by Mina Carter
Yeah, right. So not happening.
She looked at her glass, swirling the golden fluid. Shit. She wished her best friend Travis was here. For years, he’d covered her ass, pretending to be her pick for the evening even though they weren’t a couple. But now he was happily mated, and she refused to cut into his honeymoon.
Suck it up, buttercup, she told herself, knocking back the rest of the champagne and rising at the same time. How hard could it be to pick a guy to fuck?
One night. Mindless sex.
She could do this.
Her progress down the steps of the dais was careful but elegant. It was her armor, so she’d chosen her outfit for the evening with care. The halter-neck dress was fitted to the hips before flaring out into swathes of fabric around her ankles. Unlike the other women in the room, the few who had accompanied some of the older males rather than the offerings, not a sequin or bead sparkled on the black fabric, but when she turned, she heard the whispered gasps and muttered comments. Her lower back was exposed, the skin marked and puckered with scarring.
She rarely revealed them, but she wasn’t ashamed of the marks on her skin. To her, they were her history and a visual reminder of the horror of a childhood with a violent father. When that father had claws…even wolves, especially young wolves, scarred. She set her face into a pleasant smile and circulated the room, weaving around the men.
Although most were too well schooled to wince at the sight of her back, most knew who’d given her those scars and that they’d all stood back, no one doing anything while she’d suffered all those years ago. Everyone remembered that she’d killed the son of a bitch.
Nineteen years old, and in her first challenge fight, she’d killed…no, slaughtered…the most evil werewolf to draw breath in the last few centuries. The fact he’d also been her father was something she’d rather people forgot. She was Mistress of the City now, and they’d had fifteen years of peace. Fifteen years where those who were different need not live in fear of their lives. People like her best friend, Travis, whose all-inclusive sexuality had put him right at the top of her father’s shit list.
Her fingers tightened on the stem of her glass at the memory. Her father had been about to kill Travis that night. She’d seen red, her rage almost blinding her and galvanizing her wolf into action. Then there had been a lot more red. The scarlet of her father’s lifeblood as it poured from the mess of his ruined throat onto the granite floor of the old court.
“I didn’t think the champagne was that bad, but it looks like that glass has personally offended you,” a deep, male voice cut in.
Startled, she looked up. No one usually dared interrupt her reverie. Instantly she was caught in a dark-eyed gaze that sparkled with intelligence and humor. “A dance from a beautiful lady could make having to come to this damn cattle market worthwhile.”
He was an offering then. Heat and feminine interest caught her blindside and she breathed in. The scent of man and wolf filled her lungs. He was an alpha, but with a control she’d never seen in one, not even from an alpha on the council. Perhaps third or fourth generation alpha? Everything she looked for in a man but thought she’d never find. He was older than most in the room, and she found she liked that. Liked it a lot.
He smiled, tiny lines creasing the skin at the corners of his eyes and extended his hand. Temporarily struck dumb, she handed her glass to one of the hovering waiters and slipped her fingers into his. “Since you ask so nicely, a dance it is.”
2
She was a wolf, that much was certain, but he’d never seen one so alluring.
Archer shivered as she slid her hand into his. Electricity sparked between them, drawing a gasp from her lips as she looked up. Deep within him, something dark and feral stirred and snarled. This little woman was his. The possessive thought took him by surprise. He covered by leading her onto the floor and pulling her into his embrace.
She fit perfectly into his arms, as though she’d been made to be there. Heat roared through his veins, priming his body for action. Archer gritted his teeth, hoping the state of things south of his belt didn’t become apparent as they were dancing.
“So…do you come here often?” he asked, allowing his amusement at the corny line to show in his eyes.
To his surprise, she could dance, and well, moving smoothly with him to the soft strains of the music. He hadn’t expected that when he first spotted her across the room. Petite and curvy, she stood out amongst the tall, willowy lycan women like a rose in the middle of a field of wildflowers. Something beautiful and cultivated hidden within the wildness of the pack women. She had to be a bitten wolf because no amber ring showed in the darkness of her eyes: a deep, beguiling chocolate.
