by Sky Winters
"So…then it was just sex, and that's it?" she asked. "Nothing more to it than that?"
"Why would there be more to it than that?" asked Damien. "I lost control of myself; that's all. And we're going to need to move past it if you and I are going to continue this working relationship."
Damien made sure to keep his tone tight and professional, without the slightest trace of emotion other than a carefully-calculated disbelief at the idea she might think it was something more than what she might be thinking it was.
"Oh," she said, her expression dropping. "I see."
Good, thought Damien, disappointed but accepting. As long as she's not throwing a fit in the middle of the party.
They danced and mingled for a little while longer, but Ingrid seemed to have mentally checked out just a bit. After Damien put in his requisite time with the elite of the city, he decided it was time to get back home. He hoped that, after a good night's sleep, Ingrid would be back on the ball and ready to work.
"I think I've had enough tuxedos and ball gowns for one night," he said. "What do you say we head home?"
"Sounds good to me," said Ingrid.
Damien said his goodbyes to the rest of his mercenary crew and headed out with Ingrid on his arm. And as he left, he noticed Miller watching him carefully. Miller didn't have the usual cocky expression on his face. Instead, he had a careful look on his features, as if he were making sure Damien was leaving for the night. It struck Damien as strange, and his stomach tightened, as though sensing some kind of danger.
The two of them headed out of the building and stood near the area where the limo was to pick them up. But seeing how crestfallen Ingrid was, he knew he needed to do something. He couldn't explain just how Ingrid was making him feel. Normally, it was a relief to break the news to a woman that he'd slept with that she shouldn't expect anything other than what they'd already had. But, with Ingrid, he felt like he'd done something wrong, like he'd been careless with something very valuable.
"It's a nice night," he said. "How do you feel about walking home?"
"That sounds nice," said Ingrid.
Damien nodded. Dialing up the limo, he called off the pickup and the two headed down the city streets.
"Quite an evening," said Damien. "How do you think you did?"
"It was…definitely that," she said. "I don't know. I think I did okay, considering I was about as out of my element as I'd ever felt in my life."
Damien chuckled.
"You did fine. You look amazing, and that's half the work right there. And the sorts of people who attend these events are always happy to see a young woman like yourself who isn't clearly plotting her crawl to the top of the DC social world."
"Maybe I am," said Ingrid. "Maybe I've got a line on some congressman who needs a nanny."
Damien smirked.
"In that case, I'd be a little impressed at how fast this city managed to wring the innocence out of you."
"Is that what you think I am?" asked Ingrid, raising her eyebrows. "Some innocent girl who can't handle herself?"
"Now, I never said the second part," said Damien. "But you're most definitely innocent. It's painted all over you. And take my advice: keep it for as long as possible. Stay who you are. And make no mistake – there will be plenty of opportunities to trade it for all sorts of things. Then you're no better than the girls hanging off Miller's arms."
Ingrid shuddered.
"That man…something was strange about him. I mean, he was a sleazeball, sure, but there seemed something deeper to him. Like, something more…sinister."
A good judge of character, too, thought Damien.
"You're right about that. He's my main competition in the city, and part of me wonders when he's finally going to pull the trigger and do something drastic to move to the top of the heap."
Ingrid took a moment to process what Damien had just said.
"Senators, mercenaries, beautiful women – this is quite the world I've found myself in."
Damien smirked.
"If it's any consolation, you're doing great so far."
If she thinks this is bizarre, thought Damien, just wait until she finds out about the rest.
The two continued their walk in silence, eventually reaching a quieter part of the city. Fewer cars passed them on the streets, and no other people were to be found.
"Here," said Damien, gesturing to a through-street. "Shortcut. We can get back home in time for a glass of wine before bed."
Ingrid smiled.
"Sounds perfect."
The two of them cut through the narrow, darkly-lit street. But as soon as they ventured away from the larger blocks, Damien began to regret his decision.
