Legend’s Passion

by Jaci Burton

  “Oh. Why that code name?”

  “Let’s say I tend to get myself out of pretty sticky situations in rather legendary ways.”

  She wanted to hear about those ways, but that would require intimacy and conversation, and that she wouldn’t do. “Didn’t you have to go out?”

  “Yeah, actually, I do. You in a hurry to get out of bed?” He inched toward her again, teasing her inner thigh.

  She melted, her clit tingling at the thought of how easy it would be to lay back, spread her legs, and let him rub those big, hard hands all over her pussy. Spend the entire night in bed with him. Exploring, learning his body, getting to know him.

  Too dangerous. When he demanded it, she’d fuck him and leave it at that. “Want to prowl around in werewolf land?”

  He paused in his mapping of her body. His fingers disappeared from her thigh and the warmth of his body left her side. She felt cold. The harsh light on her bedside table flipped on. She squinted, then glared at him.

  “That’s actually a great idea,” he said. “Can you take me there?”

  She was the one who suggested it. No point in being irritated with his boyish excitement. “Sure. Give me an hour to get showered. Nighttime is when everyone prowls. We might be able to find out something about the killer.”

  He bounded out of bed and grabbed his clothes, climbing back into them so fast she barely caught a glimpse of his body. Too bad.

  “I’ll shower and change too,” he said, exiting her room in a hurry. With a resigned sigh, Chantal slid off the bed and headed into her bathroom and turned on the shower.

  She turned and regarded her reflection in the mirror. Her face was flushed with the aftereffects of great sex, something she could still be having if she wasn’t so damn skittish about getting close to a man.

  “Dumbass,” she said to her reflection, then stuck out her tongue.

  Well, great. Instead of a night of hot sex, she was going to help Dylan hunt for a killer.

  * * * * *

  Excitement churned inside Dylan. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. He didn’t know whether he was more sexually charged or if it was the chase for the killer. Either way, he was keyed up.

  Chantal had recruited Noah to come along, so the three of them headed out into the city. Not the typical tourist traps, since they were closed by now. Noah drove them to a nondescript brick building with no windows. The building stood two stories tall in the middle of what looked to be a business district.

  “What’s this place?” Dylan asked as they parked in front and stepped out of the car.

  “Party central for the werewolves around here,” Chantal said, smoothing her skirt.

  Correction. What skirt there was. The tiny scrap of fabric barely covering her ass could hardly be called a skirt. Typically he’d enjoy ogling a woman wearing a short skirt. But for some reason, knowing they were going into some club where other men could look at Chantal made the green monster rise up in a huge way inside him.

  And he didn’t like that. Why should he be jealous? He had no claim on this woman. He’d fucked her, and according to this whole werewolf thing going on inside him he’d get to continue to fuck her for a while longer, which was just fine with him. But that was all they had going. They had no relationship. Hell, he didn’t even really know her.

  So why did the thought of those long, shapely legs and firm thighs about to be displayed for every pair of male eyes to see really piss him off?

  Music pumped through the heavy oak door. Noah rapped on it. A window slid open in the door and a mean set of dark eyes glared at them. Noah showed an ID.

  “Okay. I know Chantal. Who’s the new guy?” the man behind the window asked.

  “Human. Newly turned. He’s Chantal’s.”

  The guy looked at Dylan for a second, then nodded, slammed the slider shut and opened the door.

  The interior was pitch black inside with the exception of lights strobing down from the ceiling and hitting a dance floor. Dylan followed Noah and Chantal’s lead to the bar. The place was packed, both on the dance floor and off, every available table occupied.

  “Are all these people werewolves?” Dylan asked, bending low to speak in Chantal’s ear over the loud music.

  She tilted her head back and nodded. “Yeah. No humans allowed.”

  Damn. He had no idea.

  A group got up and left, so they took their table and sat, giving Dylan a chance to sip his beer and survey the crowd. A mix and match of all ages, all robust and healthy looking, smiling, laughing and partying their asses off. It could be any nightclub in any city, with the exception that these people were lupine.

