by Ava Williams
“She’s not a spy.” Titus was back in the picture, stepping forward with an annoyed edge to his voice. “Look at her, for God’s sake. Leave her alone.”
Suddenly, she felt halfway insulted that he didn’t think she could be a spy. But, seeing as the only reason she wasn’t getting arrested right now was that he didn’t think she was capable of being a spy, she found it within herself not to argue with him.
The other wolf grabbed at her backpack and ripped it off her shoulders—yanking her hair painfully in the process. She yelped in pain, twisting away as he jerked the bag free and dumped the contents on the ground, revealing a few pages of scribbled notes about that goddamn dagger, a few burnt candles for the ritual, a spell book, a baggie of chicken livers, a couple bags of fragrant herbs, and a few other bits and pieces. All for the fated mate spell.
She tripped backwards as the wolf shoved her away, but the other one—the blond wolf—caught her. He held her in a loose, but unbreakable grip as his companion sniffed at the innocuous contents of her bag that looked suspiciously like non-spy stuff. Titus growled and took an angry step closer.
“Eli!” Titus’s voice rang out as he grabbed the bag away from the other wolf. “I said she wasn’t a spy.” He shook the empty bag and gestured at the stuff on the ground. “Pick it up!”
The wolf—Eli—bared his human teeth. “She’s lying, Alpha. There’s no way she’d be stupid enough to risk so much for a love spell!”
Ouch.
Titus’s demeanor changed. Abruptly, he went from sexy-dangerous to . . . well, dangerous-dangerous.
With a hard glint in his eye, he moved closer to Eli until their faces almost touched. The other wolf’s eyes widened for a second before he seemed to step up to the challenge, eyes narrowed. Titus was bigger, stronger, and a hundred times scarier-looking—but there was something inherently dangerous about the other wolf, something unstable and unpredictable.
Molly stared at Eli and wanted to recoil from the hatred that radiated from him. This wasn’t the first conflict between these two, she realized. She felt like she’d just been tossed into a feud and she was the argument that broke the balance. The wolf holding her breathed a quiet curse, and his fingers dug into her shoulders anxiously as the conflict unfolded.
Titus pushed the bag into the other wolf’s chest. “Eli. I told you to leave her alone. Pick. It. Up.”
The tension was agonizing. For a second, enthralled by the drama playing out in front of her, she forgot she was in serious danger. With the moonlight overhead and the soft rustle of vegetation in the cool wind, it felt like she was in some strange, dream world. She felt like she was looking at two lions vying for the pack.
This was more than a request to pick up some stuff. This was everything—even if she didn’t know what was at stake. Her heart raced as the sounds of the forest fell away and the two men stared each other down. Everything went silent. Even the night-dwelling creatures didn’t dare make a sound. Second after second ticked by where neither man wanted to bow to the other. The real question was who would give, and who would win the fight if neither did.
Finally, Eli gave. His eyes fell and he angrily grabbed the backpack. He bent over and roughly stuffed her belongings back inside. Titus stared at him for a hard second before turning to Molly with an angry glint in his eyes.
“You. Witch.” He narrowed his eyes as he scanned her up and down. “You’re coming with us. Cooperate, and you’ll be free to go once I find out who you are.”
5
Titus stared at the witch across the table and wondered why he wasn’t mad at her.
She’d trespassed on pack land. She’d ratcheted his feud with Eli up to almost physical violence. She’d obviously been lying about something, because there was no way in hell she had actually risked her life to do some ridiculous fated mate spell.
So why couldn’t he see her as an enemy?
After he caught her in the woods, he’d escorted her back to the compound. More specifically, he had her brought into the guest quarters—a small suite with a bed, bathroom, and tiny kitchenette. It was the place where diplomats and visitors stayed when deals were being hammered out.
She wasn’t quite a prisoner—not technically, anyway—but the arrangement was clear. She would stay until he decided she wasn’t a threat to the pack. If she was, they would arrest her and charge her with trespassing and theft of magic.
