IcySeduction

by Shara Lanel

  “Holy fuckin’ shit,” she mumbled. Had her boyfriend really just turned into a wolf? Really? Could the world possibly be that strange?

  Chapter Nine

  Christine kept the closet door locked all night, but kept checking through the peephole to see if the hallucination remained. After a while, the wolf got up, drank some water, ate some jerky, and sniffed every square inch that he could reach with his collar on. It was hard to get a good sense of scale looking through the little hole, though. The wolf seemed to take up the whole closet. Christine had seen coyotes up in the Catskills when visiting her parents, but never a wolf. As she started to doze, she found herself thinking about the wolves in the Twilight series and how big they were. Those wolves couldn’t have fit in a closet, could they?

  Christine sat in the chair because she didn’t want to get onto the comfy bed and do what she really wanted to do—fall asleep. She’d finally remembered her Taser and retrieved it from her suitcase. Was she afraid the wolf would break out of the closet while she slept? He seemed pretty docile so far. The more she caught herself dozing, almost letting the Taser slip off her knee, the more she felt as if she was dreaming the whole thing. In fact, in the wee hours of the morning she convinced herself that she was either dreaming or on a bad acid trip, that the thing that looked like a wolf through the peep hole was probably a stuffed animal. Jake had to be playing mind games with her. For what purpose, she didn’t know but no other explanation made sense.

  “I’m going to open that door,” she said firmly, though she was feeling a bit wobbly on her feet from lack of sleep. Her fingers shook as she reached to turn the door lock. She thought she heard a noise from within, a shuffling. New York had giant rats—she’d seen them in Central Park once. Rats made more sense than werewolves, though she’d scream just as hard if she came face to face with one. “Nothing to fear, nothing to fear.” She turned the handle, but then she heard a sound that was unmistakable—a low, menacing growl.

  Heart racing, she let go of the handle and peered through the peephole again. The wolf was on his feet straining against the collar. The skin, fur, whatever was pulled back from his jaw and his teeth looked huge.

  “Holy shit.” She paced back to the chair, sat down, and stared at the clock. It didn’t seem to be moving, but the shadows did. The bedside lamp was on, as well as the floor lamp behind the chair. The closet light was on and leaking out underneath the door, but the lights created shadows that weaved and twisted until she saw mesmerizing, inhuman blue eyes in them. Right when she was sure she was in a Dali painting or a Hitchcock movie, she woke with a start. The clock had finally moved a little. It was 4:30 a.m.

  Christine started talking to herself aloud. “The thing is, if I don’t open that door and truly see what is inside there, I’ll keep doubting. If this is real and Jake turns back into himself at daybreak, I’ll think he tricked me or drugged me or something. This is most likely the truth. It’s certainly the most logical explanation.” She wandered into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. “But will the memory nag at me forever if I don’t truly go in there and look?”

  Common sense told her she could lose an arm that way, but one did not lose arms from hallucinations.

  She shook her head as she faced her weary self in the mirror. “I’ve got to do it. I’ve got to be brave. The thing is chained up. He hasn’t lunged or tried to get out of the closet.”

  Because he’s probably not real.

  She had to find out. Besides, she had her Taser giving her an overblown sense of security.

  She found herself once again in front of the closet door staring through the peephole at what looked nothing like a stuffed animal. She turned the door handle. She heard the shuffling and growling, but no breaking chains or cracking drywall. She yanked the door open and peered inside.

  The growl-bark-lunge combo had her falling back on her ass, but then she managed to sit back up and really look at the animal. The low rumble continued to emanate from his throat as he stood there facing her, but he was still. No lunging or scratching the floor or chewing at his bonds. Christine got up on her knees and semi-crawled closer. Once she was even with the doorframe, she stopped and waited. The wolf stopped growling and seemed to be examining her intently. Feeling a bit more bold, Christine held out her hand fingers down to see if he would sniff the back of her hand. He did, his warm breath tickling her skin, and then he sat back on his haunches and started whining.

