by Moira Rogers
Her breath caught on a tiny, startled noise and released on a sigh of pleasure. “You inspired a little of that too. Is it wrong to admit it makes the lust…sharper?”
“Wrong? No.” Seamus closed his teeth on her ear. “A little naughty, yes.”
That elicited a satisfyingly breathless gasp. Her fingers slipped down to curl in his shirt and her voice grew huskier. “I’ll have you know, I am never naughty.”
“No?” He couldn’t resist the soft curve of her throat, so he dropped his lips to it. “Not ever?”
“Maybe once. Or twice. I might have to concede that our antics in the bathtub last night were a little outrageous.”
Just thinking about having her under him again made his blood heat. “Outrageous enough for you to need more time to recover?”
Joan laughed as her hand edged under his shirt, her nails dragging lightly over his skin. “If you don’t stop treating me like I’m weak, we’re going to have to detour into wrath. I can feel how strongly the magic burns in you. Can’t you feel me?”
“Yes.” Her magic soaked into every pore of his body, vibrating inside him as they spoke. “But what sort of lover would I be if I didn’t concern myself over you?”
“Lover.” Her voice turned the word into a caress. Her teeth closed on his ear, mirroring the way he’d nipped at her, and pleasure shuddered up his spine.
Seamus leaned over, trapping her against the wood. “Lover.”
Joan eased her hand free and slid both up to hook under his suspenders. “I’m fine, Seamus. I’m aching for you.”
He could tell. The scent of her body, earthy and aroused, tickled his nostrils and stirred his own body. “Tell me what you want.”
She guided his suspenders down. “Everything.”
There were plenty of things he could do to her, things she might never have heard of, but would love all the same. He grasped her hips, lifted her and turned to drop her on the counter. “Lean back.”
“Bossy.” She’d donned a loose men’s shirt and a flowing skirt, claiming she wanted to be ready if they had to shift. Now she smiled wickedly as she lifted her fingers and tugged the top button of her shirt open, then the second, revealing the smooth curve of her breasts. “Do women just do whatever you tell them to?”
“Sometimes,” he admitted.
The third button gave way, and the shirt slipped from her shoulder. The fabric caught on her breasts, snug enough to show how tight her nipples were. “Do you like it when a woman does whatever you tell her to?”
He didn’t bother to hide his feral grin as his hand grazed her inner thigh. “Sometimes.”
Joan drew her legs together, trapping his hand, then leaned forward until her lips hovered over his. “That sounds like submission,” she whispered, every word like a teasing kiss. She licked his lower lip and laughed. “I’ve listened to the gossip. I know that giving in to our instincts can make sex more…primal.”
“You want primal?” Her shirt was like paper under his hands, and he tore the fabric free of her body, though he left it wrapped around her arms. “Say the word, sweet Joan.”
She dragged in a breath and leaned into him, pressed her breasts to his chest with a shaky moan. “What word? Primal? Please?”
He chased her back until his body was stretched out over hers. “The word…is yes.”
“Yes.” Her head fell back, and she didn’t struggle, even though she could have easily torn her arms free of the tangle of her shirt. “Yes, yes, yes—”
She wore only plain cotton panties under the voluminous skirt, and Seamus tugged at them. “What other gossip have you heard?”
Wildness filled her eyes as she watched him. “That finding a man with a clever tongue is of paramount importance.”
The cotton slid easily down her legs, and Seamus licked his lips. “You don’t say.”
“Are you going to show me why?”
He wanted to, not only to drive her wild, but to put his mouth to her body and taste her. “Yes.”
She wet her lips, an adorable anticipation lighting up her face. “Right here on the counter?”
“You like the idea?”
“More than I should.”
“Says who?” He teased her by grazing his fingertips over the sensitive flesh at the apex of her thighs as he bent closer. “That society you’re always talking about?”
The sound of her shallow, strained breaths filled the kitchen as her legs inched apart in silent invitation. “I want it more than I thought possible.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” This close, he could feel the heat of her on his tongue before he even touched her. And then he did.
