Kenney, Laina - Vulfen Hunter's Bride [Vulfen Cadre 7] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Laina Kenney

  It was bright and sharp, impossible and glorious. How could he know her body would be able to do that when she didn’t even know it?

  She nipped his shoulder with her teeth, still trembling inside with aftershocks, and his rough laughter vibrated through her.

  “Girl, you could burn a man alive.”

  “You,” she said. It was the only thing she could manage to say. She was wrung out emotionally and physically, and she had never felt better in her life.

  “Yes.” His voice was rich with masculine satisfaction. “Only ever with me, now.”

  Chapter 7

  A knock at the door made Iselle sit straight up. Her elbow connected with Balke’s diaphragm and the air whooshed out of his lungs. His mate was strong.

  “I told Emma I would come back down,” Iselle whispered frantically, snatching her bra off the back of a chair. “I didn’t go back down. She’s at the door.”

  She shimmied into her bra and panties with a fascinating jiggle of female flesh that made Balke’s semihard cock stir in interest. He had the stray thought that it should stay down for a solid hour after that session, but minutes later he was ready again. She was a tempting picture of disheveled hair, pale skin and golden lace, half-dressed and wriggling, and his blood was still pumping hot.

  Women were a true delight to him, but he had never been insatiable before. What was she doing to him?

  “Iselle, are you okay?” The words were muffled by the door, but Emma’s voice was determined.

  Iselle hopped with one leg in her jeans and one leg out.

  “Coming,” she called.

  Balke watched her with pleasure. He had heard that everything was different with mates, and his twin brother Egan’s recent mating had illustrated that point, but nothing could have prepared him for the violence of the emotions coursing through his blood. It was one thing to hear it, and another thing entirely to be the one experiencing the new feelings.

  He had always prided himself on his sterling control, but he acknowledged that he had never before been tested as he was being tested now. He had a mate of his own to protect and serve.

  Balke stroked a hand down Iselle’s throat and over her shoulder as she hurried past to answer the door.

  He hadn’t intended to mate her the very first time, but at the end when she had been twisting around him and begging, holding his mouth to her vulnerable throat, he hadn’t been able to hold back. He had set his teeth to her throat and thrown them both over the edge.

  His mate was too beautiful and the scent of other males lingered in her apartment. The man had been willing to wait, but the wolf was not.

  Still, all that showed was a tiny strawberry mark, and even that would be invisible within the hour. The scent and aura, however, would last a lifetime as a warning to unwary vulfen males.

  He didn’t quite have the words to explain that, so he held his silence for the moment.

  Iselle stopped and turned halfway to the door, fumbling with the buttons on her jeans.

  “Get your clothes on,” she hissed. “I’m not sharing with Emma.”

  A grin moved over his face and he pulled his jeans on in the human way and ran a hand through his hair. He had his shirt in his hand when Iselle opened the door and Emma came bouncing in.

  “Iselle, you didn’t come back and…” Her voice trailed off as her eyes travelled all the way down Balke’s bare chest and settled just below belt level before sliding sideways toward Iselle. “This is what you found at the dump?”

  Iselle flushed a becoming shade of pink and glared at him as she shut the door behind Emma. Balke tugged his shirt on over his head, trying not to grin.

  “Emma, I’d like for you to meet Balke.”

  Emma cleared her throat and stuck out her hand.

  “I’m very pleased to meet you. You have no idea how pleased. Do you happen to have a brother?”

  Iselle shushed her friend.

  “I have an elder brother, long married, and a twin,” Balke said and Emma looked him over again. “But his”—formal mating ceremony—“wedding is fast approaching.”

  Emma snapped her fingers and heaved an exaggerated sigh.

  “Just my luck,” she said with a wink and a good-natured fake leer.

  Iselle nudged her friend with a hard elbow and Balke had to laugh.

  * * * *

  Iselle couldn’t help but smile at Emma. She was so cheerful in her admiration of Balke’s fine male form, and who could blame her for noticing? He was tall, muscular, and a man who didn’t mind playing white knight for a lady with a piece of furniture stuck in her car, or an unwanted intruder in her home. It wasn’t every day that a man like that showed up in the life of an ordinary woman.

  In fact, it had never happened for Iselle before.

  She met his eyes and blushed in remembrance of his mouth drawing on the tender skin of her throat. Her hand rose involuntarily and she covered the spot. She would likely have the mother of all hickeys, but she didn’t care. The blazing sensations he delivered made it worth the teasing she would endure from Emma.

  Her muscles were still twitching from their super-hot workout and her body ached deep inside from his bold possession. She was pretty sure she had whisker burn on her throat and breasts and even though a big part of her was trying to calculate how soon they could start all over again, it still didn’t seem quite real.

  Balke took her hand and drew it to his lips for a lingering kiss.

  When he tasted her subtly, Iselle swore she could feel the heat of his mouth tingling in her recently awakened feminine parts. His nostrils flared and he gave her a wicked grin before he raised his head. Iselle’s heart sped up at the look in his eye.

  Emma sighed loudly, and Iselle looked over to see her friend fanning her red face.

  “Stop,” Iselle protested, but she was laughing.

