Fetching Analia

by Jory Strong

  It was like on the dance floor, only worse, because knowing her better made him want her more. His tongue slid against hers, twining and stoking the flames of desire.

  It was no longer her scent that intoxicated and compelled. It was her taste. It was the soft swell of her breasts pressed to his chest. It was the hungry rub of her pelvis against his. It was her.

  His hands moved to her waist, tugged at her blouse then slid under to press against her bare back. Her skin was silky smooth and heated. It begged him to follow the contours of her body, and he surrendered to the need to explore.

  He stroked upward, easily undid the clasp of her bra and then cupped the sides of her breasts. Her shiver of need was a streak of pleasure through his cock. Her moan of want fed a desire to pleasure her, to demonstrate the heights to which he could take her. It was madness, but he was caught in that madness.

  For now. Only for now he promised himself.

  He rubbed his thumbs over nipples plumped and tightened by desire. She shivered again, pressed her lower body against his, and it was easy to imagine stripping her naked, taking her beneath the moon and stars.

  Breathing hard, he pulled his mouth from hers. “I’ve got to see you,” he said, watching her expression as he unbuttoned the front of her blouse.

  The want on her face was mesmerizing, so powerful it blotted out the memory of any other woman’s face. His gaze moved to breasts framed by her bra and his hands.

  He hooked his thumbs into lacy material, pulled downward so the bra no longer obstructed his view. “Beautiful, like the rest of you,” he murmured, his voice husky.

  He reclaimed her lips, hands cupping, molding her breasts, his thumbs circling, rubbing as his tongue stroked and glided against hers, each of her moans a throb through his cock.

  Take her, it screamed. But then it had been screaming that for hours.

  His mouth left hers, trailing kisses downward along her arched neck, stopping to suck, to bite her lightly.

  Dangerous images crowded in, of her on elbows and knees, thighs spread, her pussy glistening, its lips parted, inviting him to mount and mate.

  I’ll be able to resist, he told himself, moving from her neck to her delicate collarbone. Then lower, finally reaching his destination.

  He took a plump nipple between his lips and sucked, his hands molding her breasts, pushing them together so he could easily switch from nipple to nipple. She was delectable, a feast he wanted to savor.

  Her hands gripped his hair, holding him tightly against her. And though he couldn’t read her mind, he felt her struggle not to tug him downward to her pussy.

  “Let’s get off the beach,” she said in a voice filled with heated need.

  The words had him kissing his way up to her mouth. He looked into her eyes and the dangerous want returned in a hot surge, the fantasy of her positioned for mounting, mating.

  The end of his cock thickened, as it would thicken with a mate, tying him, locking him into her channel. The possibility of it happening should have iced his body and shriveled his dick.

  It didn’t. And that sent his heartbeat into what felt like a pounding race toward, rather than away from, danger.

  He kissed her, plunged his tongue into her mouth. With each rough thrust and retreat of his tongue, he attempted to drive away the image of her presenting her pussy.

  It helped. But he didn’t dare test it by going directly to her apartment.

  Coward! his cock silently screamed, trying to goad him into entering her—here and now, if not at her apartment. Uncaring if the end result of thrusting into her hot, slick channel was a permanent bond.

  No, he told it. No. No. No. And yet he continued to thrust his tongue against hers.

  Shudders of pleasure wracked his body with each imagined thrust of his cock. Fuck, he wanted her. Wanted her more than he’d ever wanted another female.

  It was that thought that finally gave him the strength to lift his mouth off of hers and delay the moment when he’d join his body to hers.

  His breathing harsh and ragged, he said, “We need to stop by the police station first. They’re holding your assailant there. The sooner he’s interviewed, the better.”

  “If you say so,” she said through lips wettened and swollen and calling to his to return for more kisses.

  He touched his mouth to hers. “We’ll have to take your car. Maksim had someone take my Hummer back to headquarters.”

