by Sela Carsen
“Some say she cast a spell to steer him straight. Some say he gave up his life of crime for love. But everyone agrees that the happy couple enlarged her little cottage—I expect they used up the money from the treasure to do it—and ended up in the timber business, cutting down the tallest, straightest trees in the swamp and shipping them to Charleston for use as ship masts. Turns out it was a pretty lucrative business, so after a couple of generations, the Cotesworths were able to build themselves a fine and fancy house, the envy of the Midlands.”
“And that’s the house you live in now?”
“That’s the one I inherited, yes.” He paid the bill, which had been discreetly delivered by the waiter, and they pushed back from the table.
“The meal was delicious. Thank you for dinner, Conn.”
“Thank you for the company. This is the first time I’ve been out for a nice meal since I got here.”
“Then I’m honored.” A rain shower burst overhead on the ride back, cocooning them in the wet night. And if her hand rested on his as it lay on the gearshift, then it was a companionable and warm gesture.
“Is there anything left of the original cottage?” she asked.
“I think the fireplace in the kitchen was built in the same place as the first hearth. Some markings on the brick seem older than the house based on my research, but I’m not sure. You can check them out tomorrow, if you like.”
They’d arrived back at her house and all the lights were out. It was late and she was sure everyone was fast asleep by now.
“So it’s all right if I come back and not-help?” She smiled at him and he returned it, turning his hand under hers so he caught her in his grip.
“I’d love your not-help.”
He turned off the engine and the dashboard lights faded away, leaving them in nothing but cloud shadow. Conn looked at her. “Did I say you looked gorgeous tonight?”
“You did. Thank you. And you’re very handsome tonight.” She smiled at the sweet formality of the exchange.
He threaded their fingers together before bringing their joined hands to his mouth. His hot, moist breath on her skin made her realize how very alone they were. In the dark. In the rain. No one to see them.
Her breasts swelled almost painfully in anticipation.
“Come here,” he said, and she didn’t hesitate to crawl over the console until she straddled his lap. He reached down and pushed the seat back until there was room for her between him and the steering wheel, but she didn’t care. This felt like high school, only better because now she knew what she was doing. Or at least she knew enough to know how good it felt to be bad in the front seat of a car.
Blair leaned down and buried her nose in his neck. She knew his scent from a distance, but up close, he was overwhelming. His base notes were a blend of cool and rich aromas—Spanish moss and black water, steely graphite and coffee with cream. Now she drowned in a symphony of scent that opened up each of her senses until she could hardly take in anything else.
She licked his throat, sliding up until she took his earlobe between her teeth to nibble, alternating nips with hot little panting breaths in his ear.
“God, yes,” he moaned and she shuddered. Every instinct screamed at her to grab his head and work very hard on swallowing his tongue. That wasn’t how this was supposed to go, though. You couldn’t be so aggressive with humans—it was too much, too soon. If he was another wolf, he’d already know what was humming in her blood. If he was another wolf, they’d already be naked.
Her very human partner in lust, however, seemed to be holding his own with her animal instincts. He worked his hand under her blouse, skimming a hot palm over her belly, sliding up her back, circling her waist. She rose above him and saw him with her wolf’s eyes. He was beautiful, primal and hot beneath her, and she wanted him more than she’d ever wanted any other man.
His eyes opened when she paused and they stared for a moment before the dark wave overtook them.
Their mouths bruised each other, their teeth scraped and nipped, leaving pleasure/pain in their wake. She knotted her hands in his hair and dragged his head back so she could lick a wide path up the other side his throat, drinking the scent that poured from his skin.
In retaliation, he jerked her hips closer to his, branding the size and shape of his erection onto her mound, regardless of their clothing.
An exultant scream burst from her lips when he tilted her head and bit down not-too-gently on the tendon between her neck and shoulder. She’d never been marked before and reveled in the feel of his teeth on her skin. He rocked insistently against her core as he crossed his arms behind her, pressing her to him until thin fabric was the only thing separating them from shoulder to hip.
“Oh God,” he said, shuddering against her. “I need to…”
“Yes.” She reached down and ripped his shirt open, buttons pinging against the windows. Blair had no idea if that was what he wanted from her, but it was exactly what she needed right then. His chest was a thing of pure beauty. Not heavily muscled, not gym-sculpted, but thick and strong. She buried her head against his neck again and let her lips trail from shoulder to shoulder as he trembled in her arms.
It was the work of moments for him to return the favor. Her blouse was tossed into the backseat while one of his hands captured her wrists, holding her arms behind her. Her breasts were thrust forward and she was anchored to him only by her legs straddling his thighs, so she scooted closer.
To her everlasting disappointment, he held her away when she would have pressed herself to him.
“No, I want to see.” His voice had changed to something rough and dangerous. Something that sent a tingling thrill up her spine. She surrendered, arching her back and raising her chin. If he wanted to look, the least she could do was give him something to look at.
“Keep your hands behind you,” he said, and she obeyed.
He sucked in a breath before starting at her wrists and sliding those big palms up her back, spreading fire over her skin. He flicked open the catch on her bra, but pushed her arms together behind her when she started to move them. He skimmed down to her waist, then changed the angle so he cupped the swell at the bottom of her ribs like a chalice. Only then did he let her move her arms.
