A Werewolf in Manhattan

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  Her scent telegraphed her readiness and gave him a trail to follow. Every wolf instinct drove him forward, but reason held him back. He still had no plan. In the morning he’d have to alert the pack that security had been breached—his fault, mostly. Then he’d have to lay out a procedure for handling that breach.

  He needed to think, to plan, to strategize. Both Em-ma’s future and his depended on how he handled this situation. Losing himself in the wonders of her body wouldn’t help him figure that out, and it might cloud his mind.

  Check that. It would definitely cloud his mind. When confronted with the powerful aphrodisiac that was Em-ma’s essence, he struggled to remember his own name. The more he allowed himself to succumb to that heady feeling, the more complicated the problem became.

  But her scent ... How could he ignore that siren call? Lifting his head, he sniffed the air. The rustle of clothing would have told him, as well, but his nose gave him the first indication that she was undressing, just as she’d promised.

  His balls tightened, and his cock grew hard. He knew the moment she slipped off her panties because her scent swirled around her and drifted through that open door, inviting him inside, inviting him to take her.

  Once she’d announced her willingness, both in words and the seductive sway of her body as she’d left the room, his shift had begun to reverse. If he turned away from her and denied himself, the shift would resume. He’d spend precious moments trying to subdue his sexual urges and retain his human shape, moments he could ill afford to lose.

  Was bedding her the most efficient use of his time and energy, then? He considered that with a self-mocking smile. But the thought had merit.

  Once he’d satisfied this craving, he’d be free to tackle the problems at hand. He’d be able to focus, whereas now—now his brain was filled with the red haze of lust.

  She’d asked him to take her, requested the release for herself. She’d suffered a shock, and he was the cause of that shock. Easing her tension was the least he could do, under the circumstances. Granting her wish would be a kindness. And he was a kind being. Oh, yes. Very kind. He smiled again, amused at his ability to rationalize what he’d known all along he would do.

  He pictured her lying in that big bed, her golden hair fanned across the pillow, her creamy thighs spread in welcome. Come morning, he’d have to abandon all thoughts of sinking into her warmth. But it was not morning yet.

  With a low growl, he ripped the towel from his waist and strode into the bedroom. She’d left a small lamp on the dressing table turned on. The room was cast in shadow, and shadows were his element.

  “Hello, Aidan.”

  “Hello, Emma.” He gazed at her lying on the bed almost exactly as he’d imagined. Resting one knee on the mattress, he leaned down to claim her mouth. He’d taken her in wolf fashion the night before, but he would be more careful this time. He’d possess her the way a man possessed a woman. That might keep the bonds from becoming too strong.

  Slowly he stroked her breasts as he continued to kiss her lips, angling his head, using his tongue, nibbling and tasting, finding traces of chocolate, of coffee, and most of all, of hot desire. She tunneled her fingers through his hair and gripped the back of his head, rising to meet his kisses.

  He gave thanks that he had command of a man’s body, as well as the form of a wolf. Without a man’s body, he wouldn’t be able to savor this prelude, this dance of mouths that taunted them both with what was to come. He wouldn’t have hands with which to fondle, fingers to rub and squeeze.

  Sometimes, when his wolf nature was dominant, he became impatient with foreplay. Tonight he cherished Emma’s sighs of pleasure as he played upon her voluptuous body.

  When her nipples grew tight and her breasts lifted into his caress, he swept his hand downward over her flat stomach to her soft curls and onward to the heat that had brought him here. As he touched her there, sliding his fingers inside her wet channel, the urge to join with her became a driving force, an ache so strong that his pelvis jerked in reaction.

  Her moan of need echoed his own. Her rapid breathing and restless hips told him it was time.

  She wrenched her mouth free of his. “Condoms.” She gulped for air. “Bedside table.”

  He kissed her again as anticipation unfurled within him. He hadn’t considered this consequence of the night’s events, but now that Emma knew what he was, he was free to experience sex without a latex barrier. “There’s no need for condoms.”

