by Renee Rose
Someone moves around the table. White lab coat. Smyth, Director of Data-X experiments.
“Doctor?” an accented voice murmurs just before shoes click on the floor, along with a tap of a cane. I close my eyes at the smell of expensive cologne. “How is our prime subject?”
“Better.
“Did you ever find the breeder he was so taken with?”
“Unfortunately, no.” Smyth jabs a needle into my arm with more force than necessary. The sting barely registers in the mass of pain that’s my broken body.
“Do you want me to have my men find her?”
“Do as you will, Santiago. The Alpha Project is my main concern.”
I grit my teeth—whatever Smyth just pumped me with burns like acid in my blood.
“Of course. In your pursuit of the master race, do not forget who your donors are.” The voice fades as fresh pain drags me into darkness… My last thought before I lose consciousness: first, kill Smyth. Then Santiago.
“Nash? Nash?”
Fuck. “Give me a second.”
“You went somewhere for a minute. More than a minute, actually.”
“Yeah,” I press a thumb and finger into my eyes, trying to get my vision to clear.
“You just had a flashback.”
Gritting my teeth, I nod.
“Do you get them often?”
“All the time.”
“What can I do?”
“Talk to me. Tell me something.”
“Um. Okay. Nolan did art at preschool today. They learned about animals of the jungle. He drew a lion with lightning shooting out of its eyes.”
A laugh slices through me, painful at first. My chest eases a little.
“I’m going to get it framed.” Denali’s voice washes over me, warm as sunshine.
“Denali…” I need to tell her. I’ll never be fit to be a part of Nolan’s life. “These visions, I’ll never be free.”
“You want to talk about it?”
I shake my head.
“Maybe you should.”
“No. It’s not safe. Can’t risk my lion taking over.”
“He wouldn’t hurt me.”
“You don’t know that. He's a killer.”
“Tell me about when he first came out.”
“Yeah. It was in Afghanistan, in the middle of a firefight. My unit was pinned down. Watched my friends die around me. And then everything went black.”
“He came out to protect you.” Denali rests a hand on the back of my neck. Her touch is enough to relax the taut muscles.
“I thought I was going crazy.”
“I’ll bet.” Denali’s fingers swirl over my skin as she muses, “Twenty is late to first see your animal. You must have repressed him a long time. He saw his chance and took it.”
“He comes out in the presence of death.”
“Or a mate. I met him that night.”
“I can’t let him out. There’s no telling what he’d do.” Who he’d kill. All I have to do is remember the sight of my mother’s dead body to want to never, ever let my lion out again. Especially with the way my lion thirsts for blood since I got out of Data-X. I squeeze my eyes shut. “He thrives on violence. Bloodshed. That’s why I went to Smyth. He said he could rehabilitate me and my lion. He said he’d help.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah.” I laugh harshly. I can’t help myself. “Yeah, that about sums it up.” I rub my face with a rough hand. “Come on, let’s go in.” I open my door and walk around to open hers, but she’s already out, her mile-long legs set off by a pair of high heeled strappy sandals.
We go in and are seated. We order a bottle of local wine to share and fresh oysters for an hors d’oeuvre.
Denali’s watching me with her long-lashed eyes. Her face is soft, so forgiving. It’s hard to imagine I haven’t scared her away already with what I’ve told her.
“I’m fucked up, Denali. It started before Data-X. Way before. I was born this way.”
She shakes her head. “That’s not true. Our animals aren’t bad or wrong. You just think that because you were raised by humans and because of what your dad did.”
I shake my head slowly. “My lion is dangerous. And I feel like these flashbacks—they’re from that part of me. If I could get rid of my beast, I would.”
Denali’s eyes fly wide with horror, and she opens her mouth to speak, then closes it again. She takes a sip of wine, as if to gather her thoughts. “Tell me... in your flashback... what did you see?”
I drain my wine and scrub a hand over my face. “This last one? I was in the lab, with Smyth.”