Her breath caught and her knees knocked into his shoulders as she let out a choked noise that mixed pleasure with surprise. She moaned, and fabric ripped a second before her fingers thrust into his hair, the tattered remains of her shirt hanging from one arm. “Seamus.”
To speak, he’d have to raise his head, and he was nowhere near ready to relinquish the warm taste of her. Not yet.
One heel dug into his back as she squirmed, tugging at his hair in time with her short, gasping moans. “This is—this is so good, so wicked.”
He turned his head and bit the inside of her thigh. “Wicked?”
She snarled and tightened her fingers in his hair as power swelled, fierce dominant magic that trembled with her pleasure even as it challenged him.
It was a sweet challenge, and one Seamus couldn’t resist. He eased her off the counter and turned her over it. He dropped a single kiss on the smooth line of her spine and held her hips still. “Say yes.”
“How many times do I have to say it?” She rocked back, rubbed her ass against his cock with a throaty moan. “This is how I imagined it the first time. This is what she’s wanted all along. Give me what I want. Take me.”
Something in him told him she meant it, and that something rejoiced as he thrust into her, sinking deep with a groan.
Joan choked on a gasping moan, and he knew her inhibitions had been stripped bare when she reached for his hands and dragged them up, pressing them to her breasts with another desperate noise. “T-touch me, please—”
“Soft?” He plucked at her nipples, teasing them into hard peaks before twisting them just a little. “Or like that?”
“Like that.” Her fingernails dragged across his wrists before her hands slammed against the counter, bracing her shaking body.
She tightened around him with every caress, and Seamus steeled himself against release. He couldn’t come, not yet. “I know what you need.” He cupped her breast, squeezing her nipple between his fingers, and slipped his other hand down the front of her body.
Her body clenched and her head crashed back against his shoulder. “More. Harder.”
He bit her ear and gave her the dirty words she wanted. “Not until you come on my cock.”
She did, with a sobbing moan of pleasure, her hands slipping against the counter as she tried to rock back against him with the rhythm of her body’s frantic release.
He gripped her hips, gritted his teeth against his own need to follow and gave her what she needed then—hard, driving thrusts that pushed her against the biting edge of the counter. One of her hands flew out, knocking a vase to the floor. She whimpered and pushed up on her toes as her head fell forward, baring the back of her neck to him save for a few strands of wild hair.
He bit her before he could stop himself, and that jubilant voice inside him whispered that she wouldn’t want him to stop. She’d given herself to him, and now…
Now he’d give himself to her. He closed his teeth harder on her neck and drove deep as release took him, pleasure tearing through him in white-hot waves.
When it faded Joan had gone liquid underneath him, her head resting on her folded arms as tiny tremors shivered through her, aftershocks of pleasure he could feel deep inside her. Her breath came in short, gasping pants that slowed gradually, until she found the breath to whisper. “I think I might grow to
like being a werewolf.”
He laughed and eased back to make sure he wasn’t crushing her. “I’m glad I could help.”
“I’m glad I let you.” One of her hands drifted up to her neck, fingers caressing the spot where he’d bit her. “It’s like everything means more. How can one bite feel better than the sex?”
“Because we shared ourselves.”
She straightened slowly and nudged him until she had space enough to turn and stare up at him. A smile curved her lips as she reached to brush her fingers through his tousled hair. “Because we fit together.”
“Yes.” Admitting as much should have caused him more than a moment’s worry, but it was too late. Seamus wasn’t one to fight his instincts. “And now we should rest.”
Joan’s smile widened. “Am I so distracting you forgot you were hungry?”
He’d manage without the meal, but she would need the strength. “Blast it, I had forgotten.”
She laughed and tugged at his shirt until he relinquished it, then pulled it over her own head before smoothing her rumpled skirt down. “So we’ll cook together. How much of a mess can I make of it?”
He didn’t care if they made a mess, as long as it made her smile.
Chapter Six
By the time the seventh day dawned without an attack, Joan was ready to climb out of her skin.
