by Renee Rose
The car door opened and the pillowcase came off with a whoosh. He reached for her and she cowered, thinking he would strike her. Instead his large hands grasped her head, cupping it, stilling her. His palms were over her ears, muffling her sense of sound. The forced quiet gave her a strange sense of security, as if she was cocooned safely by those hands, protected.
He was leaning over her, his brows drawn together with the same expression he’d worn when he thought she’d been hurt. Pained—like her panic attack had caused him pain. And he’d shrugged off his own bullet wounds. Which… what the hell had happened to them? He wasn’t even bleeding anymore, nor did she see any sign of a bandage under his tight-fitting t-shirt.
“You’re claustrophobic.” It was a statement, rather than a question.
She nodded rapidly, still unable to catch her breath.
He began to fold the pillowcase lengthwise. She jerked away when he held it up to her head, but he persisted, wrapping it over her eyes like a blindfold. It wasn’t long enough for him to tie in the back, though.
“I won’t look. I’ll lie down and I won’t look, I promise,” she promised, still shaking like a leaf.
He ignored her, pulling out the duct tape. Once more, he positioned the pillowcase over her eyes, then wrapped the duct tape all the way around her head, securing the fabric like a crown around her head. “There,” he said. “Lie down.”
A wedge of fresh fear shot up and she groped wildly for him, her fingers landing on his t-shirt, which she wrapped up in her fist. His heavy hand dropped onto her nape. He muttered a curse, then pulled her out of the car.
She panicked, twisting wildly in his grip. “Not the trunk. Please—not the trunk. I’ll be good, I promise.”
To her shock, he wrapped his arms around her and held her against his chest. He didn’t say a word, but there was no mistaking the intended comfort. She clung to him, her body trembling against his hard muscled form. She drank in his strength, the solidity of his body. Inch by inch, her body relaxed.
“You’re not going in the trunk,” he said gruffly. “You’re riding up front with me.”
“Oh.” She willed herself to stop shaking as she took a deep breath. He released her from the embrace and wrapped a firm arm around her waist, guiding her forward and around the car. He followed her head in with his hand as she sat, the way the cops do on crime shows. His weight pressed against her and she heard the click of her seatbelt.
Returning to the driver side, he climbed in. She heard the rustle of movement, then he grasped her head and pulled her down until it connected with his thigh. He’d put something soft over the center console—a sweatshirt, maybe. She appreciated the thoughtfulness. “Stay down,” he said, a note of warning in his voice.
She brought her bound wrists to his leg and wrapped her hands around it, as if he were her security blanket, and she just needed to feel his warmth to stay calm.
He put the car in gear and backed out, one hand still on her nape holding her down. Except then his hand began to move. His fingers threaded into her hair and closed into a fist, tugging slightly but not hurting her. They opened and closed again.
She held perfectly still, not wanting him to stop. She imagined his hands gripping other parts of her body, his touch rough, his grasp firm. What would it be like to be taken by him? Did werewolves have sex with humans? The image of him rolling with his opponent in wolf form, all snarls and teeth, returned to her.
What was he going to do with her? Maybe it was Stockholm syndrome, but she wanted to believe he would take care of her. That he wouldn’t harm her.
But what about Melissa? She was someone’s prisoner right now, too—if she was still alive. Had she been harmed? How had her captors treated her?
Ashley needed to escape Ben Stone and get to her sister with the laptop before it was too late. She needed to get her head back in the game and come up with a plan, right away.
* * *
Ben didn’t mean to make love to Ashley’s hair with his hand, but once he’d buried his fingers in the glossy, thick mane, it became a compulsion. He stroked along the back of her head, twisting it up into fistfuls and releasing it. Damn, he wanted her.
He’d smelled her arousal when he’d put her in the corner. It had shocked him. He’d just scared her to the point of fainting and then spanked her until her ass turned rosy and she still wanted him? His cock stiffened at the thought. What about this human woman affected him so strongly?
She shifted her position, pulling her hands away from his leg and moving her feet. She was probably completely cramped in the position in which he’d put her. Her foot tangled with her purse where he’d thrown it on the passenger side floor.
It took him a moment to realize she was stealthily moving the bag closer to her. He watched, waiting to see what she was up to. She made another shuffling movement and used it to shove the bag up underneath her hands.
Bile rose in his throat, the wound from her earlier deception still raw. He willed his breathing to stay in control as she rolled her body forward, her face pressing into his leg. Her bound hands dropped into the bag, as if idly hanging there. When they emerged, she clutched her phone.
He pulled the car over to the side and threw it in park. In a swift motion, he hauled her torso further over his lap and whipped up her skirt.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, snatching the phone from her hand. Yanking her panties into her crack, he landed several hard spanks on her sit spots with it. It was a stretch to reach her backside in the awkward position, but he managed it, punishing her already red bottom while she writhed and squirmed beneath him. She had a wide, thin phone and its plastic case made a satisfying thwap each time it connected with her rosy flesh. “Dammit, Ashley! Was the claustrophobia just a big ruse? Were you just tricking me to earn my sympathy?”
“No,” she shrieked. “No, it wasn’t a trick. Stop, please. Ouch!”
