by Lowe, Anna
So. His sister had jokes.
“Asiane says I’m dessert,” the female said when she was within earshot.
Interesting. No human would know he could hear, much less recognize that the statement was directed at him, unless the human understood shifter hearing. She didn’t look like a seeker. The slope of her slender, pale shoulders was too relaxed. Her energy contained.
“You aren’t normally the type she sends my way.”
The female reached him, stopping a foot away. Her brow quirked, pale eyes intrigued rather than offended. Good. She had spine. It would make the evening more interesting.
“What’s the normal type? An American blonde honey bee? Busty and dumb as a rock?”
“Are you saying all blondes are stupid? Or all busty women?”
She rolled her eyes and moved closer, leaning on the wall next to him, crossing her arms. Not in a defensive way, but for comfort.
“Of course not. I’d be a hypocrite to knock someone for their hair color.”
Her long, straight hair was pulled back in a simple tail, and a shade too dark to be natural.
Reaching out a hand, he brushed a finger along her colorfully painted arm. “These are lovely.”
She glanced down at herself. “Thanks. Still in progress. You got any ink?”
“No.” It was forbidden among his people, technically. But he’d never come across an image he wanted branded on his body.
He looked closely at hers. “Is that a garden?”
She grinned, and Daamin saw one of her teeth was slightly crooked. “I met my Mother at an after-school gardening program when I was a teenager.”
“Met your Mother?”
“I’m adopted.”
She said it with no bitterness, only a quiet joy. What an odd conversation. “There’s a story there,” he said. And smiled, finally. She would do for the night. At least for the night. “Do you dance?”
She looked down at his feet. “Will you step on my toes?”
“Only if you want me to.”
* * *
This one was going to be fun.
Sometimes they weren’t, but were pretty enough that she could ignore stupid for a few hours. Fortunately, Meredith had no particular hang-ups about sex, though she’d insisted Rebekah remain abstinent until she was at least eighteen. Since high school boys didn’t even know how to wipe their asses properly, and who knew where they dipped their dicks, Rebekah hadn’t had trouble following that stipulation. Once in college, she’d dated as often as she wished. Some years more than others, and in the last year less often due to a hectic work schedule. But work did something for her sex didn’t – fulfilled an inner need. Sex was a physical itch, men a brief amusement. Work, helping Dad build his company, helping Meredith with the rambunctious cubs – those were the things that mattered.
Though now she supposed she’d be worrying about her own cubs.
Rebekah sighed. The male touched her cheek, drawing her attention.
“Problem?” he asked.
His voice was deep and smooth, the hint of an accent sexy. Dark eyes calm and thickly lashed. This was a male not ruled by his sexual energy, though it oozed plenty – because he let it. She glanced up at him and away, unintentionally coy. He’d unleashed just a hint of his sexuality in the spark of his eye and quirk of his mouth. The brush of his finger against her cheek brief, but electric. Yeah, he knew what he was doing.
“No problem, just issues,” she said. “But let’s dance. I’ve got to put you through your paces, see what we’re working with.”
She captured his hand, emboldened enough by his permissive body language, and pulled him into the center of the club.
“I don’t think you’ll be disappointed, habibti.”
Heat in his eyes, a croon in his voice. Strong hands slid lightly around her hips and he pulled her close – not too close, not taking liberties. A gentleman. She smiled, delighted. So many men just ignored the dance of consent, thinking a peek through the peephole meant the whole house was open, walk right in.
“I hope not, or I’ll have to complain to management. And I’m pretty sure the owner likes me.”
His brows shot up. The beat of the dance changed, something a bit slower but with enough of a punch she could move her hips.
“Should I be jealous of my own sister?”
“Nah. I only roll for poles.”
He laughed. “Good. In a fight with Asiane, I’m certain who would win.”
“You, of course.”
He grinned at her dry tone. “Not at all. And not just because I can’t bear to strike a female.”
She moved in, just a bit, closing a small gap between their bodies. “So what’s your name? Or should I make one up?”