  “So why do they hide out? Why the exclusivity?”

  “Kindred,” Noah explained. “Plus, if anyone shifts or things get out of hand, no one will be shocked and our covers aren’t blown. It happens. Fights break out, tempers flare, passions rise. Things are just warming up in here. It looks normal right now. Just wait.”

  “Werewolves are a very primal, passionate lot, Dylan,” Chantal added. “Anything can happen.”

  He cast a heated gaze at Chantal. “So I’ve noticed.”

  Lifting her chin, she said, “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

  Noah cleared his throat. Loudly. “You two gonna practice verbal foreplay all night, or are we here to do something else?”

  Dylan dragged his gaze away from Chantal’s challenging stare. “Ever see any bad element among your kind? Anything suspicious?”

  Noah shrugged. “There’s always a dumbass or two in the population who want to step outside the secrecy we try so hard to maintain. Think the rules don’t apply to them. But they’re easily brought in line. Or eliminated.”

  “Our rules are very clear,” Chantal added. “Break them and you die. The sanctity of the pack is everything and all of us work very hard at maintaining the cloak of normalcy. If one of us is found out, it threatens us all.”

  “So it would be unlikely that the pack would protect a killer of humans.”

  “Protect? No. We wouldn’t turn him over to the authorities, either,” Noah explained. “We’d just deal with him ourselves. But he wouldn’t be allowed to run amok. If werewolves were discovered to be living among humans, they’d hunt us all down. The potential for war would be great. We would never risk the possibility of elimination of our species.”

  “None of us want that,” Chantal said. “We’ll do anything we have to in order to stop this killer. What do you know about him?”

  “He struck a couple years ago in southern California and Nevada, then nothing until a few months ago. Then he hit in Oregon and Washington about six months ago. Last three attacks were here in the San Francisco area.”

  “So he’s a traveler,” Chantal said.

  “Or someone who likes fucking with us,” Dylan said. “We get a lot of serial cases that move around for the sheer fun of watching us chase them. That’s their thrill.”

  Noah drained his drink, then shook his head. “This guy’s pissed off about something. Or at someone.”

  “I wish I knew who the woman was who had called saying she had information,” Dylan said, casting his dark gaze on Chantal.

  If he’d met that woman instead of Chantal, none of this would have happened.

  And he wouldn’t be a werewolf feeling this hunger churning inside him right now, wishing he could strip Chantal down at the club and fuck her.

  His head was swirling. It was getting hard to concentrate on work. His stomach hurt. His cock throbbed. How long had it been since he’d eaten? Since he’d fucked Chantal? A few hours? Several?

  Too long.

  He was getting hungry again. For food.

  And for Chantal.

  Chapter Five

  Chantal caught and held Dylan’s gaze, reading the hunger in his eyes.

  “Let’s feed you,” she said, shooting Noah a warning glance.

  Noah took a look at the feral expression on Dylan’s face and nodded. “Get him some food. And wha
tever else he needs. I’m gonna do a little recon around here, see if I can get to know some of the locals.”

  “Okay.” She signaled for the waitress and ordered meat. Rare. And in a hurry. The waitress took a quick look at Dylan and seemed to catch Chantal’s drift, scuttling off to the kitchen.

  Chantal reached across the table for Dylan’s hand. “Hey, hang on. We’ll get you some food.”

  He seemed in a trance, his gaze fixated on her. He nodded. “It hurts. Everywhere.”

  “I know.” Dammit, she didn’t know, but she understood now that she’d have to be more careful over the next day or so until he made the transition. Keep him fed and keep him fucked, Lamont had told her. She hadn’t been doing her job.

  The music pulsed around them. Hard, heavy and driving with a sensual beat that entered her bloodstream, pumping the primal sensations within her. It had to be making Dylan crazy because he wasn’t used to the experience yet. She could handle it, could control the wildness within her.

