Last Wolf Hunting

by Rhyannon Byrd

  Jeremy’s eyes narrowed. “And just who were you supposed to keep tabs on us for? Drake?”

  Magnus rolled his shoulder, then gave a reluctant nod, sending his hair back into his eyes. “I owe Cooper Sheffield some money, and he said I could clear the debt by keeping an eye on you for Drake.”

  “So you’re Sheffield’s little gopher boy,” Jeremy murmured with disgust. “And do your duties go beyond spying?”

  Magnus’s bleary gaze skittered away. “I don’t know what you mean,” he muttered, chewing on the corner of his mouth.

  Jeremy took a step closer. “I mean, the bullet,” he drawled with pure menace.

  Magnus’ shaggy head shot up with a hard snap, as if he’d been clipped on the chin with a solid undercut. “What bullet?”

  Holding the Lycan’s wide-eyed stare, Jeremy pointed at his healing bullet wound. “The one that went clean through my shoulder this morning.”

  “It wasn’t me,” Magnus gasped, while fresh beads of sweat broke out across his forehead. “I swear to God. What do you think I have, a death wish? I messed with your parents’ house and slashed your tires, but I swear, I haven’t hurt anyone!”

  “And what about Danna?” Mason asked. “Maybe Sheffield pressed your wife for a little favor. Does she have a gun?”

  Magnus lifted his watery gaze up to Mason, blinking with stunned outrage. “You think I’d let that woman have a gun?” he shouted, his horrified expression making Mason chuckle under his breath.

  “She could have gotten one without you knowing about it,” his partner drawled.

  “Dammit, it wasn’t Danna!” Magnus argued. “I know she’s crazy, but she’s got her hands full with family stuff right now.”

  “Even if one of you didn’t shoot me,” Jeremy grunted, “the fact remains that you’ve been a real pain in the ass, so here’s how it’s gonna be. First, you’re going to pay for my mother’s front window.”

  The Lycan’s shoulders fell, but he nodded his agreement. “I’ll pay for it.”

  “And my tires.”

  At that, Magnus’s complexion started to look a little green, but he mumbled, “Yeah, the tires, too. And I guess you’ll want your parents’ house cleaned, as well.”

  Jillian groaned, while Mason just shook his head. “What the hell is wrong with my parents’ house?” Jeremy demanded.

  Magnus flicked him another quick look from the corner of his eye. “I kind of egged it this morning, after you left.”

  “You egged my parents’ house?” he shouted, aware of a vein throbbing angrily in his temple.

  “Not by choice. I’m telling you, it was all on Sheffield’s orders. I think he got the idea from that kid of his.”

  He started to take a step forward, his muscles flexing, hands fisted, when Mason casually said, “Jeremy.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I know it’s tempting, but you can’t kill him.”

  He took a deep breath, and slowly forced himself to relax. Mason was right, of course, but that didn’t mean the urge to knock some sense into Magnus wasn’t any less of a temptation. “I wanna give you some advice,” he said in a low, deadly rasp.

  Magnus shuffled a step away. “What is it?”

  “Grow some goddamn balls.”

  “That’s what Danna’s always telling me,” the Lycan grumbled.

  “Yeah? Then maybe you should listen to her.”

  “That’s easy for you to say,” Magnus huffed. “You don’t have to live with her.”

  “Yeah, well, neither do you tonight,” Mason rumbled. “Because you’ll be spending it in lockup.”

  “That’s what I figured.” The Lycan sighed, then rubbed his chin. “Won’t be so bad, I guess, though. At least that way Danna can’t get to me.”

  “I know it’s a pain in the ass, but can you take him up for me?” Jeremy asked, glancing at Mason.

  His partner nodded, a slow grin curving his mouth. “No problem. Torrance and I will run him up to Shadow Peak and deliver him to Dylan.”

  “Thanks, man. I owe you.”

  “That’s what you always say.” Mason laughed.

  Shifting his gaze to Jillian, he said, “Do you mind coming up to my cabin with me while I get cleaned up?”

