by Alisa Woods
She had her arms crossed with her back to him, clear across the room. He wanted to get closer, but she was the one who had moved away. And the way she had pushed him away in the medical warehouse still stung.
He stayed where he was. “I’m doing everything I can to keep you safe, Nova.”
She unfolded her arms and glanced over her shoulder at him. “I know you are. That’s about all I know anymore.” Then she went back to looking out over the city.
It wasn’t quite an invitation, but his body was getting squirrelly with so much distance between them. It was like she was a magnet, and while he didn’t understand the source of it, he couldn’t deny the pull. He kept his footfalls quiet as he stepped across the room.
“There’s nothing for you to do about any of this tonight,” he said softly, close at her back. “You need to knock off and go home. Some food wouldn’t hurt you, either.”
She turned to face him, and he didn’t like the worry etched on her face. Then it twisted into a smirk. “Getting tired of babysitting me? Why, you got a hot date tonight?”
He dipped his chin to look her more steadily in the eyes. “No, ma’am.” A sweet ache started up in the pit of his belly. The only hot date he wanted was standing in front of him.
He could see her react—lips part, eyes going a little more wide—then she broke the hot staring contest they were having and seemed to find something interesting to look at about mid-level in his chest. Or she was just avoiding looking in his eyes—he couldn’t quite tell.
In almost a whisper, she said, “Brad wants me to be his mate.”
“I’d already figured that much out for myself.” He waited for more. If she wanted to open up to him, he would take all of that she wanted to give. It surprised him how much he craved it, too—almost as much as he wanted her lips on him again.
She finally brought her eyes up to meet his. “He just wants me for the business,” she said, with more than a little bitterness. “Wylderide is worth a lot of money, but it’s more than that—he wants to be alpha. He wants to lead the pack.”
Owen eased a little closer to her. “So he’s not just an asshole, he’s a money hungry asshole.”
She huffed a laugh but looked away. “He’s not an asshole. I just don’t want to be forced into picking him for a mate.”
“That’s easy enough—you tell him no.” It seemed clear as day to him.
She turned those wide, dark eyes back to him. “It’s not that easy. Wylderide’s employees are almost all pack members—we have a few humans, awesome programmers who just want to hang in their cubicle coding all day and who don’t mind being left out of pack affairs. But most of the company is my father’s pack, and now they don’t have an alpha. And they need one. Brad wants to be that alpha, and I can’t lead the pack without a mate.”
In one breath, she’d spilled more than she’d said to him in all the time he’d known her.
He leaned in even closer, pressing a hand against the cool glass of the window behind her head. “But you don’t want a mate,” he said softly.
Her breathing picked up as he got closer, and he could feel his heart banging around in his chest.
“I don’t want a mate that’s just after my father’s money.” She kept glancing at his lips and letting her gaze flick down to his chest and back up again. She wanted him to kiss her, probably almost as much as he wanted to do the kissing.
He licked his lips. “I’m not looking for a mate. Can’t have one, anyway. But I haven’t been with a woman since I deployed last, and that was over two years ago. And here you are, prancing around in that tight tank top and loose combat pants, and can tell you this, darlin’—I definitely don’t want you for your daddy’s money.”
Breath escaped her just as he leaned in for the kiss.
He started it, but she was a wildcat on him as soon as he did. Her hands shoved his jacket clear of his shoulders even as he was fighting to put his hands just about everywhere on her at once. She was small, and she tucked right into his chest as he devoured her lips, but the best part was how she moved against him, all hot and bothered and squirmy with his touch. He skimmed her hips and that little waist and round to her back to pull her close. When his fingers found the hem of her shirt and slipped inside, he couldn’t help the moan. Her skin was hot and burning into his palm. Her whimper when he reached her breast about drove him insane. His cock was lost somewhere between them, but hard as a lighthouse making itself known.
She pulled away from his mouth enough to gasp, “Someone will hear us.”
“Ain’t no one here to listen,” he panted against her neck. “You can go ahead and cry out all you like, baby girl.” God, he was hard for her, and with her tight breast in one hand and her sweet ass in the other… it really had been forever, and he wasn’t sure he would make it to the finish line with this rocket start they had going. But that didn’t stop him from hooking her knee over his hip and making his intentions clear by driving his cock against her and pinning her to the window with his body.
They had entirely too many clothes on.
“We shouldn’t,” she gasped as he lifted her shirt above her breasts.
“I know.” Damn, he could barely breathe to make words. “That’s what makes it hot.”
She moaned and shuddered against him. He lifted her arms above her head, holding them there with one hand so he could get her tank the hell off her body, but he stalled out when he got a good look at her perfect little breasts—just the size to cup his hand around, so he did.
“Goddamn, you’re beautiful,” he muttered as he went for the other with his mouth.
She gasped so loud, he almost didn’t hear the phone go off behind him. He was too busy tasting her tight nipple and creamy flesh, but before he could come to his senses, she was squirming out of his arms…
And hurrying across the room, tugging her shirt down.
Dammit. She’d left him panting and aching again. He braced himself against the window as she scooped her phone off the desk.