  “Okay,” she said, the movement of her mouth against his all it took for him to recapture her lips. He wasn’t ready to give up the pleasure of having her in his arms. Not yet. Maybe not for a little while.

  * * *

  On the boardwalk, Deidra seethed. The human was a nobody, a nothing.

  She was beneath Kellen’s notice but there he was, unable to keep from touching her, kissing her, seducing her. It was obvious now that he didn’t intend to stop. That he’d soon be spewing his seed inside a human.

  It didn’t belong there. It belonged inside of the fey hound meant to eventually rule others in their realm—inside of her.

  Not that she longed for young, but they were a necessity. Not that she longed for Kellen, though she didn’t shudder at the thought of being covered by him. He wasn’t repulsive, but if he had been, it wouldn’t matter. It couldn’t matter where power and lineage were concerned.

  He was a prince, his father’s heir. And time was running out to capitalize on that fact.

  Uneasiness was rising throughout the realm as fewer and fewer pups were born. The lesser packs were forming new alliances, and soon they would become emboldened enough to try and take the kingdom.

  Hot, angry bile rose in Deidra’s throat as she watched Kellen kissing the woman, caressing her breasts. It was the same human female he’d danced with earlier, and she wasn’t some casual conquest.

  It was there in Kellen’s body language. He was deeply attracted, dangerously attracted, and that attraction threatened to derail everything if he decided the human female was his true mate.

  The wind shifted, forcing Deidra to turn and walk away rather than risk having her scent carry to Kellen and warn him of her presence. The human had to be dealt with, that much was obvious.

  Deidra crossed the street and kept walking. There was nothing she could do immediately, nothing she could do to prevent Kellen from having sex with his mortal tonight.

  But the thought of him with her ate at Deidra. It consumed her so she wasn’t immediately aware of the otherworld creature until he was at her side, smelling of a cold-iron blade.

  Fool! To let thoughts of Kellen and his human plaything leave her open to threat.

  Deidra whirled and faced what looked like a man. Glamour or magic gave him the guise of a thin human with hollowed cheeks and a bulbous nose. But magic and glamour couldn’t hide his scent, not from her.

  The air smelled of blood and charred flesh and apples, a disgusting combination even for someone who tore raw meat off carcasses and gorged on livers and hearts as a hound.

  She bared her teeth and issued a low, rumbling growl.

  The man held up his hands. “I’m called Tobik. I come with an offer from my mistress.”

  “What mistress?”

  “She is known by the name of Herrica. She lives in the grig realm.”

  Weak fey magic brushed against Deidra’s senses, reducing the potential for threat and providing an opening for curiosity. “What offer?”

  Tobik glanced over his shoulder, in the direction of Kellen and the human female. “My mistress can make you irresistible to him. With the power she can grant you, you can easily bring him to heel. You can not only have him as a mate, but have a mate who is totally ensnared.”

  Offended and resentful that some lesser being had guessed at Kellen’s preference for a human instead of her, Deidra snarled, “I need no help.”

  “Of course not. But a mutually beneficial alliance would mean faster results, something my mistress prizes.”

  Deidra allowed her pride t
o be salved. But only because time was of the essence.

  Kellen had long claimed he would never take a mate. He would fight the inevitable tonight. And perhaps tomorrow night. And the night after. But eventually instinct would prevail.

  He would bind himself to the human he seemed compelled to touch, and she would lose the opportunity to one day rule a kingdom. “What would this alliance entail?”

  Chapter 6

  “This is ridiculous,” Kellen muttered as he crammed himself into the passenger side of the Prius.

  Analia bit her lip to prevent a smile. At least he hadn’t insisted on driving, and he did have more room, relatively speaking, than the hound when he’d been crammed into the backseat.

  “It’s not funny,” Kellen growled, sounding very much like said hound.

  “I’ll drive fast so it’ll be over with quickly.”

  “Fast and defensively. This is like being in a tin can.”