  She murmured her agreement, stepping into place beside him as they waved goodbye to Torrance and Mason, but didn’t say anything more until he was opening his front door. “Do you think Magnus followed us to Pippa’s house this morning?”

  “Damn,” he muttered, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’ll give her a call when we get back to town and warn her to be careful. If he didn’t know about the shooting, I doubt he knows about Pippa. But it’s better to be safe than sorry. She needs to be on guard.”

  “I think you’re probably right.” She sighed, tucking her hair behind her ears.

  Jeremy moved to turn on a light, and the living room filled with a low, mellow glow. Nodding toward the black leather sofa that sat against the back wall, he said, “Just chill out for a bit, make yourself comfortable, and I’ll go grab a quick shower.”

  * * *

  Jillian sat with her bottom perched on the edge of the soft leather sofa in Jeremy’s living room, her hands clasped between her knees, while her pulse drummed a heavy, thundering beat through her head. She breathed deeply, slowly releasing the air from her lungs, but it wasn’t helping her to relax. Too much had happened since that morning, and her emotions were in a constant shift from one extreme to the other. Suddenly, it was all catching up with her, and she felt ready to crawl out of her skin.

  Glancing toward the bathroom door that she could see just down the shadowed hallway, she knew what she wanted…what she needed. So far today, she’d known fear, anger and passion, and this evening she’d seen death. Now she wanted to feel alive.

  She wanted Jeremy.

  As if answering her unspoken call, he came out of the bathroom in nothing but a well-worn pair of faded jeans, droplets of water still glistening on his skin, muscles rippling in his arms as he ran a dark gray towel over his head.

  Lust hit her so hard that her knees nearly gave out, and with a soft gasp of surprise, she realized that she’d rushed to her feet and was no longer sitting.

  Wetting her bottom lip with a nervous flick of her tongue, she stared at the dark, golden beauty of his chest, the satiny skin stretched tight over hard, firm muscles, the wound in his shoulder little more than a raw, pinkish mark that would fade within a week. On his ribs, paler scars from his last run-in with the rogue wolves shone faintly against the deeper tan of his skin, the bite on the side of his throat all but healed. He was so perfectly, ruggedly beautiful that it took her breath away, and she blinked against the hot wash of tears she felt at the backs of her eyes, even though she knew she wasn’t crying. It was just excess emotion, everything welling up inside of her, growing harder and harder to contain.

  “Jesus. Do you know how long I’ve waited to see you look at me like that?” he asked with a slow, sexy smile, watching her as he propped his bare shoulder against the wall, the flexing of muscles across the broad expanse of his chest and rippling abdomen making her light-headed.

  She drew in an unsteady breath, her voice a husky whisper of sound as she said, “Do you know how long I’ve waited to see you like this?”

  The corner of his mouth twitched, eyes bright with sensual awareness. “Like what?” he asked softly, staring at her with a possessive intensity that made her feel completely…wanted. Needed.

  She wanted that. Wanted him to need her, crave her…hunger for her.

  She wanted to push him to the edge, push him until he forgot to be careful, until he lost his control. She wanted his guttural growl in her ear, his body wild for her.

  Jillian found herself standing in front of him, with no recollection of stepping around the low coffee table and moving across the room. Reaching out, she pressed her hand to the smooth skin of his chest, right over the pounding of his heart. “You’re so beautiful, Jeremy.”

&nb
sp; “You’re the beautiful one, sweetheart.”

  “I can’t compare to you,” she said dreamily, her voice thick. Oh, yes, she knew what she wanted; and she was going to take it. She might be too cowardly to let him make love to her, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t sate her own hungers. That she couldn’t touch and taste and feast, drawing him into her, taking as much of him as she could. Savoring him.

  Even loving him.

  Her fingertips grazed his chest with the teasing lightness of a feather, the firm muscles beneath his dark skin so hard and warm, vibrating with a fine tremor. His breath came slightly faster, almost panting, the press of his stare hot against her face…warming her like a physical source of heat, though she kept her gaze focused on the path of her fingers. If she looked up, she’d lose her nerve, and she wanted this so badly. Had to have it, or she was going to go out of her mind, all this raging, tumultuous need breaking her down, leaving her wrecked and damaged.

