George stared at her uneasily. She wanted to sacrifice Weston? “Even after becoming a werewolf? Hell, Celestine, I don’t know.”
“Well, if she does, bring her to me.”
“How? If she’s a werewolf—”
“Don’t be dense, George. Do the same thing you did to Tony. That worked well enough.” She turned toward Reynolds, hooking his forearm with one hand. “Come, love. I need you.”
“Oh, yeah.” His eyes lighting with eager lust, Reynolds started to follow her through the gate.
“Wait!” the chief protested. “What if we need his help? We’ve got two werewolves loose here!”
“You’ll just have to manage.” Celestine tightened her grip on Reynolds’s arm. “The fight with our friend there took a lot out of me. I need Keith.”
George threw an appalled look at the corpses that littered the clearing. “Don’t forget the bodies.”
She waved a dismissive hand. “You deal with them.”
“Celestine!”
“Dig a hole and throw them in, George. I’m not spending my power on them.” As the two stepped through the gateway, Reynolds threw him a smug look over his shoulder that made him grit his teeth.
Prick.
The gate winked out. With a muttered curse, George turned on his heel and stalked back toward his car. He was going to need reinforcements.
With shovels.
The night was so intensely bright, Faith could see each leaf and blade of grass. Small animals and birds rustled and scuttled in the woods around her, and the breeze rattled the leaves over her head like a windstorm. And the smells…She took a deep breath. Leaf mold, fresh dirt, something a little rank that was probably an animal, and…
Masculinity. Clean, dark, seductive.
Faith looked around at London. He was human again, and even more breathtakingly handsome than she’d thought. She could see the clean lines of his face so much more clearly now—the strong angles of cheekbones, the sensual line of a seductive upper lip, the hooded shimmer of his eyes.
Faith wanted to kiss him again. The strength of her growing desire was shocking. It had hit her hard the moment she’d become human again, a ferocious craving that made her hands shake and her mouth go dry.
She wanted to peel that knit shirt up so she could touch the hard flesh of his chest. Run her hands over his abdominals and thumb his flat male nipples. Take him inside her in long, grinding thrusts…
“Faith.” London sounded hoarse. His nostrils flared, scenting her, and he took a step toward her. He cleared his throat. “You look…better.”
“I feel better.” She licked her dry lips, trying to ignore the ringing ferocity of her desire. “But for a while there, I didn’t think I was going to make it at all.”
“Yeah, I was worried, too.” He dropped his eyes to her right wrist. “But here you are, all healed up.”
She glanced down. The skin Reynolds had savaged was unbroken now, pale and healthy in the moonlight. “Yeah, just like you said. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I dreamed the whole thing.”
“But you didn’t.” There was tension in the set of Jim’s shoulders, hunger in his eyes. She knew he wanted her as badly as she wanted him. Stepping in close, he looked down at her for a long, thrumming moment. “It did happen, and you survived.” He brushed his warm knuckles across her cheekbone. “You were very brave. But then, you always are.”
“I feel strange.” Swallowing, she rested her hands on his chest through the soft, skin-warmed cotton. “Hot.”
“It’s the Burning Moon.” A muscle worked in his jaw, and she sensed he was holding himself fiercely in control. “When you changed that second time, it kicked in.”
“What the heck is the Burning Moon?” Faith traced her fingertips over the fabric-covered muscles of his pecs. It seemed she could feel each tiny thread in the fabric. The scent of him rolled up through the material, sensual and intoxicating. She breathed in, savoring it.
“You know how animals go into heat?” His gaze rested on the rise of her breasts through her uniform shirt. “It’s like that. Your body is producing all these hormones and pheromones. Urging you to…”
“Have sex.” She should probably be outraged at the idea, but all she felt was fierce, burning desire. “And you feel it, too.”
“Yes.” When he drew her into his arms, Faith knew she should step away. She didn’t. He lowered his head and took her mouth.