  “What’s the matter, fella?” His dish was still half full of jerky. “I bet you’re used to fresh meat, aren’t you? Jerky just doesn’t cut it, huh?” She thought of checking Jake’s fridge for some raw steak, but that thought made her queasy. She moved fully inside the closet and leaned her head against the wall. She was beyond tired. “So do you change back at the crack of dawn? Or did Jake substitute a real wolf via a false door?”

  The wolf whined again and seemed to shake his head. Christine slowly lifted her hand to his neck and gave him a pat. There was no doubt he was real, but then the doubt remained that she’d actually seen Jake turn into this. It simply made no sense.

  The wolf seemed comfortable with her. He lay down and put his chin on his paws. Christine felt her eyes droop again. She tilted until she was cuddling against the soft, white fur. The warm animal made a nice pillow. She fell asleep.

  Sometime later, she woke with a start. The wolf licked her face and she went back to sleep.

  * * * * *

  Jake gradually woke, immediately realizing he was curled up naked on an interior floor, not the grass or dirt he’d come to expect since he’d been going out to the compound. His shoulder and hip ached from spending however long on the hard surface. He’d missed out on his run last night. Why?

  Something moved against him and made a mewing sound. Jake opened his eyes with a start, becoming aware of the collar on his neck as he did so. He immediately fumbled for the buckle to take it off. The light from the bare overhead bulb glared into his eyes, so it took him a moment to recognize his closet. The remaining beef jerky smelled nasty this morning, but it swiftly brought back the memory of trying to get ready for his change and explain things to Christine before the moon overtook him.

  Christine.

  He looked down to where he felt a warm body spooning against his. “Christine?” She moved again, just enough to bring his lower body to full attention, and though he wanted to focus in on that sensation, his mind shifted warp speed to panic. “Christine!”

  She grumbled, her breath against his back. “Shut the hell up.”

  Turning and sliding until he could look at her face did nothing for her mood. “Pillow!” Her eyes were resolutely closed, though she was obviously somewhat awake.

  “Christine, are you okay? Did I hurt you?” He ran his fingers through her hair checking her scalp and face for any scratches or teeth marks. Then he checked her hands and arms. She had a couple of scratches and bruises, but she wasn’t missing a limb. She was still dressed as she’d been last night. There was no blood on the floors or walls. No sign of an attack and she was curled up next to him alive.

  How had that happened?

  His confusion gave into a strong bodily need. He moved Christine out of his way as gently as he could so he could lope to the bathroom. He must not have done his business all last night, which was weird for the wolf. Normally he’d happily pee on every strange scent in the forest.

  And he’d give chase to—and eventually eat—any warm-blooded creature he could get his paws on.

  Jake shook his head. The fact that she was his mate might not be conscious in the wolf’s head, but it instinctually knew to protect her. He splashed water on his face, giving a quick look at his faint beard—a lot less fur than he’d had on him a short time ago. He walked back into the bedroom, comfortable in his nudity but thinking he’d better put something on for the impending conversation with Christine. She’d seen him change and she’d seen the wolf, had actually slept comfortably next to him. That should effec
tively erase her disbelief defense. But would that make it harder or easier to accept the life mate thing?

  “Jake?” He heard her low voice, which would have been barely audible to normal human ears. She sounded as if she wasn’t all the way awake. “Why am I in the closet? And what is that nasty smell?”

  He tugged on his jeans, then walked to the door, looking down at the bedraggled woman who was leaning somewhat lopsidedly against the wall. “The smell is beef jerky.” He offered his hand to help her up. “Which will smell better once you’re outside the closet.” He ignored her other question as he tugged her up and into his arms. He gently kissed her and when she responded, he eased his tongue into her mouth and savored the taste of her, morning breath and all.

  But in a complete one-eighty, she pushed away from him and started smacking him in the chest. She must have remembered why she’d been in the closet.