“You could say that.”
She smiled and his attention was hijacked by her lips. Small and pouty, they begged for a man’s kiss. His kiss. As soon as he could manage it.
The mystery of her identity teased at him as they reached a corner of the dance floor and he turned her effortlessly. Never had he been so glad he’d taken the advice of a friend and gotten dance lessons. Not a usual hobby for a soldier, but there had been enough social functions to warrant the need to not look a dick on the dance floor.
“I’ve never seen you before. Which pack are you with?” She tilted her head back to look up at him curiously and the tiny motion thrilled him. He’d never fallen prey to the “me man, you little woman” thing. He never particularly found delicate women attractive. A soldier through and through, most of his short-lived romances had been with fellow soldiers; women as tough as he was. Then it occurred to him that, as a wolf, his partner might look delicate, but she could bench press small cars if she felt the need.
“Griffin.” His reply was short and sweet. He didn’t want to talk too much about his family in case she knew enough about the Griffin pack to know that Seth had an older brother who wasn’t a wolf.
“You?”
She shrugged, and looked away for a second.
“Ahhh, a woman of mystery then.” Biting back his smile, he turned her again, missing a bunch of younger wolves, all of whom looked at him with undisguised hatred. His instincts went into overdrive, and he glared back at them. For a moment, it even felt like his lip was curling back from his teeth in the beginning of a snarl.
“Ignore them,” she advised, gentle fingertips on his jaw bringing his head back around. Their gazes met, locked, and all he could think about was getting her out of there as quickly as possible.
An open door beckoned and he turned her towards it, guiding her between the other couples on the dance floor. The skin between his shoulder blades itched and he was sure everyone turned to watch them as they passed. Fuck ‘em. Wolves or not, if they tried to stop him, they’d find out just how a lethal good old human could be.
“Ignoring, don’t worry.” He didn’t miss the concern in her eyes and the way her hand curled around his arm. Protectively, or to stop him, he couldn’t work out which. His lips curved in a small smile. It was cute. As small as she was, he couldn’t imagine her standing up to anyone, despite her lycan blood. “How about we get out of here?”
She looked behind her just as he swept her out the door into the darkness; her little gasp and the way she clung to him fed his male ego. The terrace was dimly lit, but he had excellent night vision and drew her aside to a darkened corner.
“That’s better,” he breathed in relief, setting his back against the wall, her hand still in his. “Well now, isn’t this a nice spot to get to know each other?”
He didn’t pull her to him or try to coerce her in any way. The male animal within wanted to. It snarled and raged against his control, demanded he use his strength to capture her and make her submit to him, loud and feral. He didn’t. Ignoring the impulses, he just waited. She would decide.
He didn’t have to wait long. With a small sigh, she stepped closer, into his embrace. Relief crowded his chest. It looked for a moment like she’d walk away. Never, growled his instincts and he kn
ew at that moment if she had walked, he’d go after her. She was his, and no young werewolf back in that room, however good looking, would take her from him. Ever.
Shoving the disturbing, possessive thoughts to the back of his mind, he lifted his hand to brush a strand of hair from her face. It wasn’t out of place, he just wanted an excuse to touch her. Her lips softened at his touch. When she lifted her face to his, he took the invitation and leaned in.
A soldier, with a passable face and a physique most men would envy, Archer was no innocent, but the first taste of her rocked his senses. Soft and sweet, her pliant lips clung to his, just a little. With a groan, he drove his hand into her hair, holding her at the nape and angling her head so he could deepen the kiss. She didn’t argue, opening for him at the first brush of his questing tongue against the closed seam of her lips as her small hands spread out over his shoulders.
He thrust within, a first foray into the hot, sweetness of her mouth. She tasted decadent, sinful…a mixture of champagne and something else he couldn’t define. Whatever it was, it became a need, an obsession so great he never wanted to stop kissing her. He sought her tongue while his free hand slid to the back of her hips to pull her up flush against him. His cock, hard and aching, was caught between them and he relished her small gasp as she registered its presence.
