by Renee Rose
“Eat. Need to get some meat on your bones.”
I stare at the piled plate, my mouth watering. I haven’t eaten this well in months. Certainly not this much food. I’ve trained myself not to think bad things about Augustine—otherwise I never would’ve been able to endure my life in his lair—but being with Grizz makes all the bad stuff come into focus.
“Jordy,” he puts a hand on the back of my neck as he returns with his own plate. “Eat. That’s an order.”
I snatch up my fork and begin shoveling food in, chewing as fast as I can. My stomach cramps against the sudden onslaught.
“Whoa, whoa,” Grizz says, his hand still resting on my bare neck. “Slow down.”
Instantly I put down the fork and focus on my full mouth.
“Sorry about that,” he murmurs. “I need to watch the orders.”
“It’s all right,” I swallow. “I’m used to them.”
“I want you to be okay. And healthy. Did Augustine really feed you dog food?”
I nod.
He growls and I startle. “Shhh, it’s okay.” His big hand squeezes mine. “I’m not mad at you.”
“I know.” I lift my eyes to his, taking comfort in the yellow blaze of his bear.
“You need to eat well. You’re not a dog.”
“I’m a fox. That’s close enough.”
“You’re a shifter. A lovely young woman. You need real food.”
My cheeks warm. He called me lovely. “Augustine didn’t want me to eat too much. He liked me thin.”
“Liked having you weak and dependent, probably.”
I press my lips together. He’s right, though I feel guilty even agreeing with him. I should be loyal to my master.
Grizz’s face gets tight when I tell him this. “Why? He didn’t treat you well.”
I set my fork down. “He treated me better than the clan did.”
The big man grunts at that. He plows through his food while I pretend to look at my plate, sneaking glances at him whenever I’m sure he’s not looking. The scar on his face isn’t ugly, I decide. The seam makes him look dangerous, not weak. His nose is crooked, like it’s been broken and set badly, but that only adds to his violent aura. Combined with the tattoos, rough stubble and shoulder length golden locks, he looks like a badass biker. The type to live free or die.
I’m confident I’ve gotten away with studying him without him noticing when he reaches out and grips my knee. Instant arousal gushes through me, a flood filling the cup of my sex. I squeeze my legs together to keep from overflowing. I know what it’s like to get turned on—Augustine took delight in making me desire his bite and beg for it as much as he enjoyed hurting me—but I’ve never felt anything like this.
Grizz raises his head, his nostrils flaring. He turns bright eyes to me, high beams in the dark. His fingers give me one more squeeze.
“You finished eating?”
I nod, unable to speak.
He forks the rest of my food into his mouth, eating with his hand on me like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like he can’t tell my breathing has quickened and the air is filled with my scent.
“You called me sir, earlier,” he says casually. “Why did you stop?”
“You didn’t like it,” I whisper before I can stop myself. He doesn’t need to know how closely I watch him, how I saw his lips press together in the start of a frown when I said it the first time. How I pushed to see how far I could push before his dominance kicked in. Testing limits is just something I do naturally.
He grunts and I feel a second of panic. “You didn’t want me to keep calling you sir, did you?” Did I read the signs right? The thought that I might have disappointed him squeezes my chest.
“No, no,” he soothes, catching my hand. “Relax, Kit. You can be yourself. I want you to be yourself around me.”
“Okay.” I lower my eyes. How can I explain that submissive is just what I am?
“Good girl,” he rumbles and in an instant I’m content. Maybe he knows what I am. At least, on some level. Even if he doesn’t want to admit it.
With one final squeeze, he rises and clears the table.
“Time to go, Kit. You wanna wrap up in that blanket?”
“What?”
“You need clothes. You can wear my flannel, but wrap up in that blanket so I can take you out.”
Grizz
Jordy blinks at me.
“Kit, let’s get a move on.”