  She lost herself to the exploration of his body, smiling inside when his breath hitched as she grazed his right nipple. Pulling her lower lip through her teeth, she pressed both hands over his chest, the small tips of his nipples hard against her palms, then trailed them lower, across his ribs. Her thumbs skimmed over the silky, honey-colored hair that arrowed down the center of his abdomen, whorling around his navel, before it disappeared beneath the faded denim of his jeans, the top button left undone, while a thick ridge distended the fly.

  “Jesus,” he moaned under his breath, his lips pulling back over his teeth. “What are you doing, Jillian?”

  “Touching you,” she told him, proud that her voice didn’t shake apart like the trembling feeling inside of her. “You’re so warm, Jeremy. So hot. Hard.”

  A rough laugh jerked from his throat. “Yeah, you’ve got no idea.”

  Her mouth twitched into a smile, and she lowered her gaze to the stunning bulge at the front of his jeans. “You have a problem inside your Levi’s, Mr. Burns.”

  “If you’re wondering what to do about it, I have some really good ideas,” he volunteered with a low, rumbling chuckle, casting a wry look down at his groin.

  She shook her head as silent laughter bubbled up from the warm, churning glow of excitement in her belly. “I’ll just bet you do,” she murmured, her shoulders shaking. “It’s just that…well, it’s a little on the extreme side,” she pointed out, wondering just who the playful tease was that had commandeered her body.

  “Don’t know about that, but I’ve never had any complaints before. I think it may even be a bit bigger than usual,” he added with a dark laugh, “but then I’ve never wanted anyone this badly before, either.”

  “I bet you say that to all the girls,” she said softly, shaking her head.

  He tipped her chin up with the edge of his fist in time for her to see the deep look of tenderness that melted into his eyes, and her knees shook. God, she was so easy when it came to this man.

  “I’ve never said anything even close to that to a woman,” he admitted gently, curving his palm along her jaw, so that he could rub his thumb against the corner of her mouth. “And I wouldn’t lie about it, either. You…affect me, Jillian. In ways that I can’t even explain. You always have.”

  He touched his thumb to her lower lip, then leaned forward and the heat of his breath, of his mouth, touched hers, shaking her apart inside. Everything roiled and tumbled together, a chaos of emotion and craving and raw, overwhelming need.

  Her trembling, shivering hands struggled with the stubborn buttons on his jeans, while his hands cupped her face, his mouth claiming instant, carnal possession of her own with a blistering kiss that made her toes curl. With a throaty groan, Jillian broke away from the kiss to shove his jeans over his lean hips, her groan growing deeper as she watched him take himself in hand, gripping himself so tightly that the veins on the back of his hand thickened beneath his skin, like the swollen, distended veins pulsing beneath the velvety skin of his cock.

  She licked her lips as she dropped to her knees, a purring sound of pleasure vibrating in her throat as she caught the richer, heavier source of his scent, salty and sweet and warm. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips against the violent heat of his skin, moaning at the decadent taste of him.

  “Oh, god,” he growled, breathless, trembling. “This is gonna kill me.”

  He placed both hands on either side of her head and pushed past her lips, sinking into the damp silk of her mouth, and she stroked him with her tongue. He pushed deeper, and she made a quick sound of panic. “Don’t be afraid,” he gasped, baring his teeth. “I won’t push too far. Just…harder, Jillian. Like that, baby. You won’t hurt me.”

  His legs tremored, muscles rigid and hard, as her mouth worked over him, her tongue stroking his skin as if she couldn’t get enough of him. And she couldn’t. It was too good, too hot…the perfection of him in her mouth and the possessive way he watched her pleasuring him made her feel too much. Everything about him intoxicated her. The sinewy tension in his neck and shoulders. The way his head lowered as he watched her, his fingers clenched in her hair. She loved it. Loved the power of him throbbing against her tongue. Loved the trust implicit in such a blistering, provocative act of intimacy. Loved his salty-sweet taste, the musky, masculine smells of his skin and sweat and the dominant strength in his long, hard body that he tried so hard to control. His eyes drifted shut for a moment, and then he lifted the dark smudges of his lashes, revealing a gaze that was bright with fever, glittering with lust and hunger and tender, breathtaking emotion.