Her hand covers mine on the table. “He can’t hurt you. Didn’t you say he’s dead?”
Do you want me to have my men find her? The hairs on my arms raise as I remember the thick accented voice speaking to Smyth. Santiago. “Not him. There was another…”
I jump as something buzzes next to us.
“It’s okay. It’s only my phone.” She pulls it out. “Shit, it’s the babysitter. I’ve got to take this.”
I nod and drink down my water, trying to squeeze my feelings back into my body. A grown shifter, a lion no less, reduced to panic.
“Um, Denali?” I hear the babysitter’s hesitation through the phone.
Denali tenses. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing… Nolan is fine. It’s just... a bunch of guys just showed up. We’re inside and they’re in the driveway.”
“White Camaro?” I ask loudly enough for the babysitter to hear.
“Yes. Three guys.”
“It’s okay,” Denali says quickly, “We know them. We’ll come right back.”
“Okay,” the babysitter sounds relieved. “I mean, it’s no trouble. They haven’t come up to the house, but they’re standing around the car and... I think they might be drinking.” She pauses and says in a much more admiring tone, “One of them has an Irish accent.”
“We’ll be right there. Keep Nolan inside,” Denali says. As soon as she hangs up, I curse.
“Your pack was serious about their babysitting offer.” A smile plays around her lips.
“I’m glad you think this is funny.”
“They certainly are trying.” She sobers. “We need to lay some ground rules so they can make mischief, but not trouble.”
“No need,” I growl. “They can’t make trouble if they’re dead.”
I throw some money on the table and we leave without our oysters or dinner.
When we pull up to the house, the white Camaro is still parked in front. Laurie and Parker stand on either side while Declan sits on the hood, a telltale bottle beside him. The Irish man is shirtless, flaunting swirling black tribal tattoos.
As soon as he sees us he launches into song “In the Jungle.”
Denali giggles.
I glare at her.
“Oh, come on.” Her long legs flex as she steps out of the car. “It is a little funny.”
I growl under my breath. Denali heads to the house, where the babysitter and Nolan stand at the door, watching everything unfold with wide eyes.
I stalk to the Camaro.
Declan points to me as he sings “lion.”
“Ah-wee-mo-wet, ah-wee-mo-wet,” Parker and Laurie chant as Declan takes the high notes, leaning back with arms outstretched until he almost falls off the hood. I grab him and pull him the rest of the way down.
Across the way, Mrs. Davenfield has come out of her house to stand on the porch.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I say through gritted teeth.
“Oh, come on, Alpha—”
“Not your alpha—”
“—we were just havin’ a bit o’ fun—”
“We thought you were inside.” Laurie peers over the hood at us, his glasses magnifying his eyes.
“Yeah, where were you?” Parker asks.
“I was on the date,” I grind out and look at Laurie. “Remember? You looked up a restaurant for me.”
“Oooooooh,” the three ch
orus.
“I’m guessing we interrupted something good.” Parker waggles his grey brows.
“Coitus—” Declan starts, and I push him against the car.
“I. Am. Going. To. Kill—”
“Nash... it’s okay,” Denali calls. She approaches with the babysitter, who stares at Declan with admiration. Nolan trots along behind.
Shit. I’m about to brawl with my own pack on my mate’s front lawn. In front of a three-year-old.
“Baby, stay on the porch,” Denali says as she pays the babysitter.
“But, momma, I want to play.”
“I got him.” Laurie lopes to Nolan. The gawky shifter kneels to speak to the boy.
“We didn’t mean to cause trouble,” Parker tells Denali. “You could’ve stayed out on your date.”
“We got a call that three strange men were in the driveway,” I growl. “What do you think we were going to do?”
“Ya weren’t scared o’ us, were ya, luv?” Declan turns to the babysitter, taking her hand and kissing it.
“Oh no.” She flutters her lashes at him. “I just wasn’t sure who you were.”
“Declan O’Connor, at your service. Would be pleased to get to know ya better.”
The woman beams at Declan as he walks her to her car.