  “But—”

  “I couldn’t tell you before.” He dropped kisses on her cheeks, her throat, her breasts. “I can’t make you pregnant.”

  “Whoa, big boy.” She cupped his face in both hands. Breathing hard, she nevertheless delivered her message. “That sounds like a line of bull.” She took another quick breath. “We used one last night.”

  “You thought I was human last night.”

  “You’re very much like a human right now.”

  “But not the same.”

  Her words were filled with the strain of curbing her excitement. “So you can’t make babies?”

  “Not unless we’re mated.”

  “Mated?”

  “In the werewolf sense, for life.”

  She looked doubtful.

  “Trust me.”

  “That’s what they all say.”

  “In my case, it’s true. You can trust me.” He moved between her thighs and probed gently with the tip of his cock. “Will you trust me, Emma?”

  She met his gaze, her kiss-swollen lips parted as she took rapid, shallow breaths. “Yes. Yes, I will.”

  For a brief moment, he was humbled by her surrender. Then the demands of his body sent him surging forward, thrusting deep, burying his quivering cock in her wet warmth.

  Murmuring her name, he withdrew and drove in again. Once again the sensation of gliding into her with nothing between them but their own slick moisture made him gasp in delight. The glorious friction prompted him to pump again.

  He groaned. Sliding his hands under her bottom, he cupped her satin skin and pushed in as far as he could go until they were locked in tight. “Emma, this is ...”

  Her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed, she lifted her hips to create an even tighter bond. “Great.”

  “Yes.”

  She mirrored him, cupping his buttocks in her warm hands, pressing her fingers into him. “I can feel you quiver. I can feel the shape of your cock.”

  “I can feel when you contract around me.” He rotated his hips gently. “Like that.”

  She whimpered. “Again.”

  He moved in the opposite direction and watched excitement grow in her expressive eyes. Easing back, he slid forward again.

  “Mmm. More.”

  He didn’t need to be asked. The intense pleasure of thrusting into her pushed him onward. He moved faster now, greedy for the increasingly erotic sensation of skin against skin. The juicy aroma of sex filled the air and the slap slap slap of bodies melded with the creak of the bed and the thump of the headboard against the wall.

  As she tightened around his cock, he watched her eyes darken. His wolf senses would know when she neared her climax, but he craved the sound of her voice.

  “Talk to me, Emma.” He pumped steadily as her body quivered beneath his. “Are you coming?”

  “Soon.” She gasped and clutched him tighter.

  “I can see it in your eyes. I can feel you rising, reaching ... ah, Emma ... come for me ...”

  “There ... harder ... right ... there.” Crying out, she lifted her hips as her spasms milked him, coaxing him to surrender to the climax that he’d fought to keep at bay until now. With a groan he drove into her once, twice, and shuddered as the pulsing of his cock rode the ripples of her orgasm.

  As his body quieted, he settled against her, careful not to give her his full weight, but longing to touch every inch of skin he could reach. Tomorrow he would face the wrath of his pack, but tonight he’d been given a gift—full-out sex with Emma.
He would never have had that if she hadn’t learned what he was.

  Tonight, his heart was filled with gratitude and something more, something that should frighten him. But he was too happy. Tomorrow perhaps he’d be frightened by his growing connection to her. But not tonight. Burying his nose against her neck, he breathed in with one thought: she was his.

  Chapter 19

  For the second morning in a row, Emma woke up alone in her bed while the spot next to her was still warm. But she had a feeling this morning would be nothing like any morning she’d ever experienced in her life. True, Aidan had been a werewolf yesterday, but she hadn’t known it. Today she did.

  She smelled coffee. A quick lift of her head to check out the dressing table confirmed that the coffee was in the living room, along with Aidan. She could hear his voice. He was probably on the phone again. Was he talking to Nadia?

