by Renee Rose
“Are you all right, Sam?”
I scrub a hand over my face. “I have to stop him.”
~.~
Layne
“What are you going to do with the data?” I ask. I was trying for casual, but I know I failed miserably when Sam’s sympathetic gaze rests on my face.
“Layne,” he says gently. “I understand you were excited about your findings...”
“That research could save lives.” I can’t keep the heat from my voice.
“You can’t go public with any of it, sweetheart. What are you going to tell the scientific community, that you used cells from werewolves? You’ll be laughed out of every circle. Not to mention the fact that even if they would accept that explanation, I can’t allow you to disclose our existence.”
My mouth falls open, the protest on my lips dying as I realize he’s right. Without more of the shifter cells, I won’t be able to replicate the data, and I’ll never be able to explain it.
Tears smart my eyes and I get up from the table to hide them.
Sam surges up, too, and wraps his arms around me from behind. Not capturing me, like he did in the lab this evening, just holding me. “I’m sorry.”
“I need that research.” My voice breaks.
“And I can’t let you keep it.” His voice is quiet, unemotional. It’s a simple statement of fact. He’s taking away the only thing I’ve worked for since the year my mother died, since the day I knew I, too, would die of the same disease.
Hot tears spill down my cheeks. I turn in his arms and smack his chest with my open hand. “What are you going to do with it?” My raised voice is higher in pitch than normal.
“I’m going to use it to find Smyth and then I’m going to destroy it after I destroy him.” The resolve in his expression is deadly, and I have no doubt he’s capable of doing all he promises.
“No. You can’t. I’m so close—”
“You’re not. You haven’t been working with human cells. Your research is all skewed.”
My mind races. “Maybe, maybe not. I need more time and tests to analyze it.”
Sam’s shoulders sag. “Layne—”
“Don’t destroy it,” I beg. “Please. It’s so important.”
He cradles my face with both palms. “We’ll figure something out.”
I hit his hands away. “What does that mean?”
He turns away and shoves his fingers through his blond hair, sending it spiking in new directions. “A compromise. It means I’ll try to find a compromise with you. Okay?” He sounds exhausted.
The fight drains out of me and suddenly I’m bone tired, myself. It’s late—probably past midnight and I’ve had a doozy of a day. “I’m going to hit the shower, and go to bed,” I mumble.
He turns and looks at me with this intense tractor beam. “Yeah. Okay. You can take the bedroom. I’ll sleep out here.” He waves a hand toward the tiny living area.
I nod. Defeat weighs on my shoulders although I’m not sure why. Sam agreed to find a compromise. It’s the best I could hope for, under the circumstances. It’s more like I’m experiencing the weight on his shoulders, but that doesn’t make sense. I am, admittedly, drawn to the tortured young man intent on revenge. But to actually feel his feelings is... impossible.
But then, yesterday I would’ve sworn changing from a wolf into human form was impossible, too.
I brush it off and head to the shower. When I turn off the water, I find a neatly folded t-shirt and boxer briefs on the bathroom counter. Yes, the same one Sam taped me to an hour ago. Knowing he’d been back in the bathroom while I showered shouldn’t be such a turn-on, but it is. So is the thoughtfulness he showed in leaving his clothes for me.
I pull on the soft t-shirt and boxers feeling oddly cared for. I haven’t been doing a decent job of it myself lately and it’s nice. I’ve only known Sam one day, but our connection solidifies more every minute that passes.
When I come out, I find Sam in front of his laptop, zipping through information with quick swipes of his finger.
“Um, thanks for the clothes.”
He turns and then does a double-take, his gaze skittering over my breasts. Without a bra, my nipples protrude through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. They harden under his scrutiny.
He gives a strangled laugh. “Looks different on you.”
My lips twitch. I kind of love it when he gets awkward. Knowing that I caused it. “Goodnight, Sam.”
He nods solemnly. As I start to walk away, he calls after me. “Lock your door.”
I pause. “Why?”
“To keep me out.” His gravelly tone holds dark warning.
A shiver of excitement runs through me.
I’ve had lots of humans, Layne. But none who made me lose control like you do.
I shouldn’t be so flattered by the fact that my life’s in danger.
But I totally am.
4
Layne
I stir in darkness. I’m not sure what jolted me awake—some kind of animal noise.
There. I hear it again. It’s a snarl. A wolf snarl.
Where I am and what’s happened floods in. I throw the covers back and climb out of bed as if my body is compelled forward by some unseen force.
I unlock the door before I remember Sam’s warning.
I could hurt you, Layne.
I don’t believe it. Yes, I see a struggle in him, but I can’t believe he’d hurt me. Not when he’s trying so hard to keep me safe.
A low, continuous growl comes from the darkened living room. I pad down the narrow hall in my bare feet and stop short, my heart constricting.
Sam’s asleep on the couch—if I can call it sleeping. He’s obviously in a nightmare. His lips peel back from his teeth, feet pump like he’s running.
“Sam?” I go to the couch and stand over him.
He doesn’t hear me, doesn’t wake. His head thrashes from side to side and his fingers close in a fist.
I lay my palm on his chest and try again. “Sam?”