  “Can’t hold it,” he growled, and his head fell back, spine arching as the dark wave of energy roared through him. His muscles jerked as he came, a rough shout breaking from his throat, back arched, his rich flavor too sexy to resist.

  And then his body was moving, his hands pulling at her until he lay on the hallway floor and she was spread out over him like a blanket. Jillian struggled to get her bearings, but his hands were everywhere, stroking her backside, dipping under her sweater to stroke the shivering skin of her stomach, the backs of her thighs, his urgency tugging at her heart.

  “I’m going to make love to you all night long,” he growled, and then his hands reached between them, attacking the button at the top of her jeans, and the reality of how close she was to giving in suddenly crashed through the sensual haze clouding her mind, shocking her into instant awareness. In that moment, she couldn’t get past the knowledge that he could make her whole world come apart, destroying her, without even meaning to.

  Her muscles tensed, and Jillian grabbed at his wrists. “Stop,” she whispered.

  His hands instantly lifted away, eyes shadowed beneath the heavy veil of his lashes. “What’s wrong?”

  She swallowed the thick feeling in her throat, and struggled to get the words out. “I…can’t.”

  He went completely still beneath her, not even breathing, just watching her, waiting for her to explain. “What the hell’s going on, Jillian?”

  “I—I didn’t mean for things to go so far,” she said shakily, slipping off of him. “I just wanted to make you feel good.”

  The golden line of his eyebrows pulled together in a deadly scowl, his mouth hard, savage. “You went down on me because you felt it was owed, like some kind of goddamn payment?”

  “No!”

  A gritty, sarcastic sound rumbled in his throat. “Then explain it, honey, because I’m having a helluva time figuring you out.”

  Jillian closed her eyes, wanting to block out his presence, but she couldn’t. The loss of sight only made her other senses that much more attuned to him. He vibrated with a sexual frequency that pulled on her, made her want to throw caution to the wind and dive on him, ravenous for each hard, mind-shattering, delicious detail.

  She scooted away until her back hit the wall, opening her eyes as she wrapped her arms around her knees. With greedy fascination, she watched the muscles in his abdomen ripple and flex as he sat up, his skin burnished a deep, golden brown in the l
ow light spilling from the living room. Clearing her throat, she said, “I—I just need more time, Jeremy.”

  He thrust both hands back through his hair, so hard that she winced. “God, Jillian, every time I think we’re moving forward, it’s like slamming into a brick wall. Just one more obstacle shoved in my path. What do I have to do?” he demanded in a gritty rasp, his expression ravaged, his eyes wild. “Just tell me and I’ll do it, but don’t keep shutting me out.”

  She blinked rapidly, rolling her lips together. “I’m sorry. I—I just can’t do this.”

  “Because of Eric? Christ, Jillian, he’s wrong for you and you know it!”

  “It has nothing to with Eric,” she insisted in a low voice, wishing she could feel hollow inside. She wanted to welcome that comforting nothingness that had been her companion for so many years, but it seemed impossible to go back and find that steady, lifeless state of existence. Jeremy had destroyed the calm, like a violent storm sweeping across a dead sea, stirring chaos in his wake. Now all she could do was try to survive and stay intact, without being crushed beneath the force of the waves. If she stopped struggling, she would be pulled under the surface, taken down deeper…and deeper.

  “Is it me, then?” She flinched, the hurt underlining his rough words cutting her to the quick. “Is that it? Can’t have damaged goods touching the pack’s little angel?”

  “No!” she gasped, hating that he could even think that of her. “I admire you more than any other man I know, Jeremy, no matter what his bloodline. But I can’t take what you’re offering. It’s too dangerous for me.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” he demanded, his voice raw, his eyes glittering and bright. “Dammit, Jillian, I’m trying so hard to understand but you won’t give me anything.” He was silent for a moment, the only sound that of their breathing and the howling wind rushing against the roof of the cabin, and then he quietly said, “I need you, Jillian.”