by Mina Carter
Time slowed. Her blink felt like an eternity as she watched the unconscious man sail through the air. Her muscles bunched as she tried to dive to the side, her heart punching adrenalin through her system, but she knew she was too late.
A short cry left her lips, cut off as the man crashed into her and they both went down in a tangle of limbs. Pain flared all over her body as her breath was knocked from her in a hard rush. Her head hit the floor hard and blackness rushed up, but she fought it back. No way was she passing out, not at a time like this.
Now she just had to convince her body of that.
*
“NO!”
Zane bellowed as he flung the last asshole and realised a second too late that the girl was right in the way. Instinct kicked in and he dove across the short space, using the heavy claws of his half form to dig into the wooden floor and propel him along faster. Dropping to his knees, he slid the last couple of feet and ripped the guy off her, flinging him to the side.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck!” His voice emerged as a growly rasp, his vocal chords not entirely human in this form. He leaned over her, trying to check that she was breathing. “Don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead. Eloise will so kill me if you’re dead.”
His heart stuttered with relief as her lids opened and she looked at him with clear, deep brown eyes.
“Oh, thank God for tha—Owww! What the fuck?”
Pain exploded over the side of his head, just below one pointed ear, as she clobbered him with the chair leg still firmly gripped in one hand.
“Come into my bar, would you?”
She didn’t give up with just one hit, dinging him around the ear again and again as she scrambled to her feet, shouting all the way.
“Start ripping up my floors, break mirrors by throwing people at them? Throwing people at people? How about me? Huh? I suppose you wanna throw me at something as well?”
Zane backed up, trying to shield his head and abused ear from the mad-woman. In all his years he’d never had a human actually attack him. Most either passed out, or ran off screaming. They didn’t follow him as he tried to escape, hitting him with the damn furniture.
A snarl of frustration escaped his lips as she lifted the wooden club again. As she brought it down, he moved, grabbing it and her wrist in one massive paw.
“Stop it,” he snarled, muzzle inches from her face.
She stopped, her eyes rolling from his grasp on her wrist, fingers topped with lethal, razor sharp claws, to the equally razor sharp teeth revealed by his curled back lips. The blood drained from her face and fear poured off her skin as she obviously realised the dangerous situation she’d gotten herself in. There were no reports of humans attacking wolves for one very good reason. Those that tried didn’t tend to survive.
Her legs started to shake, her eyes lost focus. Zane swore again.
“Oh no, don’t you—”
His words were too late. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she sagged, hanging like a broken marionette from his grip on her wrist.
“—pass out on me.”
He gathered her into his arms as gently as he could, tramping through the ruined bar into the corridor, ducking his head automatically as he did so. His half-form was nearly seven foot of lean, mean fury killing machine. He’d learnt to duck early. It was that or a permanent migraine from clouting himself across the head.
There was an office around here. He’d seen it as he charged through to rescue her. He grumbled deep in his throat as he was forced to squeeze through a narrow door to find himself in a room no bigger than a damn coffin. If that beating was the thanks he got for rescuing a woman, he was done being a knight in shining armour. She could rescue her damn self in future. Ungrateful cow.
Resisting the urge to just dump her on the little sofa in the corner of the room, he laid her down as gently as he could and stood back. She had a cut lip, but he didn’t think she’d banged her head. Just passed out when she realised she was in a world of crap. He didn’t blame her. If he’d just clobbered a werewolf around the head multiple times, he’d pass out as well. Or run like fuck. Yeah, running like fuck seemed like a way better option.
She should come around soon, he reassured himself, hunkering down on powerful hind legs to lay a big hand over her chest. She was breathing…just looked like she was asleep, her lashes fluttering against pale cheeks. And just like that he was caught, unable to look away.
She was beautiful. Tiny, really tiny, and packed with luscious curves he wanted to explore with his hands and lips. Dark hair curled riotously around her face and flowed down her back, strands escaping to frame delicate features that had sparked with intelligence and stubbornness when she was awake. Large dark eyes over a button nose, with a full, plump pair of lips underneath. Lips that even now called to the man in him, begged to be kissed…plundered…ravished.
He leaned forward to do just that before he remembered he was still in his half form and not able to kiss her. But before he got there her eyes snapped open and fixed on him. She gasped, lifting her arm… Fucking hell, she still had the damn chair leg. Zane scuttled back, lifting his arm to ward off the blow he knew was coming when the strangest thing happened.
His wolf receded. He yelped as bones popped and cracked, muscles twisted and skin swallowed fur. The creature gave up its claim on his flesh and bones, disappearing back within faster and easier than it had ever done before.
Leaving him stark-bollock naked in the middle of the floor.
Great. Just fucking great.
“Who the hell are you?” she demanded, jumping off the couch in a heartbeat and backing up. The chair leg was still raised as Zane stared at her in dumb shock.
“How did you do that?”
She’d called his wolf, sending the creature packing right out from under him. Something she shouldn’t be able to do. Something no one should be able to do…he was a damn alpha. No-one should be able to do that to him.
Chapter Three
The end of the chair leg wavered as Ashlee frowned. “Do what?”
There was a naked man in the middle of her office. Correction, there was a werewolf in the middle of her office, one currently wearing his human form. Without any clothes on, it amounted to pretty much the same thing.
She lowered the chair leg since he didn’t appear to be in imminent danger of attacking her again. Not that he’d actually attacked her in the first place. Just thrown a pixie and she’d gotten in the way. Then she’d hit him with her chair leg.
Ignoring his general level of nakedness, she studied his face and gasped at the blood trickling from a cut on the side of his head.