  She started the car and pulled out of the parking place. He took her hand and put it on his thigh, the proximity to his erection bringing a rush of want.

  His hand covered hers, trapping heat and the firm feel of honed muscle against her palm. Dropping his voice to a seductive rumble, he said, “How about this. First thing tomorrow we pay a visit to Maksim. You surrender your car keys, and we drive away from headquarters in my Hummer.”

  “We’ll see.”

  He slid her hand upward on his thigh and her sense of humor inserted itself. “Getting ready to convince me by pulling out the big gun?”

  Kellen’s laughter freed the smile she’d held earlier.

  “Don’t tempt me. But, yeah, I’m not above using the big gun to get you to agree to letting me take over the driving, in my vehicle.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  He closed the distance between her hand and his cock. She flushed hot all over, her nipples tightening and need pooling between her thighs.

  In self-defense she said, “We’re going to be at the police station in a few minutes. Are you sure you want to walk in there in that state?”

  “I’d say it’s inevitable, given the company I’m keeping.”

  That gave her a thrill of pleasure and pulled her eyes off the road long enough to read his expression. There was humor there, but also honest heat.

  The last time they were in the car together, he’d claimed to be doing them both a favor when he walked away, leaving her on the dance floor. After the glimpse of his childhood, she believed that he believed walking away had been the best course of action.

  She’d felt embarrassed, as well as hurt and demoralized, when she’d thought he’d been giving her a trial run and found her lacking. Now she didn’t doubt the attraction.

  Her heart beat a little faster as she contemplated what would happen after the police station, after they got back to her apartment. Despite the promise she’d made to herself in Maksim’s office, she was as defenseless against the attraction to Kellen now as she’d been on the dance floor—maybe more so.

  Nothing about his manner hinted that she’d be just another conquest. True, there were no guarantees he wouldn’t walk away when Maksim no longer required them to be together. But…could she deny herself the pleasure, when Kellen still felt right? When each kiss, each caress seemed to confirm what the tarot cards and the old man had said, about beginning a journey that would lead to her perfect match.

  The police station came into sight. He asked, “Do you remember having seen your assailant before?”

  She shook her head. “No. He definitely wasn’t in sight at the Artist’s Loft.”

  “What about around your apartment?”

  “I don’t think so.” But could she really be sure?

  Picking up on her uncertainty, he said, “But you can’t be positive?”

  “Until today I never felt watched. And I only felt watched when I left the Loft.”

  “What were you doing at the Artist’s Loft?”

  “Checking on a client.”

  “You routinely go there?”

  “I have other clients who work there, but my schedule isn’t predictable.”

  He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles, and the light stroke was enough to send a flutter through her heart. “We’ve ruled out the tarot cards,” he said. “That leaves the fetish.”

  She fought down a surge of panic and stirring of guilt. Hoped against hope the tiger carved from a piece of wood held enough magic to keep Kellen from discovering the charms.

  Her gaze darted to the bracelet. Her growing feelings for him and her growing belief that he was the one only strengthened her conviction that she couldn’t tell him about the charms—not yet.

  If she did, it’d be over before it’d really begun.

  Reluctantly she pulled her hand from beneath his so she could maneuver the Prius into a parking spot. They got out of the car, and as he’d done at Stones, he placed his hand on her back and ushered her inside—only this time, she didn’t try to shield her heart by telling herself it was an act.

  The front was being manned by a female officer with dark hair pulled back in a tight bun. She looked up from her computer screen and kept looking, eyes widening slightly and remaining on Kellen until he reached her workspace.

  This is what being with him would be like, Analia thought, then pushed the twinge of insecurity away. One hint of that around Saffron, after giving her BFF a multitude of lectures encouraging her to risk her heart… Oh no, she was not going to be on the receiving end of lectures herself.

  Kellen’s name and a show of credentials had the female police officer summoning someone to escort them to an interview room.