Nolan shouts something to his mom about showing Laurie his trucks, and the two disappear.
“No harm, no foul,” Parker murmurs.
I blow out a breath. My lion still wants to kill someone.
“Nash.” Denali puts a hand on my back, and some of the tension ebbs away. “It’s all right. Really. I like your crazy friends.”
Friends. I don’t really consider them that, but I suppose they are. The last time I called men friends they all got killed. I guess I haven’t chosen to be close to anyone since then.
These goofballs have been worming themselves into my life despite my best efforts to keep them out.
Crazy fucks.
Denali
When I come out from putting Nolan to sleep, Nash is on the prowl, moving softly around the cottage, looking through windows without moving the shades.
I should be scared to know he truly believes we’re in danger. It’s hard to feel scared with such a vigilant protector, though.
I have this crazy desire to ease his tension, too. Which is weird, because I’m supposed to be keeping him at a distance. I guess my lioness don’t understand that part. She sees him as mate. Mine to soothe. To satisfy. To invite to bed.
Aw, shit. I’m totally going to invite him into my bed.
Yeah, him sleeping on the couch only lasted one night. Well, I can’t help it. All last night I thought about what it’d be like to have him sleeping beside me. Would he hold me against his chest like he did that night in the cell?
Would sleeping to the sound of his beating heart be as comforting as I imagine it will be?
I walk up beside him and wrap my arms around his waist. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” He turns and buries a hand in my hair, lifts my face to his. “Sorry we never got dinner.”
I smile up at him. “I got what I needed.”
“Which is?”
“Time alone with you.”
Pain flickers over his face, as if he thinks he fucked up that time. Honestly, knowing he has PTSD isn’t a deterrent for me. I think I’d be more worried about him and his character if he didn’t. If I’d had any doubts that he was as damaged as I was by Data-X, they’re completely gone. He may have joined voluntarily, but he was a tortured prisoner same as I was.
His fear of his lion does cause me some worry, though. You can’t repress such a powerful animal. It’s probably why his lion needs to fight when he finally lets it out. Or wait—does he fight in lion form?
I make a mental note to check out one of his fights. I need to see what this male does for a living, as sordid as it may be.
Nash leans his forehead against mine and drags a knuckle down my breastbone until he reaches my cleavage. “This dress is making my pants too tight.”
The laugh that comes out of my lips sounds husky. “Oh yeah?”
He pinches one nipple, hard. Like the other times we’ve had sex, I’m thrilled by his aggression. It’s the one place he doesn’t hold back with me. I’m always slightly shocked by it, in a way that goes straight to my core. “Yeah.”
“Wanna get it off me?”
A low, leonine growl erupts from his throat.
I laugh and turn, taking off running for my bedroom.
It takes him a half-second to follow, the loud slam of his boots ringing on the simple pine planks of the floor. He lets me get all the way to the bedroom before he catches me up by the waist. His mouth is at my neck, teeth grazing my skin.
“Ran from me, did you?” His voice is deep, dark with promise.
Oh God, I hope he wants to punish me again.
“I-is there a consequence for that?” I sound breathless.
He laughs darkly. “Damn straight there is.” He makes a big show out of unbuckling his belt and drawing it out of the loops.
I swallow, thinking I’ve bit off more than I can chew, but he winds it around my wrists, cinching with the buckle and pulling it high over my head. My arms lift like a marionette’s.
He tosses the end of the belt over the top of the door and shuts the door, trapping it there. I’m now strung up to the door. “Mmm.” He steps back and eyeballs me, approvingly. “Now that’s a sight I’ve been fantasizing about all night.” He steps forward and yanks open the sides of my wrap around dress, exposing my white lace bra. “Except more like this.” He pulls back again and gives his cock a squeeze through his pants.
Even though the buckle pokes into my wrist a bit, I let myself stretch and hang from the belt, like I’m trying to escape.
Nash moves in and slams me back against the door, his mouth on mine. “Trying to escape me, my queen?”
