by Eve Langlais
“Don’t be scared, darling. No one will hurt you while I’m with you.” Where did this chivalry come from? And how dare it possess his tongue?
“Hurt me?” She uttered a watery, hysterical giggle. “It’s you I’m worried about. You don’t know what he is. What he’s capable of.”
“Actually, I do know, more than you, I imagine.” The question was, how much did she know? Because Danita was very human and, as such, probably wasn’t privy to the shapeshifter secret.
“You can’t know. You couldn’t even guess. Because it’s crazy. And impossible. Maybe I’m crazy.” She pulled her hands free and scrubbed her wet face.
“Let’s rewind a bit. Why does this Kelso want you?”
Can’t have her. His wolf seemed very adamant on that point. Oddly enough, Rory was in agreement.
“It’s—”
“Complicated. So you’ve said. Explain it anyways.”
“Why do you even care? This isn’t your problem.”
“Because…” He found himself inordinately drawn to her. Because he hated seeing her cry. Because he wanted to kill this Kelso person and then kiss her while saying everything would be all right. Instead, he settled for, “Obviously, you’re balking at the divorce because of your problem with this guy. If I help you take care of it, then we can both go singly on our way.” The words emerged flat and left a sour taste in his mouth.
Her lips turned down. “I guess.”
“Well? What’s the deal?”
“It has to do with my father.”
Rory might not recall much of that night, but he did remember one fact. “I thought he died.”
“He supposedly did. But he didn’t leave behind a will. At least not one we could find. I didn’t even know he was dead until Kelso appeared one day, knocking at my door looking for it.”
“He showed up out of nowhere looking for your father’s will?
She nodded.
“Did you know him?”
“Nope. I’d never met him or any of my dad’s friends before. He traveled a lot, so when he did come to visit, he spent all of that time with me.”
“What of your mother?”
She shrugged. “She died when I was born. I had a live-in nanny until I was nineteen.”
The idea of being raised by someone who was paid struck him as lonely. Something in his expression must have shown pity because her lips pursed and her eyes flashed as some of her fighting spirit returned. “It wasn’t as awful as it might sound. Elsa took excellent care of me. Her own kids were grown and gone, so she didn’t mind acting as a foster mother. She died when I was in college.”
“And now your father is gone.” Leaving her all alone and vulnerable. “So, what did this Kelso expect to see in your father’s will?”
“He wanted to know who inherited from my father. Apparently, Daddy had some investments and stuff. I don’t know. Dad never talked business with me. He also never told his business associates he had a daughter. Kelso was rather surprised to meet me.”
Which seemed rather odd. Most men proudly displayed their attachments to their children. “I’ll bet he was since a daughter would automatically inherit if no will can be found.” Understanding dawned. “Did Kelso try to get you to sign over your dad’s holdings?”
“No, because he couldn’t. As far as the government and lawyers are concerned, my dad is still alive. There’s been no formal declaration of his death because there’s no body.”
“Then—”
“Why did Kelso seem so certain?” A shadow crossed her face. “Because he was apparently there when it happened.”
The story sounded very familiar. “We talked about this the night we met, didn’t we?” The night he barely recalled. But more and more was wishing he did. Damn that whiskey. He knew better than to mix it with the wine he’d imbibed with dinner. Add the opium smoke and he remembered nothing.
Her lips held a ghost of a smile. “We talked about a lot of things. I think you thought it was a game given you kept trying to one-up me with your soap opera story of two dads.”
“Not a story. It’s true. But not the thing we should be concentrating on. This Kelso guy, he’s been threatening you?”
She nodded, which only increased the simmering anger within him.
“He’s hurt you already.”
Again, a nod, which cemented the asshole’s fate.
“What’s his end game since you can’t give him what he wants? Is his plan to kill you and somehow get his hands on your dad’s business?”
“Worse.” Her lips turned down. “He wants to marry me.”
Chapter 9
“Like fuck!” Of all the things to have Rory jump up and exclaim. His eyes blazed and his hands fisted—that was the oddest.
Why would it bother him that Kelso wanted to make her his wife? After all, Rory was bound and determined to ex-wife her as quickly as possible.
“I want you to tell me everything you know about that twatwaffle,” he exclaimed, pacing in front of her. She couldn’t help but admire him, despite her situation.
Then again, noting how his T-shirt clung to his upper body and how his track pants hung low on his hips was better than remembering her shitty life these past few weeks.
“There’s nothing to tell because I don’t want you getting involved.” The only reason she’d spilled as much as she had was because she’d reached a breaking point. It felt nice to have someone listen to her, to pretend, if only for a moment, she wasn’t alone. However, this problem was hers to deal with. Anyone capable of the things Kelso had done wasn’t a person she should invite into someone else’s life, even if it would be so much easier to not have to handle it herself.
“Too late, darling, because I am already involved.”
She flung herself backwards on the bed with a huge sigh. “Why are men so bloody stubborn?”
“I could ask the same of you, darling.”