“I will stop when I have made my disgruntlement clear.”
She wriggled over his lap as he continued to spank her. “Ow, stop!” She sank her teeth into his left thigh.
Rather than anger him, it had the odd effect of making him want to throw her down and fuck her brains out. Female wolves bite and snarl while having sex, and she had just flipped a switch in him. His vision domed and his teeth sharpened with the need to mark her. He leaned his head back against the seat, closing his eyes and breathing deeply to regain control.
She didn’t take the pause in spanking as a victory, huddled tense and still on his lap. “I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice.
He didn’t open his eyes. “Who were you going to call?” he asked in a tired voice.
“No one. I just need my phone… in case they call.”
Irritation cut through his arousal, bringing him back to his rational self. “Did you think I wouldn’t let you answer it? Setting up a new meeting is key to me figuring out who the hell is behind this.”
Her little hands pawed at his jeans, plucking the fabric. “Sorry,” she said in a small voice. “I didn’t know.” After a moment of silence, she said, “I was thinking I might text them.”
“Blindfolded?”
“Well, getting the blindfold off was my next problem.”
He made a growling sound. “What were you going to text?”
“Something like, I still have the laptop and I want my sister.”
He handed her the phone and pulled up the blindfold by an inch. “Go ahead.”
She texted the words and showed him first before hitting send. He took the phone from her and put it in his pocket, then pushed the blindfold back in place. “You don’t move without my permission, understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
He sighed and started the car back up.
“What about my sister?”
“We’ll find her,” he said.
She pushed herself up, her elbow going into his erection.
“Ouch.” He jerked and pulled her back down to the origina
l position. “Stay.”
“Woof.”
He almost smiled at that. Damn, she really tweaked him. He let himself touch her hair again, telling himself it was only to move it out of her face. But that didn’t make sense, since she couldn’t see anyway. The silky strands slid between his fingers as he pulled back on the road and tried to ignore the sight of her ass, still on display and flossed with her panties. The smell of her arousal filled the car like aromatherapy for his already raging libido.
He pulled up at the old warehouse his brother’s pack used as a meeting place. No other cars were there, but that didn’t mean anything. Mark Ruhl had talked him through disarming the explosives on the phone, but he’d arranged to meet him here to give him the laptop so he could analyze it, and monitor when the signal was sent for it to detonate. While at the motel, he’d called Stanley and asked him to come to the meeting as well. He would need a ride back to Stone Tech to get his car and the laptop and he needed someone to watch Ashley while he went. It wouldn’t be safe to bring her back to the scene.
He entered cautiously, scenting the air. Empty. He pulled off the pillowcase blindfold once they were inside. Pointing to an old couch against one wall, he said, “Sit.”
She glared at him, but obeyed.
“Little girl,” he said, “You need to stop giving me those dirty looks, or I will take you back over my knee for a reminder of who is in charge around here.”
She wobbled on her feet, and he would swear the look she gave him was pure desire, but she looked hastily away.
“That’s better,” he said, his voice thicker than usual.
He lifted his head, catching a sound at the back door. It pushed open and Stanley and three other males strode in, naked. Shifters were unabashed about nudity, but for the first time, he found himself bothered, not liking the way Ashley stared at them. They grabbed clothes from their lockers, stalking over, eyeing her. He became acutely aware of how out of place she looked, still dressed in her narrow work skirt and heels, her blood-stained blouse gaping because he’d popped all the buttons off when he tore it open to check for injury. Why the hell hadn’t he put her in his shirt first?
“Hey, Stanley,” he said. “Hey, guys.”
“Who’s she?”
“You don’t need to know,” he said. To Ashley, he said, “Lower your eyes.”
She obeyed him, although he could see she was alert and paying attention.
“You brought a human to our private location,” Stanley stated the obvious, his eyes narrowed.
“She was blindfolded.”
“She knows what we are.” He folded his arms across his chest.
“I’ll handle her.”
“How?”
The general code was to kill outsiders who found out. He bristled. “It’s my problem and I’ll take care of it.”
Stanley raised his brows, looking at Ashley dubiously. “She looks like trouble.”
Chapter Four
Ashley had abandoned lowering her eyes to glower at the man named Stanley.
“My problem, not yours,” Ben said.
What had he meant when he said he’d handle her?
“Yeah? So why are we here, then?” the aggressive wolf asked.
Ben’s jaw hardened. “Someone’s trying to kill me. I just need a little backup while I figure out who’s behind it.”
Stanley looked at him. “You’re calling in a lot of favors for someone who’s not even a member of the pack.”
He shrugged. “If you’re not willing to help, I’ll deal with it on my own.”
Stanley scowled. “You’ve already involved us. You brought a human into our den, and now she’s seen our faces.”
A low, unearthly growl emitted from Ben’s throat, sending shivers up her spine.
Stanley beckoned with both hands. “You want to challenge me for alpha? Do it. We both know you’d win. But if you just want to waltz in and pull favors without giving back, no one is going to fall in step behind you.”
Nothing changed in Ben’s face, yet she could feel his frustration.
A car pulled up outside. No one moved, the two men—or wolves—eyeing each other, tension radiating between them.