  A thin, sandy-haired policeman whose face had been ravaged by acne arrived. As they traveled down a pristine hallway with a burnt coffee smell, he said, “Your boss arranged for the assailant to be put on ice.”

  “He’s been left alone?” Kellen asked.

  The officer nodded. “Given something to eat and drink. That’s it. Name’s Don Jamison. He’s been Mirandized, but we didn’t risk asking him anything. Didn’t want to have him whine and demand a lawyer.”

  “He’s got a record?”

  “Oh yeah. Petty stuff.”

  “Along the beach front?”

  “Some of it. Mostly drug-related. Caught a few times in prostitution stings.” The young cop laughed and added, “Buying sex, not selling it.”

  Kellen smiled and warmth swelled Analia’s chest. She liked that he treated the lower-ranking officer as an equal.

  An older, compact officer stepped through a doorway and they stopped walking. He looked at her, raised an eyebrow then asked Kellen, “She going in with you?”

  Her heart rabbited at the prospect of sitting across the table from her attacker. Her mouth went dry but she forced words out anyway. “I can handle it.”

  Kellen suppressed a growl. His fingers closed on Analia’s back, tightening on her blouse.

  Fuck! He didn’t want to allow her out of his sight, but he also didn’t want her in the same room as the man who’d assaulted her. Not that she couldn’t handle it, she could, but he wasn’t sure he could handle it—not without ripping out her assailant’s throat.

  Hound instinct was too close to the surface. And though he was braced to find Analia’s scent on the other man, to also have that man’s gaze on her…

  Kellen unclenched her blouse and stroked his hand from the middle of her back to the base of her spine. “You can watch from the bullpen.”

  The growl in his voice had the cops looking away to hide their smiles. If they’d wondered why she was accompanying him, they now knew it was because she belonged—

  He shut down the thought and said, “Better not to risk putting Jamison on the defensive.”

  That got the cops giving her a second look and reassessing the situation. The compact one jerked his head toward the open doorway. “I’ll look after her. She can watch at my desk. Lewinski can take you to interview.”

  “This won’t take long
,” he told Analia.

  She nodded slightly, then followed the older cop into the bullpen.

  Kellen followed Lewinski to the interview room. Outside the door, the cop said, “I’m assuming you want to do this solo?”

  There was a chance the policeman’s presence would prevent hound nature from getting the better of him. But the thought that he might lose control because of Analia had Kellen determined to prove that his attraction to her wasn’t a problem. “Solo works for me.”

  Lewinski opened the door. “All yours then.”

  Kellen stalked into the room, the hair on the back of his neck rising aggressively with his first inhalation. The man sitting at the table still carried Analia’s scent.

  Even expecting it, the need to shift, lunge and tear the assailant apart surged into him with savage intensity. If they were truly alone…

  An awareness of the camera trained on the interview table helped him gain control of the hound’s instinct. He pulled a chair out, spun then straddled it, unwilling to feel caged between chair back and table.

  There was no whiff of magic in the room. And up close, Analia’s scent blended more strongly with her burly, tattooed attacker’s body odor and drug-soured skin.

  Unlike some of the fey, hounds didn’t have the ability to bespell humans and gain their compliance. But hounds did have the ability to strike a chord of primordial terror.

  Kellen let the willingness to hunt the human to the ends of the earth and tear him apart show in his eyes. And despite Jamison’s size and the danger projected by the tattoos covering forearms, neck and one cheek, he flinched backward.

  “You might survive this if you cooperate,” Kellen said in a low, menace-filled voice. “Why’d you go after that particular woman?”

  Jamison licked thick, ragged lips. “Paid to snatch her purse. That’s all. Would have grabbed and run if she hadn’t hung on. Didn’t rough her up none when she did. See for yourself. Shouldn’t have no bruises on her.”

  Heat surged through Kellen’s dick with the image of Analia’s bared breasts cupped between his hands, the nipples wet from his mouth. Before the night was over, he’d inspect every inch of her for bruises.