Cupping her face in one broad, warm hand, he savored her, licking her lips, teasing and kissing. The taste of him exploded in her senses, a hot male feast of lips and tongue and wicked skill. She groaned at the lush pleasure. He growled back, a deep sound that vibrated with feral masculine need.
His free hand settled on her backside, dragged her closer. She felt his erection against her belly, thick and rock hard, a blunt statement of his lust.
Faith’s senses spun. How long had it been since she’d made love? A year? Eighteen months? She couldn’t remember. Too long. After Ron, she hadn’t wanted to risk it.
She shouldn’t want to risk it now. London was even better looking than her faithless ex, the kind of man women threw themselves at. The kind of man all too willing to take anything he was given.
But when he kissed her like this, her body didn’t care. Whether it was this Burning Moon or deprivation or simple crazed euphoria from surviving a close call, she wanted him.
Desperate to touch his bare skin, Faith grabbed the bottom of his shirt and dragged it up. Her hands slid beneath the knit and found firm flesh dusted with hair. He groaned against her mouth. She growled back. The sound was surprisingly throaty and deep, more animal than human.
Just like her.
He wasn’t Ron. She didn’t love him. But she did need him. She knew the score now, where she hadn’t before. Why couldn’t she take what she needed, as long as she kept her eyes open and her heart guarded?
In the back of her mind, Faith knew there were good arguments against it, but her clamoring body wasn’t interested. She could feel herself skidding out of control.
And she didn’t care. She wanted to touch that hard cock pressing against her zipper, wanted to feel it spill into her hands. Needed it.
Faith didn’t give a damn about anything else.
Mouth open against hers, Jim gulped in her scent. Every swallow brought the taste of building arousal, rich with salt and musk and Faith. His entire body vibrated like a tuning fork with hunger.
It wasn’t just the Burning Moon. It was Faith herself. She’d scared the shit out of him so many times tonight, relief alone would have had him all over her.
In her case, though, it was all chemical, and he knew it. Wary and wounded as she was, she never would have come anywhere near him had it not been for the demands of her body.
Jim had every intention of taking advantage of the situation anyway. Those hormones of hers had breached her formidable emotional walls, and he meant to make the most of the opportunity. He wanted her for his own, and he was by God going to have her.
She could have died a dozen times tonight, but she hadn’t, in part because of him.
He rolled his hips against hers and felt her grind back. Some deep, atavistic part of him growled, Mine!
Jim wasn’t in the mood to argue with it.
Dragging his mouth away from Faith’s, he gently nibbled his way to the corner of her jaw. The hand in her hair tightened, pulling her head back. His mouth found her banging pulse. With exquisite care, he closed his teeth over it, just hard enough to sting. She made a shocked sound of arousal and arched. He smiled against her throat.
Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her off her feet and lowered her to the leaves. She coiled her long legs around his hips, one heel digging into his ass in silent demand. Hands dragged at clothing. He fought the impulse to rip her uniform open.
His collar dragged at his neck with the ragged sound of tearing fabric. “Sorry,” Faith growled.
Jim grinned as he wrestled with her shirt.
“No, you’re not.” Then, frustrated, he demanded, “Why are your buttons so damn small?”
She laughed, the sound throaty with arousal. “Let me do that.”
The black fabric parted, revealing more black fabric. “Fucking bulletproof vest.” He peeled the shirt off her and attacked the velcro straps. They yielded with a protesting rip. More fabric. “Jesus, what are you wearing?”
“T-shirt.”
“Fuck that.” Riiiiiiip. Scraps of black fabric went flying.
Finally, the gleam of white lace in the moonlight. Her bra. With a growl of satisfaction, he jerked the soft cups up, revealing what he’d been dying to see for weeks.
Sitting back on his heels, Jim looked down at her, drinking in the sight. Her breasts were pretty cream mounds in the moonlight, tipped with tight nipples. Reverently, he brushed his fingertips over them.
Soft skin, damp from being trapped under too many layers of uniform. The scent of her rolled up, pure, intoxicating Faith, spiked with potent pheromones. His cock hardened still more, bucking against his zipper.