Inside the guest quarters, they sat down at the small table, her on one side and him on the other.
He didn’t say a word, simply stared at her and waited for her to talk. She was obviously nervous. Worried about something. Her eyes kept flicking around the room, and her hands were neatly arranged into a teepee on the table, fingers flexing with her anxiety. She looked like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar, but there was something . . . charming about her.
Not once had he caught an intruder and thought, I like this person. Maybe it was just her looks. He certainly couldn’t resist the powerful, primal urges that rode him every time he looked at her. She was pretty, but more than that, she was cute. Alluring, in a strange way. Immediately likeable and attractive, and for reasons beyond him, he wanted her in his bed. He shoved his amorous thoughts to the back of his mind. Whatever was going on with him, whatever connection they apparently had—it needed to be put aside for now, for the good of the pack.
Rather than ask her a question, he just watched. She told him a lot without opening her mouth. She was obviously nervous.
Spies didn’t get this nervous.
Her molten gold eyes were sharp and intelligent, with a driven glint to them, so she probably had ambition in her life, or at least a taste for adventure. Maybe she was an adrenaline junkie.
Still, she seemed out of her element and unsure of what she was doing. But she was clearly very smart—and there was no way that she’d risk the pack’s enmity for some bullshit fated mate spell.
So why was she really here?
What in the world had prompted someone like this to do something so dumb and dangerous?
She cleared her throat and looked up at him. “Are you going to ask me something?”
He leaned back, still studying her. “Why would I? You’re already answering me.”
She fidgeted under his harsh regard. “So, are you going to kill me?”
“Does it matter?”
“I tend to think so, but I’m pretty biased.”
“You’re not dead yet.”
Just for a second, he saw a spark of defiance flicker in those gorgeous eyes. She didn’t like this, and she wanted to tell him that. Good. He respected that. More points for her. Truthfully, he already knew what he needed to know. This woman was not a spy, and that his chief worry—that another pack or a competitor sent her.
He never got that impression off her, but Eli had seemed so certain and he’d gotten to wondering if his attraction to the witch blinded him to her intentions. So he did the responsible thing and questioned her. If he’d been wrong, that would cause even more problems.
But she was obviously not a spy. Or an arsonist. Or a vandal. Or anything. That much was obvious. The woman across from him could not have been further from a hardened criminal if she’d tried.
And that’s what made him so curious about her. She didn’t fit the profile of the kind of person to try to sneak in, at all.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Molly. Molly Jefferson.”
Molly. It fit.
They were done here, but he wanted to keep talking. Something inside him tightened when he thought about sending her on her way with a warning. His instincts practically ordered him to get to know this woman, and dammit, he was going to chase that and see where it led. There was something intoxicating about her. He was drunk on her—her face, her smell, her nervous attitude, her casual sexiness.
His nostrils flared and a tight breath escaped his throat as his cock hardened in his pants. What was he supposed to say? Don’t go. I’m dying
to touch you.
His instincts screamed at him to keep her there, and based on the sizzling looks she sent in his direction, she felt the same way. Every time he caught her staring, she looked away.
Something was there. Some shared, unexplained urge that they couldn’t ignore. Inexplicable though it might be, it was impossible to ignore.
She shifted in her seat and crossed her arms around her waist. When they locked eyes, a guilty look flashed through her eyes for a second, like he caught her doing something. Heat rolled through his body.
He didn’t know why, but the woman sitting across from him was a part of his future.
What role she would play, he had no idea. But even now, with all the stress of the night weighing down on him, he was mesmerized.
He knit his eyebrows together. He had no idea what they’d been talking about. None. He spent the past half hour interrogating her and he had not paid a lick of attention to what her answers had been—just her face, her body, and the tone of her voice.
She had passed his test. The only one that mattered, ultimately. He couldn’t keep her there any longer, no matter what he wanted to do with her.