  “I cannot stop,” Balke said, and his deep voice sent a shiver down her sensitive spine.

  “Not you stop, her,” Iselle said, jerking a thumb toward Emma.

  “Iselle, where are your glasses?” Emma asked.

  Balke rescued them from the side table and unfolded the delicate arms. He slipped them onto her face with care, and suddenly his masculine beauty was in clear focus. He took her breath away.

  Emma flopped down on the ottoman and leaned her elbows on her knees.

  “Wow,” Emma said. “Look what you found. I have a sudden desperate need to go to the dump, but I don’t have anything to throw out. Do you have anything else of Xander’s that we could throw out?”

  “No, I don’t. You’re crazy,” Iselle said, and the two friends started laughing. “Besides which, I brought home the only good-looking thing at the dump.”

  “I am a thing, I see.”

  “At least you’re a good-looking thing,” she bantered back.

  “So, I don’t want to intrude,” Emma began when the laughter passed, “but when you said you were coming back, I put a ham in the oven, and some scalloped potatoes. There would be plenty for three, if you’d like to have dinner with me downstairs? If not, I totally understand. I know how busy you are.”

  Her cheeks were pink, and she looked at Iselle without meeting her eyes.

  Iselle looked to Balke and read his smile as assent. She was grateful. She wanted the time with Balke, but Emma had been her best friend since high school.

  She took Balke’s hand.

  “Can you stay for dinner?” she asked.

  Balke bowed from the waist in that old world manner that shot through her defenses every time.

  “I would be delighted to have dinner with two beautiful ladies.”

  Iselle laughed, and Emma giggled and fanned herself again.

  “We’ll be down in a few minutes,” Iselle said. “Is there anything we should bring?”

  “Naw,” Emma said. “Unless you have a head of lettuce for a salad? Everything that was green and fresh in my fridge yesterday is now squishy and brown at the edges.”

  Iselle did a
quick mental inventory of the contents of her refrigerator.

  “Yes, we can bring the salad fixings. Caesar?”

  “Great. See you there.”

  Emma blew Balke a kiss and rushed to the door. Iselle could hear her clattering down the stairs.

  She turned to Balke.

  “You don’t mind, do you?” she asked. “She’s the closest thing to a sister that I have. We’ve been friends for a decade. My parents moved us to Boston when I was starting grade nine, and I was terrified walking into a crowd of new people for the first day of high school. I could hardly breathe. Emma smiled and started talking to me and I knew we would be great friends.”

  Balke smiled that slow warm smile and her heartbeat quickened.

  “I am delighted to know your friends better.”

  Iselle looked at the warm crinkles beside his grass-green eyes and thought she might be in love. It would be frighteningly easy to love him, but how would she ever know if he could love her? He was incredible, and she was as ordinary as white rice.

  And she should probably disclose another failing, if she wanted to claim that she was honest with him.

  “Emma’s a great cook like her mom. I’m not. Fair warning.”

  Balke laughed.

  “I can cook. My uncle is a chef,” he said and Iselle grinned.

  “Okay. Let’s go.”

  Chapter 8

  Balke groaned as he awoke, but he was too worn out to open his eyes yet. Iselle didn’t stir except to nuzzle her face closer into the curve of his neck.

  For the past two days, they had spent every moment together, shopping for food together, cooking together, and laughing together because true to her word, Iselle was a disaster in the kitchen. And when the changing weather had spoiled their plans for a picnic, they had spread out a blanket in her living room and feasted on each other while the cold spring rain pelted against the windows.

  His lips curved upward, though his eyes remained shut.

  Iselle had a silly sense of humor, and when she got a case of the giggles, it could go on for hours. She had made him laugh with her antics, not with the sometimes dark humor of warriors who were used to the sight of death, but with a true joy in being alive and being with her.

  He rubbed his chest absently where his love for her made him ache.

  Balke’s cell phone began to play the song “A Hard Day’s Night.” He extricated himself from his mate’s loose embrace and lunged for it. He tapped accept as he walked out of her bedroom, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. His mate had used him well over the course of their nights together and it was only six a.m.

  He wouldn’t be surprised to learn he had slept for less than two hours total all night and still his body hungered for hers. It put a grin on his face.

  It was John Commander’s ring and Balke tried to sound professional when he answered. He didn’t want John to harass him about spending the night with his mate before she knew what he was.

  “We’ve got Xander St. John on ice down at the station, but he’s not a jail virgin. He knows the drill and he’s not talking,” John said without preamble. “The first word out of his mouth was ‘lawyer.’”

  Balke was suddenly wide awake.

  “Can you get me in?”

  There was a moment of silence on the other end.

  “No. No, I don’t think that’s a great idea,” John said in a low voice. “He’s already been processed and there’s a record of him being in holding alive. If he disappears, that would create a huge headache. Huge. I can’t have you eating him on my watch.”

  “I won’t need to eat him for what I have in mind.”

  “I don’t like it. And don’t bother with the growling. He’s a citizen, too, so while he’s in custody, I have to protect him from you. It’s still innocent until proven guilty here in Boston.”