  From the looks he was giving her, she wasn’t sure he was going to be able to tame the impulses.

  Fortunately the waitress came back with a huge piece of meat. Dylan dove into it with a vengeance, polishing it off quickly. He never once took his eyes off her as he ate. Her pulse began to thrum with a wild beat as he watched her, and with every bite he took, every time he swept his tongue over his full bottom lip, she began to feel as if she were his meal.

  It was getting warm in the club. The music churned, the urge to move, to dance, becoming a need she couldn’t ignore. She stood and reached for Dylan’s hand.

  “Let’s go.”

  “Where?”

  “Dance floor.”

  He frowned. “Don’t feel like dancing.”

  “We’ll be doing more than dancing, trust me.”

  After studying her with a surly frown for a few seconds, he slid his hand in hers and let her guide him into the middle of the throng of undulating dancers. She turned around and wound her body against his.

  “Feel the music, Dylan. Let it enter you.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and jerked her against him, none too gently. The thick heat of his cock brushed insistently against her hip. “I’d rather enter you.”

  Sensation took flame and caught, igniting her into heated arousal. The frenzied beat of the music pounded as hard as her clit. “I know what you want. You’ll get it.”

  “Good. Let’s go.”

  He pulled away and tugged on her wrist but she stood firm, advancing on him once again, holding him there by lifting her leg and wrapping it around his hip. “Just dance. And keep watching.”

  She began to move against him with the rhythm of the music, undulating her hips against his, driving her clit against his pelvis. The ache intensified, pleasure bursting and making her clit swell. She let her head fall back and just went with the mood, letting go.

  Dylan frowned and grasped her hips while she wound her arms around his neck. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Chantal. I don’t have much control.”

  She raised her head, opened her eyes, drinking in his chiseled features, the frown that signaled pained arousal. “Look around you, Dylan.”

  He tore his gaze from hers and surveyed the dance floor. She already knew what he’d see. The smells and sounds of sex surrounded them, permeating the entire room.

  The party had begun.

  Dylan didn’t want to look at anything or anyone but Chantal, but the sounds of moaning crescendoed even over the ear-splitting music. Various stages of foreplay or downright sex were happening all around them. People were either dancing and ignoring what was happening, or they were getting down. Right next to him a woman had straddled her dance partner. His pants were unzipped and they were going at it as they danced. Across the room one guy had his woman spread-eagled on the table and was snacking on her pussy. Another woman was going down on a guy while he leaned against the bar.

  Christ. Was this some kind of sex club?

  Chantal leaned into him. “I told you we’re a passionate lot. This happens at the parties. Since we don’t kill for sport anymore, we fuck to let off tension.”

  He pulled her back and searched her face. “You do this often?”

  She shook her head. “Never, actually. Been to the clubs before, but never…engaged.”

  “Why not?”

  Her lips curled in a teasing smirk. “I’m picky.”

  He liked that. “Guess I should be flattered, then.”

  “Yes, you should be.”

  Dylan searched the room looking for Noah, but couldn’t find him.

  “Where’s your brother?”

  Chantal shrugged. “Probably took off after he looked around a bit. He knew what we were going to do here. I doubt he wanted to witness it.”

  “And what do you think we’re going to do here, Chantal?”

  Her eyes darkened, lips parted as she moved her hips against him. “We’re going to fuck.”

  That wasn’t why he’d come here. But it’s what he needed. The mission be damned, he needed to be inside Chantal. His balls were twisted in a painful knot, throbbing tight and hard against his body. His lust for her was overpowering, driving every thought away except the need to mate with her. It burned within him to the point if he didn’t take her right now…

  Oh, fuck it. Enough thinking. He shuffled her backward, off the dance floor and through the crowd, holding her close to his body and using his hands to push people out of the way. Not that anyone paid attention to them. They were too busy doing their own thing.