She broke away, looking up at him, heat in her eyes. “Seems like you’re pleased to see me…”
Chuckling, he nipped at her lower lip. “Babe, you have no idea.”
Whatever Reena had expected from tonight, this hadn’t been it. Lust surged through her veins at the sharp nip of his blunt human teeth against the full flesh of her lower lip. Heat arrowed down to her clit, and the small bundle of nerves pulsed in need when he brushed his tongue over the tiny hurt.
Fucking hell, where had he learned to do that? How did he know how to play her body and her reactions so perfectly? Why had she never seen him before? It didn’t matter. With a groan, she leaned against him and offered her lips for his kiss.
He didn’t pass up the invitation. His tongue dipped between her lips again, found her tongue to stroke it in a hot, wet dance of pure delight. She growled in pleasure, the sound a soft rumble in the back of her throat and dug her nails into his shoulders to anchor herself. She needed the anchor. Needed to ground herself as everything about him threatened to sweep her away.
His growl answered hers, the low sound hitting her deep inside, dampening her panties more. Wriggling, she pressed her hips forward and ground against his erect cock. Fuck, he was big. The long steel-like shaft sent a wave of awareness through her so complete that goose bumps rose on her skin and her nipples puckered under the layers of fabric covering them. Too much fabric. Her wolf snarled in frustration. It wanted naked. Now. Naked and pressed against the virile male it smelled so close to them. She hushed it. She couldn’t fight her own instincts and that of the beast too.
Breaking away, he panted against her lips. “You are fucking gorgeous. How are you not marri-mated?”
“Let’s just say I’ve avoided that trap so far.”
She smiled, hands exploring the broad expanse of his shoulders and sliding around to test the muscles across his chest. Pleasantly solid. He had to work out, unlike most male wolves. They neglected their human form, relying instead on the strength of their inner beast when they needed. Not this one… This one seemed to take as much pride in himself as a man as he no doubt did as a wolf. She wondered what his beast looked like. Probably large, powerful across the shoulders, and as swaggeringly male as the man who stood in front of her.
His grin at her answer was immediate and maybe a little bit sly. “All the better for me then.”
“Oh?” She lifted her head at that, the light of challenge in her eyes. He thought he could take on the Mistress of the City, did he? But immediately as the thought hit, she knew he had no idea who she was. Sure, Griffin was a small pack but everybody knew the Mistress was not mated. And she liked that, liked that he didn’t know who she was. It meant she could be herself and not the caricature everyone expected. “You talk too much.”
He brushed his lips over hers again, breaking away for a second to say, “Good point. I have far better uses for my lips.”
She moaned as he set about proving that. His kiss deepened and became dominant. Less a kiss, more a statement of intent. A claiming as he thrust his tongue past her lips to demand her response. She gave it, but challenged him at every turn. Every stroke. Every tangle…she made him work for each one.
He growled, frustration and lust mingled, and turned them. Her back hit the wall and a gasp broke from her lips when his hand covered her breast, large and warm. He nipped her lower lip again, before moving along her jaw to leave a trail of hot, wet kisses. A strong hand slid over the side of her throat, his thumb tilting her chin up to allow his lips better access.
A whimper broke free as his teeth grazed the soft flesh. To bear her throat was a sign of submission, unheard of for the Mistress of the City. But her wolf was in accord with her, the creature all but rolling over and showing its belly to the dominant male. It was good he didn’t know who she was. There was no way he’d have been this way with her if he did. Too many people were scared of her anger, afraid of her reaction, to ever be this way with her, even if she’d picked them tonight to share her bed.
And she found she wanted it… Wanted the domineering side of his character. Needed it. Needed for one night to yield control and just be a woman. Not the mistress. Just a woman who needed a man’s touch. A man’s control.