Jim throttled back on his desperate lust. He had to take his time, make sure she found the same pleasure he did. Gently, he cupped her, thumbed a nipple. Listened as she inhaled in need.
Dying to sample her, he lowered his head and took the nearest taut peak into his mouth. The taste of her exploded in his senses, making him shudder at the stark pleasure. His dick jerked again. Ignoring it, he licked her tenderly, teasing out a soft gasp. God, she tasted so good. Felt so good.
When he cupped her other breast, his hand shook.
Despite the savage need to plunge into her, he concentrated all his attention on making her as hot as he could. Closing his teeth over a hard nipple, he raked the tiny peak gently, savoring the way she squirmed under his hands. Both her hands fisted in his hair, demanding more. Jim gave it to her gladly, stroking and teasing.
Until finally he decided it was time to reach for her zipper.
Mindless with the most intense desire she’d ever known, Faith squirmed as Jim nibbled his way down her belly. He stopped at her navel, swirling his hot tongue around it, dipping suggestively into the little hollow, then ringing it with soft little bites.
“You’re making me crazy!” she gasped.
“Good. You’ve been making me crazy for weeks.”
But he’d been a dog…. She lost the thought as he nuzzled the open V of her zipper. Big hands slid into her waistband, pushed her uniform pants down her hips. With a sudden, hungry growl, he sat up, stripped his shirt off in an impatient jerk, and threw it aside.
Then he went to work on her pants.
Dazed, she watched him, admiring the way all the gleaming muscle of his shoulders shifted and worked in the moonlight. His body was truly beautiful, sculpted and tight, dusted in soft hair.
He growled in frustration, but her stubborn pants were caught around her thighs and refused to come off.
“Shoes,” she reminded him breathlessly, then sat up to dispense with them herself.
With a triumphant rumble, Jim stripped her pants off at last, leaving her in nothing but socks and panties. The panties quickly fell victim to his warm, demanding hands as he settled between her thighs. She rolled her hips upward, pleading.
His tongue flicked out, licked at her outer lips. She groaned. “God, London…”
“Jim,” he growled, and spread her with two fingers.
She almost catapulted off the leaves when he found her most delicate flesh and began to feast, licking, flicking, sucking. Driving her sweetly insane. One finger discovered her opening and delved inside, feeling thick and impossibly carnal.
“God,” she whimpered.
“Tight.” Anticipation roughened the word. He locked his mouth over her clit and suckled. Pleasure shot through her in spikes.
She shouted. “Yeah, oh, yeah! Jim!”
His only answer came in long, luscious suckles and tempting little bites, creating a storm of hot sensation that soon had her writhing.
The climax took her by surprise. She’d always taken so long with her ex-husband, but Jim drove her to her peak with merciless speed. Her hips rocked as she arched in the leaves, crying out, flying.
When the storm of pleasure passed, Faith collapsed, panting and sated, her muscles twitching in the aftermath of the ferocious pleasure.
Breathing hard, Jim sat up between her thighs. His zipper hissed, and leaves rustled as he wrestled off his pants. His scent filled her senses, feral and delicious.
She looked down to watch him as he sat up and ripped open a foil packet. “Where’d you get that?”
“Your bathroom. Put it in a pocket.” His grin flashed, hot with triumph and anticipation. “I’m an optimistic kind of guy.”
Then he covered her, his eyes blazing under the dark shelf of his brows. His mouth was wet with her juices.
She lifted her head to look down their bodies. His cock was deliciously long, its width impressive as he aimed it for her hungry core.
His entry tore a shout of pleasure from her mouth. Throwing her head back, she curled her legs around his bare, muscular ass as he worked his way inside, inch by silken inch. “God,” Jim growled. “You feel so damned good.”
“So do you,” she groaned, grinding upward to get more of that amazing shaft. It filled her so perfectly, satin and steel, the solid embodiment of pleasure.
Ron had never felt anything like that.