  A hot stab of jealousy made her realize how possessive she’d become. And that was foolish because Aidan’s life had been planned from birth. Besides, she had more immediate problems than whether Aidan would eventually marry Nadia and produce little werewolves.

  What were they like, the little ones? Could they shift from birth or did they develop the ability later? In the world of her books, werewolves looked like human children until puberty. The onset of sexual maturity gave them the ability to shift, and they went through an awkward phase while they learned to manage their wolf status.

  If she’d guessed right, then teenage werewolves had it way worse than teenage humans. Besides raging hormones and zits, they had to deal with hair and fangs. She wondered how Aidan had managed, considering his genetic defect. Puberty must have been torture for him.

  The curtains were still drawn over the window, and the light was dim in the bedroom. She had no sense of what time it was. Rolling to her side, she peered at the bedside table clock.

  Shit! She leaped out of bed and looked frantically for the hotel robe she’d been using. It lay over a chair in the corner, and she ran to grab it and shove her arms into the sleeves. She’d never make it to O’Hare in time for her flight, so she’d have to rebook.

  Fortunately, her first event in Denver wasn’t until Monday morning, but still. She should have set her alarm on her phone or asked for a wake-up call. This was embarrassing and unprofessional.

  Before she dealt with it, though, she could use some coffee. On her way out to the living room to find it, she realized that Aidan hadn’t bothered to wake her up, either. Maybe he’d forgotten the time of her flight, but she doubted that was the case.

  Come to think of it, he’d never fully responded when she’d made her impassioned speech about going to Denver regardless of the werewolf issue. But she was going to Denver. He would just have to trust her to keep her mouth shut about what she’d seen here last night.

  The living room looked cozy and domestic, with the fire going and a room service tray on the coffee table. Aidan paced over by the windows, his BlackBerry to his ear. His sweats this morning were black, as was his NYU sweatshirt. He looked massive and slightly dangerous dressed all in black.

  As he paced, he glanced outside and frowned. “Yeah, socked in, which helps.”

  She couldn’t imagine how much he could see out the windows, which were iced over. But maybe he had X-ray vision, too. In any case, the question of flights had just been answered. She hadn’t missed her plane if O’Hare was shut down.

  Aidan listened to the person on the other end for a few seconds. “I understand. I’ll monitor her twenty-four-seven. You have my word, Dad.”

  Her jaw dropped. He might have given his word to his father, but she sure as hell hadn’t!

  He turned slowly toward her, the BlackBerry still to his ear. He showed no surprise at finding her there, but then he wouldn’t. His sense of smell and his hearing were those of a wolf. “I’ll keep you posted. She won’t be a problem. Take care, Dad. Bye.” He disconnected the call and gazed at her.

  “What the hell was that all about?”

  “Think of it as the werewolf version of Homeland Security. You’ll continue to be under constant surveillance, except now you’ll be aware of it.”

  She stared at him as the significance of his statement sank in. “You’ve been watching me?” She spoke quietly, but inside she was seething. “How long has that been going on?”

  “About three months. Your books were so accurate that the pack figured you had a werewolf informant. I’ve been trying to catch you communicating with him or her, but of course, you didn’t have an informant, which meant there was nothing to find.”

  “So when you came to my book event in Manhattan and generously gave me a ride and bought me a drink in your exclusive club, you were on assignment?”

  He nodded. “Essentially.”

  “You son of a bitch.”

  “Yes.”

  He looked so calm and in control that she longed to pick up something, anything, and throw it at him. But that would only prove how out of control she was. “You pretended to like my books, pretended to like me, but all along you were spying?”

  “I didn’t pretend to like your books. I think they’re great. Come to think of it, if I hadn’t raved about your books to my family, none of this would have happened, so you can blame me for being a fan or blame yourself for being a great writer. But assigning blame won’t get us anywhere.”

  Oh, but she wanted to blame him for something. “You had sex with me! Was that part of your assignment, too?”

  “No, that was a mistake.”