He reached her collarbone, tongue flicking over the tiny hollow at the base of her throat and she was lost. Her nails caught in the back of his shirt, slicing the fabric and catching his skin. The scent of blood blossomed on the air and they both gasped.
“Fuck,” he rasped, fingertips playing with the edge of her neckline. “It feels good.”
She had to agree. Her own hands not idle, she sought the buttons at the front of the shirt. The need to touch him, to feel the hot, silky skin and hard muscle of his chest and abdomen, overrode all else. The buttons gave, torn from the shirt in some cases. She sighed in relief as she slid her hands beneath the fabric, a sound that became a shiver when his fingertips hooked beneath her bodice.
“You’re gorgeous,” he whispered against the sensitive skin of her cleavage.
Strong fingers pulled the fabric of her halter dress and bra aside. The cooler air hit her exposed breast and the nipple puckered in a cry for attention. He didn’t ignore it. Hot breath washed over her a second before he flicked his tongue out, rasping against her in a warm, wet lick. Her pussy clenched, desire driving her hard. She couldn’t think past the need to touch him, and have him touch her.
His lick was followed by another, large hand cupping her, molding and caressing her breast as he held it in place for his lips. Then he closed his lips around her and drew the beaded nub into the warmth of his mouth to suck. Arching her back, a sibilant sigh escaped her lips at the pleasure.
Unable to think, just following instinct and need, she tugged at his belt and got it undone. They were hidden here in the darkness, and her guards would have seen them come out here. No one would disturb them.
She’d made her choice for the evening.
3
She was… Amazing. Gorgeous. So fucking sexy it hurt.
Archer growled in the back of his throat as her fingertips dipped below his waistband to stroke the tender skin across his stomach. Sucking in a breath, he paused in his attentions and rest his forehead against the delicate curve of her shoulder. His cock jerked. He tried to recite the seven times table in his head. Backward. Anything to retain control and not fall on her like some ravaging animal.
A gentle finger beneath his chin lifted his face to hers and she kissed him. No, not a kiss. Instead, she made love to him with soft lips and gentle nips. Remaining passive under her touch, his hand smoothed over the sensuous curves of her body. She crowded closer. Hands either side of his jaw
, she flicked a quick lick against his upper lip and his control slipped.
With another rumble, a feral sound from the center of his chest he’d never heard himself make, he caught her to him and pulled her away from the wall. One hand drove into the hair at the nape of her neck as the other slid down her back. His fingertips moved over rough skin and he pulled away to frown. He’d felt skin like that before, on his own body. The kind of marks left by violence. Anger washed over him, rage so complete, it stole his breath and the need rose to hunt down and slaughter whoever hurt her.
“Who did this?” he demanded, voice harsh in the darkness, as his fingers traced the marks over her lower back. “Tell me, and he’s a dead man.”
She shook her head and reached up on her tiptoes to kiss him again. “Doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago.”
“It matters,” he insisted, hand tightening in the back of her hair to stop her kissing and distracting him again. “Someone hurt you...and I’ll make them pay.”
The moon chose that moment to peek through the clouds and touch her face with silver light. Her eyes were dark, sultry with desire, and her lips a bee stung pout swollen from his kisses. She might have been a wolf, but right at the moment he didn’t care. At the moment, she was a woman, and he a man.
“They already paid. I promise.” Her voice was soft. “Let it go, just kiss me. Kiss me again so I can forget.”
How could he resist a plea like that? His grip gentling, he bent his head and claimed her lips again. If their kisses had been hot before, it didn’t compare to the inferno they became now. As soon as their mouths met and mated, heat surge between them. His body tightened, every muscle, every cell alive with the need to take her and make her his. She was so small, he easily crowded her back against the wall again. Their hands were everywhere. Stroking. Exploring. Caressing.
Snapping his fly open, she slid her small hand within his pants and wrapped her fingers around his cock. At her first touch, he lost the ability to think, his brain short circuited. Then she stroked. He broke away to swear. A muffled curse before his mouth crashed down on hers again.