by Lia Connor
A muscle worked in Hunter’s jaw. “Stupid,” he decided.
And fired.
Shanda flinched at the loud blast and ricochet of the bullet. She’d turned her head automatically, and didn’t want to look back. At such a close range, there was no way Hunter could have missed.
But she heard no cries of pain, not even a stifled grunt. Nothing from Hunter, either.
Curiosity started eating at her bones. She moved to face forward, looking at the Native.
Untouched. Still placid as still waters on a calm day. Hunter held the gun inches from the man’s face, finger still on the trigger. The faint flicker of surprise on his face echoed what Shanda felt.
This wasn’t possible. No way. Hunter’s shot should have blown the Native’s face into shredded meat. Torn through his brain and splattered it against the far wall.
He hadn’t even been grazed. And the knowledge that someone had meant to take him down didn’t seem to faze him one bit.
The reality sank in: Hunter had taken that shot meaning to kill this man. Not quite in cold blood, but close enough.
And what would that make me? Shanda wondered sickly. Accessory to murder? I wondered if Hunter would kill. Now, I know for sure. Damn. I’ve been playing with a sociopath, haven’t I?
“Are you finished?” the Native asked, calm as you please. “I will have that then, thank you.”
Hunter’s hand flew open. Even as he let out a grunt, probably one of surprise, the weapon zipped out of his grasp. It flew sweet as an arrow, slowing and gliding to a stop on the floor out of arm’s reach and harm’s way.
“There. I do not suggest you try and take these back,” the Native remarked. “I have no intent to harm you, but consider this your warning. I will protect myself.”
He stood, limber as an acrobat, and gave his head a shake. “We have not been introduced.” The statement struck Shanda as darkly humorous. He’d just been shot at and he was worrying over manners? “I am Mark Spirit Talker. You, I know to be Shanda, she who I sought, but I do not yet know your name, man.” He turned to glance at Hunter. “What are you called?”
Hunter gritted his teeth tight.
“Hunter,” Shanda blurted. Her hand flew to her mouth. God’s honest truth, she hadn’t meant to say a thing.
From the way Hunter’s jaw twitched though, he wouldn’t care whether or not she’d exposed him on purpose or by accident.
“Ah, yes. A dangerous man. The vine of the grape stretches further than you might think, Shanda. This Hunter is not unknown to many who work in the underground, as one might say. But he is like a ghost, a phantom, yes? Quick as a fish, deadly as a bear, and never caught.” Mark chuckled. “Until now.”
Hunter’s hands curled into fists.
“You need not fear, Shanda,” Mark addressed her. “Hunter is a man to be wary of, but I am given to understand he would never lay a hand on you to cause you harm. He has…” Mark hesitated. “Let us say, his own reasons.”
Shanda forced her hand away from her mouth. “Who says?” Her voice shook, but she pressed on. “How do you know these things?”
“Much in the same way I know you.” Mark paced toward Shanda, his step light and easy -- but when he reached out to catch and hold her, his grasp was anything but loose. “And we do know one another, don’t we, Shanda?” he crooned. Just like the Native in her dream, Mark held her effortlessly while using the other hand to roam wherever he pleased.
Shanda tried to force herself to stop trembling. She wasn’t dumb enough not to be afraid of Mark, but oh, fear wasn’t what made her shake. No, it was being pinned close to that rock-hard body and the knowledge of how he could shatter her whole world with just one kiss.
“Yes,” Mark went on, easily peeling the kerchief off Shanda’s hair. “Short,” he remarked. “I have always liked women with long locks, ones I can run my fingers through. But this style suits you. Tough, to match your image. But you are soft on the inside, deep down, are you not?” He was close enough to breathe the words against her lips, quivering despite herself for his touch. “Warrior woman, you are a prize many men would fight over. But it is me you want to give yourself to. Isn’t it?”
Shanda couldn’t move except to lick her lips. Yes. Oh, God, yes, she wanted him. Only Hunter had ever been able to get her so hot so fast. Her body quivered for more of Mark’s callused touch, and her pussy ached to be filled with the hard cock pressed against her. “I -- I --”
“You like danger,” Mark teased. “Ah, ah, ah, Hunter, stay where you are.” He gestured behind him. Over Mark’s shoulder, Shanda could see Hunter rooted in place, one hand in the air as if stuck there. He’d dropped the whole dispassionate act now, and almost flashed with rage. “Right now, I want no interruptions.”