The first few had felt like a joyful reprieve, a chance to rest and prepare, to plan. She’d made her lists, had discussed the strengths and weaknesses of every man Edwin might be able to call to his cause, from the alpha himself straight to the weakest of subordinates.
When she’d run out of words, she’d enjoyed the free time in other ways, ways that made her blush to consider. But the joyous sense of freedom had constricted a little more with each day, until she felt tension as a painful knot between her shoulders. The ax had to fall; there was no way it couldn’t.
Waiting for it might drive her mad. It did drive her to snap at Seamus as she paced her bedroom, the need to move having driven her from beneath the blankets at the first light of sunrise. “I thought they’d come at once.” It wasn’t the first time she’d said it, but she didn’t care anymore. At least words gave her some release from twisting fear. “What if they’re hurting them more, and I’ve been wasting my time indulging myself. A week, and no one could have held Astrid so long. Not without—” A hitching breath as she forced the thought away, tried to deny her sinking surety that her friend was dead. “I should have gone sooner—”
“Then you would have accomplished nothing by rushing in and getting yourself killed,” he reasoned.
She didn’t want to hear reason. “Right now nothing I do could be categorized as rushing. They’re not going to walk into our trap. Maybe I need to walk into theirs.”
“Can’t just do it.” He sat, the sheets falling to his waist. “If you want to live, we have to be careful.”
The claustrophobia of being trapped grated so harshly on her nerves that even the bare, beautiful expanse of his chest couldn’t hold her attention for more than a few moments. “I have no skill at this. I don’t plan battles. I understand a clean challenge, a fight. I don’t understand this.”
“If we could know it would be a clean challenge, we’d be gone already.” Seamus patted the bed. “Come here.”
If she went to the bed he’d lay his hands on her, and her traitorous wolf would be soothed just by his touch. It should frighten her more, how easily he could quiet her panic, but today it only made her angry. She didn’t want to be petted and tamed, she wanted to fight. “No. If you have an idea, tell me what it is.”
“I’m not trying to distract you.” He tilted his head. “Come here.”
The command held a thrust of power, and she bared her teeth at him. “Don’t get alpha with me, Seamus Whelan. Not unless you want to smash me in line with your fists.”
His lips trembled as he quite obviously fought a smile. “I’ll never rule you, sweet Joan. Only ask. Please.”
The plea did what an order couldn’t, and she capitulated with a sigh and slid onto the bed next to him. “Don’t issue orders when I’m riled up unless you want me to challenge you on principle. I can’t help myself.”
He looked like he might not be so averse to the occasional challenge. For now, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I have an idea,” he murmured against her shoulder, “and I need your help figuring out if it would work.”
Nervous tension bled from her body as her wolf quieted at the gentle brush of his magic. At least it made it easier to think. “What’s your idea?”
“It involves two things—the bad blood between Lancaster and the alpha, and a good scratch man I happen to know.”
“A scratch man?”
“A scratch man is a forger,” he told her, “but not just any forger. The kind who can fool anyone. The kind who can get things done.” Seamus stroked his hand down her arm, from shoulder to wrist and back again, over and over. Then he began to speak just as slowly, outlining his plan.
Edwin Lancaster’s estate was about what Seamus expected, huge and austere and brimming with the stink of fear. The men milling about were scared of Lancaster, that much was obvious. Should he displace the alpha, he would rule the pack with anger and threats.
It had happened in the past, of course, but that control wouldn’t have lasted for long before another would have risen to rid the pack of the tyranny. These days, though…
Money was God.
Seamus held Joan’s hand tighter as one of Edwin’s guards led them through a small courtyard and toward a large set of French doors. They crashed open, and Lancaster stood there, pleased but also angry. “Joanie.”
Joan’s fingernails dug painful furrows in Seamus’s hand. “I want your assurance that Adam and Gavin and the girls are still safe.”
“They’re here. They’re alive.” His gaze flickered to Seamus. “Mostly.”