  “A mistake?” Now she really wanted to hurt him, except he was some superbeing, and she didn’t know a single martial arts trick.

  “Sometimes mistakes turn out to be wonderful.”

  Oh. Some of her fury melted.

  “But that doesn’t mean I should have allowed that to happen. Roarke, in particular, warned me that I’d get into trouble if I spent too much time with you. He was right.”

  She thought back over their two nights together and took some satisfaction in knowing she’d caused Mr. All That to step over the line. But if he was a lying sack of cow chips, then he might have lied about something very important.

  She folded her arms. “Aidan, so help me; you need to tell the truth on this one. Could I be pregnant?” She took a deep breath. “With puppies?”

  His mouth twitched. At first she couldn’t tell whether he was trying not to laugh or trying not to yell at her. When he snorted, she figured it was the first.

  Scrubbing a hand over his face, he looked down at the carpet for a moment before glancing back at her. His golden eyes danced with humor. “No, Emma, you’re not pregnant. And even if you were, you’d have a beautiful baby, not a puppy. A werewolf grows up looking like every other child. Shifting comes with sexual maturity.”

  “So I was right about that!” Her elation temporarily made her forget that she hated him.

  “Yes, you got that right, too.”

  “And you’re sure I couldn’t be pregnant? Because in the human world, it would be a distinct possibility, and last night you felt very ... human.” The memory turned her on a little, which was inconvenient because she really wanted to hate him, and holding on to hate while desire tried to work its way in was tough.

  “It’s a biological fact for Weres. Once we’ve chosen a mate for life, then, and only then, will conception take place. Until that time, we’re sterile. Obviously no woman is going to simply believe that I’m sterile and disease free unless I explain that I’m a werewolf. But you already knew, so we were able to have sex without a condom.”

  “Okay, moving on.” Lingering over this topic could derail her anger completely, and she needed her anger. It made her feel more powerful. “You said you’ve been watching me for three months.”

  “Approximately, give or take a few days.”

  “How many privacy laws did you break doing that, wolf boy?” She wondered whether she could get a rise out of him.

  His gaze didn’t flicker. “Most of them. We
try to work within the law when we can, but in the case of pack security, we do what is necessary.”

  “What did you use? Hidden cameras? Bugs? Tails?”

  “All of the above. We installed cameras and recorders in your loft. I’ve monitored your phone calls and followed you whenever you went out. You’ve been my only assignment for three months, Emma. I kept very close track of you.”

  “Did you put cameras in my bedroom?” She thought about the few nights Doug had stayed over.

  “No. I vetoed that.”

  “Why? You were invading every other area of my life—why not spy on my sex life, such as it was?”

  He hesitated, as if wanting to say more. Finally, he made a dismissive motion with his hand. “We didn’t need that information. Doug isn’t a werewolf.”

  “For all I know, he could be! I mean, you are, and Theo is, and your father is, and—Wait just a doggone minute—your werewolf father is old friends with my publisher. For all I know, Roger Claymore is a werewolf!”

  “No.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Positive. And neither is Doug.”

  “How do you know? Couldn’t he be from a visiting pack or something?”

  “I can pick up a Were’s scent immediately. It’s nothing like a human’s.”

  Something about that comment didn’t make sense, and then she figured out what it was. “Then why didn’t you come out when Theo arrived in the suite? You must have smelled him.”‘

  Aidan flushed slightly. “I—I had stuffed towels under my door.”

  “Why in heaven’s name would you do something like that?”

  “To block your scent.”

  “To block my ...” Understanding slowly dawned. “It affects you that much?”

  “Yes.”

  She didn’t want to feel sympathy for him, but she couldn’t seem to help it. He’d been trying to do the right thing for his pack, and he was just too darned attracted to her, poor werewolf. Talk about self-defeating behavior.

  She took a deep breath. “Well, I’m about to make things easier for you, Aidan. I heard the promise you made your father, but you would have been wise to consult me, first.”