“Daamin will do.”
“Well, nice to meet you Daamin will do. I’m Rebekah.”
“A lovely name – a bit common.”
“Are you calling me common?”
“No – I just meant so many human females – ah… I think I’m going to rephrase my comment. The language difference, you know.” And suddenly his accent was thick enough to be a winter blanket, while he blinked, eyes innocent.
She smiled. “Yeah.”
Daamin took her hand, lifted it to his mouth and pressed a kiss on the back. The touch of his lips and gentle puff of warm breath shivered across her skin. Her torso tightened briefly. Damn. If he could do that just with a kiss on her hand… it had been – well, had she ever experienced this kind of chemistry? She couldn’t recall.
“How are my paces?” He pulled her against him, executed a flawless turn and dip – completely inappropriate for the club and music playing, but laughter gurgled in her throat.
“Show off.”
“For a beautiful female? Absolutely.”
She glanced over his shoulder and saw Asiane leaning against the counter, grinning. The sister gave her a thumbs up.
“I’m not beautiful.”
“Who told you that lie? Not your father, surely.”
Rebekah’s lips pursed. “Actually, he says I’m beautiful because I look like my mother – which is a bald-faced lie since we aren’t biologically related.”
“If he loves her, then it is not a lie.”
“He adores her. They’ve been mated for ten years now.”
“Mated?” He studied her face. “You’re human.”
He danced them towards the edge of the crowd. Rebekah noticed but said nothing. “Mom, too. But Dad is a Bear.”
She shut her mouth on the fact that Dad was also an Alpha – she’d made the mistake a few times in her dating life. Shifter males tended to be wary of the daughter of an Alpha – the potential drama involved if Papa thought his little girl was being taken advantage of.
“Ah. I wondered if you knew what I was.”
“An incredibly sexy man with a killer accent and bedroom eyes?”
They were outside the ring of lighting, partly nestled in a hall she knew should be off limits to anyone but staff. He pressed her back against a wall, gently, not disallowing escape should she so choose – but letting her know he was very interested in getting to know her better. Especially as his hips brushed against hers. A subtle tease, or a mistake? Looking into his eyes, she knew it was no mistake. He was in perfect control of his body.
His head lowered, mouth brushing her ear. “Tell me more about my eyes.”
She inhaled as his head turned, mouth hovering over hers. Rebekah licked her bottom lip, throat suddenly dry. “Isn’t that my line?”
“Whose line is it anyway?”
He muffled her startled laugh at the corny joke with a kiss, lips pressing against hers even as his body pressed her against the wall, arms on either side of her head.
Smooth lips, breath scented with whiskey and mint tea, his touch a gentle demand for her response. She opened her mouth to him, tilting her head to give him better access. Her body began to pulse, heart beating quicker.
Rebekah’s hands crept up to his shoulders
, and he flexed under her touch. Her favorite part of a man – besides the obvious part – was his shoulders. Daamin’s were well shaped, not too broad, but clearly sculpted with hard muscle, the kind from labor and genetics rather than an obnoxious number of hours at a gym. He deepened the kiss as her hands slid around his arms to wrap around his wrists. Imprisoning him as he imprisoned her.
He pulled away, voice husky. “More?”
She wasn’t sure if his idea of more and hers were the same thing. “Yes, more. As much as you want.”
His eyes captured hers. “Then be mine for the night.”
“Show me.”
Daamin pulled her down the hall, opening a door and stepping aside so she could enter a dark room. The sound of a click and the noise from the club was muffled. A light came on, bright at first and then dimmed to around twenty percent. A desk in the room, and a deep leather couch along one wall. Tall potted plants in the corner and a flat screen television on one wall. Probably to monitor security footage.
Rebekah turned. Daamin leaned against the door, arms folded, watching her. “The door isn’t locked,” he said. “You can leave any time you want. No matter how… deep my wants go.”