  Jake gave her some space. “Do you believe in werewolves now?”

  Her eyes widened but then she turned her back on him and rushed to the bathroom. He heard retching at first, then she turned on the sink water. He sat on the bed, giddy that she’d seen him transform and that he hadn’t tried to kill her and filled with dread about the conversation that was coming up. He certainly wanted to get the whole conversation and any yelling out of the way before Dean came home. Now he heard the shower running, so he found Christine’s suitcase and pulled out her clean clothes and underwear. He checked to see if the bathroom door was unlocked. It was, so he slipped the clothes onto the counter next to the sink and left again so he wouldn’t scare her.

  He got fully dressed and ran to the kitchen to slam down some Gatorade. The truly complicated question was how he would feel about Christine without the mate thing—would he love her? She still seemed to be less affected by the bond than he was, probably because she was human, but she’d felt the connection even when he’d been here and she’d been in Florida.

  He would also have to convince her to move to New York so he could be within driving distance of the compound. Somehow he didn’t think she’d be happy about that either.

  He threw the empty drink bottle in the recycle bin and went back to the bedroom. He sat on the bed and scooped up the phone to make sure Dean hadn’t left him a message overnight.

  Christine was surprised to see her clean clothes by the sink when she stepped out of the shower. She was sort of impressed by his courtesy, but overall she was furious at him. Had he enacted some sort of trick on her in the closet? If not, how could he have sex with her knowing he was a werewolf? From that very first time in the cab! And why not leave her alone in Florida blissfully unaware of what he was instead of jamming it down her throat? Wasn’t it dangerous to let someone like her in on his secret?

  She dried herself off and tugged on her clean clothes, which was always slightly harder when she was damp from the shower. Her memories from last night were surreal. Maybe he’d drugged her and used the power of suggestion. Maybe he was so into BDSM that he wanted to control her through this massive deception. Maybe he was just plain insane? But she remembered the feel of his fur against her cheek as she fell asleep and the agonizing pain that had somehow transferred to her as he was changing. She wished he’d videotaped the whole thing so she could watch it over and over until she was either convinced it was a trick, the more logical answer, or that it had been real.

  The knock on the door startled her. “Hey, are you okay in there?”

  “Uh, yeah.” She quickly combed her hair and put a dab of toothpaste on her finger to rub against her teeth, then gargled water to rinse. Finally, she felt together enough to emerge from the bathroom.

  Jake was sitting on the bed examining her. “I thought I heard you throw up. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, must have been the smell of the jerky that made me queasy.”

  “Yeah, I just threw that out.”

  Christine remained near the bathroom door and wall. She glanced toward the bedroom door only a few feet away, thinking about escape. In front of her was the man she’d trusted so completely to let him tie her up and spank her and anything else he chose. She’d felt safe each of those times, never doubting he would know her limits and abide by her safe word. But now she couldn’t get one thought out of her head. “Did you drug me?”

  “What?” He stood up and moved toward her. “Of course not!”

  She inched a little farther to the left toward the door, hoping he wouldn’t notice. He did.

  “What are you doing?” He held his ground but made no further move toward her.

  “Um, nothing.”

  “Are you afraid of me now? After all the trust you’ve placed in me before, you should know I’d never hurt you.”

  “But what I saw couldn’t be real.”

  He shook his head as if he was trying to clear it. “And what you felt. I know you felt the pain…of my change. And you slept with me last night and even as the wolf I didn’t hurt you. That’s what I’d been so afraid of, that I’d hurt you without meaning to.”

  “Jake, I can’t trust what I saw. It makes no sense. It can’t be real!” She slid farther down the wall, still a few feet between her and the door.

  “Dammit, Christine, I thought after last night we’d at least be past this part!”

  “What part?”

  “The yes-I-am-a-werewolf part.”

  She shook her head in denial, so hard she was a bit dizzy when she stopped. “What’s the next part?”