This is too isolated, he thought. Don't like it one bit.
But before he had a chance to think another thought, a voice called out to him from behind.
"Yo! Kennedy!"
Damien whipped around and was greeted by the sight of three beefy men dressed in black. They approached him walking side-by-side, the dim lights of the street just bright enough he could make out their expressions of menace.
"Who the fuck are you?" shouted Damien.
None of the men said a word as they cut the distance between them and Damien and Ingrid. Damien knew this had bad news written all over it, and he prepared himself for a fight.
"We're a few guys sent to do a job. To find you. And it looks like we've done it."
"Stay back," hissed Damien to Ingrid.
"What's going on?" she asked, her voice gripped with fear.
"Just stay back!" Damien barked.
Ingrid complied, moving behind Damien.
"You've got about two seconds to tell me just what the fuck this is all about," said Damien. "Or you're not gonna like what happens."
The men all exchanged a knowing look.
"I think you know what this is about," said the middle man. "This is about taking you out of the picture."
His eyes then fell to Ingrid.
"And her, well, let's just say we've got special instructions for that little piece of ass. But maybe we'll have our fun with her first. Not like anyone's gonna stop us."
The men chuckled to themselves.
"Do it!" shouted the man in the middle.
Then, the three men shifted into the forms of three fearsome black wolves.
"What…the fuck!?" shouted Ingrid.
Goddammit, thought Damien. No time to explain. Gotta fight!
The three wolves approached slowly, snarling as they did. Damien closed his eyes and shifted into his wolf form, letting out a bark of warning as soon as he'd assumed his form.
His bark didn't appear to have any effect on the wolves. Instead, they spread apart, the one in the middle staying focused on Damien while the other two moved to a flanking position. Damien knew that if he let them get into position, he'd be screwed. He didn't have any other choice but to strike first.
As soon as the wolf on the left moved into striking distance, Damien made his move. With lightning-quick speed, he lunged at the beast and sank his teeth into the wolf's neck before he had a chance to react. Damien's mouth filled with hot blood as he delivered the killing bite, and after a coarse whimper the wolf went limp in his jaws.
One down, thought Damien as he tossed the wolf aside and turned his attention toward the remaining wolves.
The eyes of the second wolf fell onto the corpse of his companion, and Damien sensed the shifter had lost control. He moved in for a desperate, wild attack that clearly wasn't part of the plan. The wolf swiped his paws in the air, but Damien was able to easily move out of the way, sending the wolf tumbling into trash cans behind him. The wolf struggled to get to his feet, but Damien wasn't about to let him recover. Damien lunged at the wolf, digging his claws into his fur. Once the second shifter was pinned down, Damien repeated the bite into the neck and with a quick snap, broke the animal's neck.
Now it was just Damien and the wolf in the middle.
He knew this one would
n't go down as easily as the others. This wolf was bigger, stronger, and ready for a fight to the death. But as Damien glanced over at Ingrid, who now was cowering behind the nearby tree[LR4], the feeling that he was fighting for more than something than himself took over. He was ready to kill.
The final wolf and Damien circled each other, sizing one another up, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Damien knew the advantage would be to whoever could counter the first attack, so with a quick juke, he baited the middle wolf into pouncing. With a vicious snarl, the middle wolf jumped into the air. Damien was hoping for just this, and moved out of the way at the last moment. Instead of landing on Damien, the wolf slammed with a thud into the tree Ingrid was hiding behind, and she let out a scream at the wolf being so close to her.
The wolf scrambled to his feet and struggled to steady himself. But it was too late. By the time he regained his composure, Damien was already in the middle of a low arc, flying toward him like a bullet. Damien latched onto the wolf's body, digging his teeth into his fur. This wolf had a little more fight in him yet, however. He snapped back against Damien, his teeth grazing Damien's body and cutting through the skin. Damien let out a yelp, and when he realized the wound was only a surface thing, he snapped his teeth again. This time where his teeth ended up had far more of an impact. He clamped down onto the wolf's neck and gave it a sharp twist. The crack of the wolf's neck snapping reverberated through Damien's body, and soon, the final wolf stopped moving.