“Mmm.” His breath evens. He covers my hand and takes a deep breath, his muscled chest lifting and widening.
Satisfied I’ve interrupted his nightmare, I slide my hand out from under his, but he immediately grows restless again.
I drag my lower lip through my teeth, debating. Should I wake him?
He kicks out one leg and gives an unearthly snarl. Sweat beads on his forehead.
“Sam.”
He snatches out in my direction and grips my upper arm. He mutters something I can’t understand, lids fluttering over rapid eye movement.
“Sam, you’re having a dream.”
He makes a wounded sound and drags me forward until I fall on top of him, my body sprawling over his on the couch.
He gives a long shudder and his entire body falls quiet, breath slowing. His arms band around me. He’s not a huge guy, but damn, he’s strong. I can’t move more than a half inch in either direction. I squirm around, certain the weight of my body and my movement will wake him, but it doesn’t.
I lay my head on his chest, not because I plan to stay on top of him for the rest of the night, only because it’s just too inviting to resist.
As soon as my head is nested under his chin, my own body relaxes. The sound of his heartbeat under my ear soothes me like a baby asleep on her mother’s chest.
Sam mutters something again, and I think I catch my name, but I can’t be sure.
“What’s that?” I ask.
No answer.
I squirm again, testing his hold on me, but I’m still imprisoned by the steel bands of his arms.
Fine.
I’ll just doze here until he moves them. Surely he’ll wake soon and realize what he’s done.
~.~
Sam
I emerge from the pit swallowing me, burying me alive. Darkness lifts, the sun glows warm. I run through a meadow, chasing another animal. No, not an animal. A female. Layne.
She laughs, her long, straight black h
air flying out behind her in a curtain. She twists to look back at me, to make sure I’m following and I laugh, no longer a wolf. I catch her around the waist and spin her through the air, letting the warm rays of the sun hit us both. We fall to the soft flowered earth. I’m on my back and she’s on top of me. Her legs part and she straddles my hips.
The soft, warm happy moment takes on a different pitch. A much hotter tone. Her berry lips part as she brings her mouth to mine.
I thrust up into the notch of her thighs, grip her ass with both hands and pull her hips down over mine.
She lets out a little mewl and it makes my cock rock hard. My hips snap as I grind her heat down along the hard ridge of my cock in my jeans.
She was wearing a dress, but now it’s morphed into boxer briefs. I slide my hands down into them to squeeze her bare ass.
A ray of sunlight shines directly in my eyes and I blink.
And choke.
Not a dream.
Layne is, indeed, on top of me and my hands are down her shorts. Light shines in through a window in the mobile home.
She pushes on my chest like she’s trying to get away from me.
I jerk beneath her. As if I’m still in a dream where my body won’t obey what my mind commands, I can’t seem to release her. In fact, my hands tighten on her ass, squeezing that plump flesh in the most proprietary way imaginable.
“Sam.”
How long has she been saying my name?
I hold her captive and thrust up again, helpless to stop myself.
Her breath catches and—fate help me—she grinds down on me. Her cheeks flush pink with sleep, long hair fans around her face.
Was she resting here? How in the hell did that happen?
“Fuck, Layne,” I groan. “You feel so good. I’m trying to let you go, but I just can’t.” Another thrust. I sweep my fingers lower, between her legs.
Goddamn. She’s wet for me. I mean, really wet.
“Beautiful Layne. My sexy scientist,” I croon.
She pushes against my chest, arching her back up until she’s sitting astride me. I have an awe-inspiring view of her round breasts beneath my t-shirt, almost tempting enough to shift a hand from her ass just to cup them.
But no. Not when I have her right here. I thrust up again. Her moist heat grinds over my desperate cock.
And she is grinding. It’s not just my hands moving her, but she’s rocking her hips, rubbing her clit over my bulge.
I can’t fuck her. I can’t.
I’ll have to settle for the next best thing. Tasting her. My lust-addled brain can’t figure out how to get the boxers off and keep her on top of me and it drives me mad. I grip her waist and lift her, sliding her up over my face. Then I rip open the crotch of the boxer briefs at the seams.
She gasps but doesn’t fight me.
She wants this.
That, more than anything, excites me. Spurs me on. I’m dying to give her pleasure, to satisfy her.
My wolf needs to please her.
I lick the seam of her pussy, opening her. Her responding moan makes my cock so hard I’m sure it will break off. She squirms over my face as I tongue her clit. I hold her hips in place as I lick and nip her labia, penetrate her with a stiff tongue.
Her inner thighs grip my head, the trembling in them only ratcheting up my own burning need. I suck her clit and she screams, thighs squeezing even harder. I keep going and she keeps screaming, screaming, screaming. Coming, coming, coming.
“Sam, Sam, please!”
At last I release her from the whip of my tongue and she falls forward to catch the arm of the sofa, exhausted.
Something in me snaps. The control I’d been holding by telling myself it was okay to give her pleasure, just not to take it, falls away. In a flash, I’m on top of her.
We’re on the couch, then the ground. I have her pinned down, my cock out and ready.
She looks up at my face and screams.
Not the throaty cry of pleasure she just treated me to, but one of real terror.