It was just a one-night stand, an encounter between two strangers agreeing to share pleasure for an evening, provide solace without risk. But for a moment she wished it was more. How often did a girl meet a male who didn’t think chivalry was dead?
“Okay,” she said.
He approached, a new liquidity to his movements, a growing burn in his eyes as a smile played around his mouth. He was unleashing the Bear, just a little. Just enough. Rebekah inhaled, taking an involuntary step back.
“You can run if you want,” he said. “I’d enjoy that.”
“I’m sure you would.” She arched a brow. “So you’re the rough and tumble type.”
He closed the space between them, chest brushing against hers as he lifted a lock of her hair, let the strands slide through his fingers.
“Maybe. If you want me to be. What am I allowed to do to you?”
Oh, shit. “That question has connotations. Do I need a safe word?”
He considered her, then shook his head. “No. Even willingly, I wouldn’t go that far with a female I’ve only just met. We haven’t had enough time to trust each other in that way. So… no rough and tumble. But sit on the couch for me. Spread your legs.”
Rebekah backed up, dropping onto the couch when it bumped the back of her knees. He crouched, sliding her flats off her feet, running his hands up her inner thighs until he reached the waistband of her pants.
“I think you’d be more comfortable without all this cloth on,” he said, a deep dark croon, and pulled the leggings from her body, leaving only her scrap of beige lace panties.
She swung her legs up on the couch and he adjusted, coming up over her. Rebekah wrapped her arms around his neck, opening her thighs to cradle him. When he kissed her again, in addition to the mint and alcohol she tasted hints of a cinnamon mint he must have snuck while she wasn’t looking. Rebekah grinned against his lips. How cute. He hadn’t wanted stinky breath.
Fangs nipped at her bottom lips, hands roving over her torso, underneath the drapy knit blouse she wore. He pushed it up to her chin, exposing her breasts, and unclasped the front of her bra. Her breasts spilled free, not too large, not too small. She hissed when his mouth covered one nipple. Evidently, they were sized just right.
“More?” he asked.
She nodded. “Oh, yeah.”
“Then ask me nicely.” Dark eyes stared at her. “Say, ‘Daamin, I want more.’”
“Oh, really.”
Clever fingers pinched her nipple. Rebekah gasped, the exquisite pain sending a burst of pleasure to her clit. A rapidly swelling clit.
“Daamin, I want more.”
“Good.”
The Bear’s hand slid down her body, delving inside her panties, catching on her curls until his fingers were inside her. Deep inside, no preliminaries. She didn’t know how he seemed to understand what she wanted. She wasn’t a girl who liked long, dragging minutes of foreplay. When she was horny, she just… wanted. And right away. No preliminaries.
Rebekah moaned as he finger fucked her, opening her legs as wide as the couch and position would allow. Her hands found the buttons of his dress shirt and were soon inside the cloth. Tight muscles flexed under her hands as she ran her fingers all over smooth, heated skin. Down, following the trail of hair on his chest and to the belt of his pants. Her breath caught as he intensified his pace, free hand playing with her breast. When she wrapped her fingers around a hot, pulsing shaft he growled, head thrown back.
She wanted more. “How far are we going to go?”
It was a plea. It was a demand.
Chapter Four
It wasn’t meant to be.
Daamin stiffened, head whipping in the direction of the club and was on his feet in a second. Rebekah hadn’t spent ten years with shifters for nothing. She scrambled to her feet, banishing sensual lethargy and swiping her pants off the floor.
“Stay here,” he rasped, and was out the door.
She cursed at him, knowing he would hear but probably not care, pulling on her pants and slipping into her shoes before darting after him. Her human ears registered the commotion a few seconds later. Feminine growls and shattering glass. The irritated buzz of a disturbed crowd… bar fight.
Hell, yeah.
She didn’t just dive in blindly. She’d been in her share of fights at Tamar’s place, had even helped break up a few when she’d bounced nights to help make her way through college. Al had taught her how to defend herself just fine.