“You’re free to go,” he rumbled, jerking his chin toward the door, where Seth waited to escort her to the edge of the territory.
She didn’t move.
Neither spoke for a second, and the heated silence grew suffocating. Their eyes remained locked and he couldn’t ignore the hunger on her face anymore. He took a deep breath and said it—exactly what he was thinking.
“Let’s not ignore what we feel.”
Molly’s heart quickened at his words, but she shoved down the excitement. He probably didn’t mean it like that—this was Titus Carston: rich, powerful, and handsome. He could have any woman he wanted, there was no way that he would settle for someone like her. Still, heat flowed down her spine, curling warm and heavy in her stomach.
The realization hit her all at once. He wasn’t wrong—she wanted him. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush of being captured by the pack, maybe it was the fact that he was close enough to touch now when he had only ever been a faraway concept in the past. Maybe it was the fact that he had a hunger in his gaze, sitting low underneath the cold and calculating look. Molly shifted her legs, suddenly unable to sit still.
Titus’s eyes left her face to track the movement, watching as she shifted, crossing her legs nervously. Molly watched the curve of his throat, saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. Maybe she wasn’t so crazy, after all.
It was a heady kind of feeling, figuring out the effect she was having on him. Some rational part in the back of her head told her that it might not be a good idea to try and seduce the very dangerous wolf that held her captive—but she ignored it. This was a thrill she hadn’t had in a very, very long time, and she was determined to chase it for as long as she could.
She rose to her feet, heart thumping as she stepped closer to Titus’s chair. He eyed her warily as she approached, his nostrils flaring. Scenting her.
“Don’t play with me,” he rumbled.
Molly schooled her expression into bland innocence. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Titus flexed his hands at his sides, opening and closing his fists. Molly smiled inwardly. Something about having this much influence over Titus made her feel sexier than any amount of makeup or temporary glamor spells ever had.
“I think you know exactly what I mean.”
When Titus spoke, his voice was a growl that sent that curling wave of heat back through Molly with a vengeance. Slowly—so slowly—he stood, and lifted one hand to rest it in the curve of Molly’s waist. The touch burned hot even through her layers of clothing, setting her alight, even though they hadn’t so much as kissed yet.
And then—oh, and then Titus was leaning in close enough that Molly could smell the woodsy musk of his cologne, and his lips on hers were like a brand. He stepped forward until they were chest-to-chest, and Molly had to stand on her tiptoes to reach him as she sank deep into the kiss. It was still a reach—Titus was tall, and towered over her even with the slight heel in her shoes, and as she stretched up, she nearly overbalanced and had to take a step back to avoid falling over.
Titus herded her back toward the bed one step at a time until the backs of her knees hit the mattress and suddenly, she was flat on her back, flushed and out of breath as Titus loomed over her.
“Looks like that spell worked after all,” Titus whispered as he bent down to press open-mouthed kisses against the curve of Molly’s neck. She tried to reply, tried to tell him that it hadn’t actually worked at all, but when she opened her mouth, all that came out was a strangled whimper. Titus chuckled against her skin, the heat of his breath ghosting over the spot his lips had been just moments before. Molly shivered.
Between soft kisses and meandering caresses, gentler than she had thought him capable of, Titus slowly pushed Molly’s shirt up her sides, rucking it up just under her breasts as he explored the soft, exposed skin. He drew moans from her throat and drank them in deeply, rewarding her each time with a gentle squeeze at her hip or a nip at her jawline.
Determined not to let him do all the work, Molly reached between them to fumble at the button of his jeans. She could feel him straining against the denim already, hot and heavy where her fingers pressed into his insistent hardness. It was an intoxicating feeling, knowing he was this hot for her and she was the one that had caused it all.
Titus stepped back from the bed to tug at his own clothes, tossing his shirt to the floor before kneeling between her spread legs, pushing them apart with his broad shoulders. Molly leaned up on her elbows and savored the view of the black ink that flowed over his muscled arms and back.