  “The you’re-my-life-mate part.”

  “No fucking way!” This time she turned and dashed to the door, but somehow Jake was there before her. She’d never seen or heard him move. He was blocking the exit but didn’t make a move to touch or restrain her.

  “First of all, you’re going to need all your stuff to take back to Florida with you.” There was both kindness and desolation in his eyes. “Second, I’m driving you to the airport. Third, we really do need to talk about this. You can only run away so long.”

  “I can find my own cab.”

  “No. I’m taking you. End of that discussion.”

  Christine combed her fingers through her still-damp hair. Then she met his eyes. “If it weren’t for this mate thing, would you want to spend the rest of your life with me?”

  His face relaxed into a smile. “I would’ve taken more time to get to this point, but I could tell after you visited your parents and came back to me that you were the one I wanted.”

  “That’s just sex talking.”

  His smile widened into a grin. “It says what words cannot say.”

  “Sex does not make a relationship, nor does all this other craziness.” She turned around, found her suitcase and stalked back to the door again. “Take me to the airport now.”

  “It’s not time for your flight.”

  “I want to allow for traffic and security check.”

  “Still plenty of time.”

  “Are you going to let me out of here?”

  He leaned down and kissed her cheek, then her ear, then along her neck. She shivered, the want blossoming inside her. “You know what I can do to you,” he whispered in her ear. She closed her eyes and pictured what he’d done to her at the club and how turned-on she’d been and how high he’d taken her. “I can smell your arousal and I can hear you breathing faster. I can suck your breasts and lick between your legs and spank you until you’re screaming for me to fuck you.” He never raised his voice, just whispered into her ear, his warm breath raising the tiny hairs on her neck. Her nipples were hard and she was pressing her nails into her palms trying to resist the tingles this man’s voice sent straight to the point between her legs.

  God almighty, she wanted to say, “Yes, Master,” and let him bind her and do anything he wanted to her. Her fear from moments ago had evaporated, and it seemed her pride had evaporated with it.

  “Stay with me and we can see how far down the rabbit hole I can take you. We can learn together. I know you want to submit to me. You crave it. It’ll
never be the same with some vanilla guy again.”

  It was true. She knew it was true. But if she didn’t get away now, she might have to give in to his full-moon madness, always wondering how he was tricking her, if he was drugging her. She straightened her spine, despite every part of her wanting to melt beneath him.

  “I need to go, Jake.”

  He straightened too, giving her back her personal space. “It’s only going to get crazier.”

  “I can’t be with you.” She picked up her suitcase. “Either you take me to the airport now or I’ll go on my own.”

  “As you wish.” Jake fought against every impulse he had to keep her there until she accepted the truth in everything he said. But though she might get turned-on sexually from demands or entrapment, she’d hate him later. He could seduce her to reduce the throbbing in his pants. God, he wanted to. To keep from doing so, he grabbed her suitcase from her hand and stalked to the door. “Are you coming?”

  In the cab, only the seatbelt kept him from pulling her closer, demanding she suck his painfully engorged cock until he came. He needed the release only she could give. He’d discovered during the past couple of weeks they’d been apart that a hand job no longer cut it even if he was fantasizing about her. He needed her to sink into. He needed her bound and trusting and demanding to make him cum.

  But she seemed oddly obsessed with the traffic and pedestrians around them. Studiously ignoring him, most likely to avoid conversation, but then she said something.

  “What?”

  “So bright, so crisp.”

  Jake glanced at the sky, not much of which could be seen through the high rises. It was gray as hell, the sun not visible through the clouds. “What’s crisp?” he asked.

  “The colors. The sounds. I can hear the clicking of the walk lights and of the heels on the sidewalk. Even that old man shuffling—I can hear the shuffling.”

  Jake could do the same if he hadn’t learned to block it out, but humans couldn’t separate so many sounds. Out-of-towners always described the city as a wall of sound. “The windows are closed.”