The door swung open. “Hey, Ben,” a middle-aged man with a shaved skull and a tight white t-shirt said as he walked in. Like the other wolves, he was stacked with muscles. In fact, they all looked like they stepped out of a fireman’s calendar. Except maybe a little less wholesome than firemen. There was a grungy roughness to the men that made her nervous.
“Hey, Mark.”
Ben continued to eye the other wolves as he shook hands with Mark. “Thanks for your help earlier.”
“No problem,” Mark said, looking from Ben to the pack leader and back again, most likely sensing the tension. “Do you have the explosives?”
A chill slithered through her body at the word explosives. She might have killed Ben. She couldn’t really blame him for not trusting her, could she?
He shook his head. “Not yet. I ran into a little trouble on my way out. I was hoping you’d drive me over there.”
“No problem.”
“And you want us to watch the girl,” Stanley said flatly.
“Yeah.”
“Who is she?”
Ben folded his arms across his chest. “She’s my assistant. She left the bomb.”
Five pairs of cold eyes turned to her.
She shrank in her seat.
“She was blackmailed.” Ben handed Stanley Ashley’s phone. “This is her phone. If the men who blackmailed her call, she has to pick up. Otherwise, don’t trust her with it.” To her, he said, “You tell them you have the laptop and you want to make the trade. You don’t know anything about the wolf. Got it?”
She nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Ben looked at Stanley. “So, are you willing?”
The man nodded grudgingly. “Yeah. We’ll watch her.”
Ben touched her shoulder, sending a jolt of electric energy through her. “Behave yourself. I’ll be back within the hour.” He left with Mark.
She instantly noticed the absence of his powerful presence. Not only did the energy in the room change, but she experienced a pang of dismay, as if being separated from him unsettled her. She definitely had Stockholm syndrome.
The men pulled out folding chairs and opened them, sitting in a ring around her.
“So… you’re all wolves?”
Their leader gave her a cold stare, then turned to the other men, pointedly ignoring her. “What do you think?”
“About Stone?” asked the man beside him with a pierced eyebrow. “I think you were right to question his loyalty. I mean, I came because you asked me, but if he had called… well, the only reason I’d come would be out of respect to Leon’s memory. But that collateral is going to run out soon if all his little brother does is take.”
“Well, technically this is the first favor he’s pulled in the three years he’s been here,” a younger Asian man spoke up.
She didn’t know why she felt so relieved to hear someone speak in Ben’s defense. She definitely didn’t understand the politics underfoot, but she was catching enough to put it together. They were a gang of some sort, and Leon, Ben’s dead brother had been a part of them, but Ben wasn’t.
“Yeah, but where’s he been? Lone wolves are trouble, that’s all I’m saying,” muttered the guy with the pierced eyebrow. “You know how Arctic wolves handle lone wolves.”
“No, how?” the Asian man asked.
“The pack hunts them down and kills them. I mean canis lupine, not shifters. But I’m saying we could take a page from their book.”
The other men grunted in some form of assent.
She attempted conversation again. “You guys are a pack? And this is your clubhouse?” she asked, looking around. The warehouse was made of steel construction, like a giant barn. The floors were plywood, painted gray but covered in dark stains. Folding chairs and tables were stacked against one wall, and a row of lockers
stood in the back. On one end it sported the features of any good man cave—a pool table, foosball, and dartboard. Otherwise, it was a big, empty space.
What did they do here?
Stanley flicked his gaze to her. “No one is talking to you.”
Her stomach rumbled. She had skipped dinner because she’d been too keyed up about the meeting. Now it must be pushing nine o’clock.
“Wanna play pool?” the pierced eyebrow asked.
“Yeah, sure.” Stanley got up and followed.
She was left with the young Asian and a huge hulk of a man, who the Asian man called Brian. They talked on and on about baseball statistics.
After what must have been forty-five minutes, she pushed herself to her feet, determined to find the restroom to at least get herself some water to drink.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Brian asked, pushing her back down.
“May I have some water?”
He frowned. “Yeah, I guess so. Don’t move.” Brian crossed the room to the door she had guessed to be the bathroom. When he returned, he had a plastic cup full of water and a roll of duct tape.
“Thank you,” she said, taking the cup of water awkwardly between her bound hands and eyeing the duct tape. Her fears were confirmed when he crouched at her feet and wrapped her ankles in tape. “That’s really not necessary,” she said. “I wasn’t going anywhere; I just didn’t want to ask you to serve me.”
“Finish up,” he commanded, holding his hand out for the cup.
She tipped her head back and downed the rest, then handed it to him.
He ripped off a small piece of duct tape.
“Oh, hey,” she exclaimed, trying to scoot down the sofa away from him. “That’s not necessary. I’ll keep qui—”
The tape slapped over her mouth. She screamed between closed lips and brought her bound feet up, right between his legs.
Brian grunted in pain and his hand shot out, catching her hard across the cheek with an open palm.
She gasped, but with her mouth closed, couldn’t suck in enough air, her nostrils coming together and locking, which only made her suck harder until the outer rim of her vision started turning black and lights danced before her eyes.