  He slammed her up against the wall and latched onto her lips, driving his tongue inside her mouth. She tasted of raw passion, of the same hunger that burned within him. It fired his blood, making the lust churn inside him. Soon he forgot where he was, didn’t care about the people around them, the fact they were in a public place.

  With a low growl against her mouth he tugged her skimpy little skirt over her hips and slid his fingers underneath her panties, desperate to make contact with the heat of her flesh.

  She was wet and pulsing. He rocked his palm against her sex, then inserted two fingers inside her. She moaned against his lips and thrust her tongue against his.

  Rock-hard and ready, he couldn’t stand this. Playing was one thing when he had patience. Now he didn’t have any. He withdrew his fingers and unzipped his jeans, tugging them down enough to withdraw his cock. He didn’t even ask if this was what she wanted. One look at the glazed expression in her eyes, the way her tongue swept over her bottom lip, and he knew.

  He pushed against her and entered her with a quick thrust. She cried out, the sound absorbed by the loud music. Only he heard and her cries were the sweetest music in the place. He pushed her hard against the wall, pistoning his cock deep, feeling her pussy grip him as she welcomed him inside.

  Chantal clawed his back with her nails, scraping along the tops of his shoulders, trailing them into his hair, tugging it fiercely.

  “Fuck me,” she demanded in a low, sexy voice. “Harder.”

  He slammed against her, pulling back so he could watch where their bodies met, could see her cunt grab on to his shaft every time he withdrew and reentered her. She fit him perfectly, accepting the thick heat of him fully. He was on fire from the inside out, his balls aching with painful pleasure, filling with the cum he would soon jettison inside her.

  Music blasted louder, harder, the beat driving through his nerve endings. He pumped to the rhythm, grabbing Chantal’s wrists and raising them above her head, pinning her to the wall. Possessing her was his driving force now. Her eyes were open windows, letting him see inside to the passion, the need, the wild creature that lived within her. Instinctively he knew she’d never let anyone this close. Chantal was guarded, but not with him. He wanted to crawl inside her, to mark her, to make her his in a way that had never been as compelling as it was right now.

  “Dylan!” she cried, her pussy squeezing him with relentless pulses.

  With measure
d, frantic strokes, he took her over the edge, burying his head in her neck and biting down on the soft tissue between her throat and shoulder. She shuddered against him and spilled hot cream over his balls as she came. He shuddered, climaxing against her, erupting with fierce contractions that sprang from his spine and upward. He emptied into her with blinding pulses until he had nothing left to give.

  Panting, he released her arms, wrapped his around her waist and pulled her skirt down, protecting her from those who might see.

  Fuck. He’d lost it. Utterly lost it.

  And the odd part was, he didn’t give a shit that he’d just fucked Chantal in a very public place. Nor did he care who had watched. She didn’t seem to either. Just lifted her lips in a very satisfied smile.

  “Feel better?” she asked.

  “Much.”

  “Good.”

  He took her hand. “Now let’s find Noah.”

  “He’s probably long gone by now. With the car. But it’s not too far back to the house. We can walk.”

  They headed out the front door of the club. Night chill bit into the air around them. “You sure you’re not too cold?”

  “I have…internal insulation to keep me warm,” she said as they started walking. “I don’t tend to feel the cold.”

  “Oh. Good to know.” That was convenient. He supposed there’d be benefits to this werewolf thing.

  “Are you cold?

  The wind swirled around them, biting into his skin. He thought about it. “Actually, no.”

  “Good.”

  They cut through the park, Chantal leading the way. In about two hours it would be dawn. Typically this wouldn’t be a wise decision since wandering around a dark, deserted area like this in the middle of the night wasn’t the safest thing to do, but he had a weapon.

  And a very sexy werewolf by his side.

  He slanted a glance at her, finding it hard to believe the slight little wisp of a woman holding his hand could shift into a feral beast. He’d like to see that.

  A sound to his left dragged his attention away from the beautiful woman at his side. He stopped, sniffed the air, looked around, his senses catching something on the wind.

  Something foul.