Damien took a moment to catch his breath, and when he finally recovered, he shifted back into his human form and took a look around. The corpses of the other wolves were splayed here and there, and Damien calmed slightly when he realized the fight was over. He quickly turned his attention back to Ingrid, who was still huddled behind the tree.
"What…what the fuck happened?" she asked, her eyes wet with tears. "What are you?"
"Come on," said Damien. "I need to get you home."
He grabbed her wrist, but she quickly jerked her hand free from his grasp.
"No fucking way,” she said. "Not until you tell me why the hell you and those men just turned into…animals!"
Damien realized there was no getting out of this without an explanation.
"Because…" he said, closing his eyes. "An animal is what I am. I'm not a human, you see. I'm a wolf."
CHAPTER 5
Ingrid's heart pounded as the two of them ran down the silent streets of Washington. She couldn't believe what she'd just seen. Did Damien, her boss, really just change into a wolf and fight…other wolves? What the hell was going on?
But as they ran, Ingrid knew she wasn't going to get any answers out of Damien until the two of them got back home. So, she resigned herself to running hand-in-hand with Damien, hurrying back to the house in Georgetown. As they ran, Ingrid spotted on Damien's neck a long streak, dark and red with blood.
"You're hurt," said Ingrid as they hurried along.
"It's nothing," said Damien.
"How do you know that? You barely stopped to even look at it!"
"Because it doesn't hurt, and even if it did, we don't have time to do anything but get home. Who knows how many more of those assholes are out here looking for us?"
"Why…why are they doing this? Why are wolves trying to kill us?"
"They're trying to kill me, not you. And no more questions until we get home!"
Ingrid could tell that Damien's temper was right on the verge of exploding once again, and she didn't want to be the target of it, especially with how much adrenaline must've been pounding through his system.
They eventually arrived back at the house, and Ingrid never thought she'd be so happy to see the place, especially after only living there for a little under a week. Once inside, Damien found the babysitter and hurriedly went through his wallet to pay her and send her off.
"Adeline was great, Mr. Kennedy; she's in bed now," said the woman. "Calm and quiet as usual. And – oh my God, are you bleeding?"
"It's nothing," said Damien.
"Um, he had a few too many and fell over on the way back," said Ingrid.
Damien flashed her a look that seemed to say: "Really? That's the best excuse you can come up with?"
Ingrid shrugged as Damien pulled out a loose assortment of bill's and shoved them into the woman's hands. The babysitter looked down at them in shock; it was clearly far more than she was anticipating.
"Oh, thank you, Mr. Kennedy; thank you so much!"
"Sure, sure," said Damien, hurrying the woman out the front door.
Once she was gone, Damien pulled off his shirt and looked over the wound. It didn't look too bad to Ingrid; nothing but a surface cut. He went over to his liquor cabinet, grabbed a bottle of vodka and, standing over the sink, poured the alcohol over the cut, wincing as he did.
"I'll get the first aid kit," said Ingrid, hurrying off to the bathroom.
She returned moments later with the kit in hand; fumbling through it, she found the gauze and set to work taping up Damien's wound. And as she did, she couldn't help but let her eyes fall onto the ropey muscles of his exposed upper body. Just like she was sure was the case with Damien, adrenaline pounded through her body; Ingrid felt like she was on some kind of strange drug.
"Now," she said, her voice a more demanding tone than she'd ever heard out of her mouth before. "Tell me what the hell is going on!"
But Damien clearly wasn't in the mood to answer questions. He looked her up and down with hungry eyes, as if he wanted to turn back into his wolf form and set into her right then and there. Ingrid stepped back, noticing that his eyes were no longer his usual blue, but that same striking gold color that she'd noticed the night they'd first slept together.