  “John,” Balke said through his teeth, “I will not harm him, I give you my word. I will not put a single mark on him, but I need ten minutes alone with him.”

  Balke could hear John talking with Harden on the other end.

  After a moment, John came back on the line.

  “Five minutes with Harden and I on the other side of the glass, and that’s it. Get your wolfie ass over here ASAP, cause his lawyer is already on the way.”

  “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

  John swore. “Take ten, you fucking crazy driver. I know exactly how far away you are. I don’t want a patrol car to pull you over for speeding.”

  “No one will pull me over. I’ll see you in five. Clear me through.”

  He could hear John swearing as he disconnected.

  He dressed and made it to the station with twelve seconds to spare under the original five minute estimate. John was standing outside as he drove up.

  “Jesus Christ, how did you get a license?” John asked as soon as he got out of the car. “You call that parking? Shit.”

  Balke didn’t even look back. His SUV was straight enough and he was on time. His reflexes were better than any human driver on the road. What the hell did the fox want, anyway?

  John was right beside him, and cleared him through and into holding.

  Outside the door, John stopped him.

  “Balke.” He grimaced.

  Balke took pity on him.

  “I won’t leave a mark on him. Walk away, John. Just take a stroll around the building for five minutes.”

  “St. John better be alive when I get back. You were on camera coming in here today.”

  “Cameras do not register my presence if I do not wish it.”

  “Ah, hell. Just what I need is more wolfie mumbo jumbo.”

  “Good-bye, John.”

  After a moment, John turned on his heel and walked.

  Balke opened the door and walked in to see the man who had caused his mate to cry in fear.

  The man was skinny, with prominent front teeth and straggly chin hair that couldn’t be called a beard. But his clothing was expensive.

  The man looked up.

  “Where’s that big Native cop? And who in hell are you, man?” he asked belligerently.

  “Man?” Balke said. He bared his teeth in an expression that was nothing like a smile.

  * * * *

  Harden was standing in the hall a few minutes later when Balke walked out and shut the door behind him.

  “No luck?” Harden asked.

  “He named his supplier, the head of the Boston organization, and two of his street contacts. More than that, he does not know.”

  Balke handed over a sheet of paper as John walked up behind his partner.

  John snatched the paper and gaped.

  “What the hell is this?”

  “What? Did you want more?”

  “Balke, you weren’t in there four minutes. He’s a career criminal, and he’s spent half of his life working for a drug syndicate. Those boys just don’t talk.”

  “He talked. He would not stop talking. He may still be talking at this moment.” Balke considered. “Or begging. It comes and goes.”

  Harden whistled and John swore.

  “Why is he begging?” John asked. “Shit, this is going to come back and bite me in the ass. We’re in a police station. What did you do to him? Is he still breathing? He’d better still be breathing.”

  “Of course the man is breathing. There is not a single mark on him. I proposed a friendly trade, and told him I would let him win.”

  John and Harden shared a look.

  “What did he win in this trade, exactly?” Harden asked.

  “He gave me what I wanted in under two minutes and he got to keep his face. He is partial to it. I can’t think why, when he bears such a strong resemblance to a gopher.”

  “Shit. Shit, shit, shit,” John exploded. “You can’t threaten physical harm. You’ll get arrested next.”

  “It was not a threat.” Balke’s white teeth snapped together in an implicit promise.

  “He does look a bit like a gopher,” Harden said tho
ughtfully.

  “He’ll rat you out in a heartbeat,” John warned Balke.

  “No. That’s the problem with small-time dealers. He doesn’t have the balls to rat me out. He wants to live another day.”

  Harden nodded to Balke. “I’m fucking glad you’re one of the good guys. I’d purely hate to have to arrest someone with your kind of talent.”

  Balke’s grin didn’t reach his eyes. “Did you look closely at the list he provided?” Balke asked.

  John swore again and Harden looked back and forth between them.

  “What?” Harden asked. “Or maybe I should ask who?”

  “The fucking mayor’s fucking right-hand man,” John said. He leaned a straight arm against the cement block wall and dropped his head down. “Fuck.”

  “Rob Simon was on St. John’s list? He’s on your shit list, too, John.”

  John turned on his partner.

  “Don’t make fucking jokes about this, Harden. This is a fucking disaster.”

  “You’ve always hated him. Now you can set him up for a fall with a long drop into prison and the law will stand behind you. What’s not to like?” Harden asked.

  John nodded once, slowly. “When you put it like that, it doesn’t sound too bad.”

  Balke bared his teeth as he listened to the partners plan how they would approach their captain and when. He understood the need for caution, but they would have to bring in more cops, and discretely, if they wanted to investigate the mayor’s office without setting off alarm bells throughout the state.

  “The vulfen Cadre will need to be informed, also,” Balke stated.

  When the partners turned to him, he explained. “Some of the drug money changed hands during meets in Sidarova.”

  John and Harden both swore.

  Sidarova was the vulfen Clan’s five-star restaurant, and the pride of their Clan. If Alpha wolf Rylek Sidarov found out humans were passing over drug money in his restaurant, he would tear the criminals limb from limb immediately and ask questions later if he thought to ask them at all.