He returned to Shanda. “This is your choice, pretty one. Will you or will you not?” Shanda felt her own muscles go loose. If she wanted to, she could cut and run.
She didn’t want to.
“Last chance,” Mark whispered.
Shanda lifted her chin and stayed put. This was crazy, but she couldn’t have said no. She wanted him too damn bad to care about wolf mojo or danger.
“I am the man in your dreams, Shanda,” Mark murmured. “Feel me. Know that I am the one you’ve craved. Put your hands on my body and know that there will be no stopping us now.”
He laid his lips over hers, and Shanda caved. A groan rolled out of her throat as Mark took control, pressing his mouth to hers in a way that demanded cooperation. She found herself surrendering without a fight, kissing Mark back as if he were water in the desert. Their bodies pressed close together, but unlike in her dreams, her clothes were in her way.
“Yes, yes,” he soothed, sliding a hand under Shanda’s loose sweatshirt. His questing fingers found her punishingly tight sports bra and pushed it up out of the way without effort, freeing her breasts. Swollen with the need to be handled, they spilled into his palm.
He brushed a thumb across one achingly hard nipple, making Shanda buck and moan. “Such beautiful breasts,” he approved, running his hand over their plump swells. “Soon, I will see them bare.”
Shanda whimpered. Now, she wanted now.
“So impatient.” Mark pinched her nipple between forefinger and thumb. The sting felt so damn good, as did the way he smoothed down her abused flesh. “All in good time, Shanda.” He breathed deeply. “Ah… I can smell you, woman. Your scent, your cream, they are enough to make me lose control.”
“Yes,” Shanda panted. “Lose it.” She couldn’t find any modesty to hide behind. “Touch me where I want you most.”
Mark laughed softly. “And where would that be, pretty Shanda? Here?” He smoothed his way across her belly. “Perhaps here?” His fingers dipped lower, toying with the waist of her sweatpants.
“Damn you,” Shanda swore viciously. Her muscles hurt from quaking with eagerness, and he was playing games? “You know what I want.”
“Yes, but I would like to hear you say it.” Shanda could tell Mark meant it. “Where do you want me to touch you, pretty one?”
The words flew from her lips. “My cunt,” she rasped, the word sending another gush of juices down the inside of her thighs. “Your hands, your tongue, whatever. But I want you on, or better still, in my pussy. Now.”
“Nothing would give me greater pleasure.” Mark slithered to his knees with such ease of movement that Shanda marveled, her heart beating fast as he kept touching her on his way down, each brush of his hand lighting a fire under her skin.
Damn, she burned to feel his touch on her cunt. Wanton, Shanda rolled her hips and begged in nonsense words for Mark to use some of that magic on her. He had power, like Hunter yet completely not like him, and power made her weak in the knees. Hungry.
Mark pulled her sweatpants down one inch at a time to reveal her drenched, swollen pussy. “So beautiful,” he approved, so close that he almost touched her -- but not quite there.
Shanda wanted to stomp her foot. Fucking tease!
“Perhaps this is what that eager cunt wants.” Mark closed the distance between them and at last, thank God, ran his tongue down the puffy lips of her pussy.
Shanda hollered out loud and reached for the heavens. Just that small glide was enough to make her come, shocks of orgasm rolling through her body. But he wasn’t finished with her, oh no. Before she had a chance to recover Mark was on her, in her, plundering her pussy with a ravenous appetite. One climax rolled into another as he used that clever tongue to torment her clit, then push into her channel, tongue-fucking her, and nibbled her labia just hard enough to make her scream for more.
And she did scream, the sound of her shrieks filling the empty warehouse. Mark just wouldn’t let up on his devouring of her cunt from top to bottom, pushing her past the point of sensitivity that would normally have her ordering a man to stop, right on through to where the raw tissues begged for more. More which he gave, tongue never still, fingers joining in to thrust while he licked.