She squeaked as a weight covered her. A manly weight that meant, when she opened her eyes, his face hovered only inches above hers.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to figure out what it is about you that makes me—”
“Angry?”
He shook his head.
“Stupid?” she asked, since he obviously wasn’t too bright, given he kept ignoring her warnings.
His lips quirked. “More like insanely attracted.”
Attracted to what? Her? With her tear-stained cheeks, probably blotchy features, and messy hair in dire need of a brush? “You’re insane all right.” Her lips quirked into a deprecating grin.
“I might go wild on the full moon, but other than that, I’m pretty on the level. Which is why this whole situation with you is aggravating.”
“I’m aggravating?” She arched a brow.
“Not in a bad way. It’s just I don’t know what to think. Since that night, I’ve been blaming what happened on the booze and opium we inhaled by accident. And yet,” he said, his tone musing, “here you are, and once again, I find myself unable to resist.” He laced his fingers through hers and tugged them over her head, jolting her already aware body and causing her breath to hitch with arousal. “There is something about you that calls to me.”
Odd how he said the things she felt but didn’t dare speak aloud. But she did wonder about one thing. “What did you mean that night when you said I was your mate?” The words spilled from her, and her cheeks heated, especially when his eyes widened in surprise.
“I did what?” he asked, only to repeat it more slowly. “Fuck me, I did, didn’t I? I called you my mate.”
His reaction told her he didn’t remember. It caused a pang because she’d not been able to forget. “Drunken ramblings. It happens to us all.”
“Was that all it was?” He stared at her intently. A moment fraught with anticipation.
His head dipped. Lower. Lower again.
She held her breath and closed her eyes as his lips pressed against hers.
In this, he was
right. Something electric existed between them, and it ignited every time they touched.
It wasn’t the booze or the drugs or anything but pure desire.
Her lips parted as his kiss grew demanding, the slant of his mouth over hers coaxing, caressing. The sinuous slide of his tongue brought shivers to her skin. He held her hands still, their fingers laced, and his body, oh the lovely heavy weight of his body, pressed her against the mattress.
The caresses moved from her mouth to follow the line of her jaw. Rather than push him away—because, really, this wasn’t the time to be making out—she sighed and arched as he found the lobe of her ear and sucked it. A weakness of hers. His lips then burned a trail down the column of her throat, nipping at her skin, causing her blood to pound furiously and her skin to heat.
His lower body, more specifically his hips, rotated, grinding and applying pressure to her, teasing her. She couldn’t help but undulate under him, moving in time with his sensual motions, wanting more. Craving it…
His lips returned to find hers for a torrid kiss, the electrifying sizzle of his touch enough to make her forget why this was probably a bad idea. How could something that felt so good be bad?
He released her hands but only to skim them up her body, sliding them under the fabric of her shirt, his body leaning just enough to the side so he could cup her bra-covered breast. When his thumb brushed over the peak, she uttered a sound that his mouth caught.
But he didn’t catch her second moan of pleasure as he bent to capture the tip of her breast, still covered by fabric, with his mouth. He sucked and tugged at her, the barrier between his lips and her skin only adding to the pleasure.
Her fingers threaded through his hair and gripped his head as he toyed with her breast. She gasped when he finally tugged her shirt upwards and out of the way, pushing the cup of her bra aside that he might truly suckle her.
He spent some time teasing that one breast. Took a long moment savoring every inch of her skin and tugging that nipple into an erect point. Then he switched sides and took his leisurely time pleasuring it to the same state while she moaned incoherently.
A part of her tried to warn her—this is how he convinced me to marry him last time. Seduced me with his skill, made me forget my woes with pleasure.
She ignored that voice. In his arms, under his caress, she wasn’t a pawn in a game, or a victim, but a woman. A woman desired. A woman on the cusp of coming.
His lips trail-blazed a path down her stomach, over her naval to the waistband of her pants. His fingers hooked into the elastic band and began to tug. She’d lifted her hips to help when the phone rang.
More like sang. Something jingled, and he paused.
So did she. “I think someone is calling you,” she remarked.
“Ignore it.” He certainly appeared intent on doing so as he tugged her pants another inch.
Yet the insistent ringing continued. Stopping only for a moment before starting again.
“Um, Rory.”
He sighed. “Yeah. I better answer that, I guess.”
“Do you often get calls at”—she glanced over at a clock and frowned—“five a.m.?”
“No, but I kind of expected it. Give me a second, would you?”
A second? He talked as if he’d return and continue, yet the moment he moved away, sanity reasserted itself.
What am I doing?
She sat up on the bed and pulled down her shirt as she heard him answer with a snarled, “Do you have any idea what time it is?”
Time for her to slip out before he returned because, no matter what he said or thought, she wouldn’t get him involved.
Couldn’t get him involved.
However, her planned escape didn’t manage to get very far because her hand had no sooner touched the front door when she heard him say… “And where do you think you’re going, wife?”
Chapter 10
It didn’t surprise Rory to see her trying to escape, but it did anger him. Only moments before she’d been panting in his arms. Flushed. Beautiful. Mine.