He…must've shifted then, too, she thought. When we fucked before, he was half-wolf, half-man!
The thought did nothing but turn Ingrid on more than she ever imagined possible. As if reading her mind, Damien shot toward her with inhumanly quick speed and grabbed onto her hips. He looked down at her with those brilliant golden eyes, those eyes that seemed to glow with a strange, irresistible energy. She knew at that moment that he could do whatever he wanted with her.
And judging from the way he looked at her, that's exactly what he had in mind. He stared hard into her eyes, seeming to size her up like she was his next meal. Ingrid felt small and helpless in his grip, like there was nothing she could do, even if she wanted to. It was strange, the way he looked at her. There was the animal hunger she recognized from their previous love-making, but there was something else, too. It was something like concern, maybe even a little worry. And the way he held her wasn't just about keeping her in his grasp, it was about keeping her safe, and protected. Ingrid felt safe and thrilled, all at the same time.
"What are you going to do?" asked Ingrid, her voice coming out small, helpless.
"You know exactly what I'm going to do," said Damien, his own voice a low growl.
"Then do it."
That was all he needed to hear. Damien quickly moved his head toward Ingrid's neck, his lips locking onto the delicate skin just below her jaw. He began kissing her hard and fast, covering her neck in kisses, the sensation sending a wild thrill down Ingrid's spine.
"Oh, God," she moaned as she ran her fingers through Damien's thick hair.
He continued to growl as he kissed her, his hands moving up and down her body as though there wasn't a single bit of her he wanted to go ignored. Locked in an embrace, the two of them moved toward the back of the room, onto the balcony and into the cool night air, the pool glittering under the backyard lights below them.
Damien's hands moved down to the line of Ingrid's dress, and she quickly shot her hands back to help take the thing off before he tore it to shreds…though part of her was more than turned on by the idea. Once the dress was undone, Damien pulled it off with a hard yank, bringing it down past her waist and down her legs. Soon, Ingrid was in nothing but the black lace bra and panty set she wore. The air was slightly chil
ly on her skin, but the heat from Damien's body soon warmed her right up.
"Goddamn," he said, looking at her body as he kissed her. "You have no fucking idea how hard it is to keep my hands off you."
"Then don't," said Ingrid, her voice breathy.
It was clear this was exactly what Damien had in mind.
Ingrid went to work on Damien's clothes, undoing the buttons of his tux and untying his bow as fast as she could. Between the adrenaline and the arousal that'd taken hold of her, it was difficult to keep her hands steady. But soon, she was working the buttons of his shirt, exposing more and more of his god-like physique with each button she undid. Moments later, she pulled his shirt off, revealing his sculpted, beautiful torso, his solid, square pecs heaving with each full breath he took. Soon, Ingrid had him down to nothing but his skin-tight, black boxer briefs, his long cock straining against the fabric.
Ingrid was beyond turned on. She'd never had a man want her as much as Damien did at that moment. But still, she couldn't help but make him wait, just a bit, for the fucking that he so desperately wanted to give her. Ingrid placed her hands on his thick, wide shoulders, pushed him back, and flashed him a naughty little smile. Without a word, she dropped to her knees and was face-to-face with his impressive package.
Damien understood right away what she had in mind and placed his hands on the back of her head. Ingrid raised up just a bit, kissing the definition of his abs, giving attention to each of his jutting hip muscles on both sides of his six-pack. And as she kissed him, Damien let out a low growl that reverberated through Ingrid's body. She wondered if at any moment he might shift.
She didn't want to keep him waiting too long – he could barely restrain himself as it was. Ingrid slipped her fingers under the waistband of Damien's briefs and yanked them down, his cock springing out right in front of her face. Her eyes went wide at the sight of his member; she'd seen it before, sure, but she'd forgotten just how big it was.
Maybe I've…bitten off more than I can chew, she thought. But I think I'm up to the challenge.