“Hello?” Her voice was remarkably even for where he’d had her a moment ago.
It irked him something fierce.
“Brad, it’s late,” she huffed out, her back to Owen.
That irked him even more.
He growled and crossed the room, determined to rip that damn phone out of her hand and hang up on the asshole, but by the time he got there, she had the thing tucked between her ear and her shoulder, frowning as she tapped madly at her keyboard.
He huffed his frustration, standing behind her and running his hand through his hair instead.
Then what she brought up on the screen chilled him.
It was the Wolf Hunter again, only this time with more modern-looking metal-armor mask and a new video.
“Shit,” she said under her breath. Then into the phone, “No, no, I’ve got it. Okay. No—I’ll call you back.” She hung up and set the phone down, then clicked the video to play.
Somehow the hate group got hold of a wolf. It was big. Maybe big enough to be a shifter. Owen couldn’t tell, but Jesus Christ, the Wolf Hunter was dissecting the thing. Owen just gaped at it, horrified, as a step-by-step manual of instructions scrolled by on how to dispose of a wolf body.
A shifter body.
The video called on anyone who wanted to carry out the hate group’s form of vigilante violence to be assured that this technique of body disposal would keep them clear of the law, since wolf DNA was different than human DNA. Which was true, but fucking hell… it was like one of those cooking videos on the internet, only a how-to manual for how to get away with murder.
Owen slammed his hand down on the keyboard, freezing the video.
Nova had sunk down into her chair, hand over her mouth, eyes wide in horror.
“Come on,” he said, his voice rough. He tried to be gentle as he pulled her up out of her seat, but he wasn’t brooking any nonsense from her. “I’m taking you home.”
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Fortunately, she didn’t protest. In fact, he had to keep an arm around her the entire way to the elevator because it looked like her legs were about to give out. He was shaking, too, but with barely contained rage. What the fuck was that asshole thinking, calling her up and showing her that damn thing in the middle of the night? If he didn’t have his hands full getting Nova home and safe, he’d hunt down Brad Hoffman and beat some sense into him.
Instead, he held a shaking Nova in his arms all the way down to her car.
Nova had never been so cold in her life.
It wasn’t the kind of cold that came from too much air conditioning in her car as Owen sped through the streets of Seattle, taking her home. Or the kind of chill that came from a harsh word, or a bad PR blitz for her game, or even the bitter loneliness as she stood over her father’s grave bidding him a final goodbye. No, this was the kind of deep-in-her-bones cold that came from seeing a man carve up a wolf on a video and knowing, without question, that he meant for that to be her.
Her whole body shuddered for the hundredth time as Owen walked her up to her apartment in silence. His hand was on her elbow, keeping her steady, but also hurrying her along. Like it was a race to get her locked away in the high-rise, high-security condo Wylderide game money had bought for her. And she supposed it was. He probably wanted to tuck her away so he could finally go home for the night.
While Owen unlocked her door, she pulled out her phone to check the time. Her hand was shaking, but she could tell it was late. There were also a half dozen calls and texts from Brad, but those couldn’t pierce the icy fog that was settling on her brain. She shoved the phone back in her pocket just as Owen latched onto her arm again and tugged her inside.
He closed the door, locked it, and parked her next to it. “Wait here,” he said with dark, serious eyes peering deep into hers.
She nodded.
He whisked away. What was he doing? She watched dully as he hurried through her apartment, closing the blinds, checking the kitchen, running to the back bedroom, then circling around again to inspect the living area. She didn’t know what he was doing until he stopped dead-center in the room, squeezing his eyes shut and running his hand through his hair.
Then she realized: he was checking for something, or someone, that might kill her.
That deep-body-cold gripped her again, like an open grave was waiting for her. The full-body shudder slumped her back against the door. It was graceless, and the thump drew Owen’s attention again. He dropped his hand from his hair and hurried over. She tried to scoot out of the way so he could open the door to leave, but she didn’t get far—her legs were shaking too much.
“Sorry,” she said, ducking and bracing herself against the wall. She blinked at her hand pressed against it, knowing she should move, but somehow held transfixed by the coolness of the plaster on her palm. “I know you want to get going,” she said, thickly, not looking at him. “I guess I’ll… I’ll see you in the morning.” She slowly dragged her gaze up to his.
His brow was wrinkled like he was puzzled by something. “I’m not going anywhere.” His voice was rough. “I’m staying here to make sure you’re safe. You’ve got a couch that will suit just fine.”
He was staying. The relief that washed through her suddenly turned her legs weak, and she sagged against the wall that was holding her up. His arms were around her in an instant, warm and strong and lifting her away from the wall.
“Hey, now,” he said, words soft but his arms strong around her. “You’re okay. I’m not letting anything hurt you.”
She clung to him, her arms going automatically around his neck, her face burying in his shoulder. “Oh, God, Owen, that video…”
“You forget about that video.” Some edge had come back to his voice.
“I can’t, I just…” Her body shuddered again, and she clutched him tighter. “Hold me.”
“I’m holding you.” His hands moved to lay flat against her back, and somehow that was better.