Blair was barely breathing, so caught up in his need that her own blended seamlessly into the greater spell. He drew her black satin undergarment over her arms and let it dangle carelessly from his fingers before it joined her top in the backseat.
He placed her hands on his shoulders, then began a slow, consuming, greedy quest down to her breasts. Without a word, without a sound other than his harsh breathing, he overwhelmed her, brought her senses to a fever pitch she’d never known. He cupped her, pushing the pale mounds high, forcing her to bend to his will. His fingers surrounded the areolas, but didn’t touch her nipples, didn’t come close to the throbbing points that begged for his caress; rough or gentle, she didn’t care anymore.
Blair wanted to close her eyes to absorb more of his touch, but didn’t dare. Didn’t dare look away from his face as he studied her body.
Chapter Four
Conn couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. Couldn’t believe she was letting him do things he hadn’t even known he dreamt about. He’d never been a dominating kind of guy—except with her. He didn’t pin women against houses, or hold their arms down and bite them on the neck until he left a mark.
He flicked a glance away from her breasts to the red scrape on her throat. It touched an almost bestial part of his soul. This wasn’t like him and it shook him enough to bring him out of the red haze of lust.
He realized it was still raining outside. The windows were completely fogged up, but he could hear the insistent thrum of water on the roof. They were lying in the front seat of his car, and he was two zippers away from pushing her back against the steering wheel and screwing her like a horny teenager.
Conn closed his eyes and gathered her close, absorbing the chill of perspiration on her
skin, wrapping his arms around her for himself and for her.
“I’m so sorry.” He was getting tired of apologizing, but the only way to stop saying he was sorry was to stop being such a dickhead.
She whimpered and he hugged her closer, savoring the illicit thrill of her breasts against his chest, her legs around his, the warm niche of her thighs where his cock rested, still striving for completion.
Her shudders matched his and he realized he couldn’t let her go quite yet. She seemed to like his dominance—he liked it, too—but he didn’t know how far to push. Anyway, the car seemed like the wrong spot for experimenting with her. She was too precious to be treated like a random Friday night lay.
He soothed her, running his hand down the thick mane of hair tangled in his fingers. Her own fingers stroked his shoulders and he took what comfort he could. They may have dozed, he couldn’t tell, but eventually she reached over him for her bra and blouse.
Conn tried to do the right thing, the gentlemanly thing, and look away as she pulled her shirt on over her head. No luck. He was mesmerized by the gentle shimmy of her body. She didn’t bother with the bra and somehow, it sent him right back up, knowing those perfect breasts were unbound, brushing against the silky fabric of her top.
She shook out her hair, still perched above him, then looked down.
She was a goddess, lush and beautiful, sensual and far too elegant for a poor bastard like him. The moonlight gleam of her earrings was a beacon in the darkness.
“Was this not a good idea?” Her head was cocked to the side and he couldn’t decipher her tone, delivered in that husky voice. Finally, he decided he needed a little soul-cleansing, so he confessed.
“I’ve never taken anyone the way I want to take you, and I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.” God, he was an idiot. He’d blown his chance with the hottest woman he’d ever met and it was his own damn fault for being such a coward.
The smile that crept over her lips, however, was neither condescending nor amused. It was subversive and conspiratorial and very wicked—and it turned his crank again.
“Is that all? I’m not afraid of a little pain.” Holy shit. If his dick got any harder, it would snap clean off.
“A little pain, yes. But doing what I want to do to you in here would put us both in traction.”
She was leaning down to him and she stopped—he could feel his balls turning blue—“You might have a point. I heal pretty quickly, but I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” What an odd thing to say, he thought, but then he was derailed by the sensation of his testicles going a strong shade of cobalt.
She sat up to open the door and he could see the faintest outline of her breasts swaying with her movement. God, he wasn’t helping himself at all. She climbed off of him, out of the driver’s seat and into the rain, but she didn’t seem to care if she was getting wet.
He followed her out and found that he didn’t care, either.
The cool rain felt good after the sweltering heat of arousal, and the fresh breeze swirled through the car, clearing out the heady scent of sex and replacing it with sweet anticipation. All he had to do was make it home and spank the monkey before his cock expired from lack of circulation. He shook himself and she put up her hands, protesting the double shower with her sexy laugh.
The storm faded as quickly as it had come, leaving only a soft mist.
“It’s gorgeous out here, isn’t it?” she said, and he could only nod. She was gorgeous. The weather was incidental. “This is one of my favorite moments. Right after the rain when everything is so clean and quiet.”
Blair bent down, and slipping off her shoes, rolled up the bottoms of her jeans. She even had pretty feet. Long and bony, but elegant. She was way too good for him, but at the moment he could be happy in the knowledge she wanted him, no matter where he came from.
“If you don’t mind leaving your car here, I could walk you home.” She held out her hand and they started down the road.
“I thought that was my line. You don’t have to walk through the rain with me.” This was such a strange relationship. He wanted to have caveman sex with her, but when they weren’t trying to rip each other’s clothes off, they were a pretty equal pair.