And now, without a word of goodbye, she tried to flee.
She whirled and at least had the decently to appear abashed. “I can’t stay.”
“Considering the trouble my saving you has caused me, I’d have to disagree.”
“Trouble?”
“It seems your friend Kelso has connections. Do you know what he’s involved in?”
She shook her head. “No. I know nothing.” Spoken in a high pitch as she backed into the door.
“You’re lying. Tell me what you know of the prick.” When she shook her head, he couldn’t help but bark, “Now.”
Her lower lip trembled, and he felt like a shit, but then again, after the earful his father gave him, he didn’t care. There was something she wasn’t telling him. Something that had his father commanding him to hand the girl over. His father might be cutthroat with business, but even he didn’t usually cave to pressure. How could he be okay with putting Dani in obvious danger? Rory sure as hell wasn’t okay with it.
His answer, “Like fuck,” didn’t go over well.
“I don’t know anything. I swear, I only met Kelso about two months ago when he told me my father was dead.”
“And then he kidnapped you, right? Held you prisoner?”
“Because he was trying to convince me to marry him.”
“Why not just marry you? Why care if you agreed?”
“That was his plan, except apparently, he has to marry me in front of some family. Seems some of them would have an issue with me showing up gagged. Which was why it became so important I flee.”
“You escaped him.” And married Rory. She’s my wife. “You’re hitched now, which means he can’t force you.”
“For the moment, I’m safe. I’ll just have to stay far away after the divorce.”
Divorce? Logically, he knew that was the next step. But, for some reason, he couldn’t help feeling very strongly against it. “No divorce. We’re not signing the papers.” It made a perverse sense. If she was married, then Kelso couldn’t have her.
She can be all mine.
He might have missed a few things as he sat frozen in shock at the idea.
“I don’t know what I should do.”
“Be my wife.” The words emerged again, and this time, he said them with less terror. More firmly.
“It’s temping,” she mused aloud. “If I’m married, Kelso can’t do anything, but at the same time…” She trailed off and looked at him. Her lips turned down, and he wondered at the cause. “I’m not being fair to you.”
“How are you not being fair?”
“What of your girlfriend?”
“I’m single. No one to say shit about the fact you’re living with me.”
“Living? With you?” The expression on her face couldn’t have been more appalled. She shook her head. “Give the papers to me. I’ll sign.”
Except now it was his turn to be ornery. Why did she suddenly want to remove the one barrier keeping her safe?
“Don’t be silly.”
“It’s not silly. You don’t know what you’re offering. I can’t do that to you.”
It came to him in that moment. She’s protecting me.
Ack. The shame of it. His very masculinity demanded that he refuse. “No divorce. I changed my mind.”
Her gaze widened. “What do you mean changed your mind?”
“Exactly what it sounds like. I don’t want a divorce. I say fuck it, let’s make a go of it.”
With that stunning announcement, he turned on his heel and headed for the kitchen. It might be too early to start drinking the hard stuff, but a jolt of caffeine wouldn’t be amiss.
She followed rather than flee, kind of what he’d hoped when he made his stunning announcement. Made the more stunning because he meant it. He wanted to keep her as his wife.
For now.
Forever.
And that wasn’t coming from his wolf. Yeah, there was a bit of tha
t animal instinct, that conviction by his beast that she was the one. He also definitely suffered from a case of insta-lust. But there was something else at play here, something exciting and right.
She is the one. And she was trying to get away.
“Get back here and divorce me,” she said on his heels.
“No.”
“You have to.”
“Why?”
“We’re not a real couple.”
He only turned once he reached the kitchen island. “We could be.”
A few blinks of her long lashes occurred before she sputtered, “No we can’t. We barely know each other.”
“Isn’t the getting to know each other bit part of the fun?”
“No.”
He kept talking as if she hadn’t. “I’m rather enjoying the fact you’re cute when angry.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“Never said it was. It’s deadly serious, especially since, according to my father, keeping you instead of handing you over might start a war.” His douchebag of a father’s reasoning as to why Dani had to be given to Kelso. Whereas Rory wondered exactly who the hell Dani was to have a shifter so interested in her. She was one hundred percent human. Did Kelso really only want her for access to her father’s business?
Her brow creased. “What does your father have to do with this? What war? And hand me to who?”
“Kelso, of course. Who is coincidentally from Canada. Not the same part my biological father lives in, but close enough for me to wonder why I’m suddenly being plagued by Canadians.”
“Well, you don’t have to be plagued for long.” She marched out of the kitchen, but returned quickly—which was good because he was ready to sprint after her if he heard a door slam shut. She waved the divorce papers at him. “Where’s a pen?”
“Coffee?” He offered her a steaming mug, which she ignored to pounce on a jar of pens by the desk area in his kitchen.
She signed with a flourish and slapped the document in front of him. “Done. We are now—”
He grabbed it and tore it into quarters. Then dumped it in the sink, ran some water, and turned on the garbage disposal.