It’s bad enough that she’s looking at me with big baby doll eyes. Her scent surrounds me, sweet as fuck, and I’m thinking about my fantasy in the club last night. A sexy little piece who will trot around my home in a shirt and no panties, drop to her knees whenever I want. Here she is, but I can’t touch her. She belongs to a vampire.
She plucks at the shirt that swallows her small body. “I can borrow this?”
“Yeah, seeing as you got nothing else to wear. We’ll get you clothes first thing.”
With a sassy smile, she slips it off.
“Kit…” My mouth is dry. I saw her naked in the club and this morning when she tried to run away, but somehow, having her in my den is different. Her pale body is freckled, her torso slender and thighs sturdy. She looks like she belongs here. My mouth waters.
Before I can ask what she’s doing, she pulls my shirt around her, leaving her arms free, and buttons it up almost all the way. The middle button ends up between her breasts and the shirt clings to her. She takes the arms and wraps them around her like a belt. “There,” she smiles, pleased. The shirt dress ends about mid thigh and leaves her shoulders bare, but it’s enough coverage to hit the surplus store.
“Good enough,” I say, and it comes out a growl. Not surprising, I’m pretty close to tossing her over my shoulder and taking her back into the bedroom. ‘Cause that’ll teach her to trust me.
I shrug on my jacket as Jordy sticks her feet into my extra pair of Timberlands. The boots are enormous but she stuffs paper around the socks.
I check my pocket for my flask and weapons, taking care to hide what I’m packing from Jordy. “Let’s go.”
Outside she waits and watches me switch out the license plates on the truck.
“This truck is hot,” I explain.
“Hot?”
“Stolen.”
She cocks her head to the side. “Why did you steal it?”
“Couldn’t take you on the bike.”
A sigh escapes her. She’s gnawing on her lip, staring out over the valley.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Grizz, seriously, why am I here? Augustine isn’t gonna like it.”
“You call him master and sometimes Augustine.”
She flushes, her eyes meeting the ground.
“It’s not a judgment. I’m just curious about it. The dom submissive stuff is a game.”
“It isn’t,” she insists.
I raise a brow at her as I haul my tool box back to the shed.
“It is, and it isn’t,” she falters. “You know how important dominance and submission is to shifters. We live and die by it.”
“Yeah, but the sexual part. I don’t get it.”
She gnaws her lip, staring up at me. I’m about to order her to stop biting her lip before she chaps it, when she blurts, “Haven’t you ever wanted to give someone everything? Prove how much you love them?”
She presses forward, laying a hand on my chest, right over my heart. Her touch hits me like a Taser. I jerk but she doesn’t notice. Her eyes are wide, rapt, and words rush from her like she’s been holding them in all her life. “Haven’t you wanted to love someone so much you’d do anything, even let them drag you beyond the boundaries of normal, into forbidden territory? And you go with them, just to show how much you trust them. You’d do anything for them. You’d give your life, your heart, your pain, and it’d be a pleasure.”
The air leaves my lungs. “Jordy—”
“Don’t you want a love like that?” She has both hands on me now,
her little fingers fisting in my leather jacket. “If you found it, wouldn’t you do anything to hold on to it?”
I take her wrists. “Kit—”
“Wouldn’t you?”
I stare at her. She’s got a clear blue ring around her eyes but it fades to brown close to the pupil. Her lips are plump and soft. She’s up on tiptoe, her whole body thrown into convincing me of what she’s saying, hoping I’ll understand.
I hate to disappoint her. “No, Kit. I can’t say that I would.”
It hurts watching the light fade from her face. She starts to pull away and I grip her wrists tighter.
“Did you love Augustine?” My words come out a growl.
She bites her lip and looks away. I take hold of her chin and turn her face back to mine. “Answer me.” My bear is clawing my insides, roaring to break free.