“But I want to. I’m not ready to go home quite yet. And this way, I can, umm, roll in the mud on my way back to the house and no one will laugh at me.”
“I wouldn’t laugh at you.”
Blair smiled at him. She didn’t really have rolling in the mud on her mind. Here, between their two homes, they stood on the edge of civilization. Beyond this lay hundreds of acres of wetland forest and a complex river system. Unblemished nature.
The wilderness called to her. There was so much territory to explore, so many experiences awaiting her. The clouds parted suddenly and a brilliant moon shone through the gap. The urge to shed her human skin and howl swept like fire through her blood and she raised her face to the light.
The desire to mate with him, which was not quite the same as the desire to have sex with him, pinched at her, keeping her on two feet. She needed his trust and acceptance, but for the first time, she felt fear that, when it finally, really mattered, he wouldn’t understand. She put the thought away.
They walked on, swinging their hands, and she enjoyed the innocence of it—a sharp contrast to the carnality of other times together. Which reminded her as she glanced at his chest, watching raindrops trickle down to his waistband—she was either going to have to buy him a new shirt or find some spare buttons and learn to sew. He started to say something to her, but she held up her hand.
A sound caught her attention. It was probably undetectable to the human ear, but she heard it clear as a bell. Or at least as clear as someone sneaking around Conn’s house. The faintest tinkle of glass indicated a freshly broken window.
“There’s someone messing with your house, Conn.”
He took her at her word and gave her a stern command. “Stay here. Or go back to your house and call the cops.” It was almost sweet, the way he went all alpha male on her, but she didn’t need his protection. If things went wrong, he was more likely to need hers.
He was already running over the wet grass, angling across the field toward his home, and she followed, catching up with him easily. He glared at her, but didn’t stop, so she kept pace with him.
When they got to the edge of the mown lawn, they stopped, crouching in the tall grass. “I’m telling you, Blair. Stay away. This could be dangerous.”
Okay. It was cute the first time, but now his protectiveness was starting to grate on her nerves. “Don’t worry about me, Conn. I can take care of myself.”
A faint light filtered through the windows, bobbing as the intruder moved.
“Looks like he broke in through the back door already, so he’ll probably try to use the same way to get out.”
That was fine with her. She nodded and watched him run toward the back stoop, crouching low to keep out of sight.
It took less than a minute to strip out of her clothes. She lifted her face to the moon and opened herself to the magic in her blood. A blast of excitement and adrenaline surged through her as she called the Change and accepted its wild embrace.
She shook and settled her fur along her spine. This was as much a part of her nature as her humanity. She could never deny the wolf in herself for anyone. And with that thought firmly in mind, she loped off to the front porch.
As she arrived, she mourned briefly the lack of opposable thumbs, but the door opened for her, quietly and mysteriously.
She reached out with her senses to learn that Conn was creeping slowly up the stairs. He hadn’t opened the door.
“Come on in, wolf girl. Don’t let the rain in and wipe your paws before you get the floor all muddy.”
Blair backed up, swallowing a whimper. She strained every organ she had to locate the source of the voice, but found no one. Nothing but the faintest dry whisper of old jasmine.
“I know you can hear me. I’m a ghost. You’re a we
rewolf. Believe me, sugar, there are stranger things than us roaming this old world.”
Her hackles rose and she lowered her ears. Why was she hearing an old lady in her head? Anyway, even if there were werewolves, it didn’t necessarily follow that there had to be ghosts.
“You’re a cool one. Good. He’ll need you. Now go help him. That other fool nephew of mine is upstairs doing Lord knows what to the nursery.”
It was Aubrey in the house? Good grief. The stupid in that man went all the way to the bone.
She quickly checked to see if he’d brought any help, but found no one else so she quietly trod up the stairs, letting each riser take her weight slowly in case it creaked.
At the top of the landing, she ducked to the side to hide herself. Conn was barely visible in the darkened hall, but she could see him clearly, carrying a crowbar over his shoulder like a baseball bat. He was going the wrong way.
Aubrey was disguised by a knit ski mask, but she could tell who he was by the oily stink of his cologne. He stood in a doorway on the other side of the stairs, waiting. His ugly anticipation poisoned the air.
The immediate danger, however, was Aubrey’s weapon of choice. The nail gun he’d picked up outside had a battery pack for portability. The short roofing nails probably wouldn’t kill Conn, but they could still do serious damage. Assault and battery by Black and Decker.
Conn was coming around the corner, oblivious to Aubrey’s ambush. In a heartbeat it would be too late, so she leapt out across the wide hall, knocking Conn to the floor and intercepting the nail that punched through fur and skin and muscle and buried itself in her side. She yelped and twisted, but more nails followed as Aubrey made like a Hollywood stuntman, firing as he ran for the stairs.
Just her luck she’d found a good ol’ boy with good aim.
She leapt for his back and caught him, clawing down his shoulder, hearing fabric tear, smelling blood well under her claws. She scrabbled at him, inflicting as much damage as possible before he twisted away from her, cursing, and ran down the stairs.