She bunched the back of his collar in her hands. “Tighter.”
“I’ve got you,” he whispered into her hair. His hands pressed her shaking body into his hard-muscled one, and that chased away some of the chill. In fact, the way his fingers were kneading the muscles of her back and working into her hair… it was lighting a fire inside her that burned low in her belly. She released her clutching of his clothes and slid her hands up into the short military buzz of his hair.
“Owen,” she gasped, her heart rate starting to pick up.
His head dipped down to her. “Hush.” His lips moved against her forehead. “You don’t say anything. I know just what you need.”
Then he tipped her head back, and his lips found hers. They were gentle at first, barely a brush against her, but it surged the fire inside her even brighter. Suddenly she was pulling him down for a deeper kiss like he was the air she needed to keep breathing. He dove in, his hands clutching at her as much as she was grabbing hold of him, their tongues battling for dominance. His hands were everywhere—cupping her bottom, sliding down over her hip, up between their bodies to grasp her breast through her shirt. His rough squeeze made her whimper, and she was hot with need. He groaned and pushed her back against the door, pinning her while he owned her mouth. His hand was under her shirt now, warm palm on her breast, fingers twisting her nipple and making her cry out—not with pain but with the firestorm he was creating inside her, burning away all thoughts and fears and that deep, dark chill. There was nothing but Owen’s mouth on her neck, feasting on her as he slipped his hand down the front of her pants. Breath huffed out of her body as his fingers dove straight to her most sensitive parts. But he only tormented her with the promise of pleasure, snatching his hand back out to lift her tank top free of her body in one swipe. Then both his hands slipped down the back of her pants, his mouth working a hot line of biting kisses down her front as he dropped to his knees, taking her clothes with him.
She braced herself on his shoulders as she stepped out of her boots and pants, and the moment she was free—completely naked now against the door—he lifted her knee over his shoulder and dove into her sex, tongue first. She melted with the hot feel of his mouth on her, then his fingers soon followed, thrusting roughly inside her and blasting her toward an orgasm that felt like an oncoming avalanche. She banged her head back against the door as it rocked her body. She bucked into him, but he held her tight, fingers of one hand digging into her hip while she convulsed around the other ones thrusting deep inside her. Just as the wave peaked, he curled his fingers, hitting a spot that had her crying out and bucking against him again.
She was dizzy with it as he left her body, leaving her suspended against the door in a haze of pleasure while he tore off his shirt and shoved down his pants. She only got a momentary look at his cock—hard and mouth-wateringly large and ready for her—before he was on her again. She moaned as the hot skin of his chest pressed her into the door. His hands lifted her bottom, and suddenly she was off her feet. He wrapped her legs around his waist, and she grabbed hold of his broad shoulders just as he thrust that hot cock inside her. She screamed his name, and he let loose a guttural growl that pulsed waves of pleasure through her with every thrust. He had her pinned hard against the door, owning her body, releasing her from the world as she floated higher on every door-rattling pound.
“Nova.” It was a warning, a growl, and a fiercely possessive sound, all in one word. “Come for me.” He leaned into the crook at her neck and bit her—not a claiming bite with fangs, just his human teeth claiming pleasure from her—but it was enough to send her over the edge.
“Owen.” She gasped and then came undone. Giant, throbbing waves of pleasure wrecked her. Owen kept thrusting inside her through the rise and fall of the waves until he let loose his own growling-hoarse grunt of pleasure, his rock-hard body shuddering against hers. She could feel his release shooting hot inside her.
He slowed his pace, sti
ll moving against and inside her, and his mouth on her neck gentled. Then he eased her to the floor, pulling out of her body, and yet leaving her filled with pleasure. He nipped bites all over her chest and belly and down to her sex, cupping his hot hand against the throbbing wetness there. She moaned with the after-pleasure he was giving her, gentle and hot. He rose up to hold her again, and she fairly slumped against him, weak with pleasure.
He took a second to hike up his pants, then without a word, he reached down, hooked his arm under the backs of her knees, and lifted her up. He carried her like that through the apartment, and her eyes slid shut of their own accord. She was so tired, so limp from their hot sex against the door, that she didn’t even murmur a question of where they were going. When she lazily opened them again, they were in her bedroom. Owen gently set a knee down on the bed, then placed her on it. He drew back the covers and scooped her up again only to slide her underneath them. The sheets were cool against her hot skin, but it was a pleasure-filled coolness this time. She expected him to crawl in with her, but he just pulled the covers up to her neck and kissed her forehead—like she was a child he was tucking in for the night.
“Sleep, Mistress NovaCaine,” he whispered and gave her a small smile along with a tender look that reached straight inside her.
She grabbed at his arm as he pulled away. “Where are you going?”
He stroked her hand clutching onto him. “I won’t be far. Just to the couch. I promise.”
“Don’t leave.” She wanted him in her bed. It seemed wrong for him to be anywhere else.
He smiled and dipped back down to kiss her tenderly on the lips. “If I sleep in here, no actual sleeping is going to get done. And you need to rest.”