A woman could die from such intense pleasure, but God, what a way to go.
When Mark finally took pity on Shanda, drawing back, he held her firm by her hips until she shuddered out the last of her orgasms, then sagged against him. Her hands found his shoulders, beautiful bare bronze skin, and gripped tight.
If he fucked her now, she would die. Damn if she didn’t want him to though.
He raised his head to look at Shanda, face agleam with her juices and eyes hot as ever. “You taste better than anything a man could dream of,” he rumbled, strangely tender after being so ruthless in his passionate assault. “Should we finish this?”
Shanda knew if she said “no,” Mark would let the matter rest. Her cunt clenched though, craving still more. Until he filled her up, she wouldn’t be satisfied. And if he left her aching, she might die from that, too.
Though her head lolled on her neck, weak from all the pleasure she’d felt, Shanda managed to nod. “Fuck me,” she rasped, her voice hoarse from all the noise she’d made. “I want that big fat cock inside my pussy.”
Mark hummed as he slipped back up her body. His big, strong hands slid her sweatpants down further still, then guided her legs apart. Naked, he had nothing to get out of the way. “Beautiful,” he echoed himself, pushing the head of his cock against her sopping channel. “Ride with me.”
His dick slipped in, gliding slick as wet silk on her juices. Not as thick around as Hunter, but longer, prodding the mouth of her cervix. Shanda flinched, then moaned as he humped into her. Didn’t seem to be any sort of pain Mark couldn’t turn into pleasure.
When he started fucking her for real, Shanda knew that up until then, he really had just been teasing. She howled and clung to his churning muscles for dear life as he plowed into her channel, thrust after thrust, powerful as a herd of wild horses. “Ride,” he’d said. “Ride” was damned right. If she weren’t pinned to the wall by the strength of his body, Shanda knew she’d go flying off into pieces.
His mouth worked at her neck, sucking up welts as he kissed her mercilessly. Shanda’s voice gave out entirely, leaving her with nothing but sharp gasps as he drove her ruthlessly toward the mother of all peaks, the point of no return.
She’d break. She’d shatter. There wouldn’t be anything left of her.
“Shanda,” she heard his voice, as if from a distance. “Feel the mark of the Pack.”
Pack? What the hell…?
“I claim you in our name,” he said with a grunt as he ground their hips together. “Shanda… Shanda… Shanda!”
His hips snapped back and forth as he came, powerful blasts of semen shooting deep inside Shanda. She felt them, yes, but something more besides. Heat like she’d never known, burning brighter than any kind of fever, sexual or otherwise, blazing through her.
Oh, God, she was going to burn up. There’d be nothing left but ashes.
“Shanda!” Mark shouted again, dragging her attention away from the thick fog of sex back into the real world. “Pack. I mark you as Pack.”
And he bit her.
And Shanda came once again, losing touch with everything and soaring, flying, coming apart at the seams, expecting she’d never be put back together again. Going out with a bang, not a whimper. Oh, yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah.
She found voice enough to scream in pure ecstasy.
And slowly began to feel Mark’s arms around her, easing her back down from the heights. His cock still nestled inside her, he licked at her neck, snuffling like a -- a wolf -- scenting her skin.
Shanda felt the sting where Mark’s teeth had pierced her flesh. “What did you do to me?” she asked slowly, feeling drugged.
“Marked you. You are Pack now,” he said soothingly, giving her neck one last touch of his tongue. “And now, now that it is safe… I can tell you about Dashika.”
Chapter Five
“The hell you say.” Hunter’s words rang out crystal clear, flat, and cold. Even in her hazy state of mind, Shanda could tell the man was spitting mad. “Let go of her. Shanda, walk away.”
Mark held Shanda snugly, pressing her to him. Shanda couldn’t help but snuggle into his warmth. Better than a log fire on a snowy morning -- or, in her case, cranking up the heat in her apartment when the weather outside was frightful. He didn’t respond to Hunter’s demands, but began to croon words Shanda didn’t understand against the short waves of her hair.
“Shanda, I told you once,” Hunter warned. “Step aside.”
Shanda moaned softly and clung to Mark. He felt like home, like safety. Hunter was a gale of icy wind in comparison.