“Mmmf,” is all I can say, because he claims my mouth again as soon as he speaks. “Beautiful, beautiful lioness.”
One of his hands works into my bra as the other grabs my ass. I lift one leg to wrap around his waist, snapping my hips to meet his slow thrusts. He pinches and rolls my nipple, a maddening torture that turns my pussy wet. I sway against the hold of the belt, my knees turning weak. He drags his mouth down my neck at the same time he unties the wrap to my dress, letting it swing open. He has the full view of my white lace bra and panties, which set off my mocha skin. I went out and bought them this afternoon just for our date.
“Fuck, Denali,” Nash growls. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” His eyes glow yellow. Mine have probably turned grey-blue. Nash wraps a fist in my curls and holds my head captive for another savage kiss. As his lips twist over mine, he shoves both cups of my bra down and mauls my breasts. I wrap both legs around his waist and he bites my lower lip, holding it between his teeth and pulling. “I’m gonna fuck you right up against this door, Denali. And you’d better hold your screams in, because if you wake up the boy, I’m not going to let you come.”
“Let me come?” I let out an indignant laugh.
He rips the seam on the side of my new panties and yanks them off me. “You heard me.” There’s challenge in his voice, which I love.
I use my legs around his back to yank him closer, rubbing my bare pussy over the crotch of his jeans.
He lets out a harsh curse and unbuttons them. His cock springs out, large and glorious. I’m grateful he has the presence of mind to produce a condom, because the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. He rolls it on and slams into me with one brutal thrust.
My entire back presses against the door. I’m suspended by Nash’s body, by pelvis lifted by his, which gives my wrists relief.
Nash bites my neck, pulling back and slamming in again. “I have you exactly the way I want you, baby.”
“Yes,” I gasp. He fills me, satisfying me in the way I never knew I needed. Each thrust is a pact, a promise. He needs me. I need him. T
he mating bond is unbreakable. Our animals have chosen. “God, yes.”
Nash holds my thighs and drills into me, rattling the door on its hinges with each thump, thump, thump of our bodies slamming against it.
We move as one, in perfect communion, perfect rhythm. I yield to his claiming as I yielded that first night and suddenly it becomes clear.
I wasn’t forced.
Data-X may have demanded we breed, but our animals chose each other, regardless. Nash mate-marked me because we’re mates, not because he lost control under duress. In fact, Data-X did us a favor by helping us find each other.
I nearly weep with the significance of my discovery just as Nash starts to lose control. His movements grow jerky, thighs shaking as he plows into me.
“You ready to come, baby?”
“You going to let me?” I purr.
He loses it. His thrusts become frantic. “Fuck, yeah. Come, for me, beautiful lioness.”
I surrender completely, let him fill and empty me, sawing in and out until my desire passes the breaking point.
I yank my wrists against the belt, squeeze my thighs around his waist, yanking him deeper. He swallows my scream with a kiss and we both come to a simultaneous finish, my pussy squeezing around his pulsing cock.
“You’re mine,” I chant. “You’re mine, you’re mine.”
Nash lets out a shaky laugh and cups my face. “Am I?” He hooks his forearm under my ass to lift me and releases the belt from over the door. I pull my wrists out as he carries me to the bed. He lays me down and kisses the red marks on my skin where the belt dug in.
“You really gonna claim me, baby?” Nash rumbles.
“Yes.” I reach for him and run my fingers through his hair. I mean it, too. Nash is my mate. Our animals have chosen. The rest, we’ll figure out.
8
Denali
The Pit is on the wasted edge of an industrial area. I park my beat-up car near the edge of a lot filled with trucks and motorcycles. The air is heavy with the smell of animals. One tang slips through—Nash’s scent. I draw in a deep breath and march to the door, striding in leather ankle boots and a black miniskirt that shows off the length of my legs. A black tube top hugs my torso. Kohl around my eyes and thin gold hoops in my ears, my hair in a soft ‘fro, and my natural scent screams what I am: a lioness on the prowl.