Black-clad staff struggled with a male as Asiane hopped up on her counter and streaked across the surface on light feet, a metal bat in her hand. She used her momentum on the last step to leap over the crowd, flying with unusual grace and power even for a Bear.
Rebekah’s eyes widened and she sidled along a wall, keeping her back protected. When she was close to the bar, she dove into the crowd, looking for the knot of troublemakers. Security had two, and a third dropped to the ground in the tangle of struggling bodies and crawled away, pushing up to his feet. Rebekah grinned, waiting until the man passed her and stuck out a foot. He went sprawling and Rebekah moved, tackling him and twisting his arms into a hold. He yowled, feet banging the ground.
“Shut up,” she said. “It only hurts a little.”
“I told you to stay put,” Daamin snarled in her ear. “Give me his arm.”
She transferred the hold to the Bear. She herself had no legal standing to detain an individual.
“Asiane chased someone out of the club,” Rebekah said. “You need to go after her.”
Hard eyes glanced at her, then away before a staff member took the human from Daamin and proceeded to drag him to the back. She watched for a second. Only reason to keep the person in the club was if they had contacted police and wanted to get to the bottom of who had started a fight or why. Most times Al just preferred tossing troublemakers out on their ass and making sure they didn’t darken his doors for at least two weeks. But then, they were a smallish community. And Rebekah had rarely handled Bears on her own, mostly humans.
“I’ll get out of your hair,” she said. “Looks like you’re gonna have a long night ahead. Nice meeting you.”
Rebekah started to walk away when a hand on her arm pulled her to a halt.
“Stay here,” Daamin said, dark eyes flaring. “I need to get Asiane. Stay here.”
She didn’t quite like what she saw in his face – the beginning of male shifter possessiveness, probably unnaturally heightened by the combined stress of sexual frustration and aggression from the fight. If it had been another time, and she was free… she might have pursued something. But she wasn’t free to follow her own desires anymore. After tonight, she wasn’t free ever again.
So she said what she needed to say to get him out the door to help Asiane. “Sure, go ahead.”
It was a testament to his rattled frame of mind – or maybe because he didn’t know her – that Daamin nodded and left. Not realizing she hadn’t promised diddly squat. Shifters didn’t have magical noses for lies like the movies said, but they were a tad more observant than humans when it came to body language and tone of voice. She was always careful not to outright lie, especially since she’d had to play with words a few times in her life – completely non-maliciously, of course – to arrange events to suit her goals.
Rebekah waited a few minutes before strolling out. It was deep night and the chill bit into her skin, her boots crunching on a thin coating of snow on pavement. They’d have a white Solstice, the weather reports said. The city had decorated tall street lamps with holiday banners and strings of winking lights. She’d left her jacket in the car because she enjoyed the rush of icy air, and the pleasure once the heat on her beater vehicle finally activated, warming her bones. Knowing shifter males, Daamin would be pissed to learn she’d ignored his instruction again. But she’d never see him after tonight, so it hardly mattered.
Rebekah slid into her car and started up the engine, staring sightlessly through the windshield as the heater slowly warmed. Allowed herself to wallow in an unexpected pang of sorrow for a few minutes, and then buried what if’s in a deep part of her mind.
* * *
Daamin ran after Asiane, filling his nostrils with air to catch her scent. Damn her, she wasn’t supposed to run after an enemy on her own. Especially since they had suspicions all the recent disturbances in and around the club were skirmishes – a hidden enemy testing their defenses. Maybe testing Asiane. Daamin saw his own grim fears reflected in Asiane’s eyes whenever she thought he wasn’t watching. They’d been in this country for three years without incident. Three watchful years while they used their smuggled wealth to rebuild a life with new identities. He’d been thorough, even paranoid – no one had ever fled a Daihariin Alpha and lived. They were possessive, cruel. Some more than others, but they always held what they considered theirs and killed anyone who defied them.
Asiane’s scent strengthened along with an unfamiliar, acrid tang. Not quite fear, but definitely adrenaline. And not quite human.