“No, okay. I don’t. But I like what we have. My fox is…I need to be protected. All I ever wanted was that.” Her shoulders slump at the admission. It’s a half lie. She wanted more, but she settled for protection. I want to say something, comfort her, but what? We don’t see the world the same way. For me, there’s only predator and prey, and I’ve made damn sure I’m a predator. Jordy is weak. At worst, she’s prey, a pawn to those more powerful than her. At best, she’s collateral damage. But I can’t say that. On some level, she already knows it. Despite her hope for something better. A love to be all, end all.
“I guess it sounds silly to you,” she whispers. She won’t meet my eyes.
I drop her chin. I’ve done enough damage.
“Get in the truck, Kit. We need to go.”
Chapter 5
Grizz
On the ride, Jordy is quiet.
I keep thinking about what she said. She laid it all out for me. Fates, this kit needs someone to protect her. The first guy to come along and treat her decent and she spills her guts to him. As if I’m her soulmate. Her one true love. I’ve seen enough to know that shit doesn’t exist. I might want to fuck her, my bear might want to keep her, but that’s just biology. She makes love something noble. She has a whole manifesto. Love is something to live and die for, something to believe in.
The only thing I believe in is revenge. Revenge: that’s what I live and die for. The only reason I met her in the first place is this job for Frangelico. A job I took because he can give me what I want.
I gotta find more leads. More proof that the reason the vampires are taking shifters is to use them as sweetbloods. Nail down the location of the shifter slavers Jordy mentioned. If there’s a black market for shifters operating in Frangelico’s territory, we need to shut it down.
Then I can continue on my original hunt.
The only wild card is Jordy. There’s no way I’m sending her back to Augustine, but I can’t keep her. Snatching her was just part of the job. If I’m not careful, she’ll become a distraction.
In my line of work, distractions will get a bear killed.
Jordy’s just a clue to the mystery. She’s nothing but a means to an end. As much as my bear wants her to be more, it’s not safe for her, or fair to me.
Bottom line: I can’t get involved. No more fantasizing about keeping her forever. I’m going to use her to complete my mission. If she lets me in, I’ll take a taste, but I’ll make it clear it means nothing.
She thinks love is forever—she’s wrong. Everything ends. And when the time comes, I’ll be ready to say goodbye.
Now I just need to harden myself to the disappointed look on her face. It kills my bear when she hurts. I can’t think too hard about that.
She makes a small noise when I park in front of the surplus store.
“Stop number one. Get you some clothes.”
I hop out and scan the street as I head around to open her door. She exits more slowly, probably because she’s wearing a shirt and too-big boots and nothing else. She doesn’t have panties on under my shirt. Better forget that fact, or I’ll get too hard to walk.
“Come on, Kit.” I steer her towards the women’s clothes. Her big eyes blink up at me. Her little nipples show through the thick flannel of her shirt dress.
I grit my teeth. Think of baseball. Baseball…nice and boring. Jordy in a jersey and nothing else, kissing the ball, handling the bat… No!
“What do you want me to wear?” she asks, oblivious. Her scent rises, thick and sweet. Her body responding to me. On some level, she’s not so oblivious.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Do you want certain outfits? For any special events?”
“Not going to attend any fancy balls, Kit. You just need clothes. Stuff for going around town. Clothes to keep you warm and cover you. Nothing to draw attention. Shoes too.”
A nod, and she disappears. Slowly the cart fills with shirts and shorts, a pair of canvas shoes, a light sweater.
I catch her arm as she comes by again. “Grab some dresses.”
“What type?” she asks. She looks up at me, so sweet and trusting. If only she knew what I want to do to her.
“Fuck if I know. Dresses. I like these.” I turn her away from me, towards a rack of floral, flouncy outfits.
She fingers them. “They’re pretty.”
I grab a few, including the ones she touched longingly.
Blushing, she swaps them out. “I’m not an extra small.”
“You’re extra small to me.”
She flushes. “I’ll need to try them on.”
“Go ahead. I’ll wait. You got everything you need?”
“I think so.” She bites her lip as I sift through the tank tops and shorts she picked out.