Her arms fly up to ward me off. She pushes the heels of both palms against my throat.
Surprise chokes off the growl I didn’t realize I’d been issuing. I throw myself to the side, off her body.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
I lost control. She must’ve seen fangs and thought I was going to kill her. Which actually, could happen. My wolf wouldn’t mean to hurt her, but a mating bite to a human could be fatal. Fuck, I need to be careful.
I try to reel back the wolf, but he’s already crazy with lust. Instead, I shift completely, busting my clothes at the seams.
Out.
Out.
I need to get the fuck out of here before I hurt her.
Need to run. To flee.
I launch for the door, but can’t open it. Unlike Jackson’s house where I’ve lived for the past ten years, there’s no doggie door here. I race a circle around the room, my hind legs scraping off the walls.
Window.
I leap and smash the glass and screen on my way out.
My legs beat a path away from the mobile home, straight up the mountain, into the woods.
5
Layne
What. The hell. Just happened?
I slowly climb from the floor, my limbs shaking so badly I’m not sure they’ll hold.
Glass is everywhere around the window and I’m in my bare feet, so I back up until my butt hits the couch.
One minute Sam was pleasuring me, the next I was on my back on the floor.
No, wait. That wasn’t the upsetting part. That part was actually uber-hot.
But then his eyes turned yellow and he had fangs. He was making a terrible snarling sound. I thought I was in danger. He must’ve thought so, too, or he wouldn’t have jumped out the window like that.
I don’t know how long I sit on the couch. After a while, I shake myself and stand up.
Sam left. Maybe this is a sign. Not that I believe in signs—I’m a scientist. But still. I have a chance right now to grab my research and run. Sam promised me a compromise, but I need that research and I can’t depend on him to give it to me freely.
It may be too late to stop my own disease, but I know that research can save lives. I just need more time to work on it. Now that I know where the cells came from, I can figure out how to apply it to humans. It will work.
I jump up and run to the computer station where Sam had the data drive. Unbelievably, he left it right there. I pick it up and tiptoe through the glass. In the pocket of Sam’s shredded jeans I find the keys to the van. No time to get dressed, so I just stuff my feet in my ballet flats, grab my purse and go out as I am—in a see through t-shirt and a pair of men’s boxer briefs, ripped open at the crotch.
Desperate times.
I step outside and run to the van, fumbling with the keys. By the time I climb in and start the vehicle, something cold and hard has formed in my stomach. Something like dread, but fear isn’t beneath it. It’s guilt.
I sit behind the wheel not moving for several long seconds. Leaving seems wrong.
Leaving Sam seems wrong.
He needs me.
No, that doesn’t make sense. Why would I think Sam needs me? He’s the one who kidnapped me, who stole my research. He’s the one with the ability to regenerate from gunshot wounds in a matter of hours.
How could he need me?
And yet I know, with complete certainty that he does. And that leaving him is a betrayal of whatever tenuous trust starting to form between us.
But then I catch sight of the data drive I set on the dash.
Think of your research—it could save so many lives.
I put the van in gear and start to drive. I’m fifty feet down the dirt drive when a blur of black fur launches right for the van. I brake but not before one hundred eighty pounds of wolf slams into the windshield.
“Sam,” I scream. Oh God, oh God, oh God. Please don’t let him be hurt. I forget for a moment that�
��s unlikely. I grab the handle to the door.
Before I can push it open, it flies off its hinges. Sam stands there, in full naked glory, face stormy. “Where are you going, Layne?” He’s not even out of breath. He glances at the dash and sees the data drive.
We reach for it at the same time, but he’s so fast, his hand moves in a blur. He crushes it in his fist and the plastic parts drop to the ground in useless splinters.
“Sam—”
He pulls me out of the van, but my feet never hit the ground, instead I’m upended over his shoulder.
“Sam!” A giggle bubbles up in my throat but I’m wise enough to suppress it. I wrap my arms around his waist to steady myself. I have a front row seat to the magnificent show of his glutes flexing and extending as he walks. His scarred and muscled body moves with total grace. I’ve never been one to ogle men, but he could’ve stepped from the pages of a fireman’s calendar.
He carries me back into the mobile home and drops me near the sofa. A half-second later, my torso is folded over the arm of the sofa and my panties—I mean, his ripped boxer briefs—are down, tangled around my thighs.
Sam smacks my ass, hard.
“Ouch!”
His palm settles on the offended cheek and he gives a slow, deliberate squeeze.
Something in the air between us shifts, changes. His anger becomes something darker. Needier. My fluster settles. I know this game. He’s played it before and I loved the way it ended. Except what’s to prevent his wolf from coming out again and attacking me? Especially if he’s angry.
He slaps me again, not as hard as the first time. He lays down a half-dozen quick, firm slaps, alternating cheeks.
My pussy grows wet, the punishing contact stimulating everything below my waist.
Sam drags a long breath in through his nostrils and his hand comes around to cage my throat. He pulls my torso upward, dips the fingers of his other hand between my legs. “Someone liked her spanking.” His voice is rough and low. I’m lulled by the promise of sex. Of satisfaction. This man knows how to play my body like a maestro.