Distantly, Seamus recognized the anger that raged through him. He tamped it down. “I challenge you for their freedom, for what you’ve done to them…and for what’s yours.” He delivered the final words with a smile he knew would infuriate the man.
Edwin’s look of shock was almost comical, but when his eyes focused on Seamus and Joan’s joined hands, something feral and ugly crept over his expression. “So, the virtuous Miss Fuller is revealed to be a common whore. I hope you got your payment upfront.”
Oddly, the ugly words did nothing to further Seamus’s ire. It didn’t matter what this man thought—a man who, for all his finery and affluence, was more of a thug than Seamus himself had ever been. “I challenge you, Edwin Lancaster. Are you tucking tail and showing your belly in forfeit?”
“No.” Disdain dripped from him. “I accept your challenge.”
“Excellent.” Seamus caught movement out of the corner of his eye as Lancaster’s men moved into position, readying for an attack. “What are your terms? Fists? Teeth?”
“I have no interest in exchanging blows like a petty criminal. We fight as wolves are meant to.”
“Do we now?” The men moved closer, and Seamus released Joan. “Let’s have done with it, then.”
Joan might be fairly trembling with rage, but she kept to the plan and stepped back, hands curled into fists at her side. Edwin’s eyes narrowed as he reached for the buttons on his vest. “Don’t look so upset, little Joan. You’re free of me. I don’t marry whores and I don’t bed cold-hearted bitches.”
Her lips curled into a vicious, deadly smile. “Be glad he claimed the right to challenge you. He might kill you quickly.”
“Enough,” Seamus grated, hoping she would understand. If the plan fell through and Lancaster won, her threats could cost her her life.
Joan glanced at him and then away, fixing her gaze on the ground as she visibly dragged her temper back under control. The sight only amused Lancaster more. He laughed, the sound grating and harsh, and shed his vest. “How touching. Someone finally brought you to heel.”
Seamus stripped off his own vest and began to unbutton his shirt. “You’re spending an awful lot of time heckling a girl, Lancaster. Don’t want to fight me?”
“I’m not afraid of you.” The words were pure bluster, undercut by the way his eyes kept flicking from left to right, clearly sizing up his supporters.
“Right.” Seamus smiled. “Then why are you waiting for your men to jump me?”
It might have been the truth, but Lancaster’s pride couldn’t take it. His fingers closed around his crisply pressed shirt and he jerked, sending buttons flying. “Ridiculous.”
“Clean,” Seamus told him. “A clean fight, or I’ll take your fucking head off right here, while you’re still tangled up in your pretty clothes.”
Lancaster’s hands fisted, something sly passing behind his eyes. “You could try.”
“Or I could.” They’d both been so distracted with the posturing that neither had noticed Samuel’s arrival. The Boston alpha stood at the front of the courtyard, his arms crossed over his chest. “Surely you’re not thinking of cheating, Edwin? I had to stop you once this week already, that silly business with the wizard.”
Behind Seamus, Joan’s breath released in a gusty sigh of relief, as if she’d almost believed they’d been betrayed. But as Samuel stared expectantly, the loose circle of men surrounding Seamus and Edwin broke apart.
Edwin wasn’t stupid. He looked from Samuel to Joan, angry color rising in his face. “You double-crossing bitch.”
Her chin came up. “Only you would think ensuring a fair fight is cheating.”
Seamus kicked off his shoes. “Enough. Here and now, Lancaster.”
When his opponent didn’t reply, Samuel took a step forward. “You’re stalling. You’ve avoided too many challenges of late. Fight now or forfeit.”
Edwin’s shoulders slumped just the slightest bit, and Seamus knew he knew he’d been defeated already. He would still fight because he had to, but the alpha was finally ready to move against him. To preserve his position.
Then Edwin’s eyes gleamed, and he squared his shoulders and spoke again. “This man’s problem with me isn’t his problem at all. It’s hers.” He cut his eyes at Joan. “If anyone challenges me, it should be her, should it not?”