Before she can leave to try on the dresses, I stop her. “Panties too. Did you forget?”
“No,” she flushes. “I don’t usually wear them.”
I growl. “Out here you wear them. In the house you can go bare.”
“Is that an order?” she asks. I’m about to pull her into a dressing room and bend her over when I realize she’s teasing.
Growling, I stomp off, pushing the cart so no one can see my raging hard on. She takes a moment to change, so I’ve barely got myself under control before she finds me.
“Is this okay?” she calls. She’s in a little dress, a floral thing with straps that leave her arms bare. It hugs her body, showing off her slight curves. She looks sweet and wholesome and innocent, and I’m just a big old grumpy bear.
“Yes. Good. Get a few of those. And some sweaters.” It still gets cold at night.
“Do you want me to wear it today?”
Yes. I want you to wear it while I drive us back to my den, your head in my lap. I’ll carry you to my bed, rip the dress off and fuck you until you cum.
“Not today,” I manage to growl. “Got shit to do. Something practical.”
“Okay, Grizz.” She skips off.
I hide behind a display of jackets and adjust my jeans. Dress shopping with Jordy—not happening again. I’m turning into a fucking pervert. There’s an easy solution: get her home, tie her to my bed.
But that’s not why I took her. I’ve got a job to do.
I pay for everything and stop her from carrying the bags. I was raised to treat women like ladies. I open the doors and I carry the bags. Jordy is obviously uncomfortable with me doing things for her. She bites her lip but obeys.
I escort her out with my hand on her back. In a pair of overall shorts and t-shirt, she looks like a tomboy sent out to play at recess. Fresh-faced and young. She shouldn’t be around me.
We stop at a drugstore next. I park the truck and point to the doors. “Girly shit. Get it.”
“What?”
“Kit, I’m on a job. You got intel I might need. Until I figure out what I need, you’re with me.
She pales. “But my master—”
“Forget him. You’re with me.”
“When it’s over, will you send me back?”
“Cross that bridge when we come to it,” I say, even though I have no intention of sending Jordy back to the lik
es of Augustine. Ever. Augustine will be pissed, but he doesn’t have to know how she escaped. And after a while, he will forget about her and I can find her a new master. I’ll screen doms for her myself if I have to. Maybe Trey knows a good wolf who would accept a sub, even if she’s a fox.
But as I think of handing Jordy off, my bear growls. Jordy shrinks smaller in her chair.
“Out,” I tell her. “Grab anything you need. Hairbrush…girly shit. I don’t know what you need.”
She gnaws her lip again.
“Stop that,” I growl and she does, straightening to attention. Fuck, now I’m giving her orders.
I tear out of the truck and let her out, slamming the doors a little harder than necessary. “Come on.” I prowl into the drugstore and grab a shopping basket, handing it to her.
She looks lost.
“Go, get what you need. Just for a week or so.”
She faces the store. “I don’t know what I need.”
I stare into her wide eyes and realize I’m asking her to think of herself. But if she thinks I’m going to pick her shampoo out for her, she’s got another think coming. “While you’re with me, I want you to look good. Not makeup, but take care of yourself. If I find out you went without because you didn’t want me to have to buy it, I’ll go buy twelve of them for you.” I dip my head closer, making sure the cashier can’t over hear us. “And then I’ll punish you.”
Her pupils dilate, like that excites her, but she nods and scrambles down an aisle. I follow, grabbing a handful of chapstick and throwing them into her basket.
I shake my head. For someone who hates the dom/sub power games, I sure like getting my way.
“Sir?” she asks. She’s poised at the entrance to the brightly lit makeup aisle. Cardboard cutouts with celebrities’ painted faces greet me at every turn. Fucking clown house.
“No make up—” I start to say when she whispers,
“Just some foundation. To cover up the scar.”
Shit. Can’t say no to that.
“All right. Cover up, or whatever. And…” I glance at the painted faces with disgust. “Whatever else you want. But nothing too crazy.”