how good sex between them could be. She was supposed to be making a decision. Was she going to help Cole—and SHOC? Yes or no?
Her hesitancy didn’t come from the ultimate goal—they both would eventually get what they wanted. But the trust it’d take to put herself at his mercy…Her stomach churned, twisting while indecision battled it out in her gut.
Cole would give her what she wanted, but he wanted something in return—her. Could she trust him? She swallowed hard and took a deep breath, releasing it slowly as she searched for calm once again.
Could she trust him? Could she trust SHOC? Could she—
Fuck. She didn’t know, but she needed to. Soon.
Stella snared the T-shirt Cole provided and shook it out with one hand. She grabbed the bottom hem and tugged and nudged the cotton top until it worked its way over her head. She managed to get one arm through an arm hole, quickly followed by the other. With a few more wiggles, she was able to drop the dress while remaining hidden from Cole’s intense stare.
She let the gown slump to the ground in a heap of cream and red and then carefully stepped out of the ruffled pile. Once she was alone she’d deal with her Christian Louboutin’s, La Perla garter, and thigh-high stockings.
After she’d rejected his assistance, Cole hadn’t said a word. Even after she’d escaped the vintage Dior dress, he remained silent. His mouth hung open while he stared at her legs, and she glanced down at herself. There didn’t seem to be anything out of place.
When she refocused on him, she realized that the amber of his tiger had overtaken the blue in his eyes.
“Cole?”
He didn’t say a word. Just kept staring.
Stella tried again. “Uh, Cole?”
Nope. That got her nothing.
&nb
sp; She leaned forward and snapped her fingers near his face, a quick snap, snap, snap inches from his nose, which finally grabbed his notice. He shook his head as if breaking out of a trance.
“Hi.” She grinned. “Nice of you to join us.” She took a breath and released it in a quick huff. “I’ve thought about it and—”
He dragged his attention to her face. He moved slowly, almost as if he fought himself to stop staring at her legs and meet her gaze. “Promise you’ll always wear thigh-highs and those heels.” He pointed at the wide expanse of her thighs that the shirt didn’t quite cover. At the lace that peeked from beneath the thin fabric. “Swear it.”
“Seriously?”
Cole shook his head. “Usually I’m an ass man, but your legs…” He shook his head harder this time, blinking quickly to clear his head. “What were we talking about?”
Stella wasn’t sure if he was pretending to be awed by her legs to break the tension between them or if he’d really lost himself to the beauty that was Stella Moore’s thighs. She mentally rolled her eyes at herself. The beauty that was Stella Moore’s thighs? Really? Sometimes she was super lame.
“You want me to go to James Walters’s island and help you, right?”
“Right.” He nodded, but he still seemed a little dazed.
“I’ve thought about it, and I’ll join you this weekend. Willingly.” Mostly, anyway. She still voted for killing James Walters immediately, but Cole’s—and SHOC’s—approach made sense.
Cole’s gaze drifted back to her legs, and he nodded. “Right. Yeah. But you’ll bring the shoes, right? And the thigh-highs?”
Chapter Nine
Early the next morning Stella made sure she was as quick as promised when it came to grabbing a few things from her apartment. From there they went directly to the airport to hop onto Cole’s private plane.
Walters met them on the runway after they landed and oversaw the unloading of their luggage before it was hauled to their private bungalow. Then he’d handed Stella off to some overly perky “island secretary.”