“This is your last warning, Shanda.”
Mark stroked Shanda’s head as he lifted his own to face Hunter. She could hear his amusement, as if this were no more than a game. “Last warning before what, Hunter? What will you do to her if she does not obey?”
“I’ll pull her off you.” Shanda could hear, in the way only someone used to Hunter could, his anger rising. “You fucking bit the woman. She’s bleeding.”
“Only a little.”
“Bit her,” Hunter repeated. “I’ve seen some strange things in my life. A woman just lets herself be chewed on, she’s not in her right mind. Whatever mind games you’re playing, they stop right now. If she won’t walk away, I suggest you let her go.”
Mark rocked Shanda. “I doubt she wishes to leave my side. She’s comfortable here. Why would she go to you?” He was taunting Hunter, just a little. If she’d been clearer-headed, Shanda would have warned Mark how poking at Hunter was a bad, bad idea.
Couldn’t seem to get it together enough to say anything though.
Hunter, too, was quiet for a long moment. “Who the hell do you think you are?” he finally snapped. “Sneaking into my city --”
“Your city?”
“Don’t you underestimate me. I have a hand in everything that goes down around here.”
“Boastful. From the rumors I have heard, you are a renegade who is to be feared or left alone, not some sort of Godfather.”
Shanda heard Hunter move closer, his sneakers thumping on the floor. She sighed and nudged closer to Mark’s chest. Stay back, Hunter, she thought drowsily. Mark’s not out of your league, but you’re messing with a big dog. No, a wolf. Yeah, he’s a wolf, somehow.
How she knew, she couldn’t have said.
“Look at her, so peaceful.” Mark caressed Shanda’s back. “Have you ever felt her, this proud woman, so compliant in your arms? Or have your matings with her been all clash and fray?”
Hunter sucked in a harsh breath. “You have no business nosing around in my personal life. How do you even know Shanda and I ever did anything together?”
“I can smell you on her.” Mark pressed his nose to Shanda’s scalp. “I tasted your scent on her pussy when I had my tongue buried between her nether lips. This warehouse reeked of sex when you let me out of my prison.” He chuckled slyly. “And you are slipping, Hunter. Do you think I did not hear you while I knelt bound in the closet?”
�
��Bastard,” Hunter hissed.
“You cannot deny the facts.” Mark let go of Shanda. His cock, still half-hard, slipped out of her pussy and left her with an aching feeling of emptiness. No, no! He’d felt so good there, right at home.
She made a noise of protest as Mark pushed her away from his warmth, pulling up her sweatpants and patting her stomach. He nestled her against the wall, propping her up.
Then he came back to Hunter. “But why quarrel over this?” Still so calm. How did he manage that? “Do you have a prior claim? Is Shanda your woman? She bore no brand from you. I would have sensed such a thing before I fucked her.”
In her new position, Shanda could see Hunter’s face. Behind his icy calm expression, a storm raged. Dangerous.
Things were getting clearer now, away from Mark’s drugging presence. “Hunter, chill,” she heard tumbling from her lips. “I’m okay.”
Hunter snorted. “Okay? You miss the fact that he sank his teeth in your neck? Shanda, do you know how filthy the human mouth is? And when he fucked you, he didn’t even think twice about a condom. God knows what he’s given you. Could have knocked you up. And maybe he used drugs to get you weak, let him have his way. Either that, or he put you in a trance.”
“And you would know a trance when you saw one?” Mark still sounded amused. “Shanda merely responded to me as she has longed to in her dreams.”
Hunter snorted. “Dreams. Sure. Is it story time? Tell me the one about the monsters next. Something good and scary.”
Shanda found herself giggling. “Where the Wild Things Are,” she suggested.
Hunter’s hands moved -- itching, Shanda could tell, to have his gun back in them. “Shanda, you stay quiet until whatever mind trick he pulled eases up. Mark, how about you stop playing games and start telling us some truth?”
Mark tossed his head, long black hair moving like a curtain of silk across his back. Shanda couldn’t see his face, but she could imagine his smile. “In time,” he replied mildly. “All in good time. No, no, we will have no guns.”