He braced his powerful arms on either side of her head and began to thrust in slow, deep pumps that made her eyes roll back in her head.
“Faith,” he chanted. “Faith, Faith, God. Merlin’s beard…”
Dazed, she watched him tilt his head up toward the moon, eyes closed. She couldn’t remember Ron ever looking that joyous when they’d made love.
She forced her attention away from those unwelcome memories to concentrated on the raw sensations that thick cock created as Jim rocked in and out, circling his hips to grind deliciously down on her clit.
“Good,” she whimpered. “So good. So hard…”
“Yeah!” He picked up the pace, lunging hard against her, each powerful stroke sending bursts of white-hot pleasure up her spine. “You feel so tight!”
Just like that, she tilted over into fire. Faith cried out, writhing.
Jim bucked against her hard, grinding deep in merciless plunges that ground her back into the leaves. She didn’t care, too lost in the endless pulses of her climax.
Until he stiffened with a roar, throwing his handsome head back. Limp with pleasure, she watched his orgasm blind him, moonlight painting the perfect masculine angles of his face.
No, Ron had never looked like that.
His arms shaking, Jim collapsed over Faith, then rolled onto his back, pulling her atop his chest. His heart thundered with the aftermath of the brain-storming pleasure she’d given him. Sweating, panting, he scarcely felt the leaves prickling his bare back. All his senses were focused on her—the sweet weight of her body, the luscious female musk of her skin, the damp red silk of her hair tickling his chest.
Damn, he loved her. If he’d had any doubts, they were gone now.
But he still hadn’t won her.
On the other hand, he’d taken the first step. That was enough, at least for tonight.
The rest—including rogue werewolves and psychotic vampires—he’d deal with later. All Jim wanted for now was to be with her.
They lay still, wrapped in one another’s arms as they regained their breath. All too soon, Faith stirred in his arms and lifted her head. “Man.” She blinked down at him, discomfort flickering in her eyes. It had probably hit her she’d made love to a man she didn’t even know.
So much for basking in the afterglow, Jim thought, resigned. He really wasn’t surprised, though. Faith never did anything the easy way.
“We’d…better get back.” Her gaze shifted from his. “We’ve got bad guys to deal with…shit!” She sat up and started looking around for her uniform. “That bald g
uy. The bitch probably killed him just like the others.”
“Probably.” Jim sat up and rolled onto his side, bracing on an elbow as he watched her search the clearing. “Faith, he had an upside down pentagram tattooed on his forehead. It’s safe to say he wasn’t on the side of the angels. And neither were his buddies.”
“That’s not the point.” She found her panties and paused to pick the leaves off them before putting them on. “Even assholes don’t deserve to be murdered.”
“Yeah, but there wasn’t much we could do about it. Most of them were dead when we got there, and then we were under fire. Besides which, you did get bitten trying to save him. I think you’ve done your part for justice.”
“Not yet. Not until Reynolds and the bitch are behind bars.” She pulled her underwear on, then dragged her bra down to cover her pretty breasts. “What did you do with my T-shirt?”
He winced and picked up a scrap of black fabric—all that remained of it. “’Fraid that’s a lost cause.”
Faith grimaced at the rag. “Okay, guess I’ll wear the vest without it.” She looked around for her body armor.
Jim found it lying under his left knee and handed it over. He helped her strap it on, then started putting himself back in order as she put on her uniform shirt. “So what do you have in mind for a next move?”
“Get back to the scene. Call it in.” Faith picked up her holster and buckled it around her slim hips. “Then figure out what to tell that asshole detective. Who, I don’t doubt, is going to be just as obstructionist as he’s been every other time.”
Jim zipped his pants. She wasn’t going to like what he had to tell her next. “You do know there’s a reason for that, right?”
She frowned at him. “You think he’s involved?”
“Yeah, actually, but that’s beside the point.” Jim found his shoes and slid his feet into them. “Faith, the woman is a witch. You saw the way she was throwing magic around. Do you really think the city jail is going to hold her?”
Master of Wolves Page 10