And then his hands were tugging at the waistband of her pants, sliding the fabric down her hips, and—oh.
The first brush of his tongue against her core was like a bolt of lightning, wet and burning hot. Molly stuffed a knuckle between her teeth to muffle the shocked moan that tore its way from her throat as he licked at her. From his spot between her thighs, his relentless licks sent lightning flickering up her spine. He was so hungry for her, she realized, as hungry as she was for him, and whatever burned between them felt like it might consume them both.
She pulled at his shoulders to yank him up for a kiss, shuddering as his thick fingers replaced his tongue. Even through the hazy distraction of his wild kiss, she could feel his other hand between their bodies as he tore his pants and boxer briefs off to free his hot, hard cock.
A few minutes of ecstasy blossomed between them before things took a step further. His unceasing hunger to pleasure her brought her closer to climax. Her eyes widened as a wave of pure pleasure rolled through her body, her back arching and her fingers clawing at the sheets as she came with panted gasps.
He growled as he sank into her, deep and primal. His teeth found the soft skin of her shoulder and sank in as he thrust, hard enough that Molly knew she wound find a bite mark–shaped bruise in the morning. She couldn’t find it in her to care as the sensations swamped her. He dominated and surrounded her, his strong arms encircling her with warmth and his hip pressing into her own each time he pushed in deep.
It wasn’t long before his thrusts grew fast and jerky, his kisses wilder and more insistent. Molly could feel him pull away. A moment later, he let out a gasp of pleasure and finished.
He fell boneless beside her after a long moment, both of them spent and panting with the exertion. Her chest rose and fell with the rush of passion that slowly faded, but her eyes remained wide open. What the hell had just happened? It was like something had taken control of her, something powerful and primal. If he hadn’t pulled out, she might not have even thought about it. No condoms, no foreplay, no anything. It felt like she’d been struck with an instalust spell.
Molly still wasn’t sure where she stood with this whole confusing, but exciting, situation, but looking over at him and the oddly tender expression on his face as he gazed back, she ha
d a feeling she could walk out in broad daylight and none of them would try to stop her.
Strangely enough, though—she didn’t want to leave.
6
Molly wasn’t able to think clearly for half an hour.
Seth, the blond wolf, drove home upon Titus’s orders. She’d passed the test apparently, and they let her head back. Seth dropped her off, wished her a good night, and took off, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
As she walked up the stairs to her apartment, she felt . . . shell-shocked. Stunned, taken aback by the evening’s events. Her brain refused to process what had happened, and though she had walked up the steps to her place a thousand times, it was like she was doing it for the first time.
She met Titus Carston, and she was more attracted to him than she had ever been to any man in her life.
And then—well, he fucked her brains out, and sent her home.
She knew all about him from the news. When you were as big of a star as he was, it wasn’t hard to recognize him. She’d seen him on everything. He was a star, the face of his brand—and admittedly, it was a great face.
She never really imagined that she would meet him, and from what she knew, she assumed that he had a major publicity operation to bolster his image. But the interviews and profiles that suggested a magnetic, compelling person? They were real. He was all of those things in person and more. Actually, much more so. There was only so much that could be collected in a screen. Screens and paper didn’t do him justice.
In person, it was like standing near a god. There was something about the way he carried himself, a sheer confidence, that was attractive enough as it was. But combined with his looks and his charismatic gazes, she felt like she’d just been lost in another world for the past few hours.
And he . . . seemed to feel the same way. He touched her like he was starving. He touched her like she wanted to touch him.
She sank into her couch and heaved a sigh. She should call someone and tell them about what had just happened, but who would believe her? It sounded ridiculous in every possible way. She was boring old Molly—worked in the museum, made rent, went home and read a book every night. Nothing exciting ever happened to her—not until her sisters talked her into some dipshit love spell, anyway.