“Oh my God, did I do that?”
Dropping the make-shift club, she rushed to his side and grabbed his chin to tilt his head up. The cut was messy, but to her relief not too deep.
“Errmmm, yeah, I guess.”
His voice was a deep rumble that reached all the way down to her toes. She ignored it as she turned his head this way and that to get a better look at the wound. Damn, she shouldn’t have hit him so hard.
“It should have healed when I shifted.” He lifted a hand to touch his head then looked at his blood-covered fingers in confusion. “It usually does.”
“Don’t touch it!” she ordered, slapping his hand away when he went to probe the wound again. “God knows what germs you have on your fingers. Sit on the couch, and for heaven’s sake, cover yourself up.”
Bustling away, she ignored the sleek, smooth skin and heavy muscles in favour of heading out into the kitchen to find the first aid kit. The room was darkened, just the dim night lights on. Shivering at the chill gust of wind from the open back door, she hurried to close it and on the way back almost tripped over a pile of clothes in the middle of the floor. They had to be his.
Gathering them up, she grabbed the first aid kit from the wall beside the door and headed back into the office. He was seated on the couch now, using a cushion to conceal his modesty, so she risked a quick glance over him as s
he set the first aid kit down.
God, the guy was sex on a stick. Tall and broad-shouldered with defined and heavily toned muscles she wanted to stroke, tracing their lines and patterns with her fingertips and tongue. Then she got to his face and her heart stuttered.
Shoulder-length sandy hair flowed over his shoulders, framing a face that could have belonged to an angel. With cut cheekbones, a straight nose and hard jaw, he had deep, aquamarine eyes that sparked with intelligence as he watched her rifle in the medical case and hold up an…eye patch.
One eyebrow arched and she swore, dropping the patch like she’d been burnt, and grabbed a pair of gloves. Last thing she needed was a Lycan infection. Turning furry once a month would really put a crimp in her plans and that was before they took her food hygiene certificates off her for being infected. Not happening.
“Hold still, let me clean this. Then you can get dressed. I found your clothes in the kitchen. Then you can tell me what the hell you were doing in my bar.”
“What, other than saving your ass you mean?” He snorted then winced as she scrubbed at the cut on the side of his head. She had to lean forward to do so and his scent rolled around her, driving deep into her lungs with each breath and sending a shiver through her blood. “Hey! A little more care please. You’re not scrubbing a floor, you know?”
She shot him a look, reminded of the deep gouges he’d left with his claws in her floor, but gentled her movements. Her voice was softer when she replied.
“Thank you. If you hadn’t turned up when you did, they’d have done far more damage. I didn’t expect Roth to push the point quite so quickly, or I’d have arranged for cover tonight.”
She dropped the used medical wipes into a sealable baggie, then stripped off her medical gloves and dropped them in afterward.
“There. All done. And it’s stopped bleeding already. You guys heal quickly.”
He smiled up at her and she stopped breathing for a second. The expression took him from merely good looking right through to devastating. The sort of smile that would charm the panties right off any red-blooded woman caught in his sights.
“Thank you. It…feels good. I’m Zane, by the way.”
“Ashlee.”
And just like that, the mood between them changed. The low level charge and awareness that had been simmering under the surface rose, coming to the boil as he held her gaze.
“You commanded my wolf, Ashlee. How did you do that? You smell human.”
Before she registered him moving, his hand was in her hair, fingers driving through her curls to massage the nape of her next. Her eyes widened as he pulled her toward him slowly, the strength in his hand and arm restrained but obvious. He could break her in half without breaking a sweat, but his touch was so gentle, soft, and the expression on his face open. He wouldn’t hurt her. She knew that without asking, the knowledge rising up from the depths of her soul.
Even in his wolf form he hadn’t hurt her, despite the fact she’d hit him around the head with a bit of wood. What about the ravening beasts in her father’s tales? Stories of men with hair-trigger tempers who turned at the drop of a hat into murderous wolves capable of killing anyone and anything—men, women or children—to satisfy their blood lust.
Tension rose between them, matching the heat humming through her veins. She took a shuddering breath and bit back her moan. He smelled so good. No fancy cologne for him. Just the scent of soap and clean man.
His thighs parted to let her slide and kneel between them, her smaller body protected by his all around her. She squeaked, a soft exhalation as he pulled her off balance, her hands out to catch herself against his chest. A chest that was a solid expanse of muscle covered in smooth satin skin.
“Human, yes…” Her mouth moved but she didn’t have any control of the words that fell from her lips. His nearness, the solid strength and promise of his body wrapped around her, was playing havoc with her senses. Her ability to think, to frame a coherent sentence, disappeared completely as he tilted her head up and looked down into her face.
“You smell too good to be human,” he whispered, his deep voice torn with longing. Duty and desire warred in his eyes. “Way too good. Are you sure you’re not part wolf?”
She shook her head as his lips descended toward hers. She shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be here…shouldn’t let him kiss her. But she couldn’t move. Every cell in her body tightened in anticipation. He had to kiss her. She needed to feel his lips on hers.
“You’re gorgeous.”
His mouth crashed down over hers. Claiming and possessing with a heat and determination that she had no defences against. He groaned against her and tilted his head as he sought to deepen the kiss. His tongue slid along the seam between her lips, and she opened automatically. Allowed him entrance to the softest recesses of her mouth. He didn’t waste time.
His tongue sought hers, stroked along and wound around it as he teased her and dominated her by turns with just his mouth. She shivered, excitement racing through her veins in a heavy throb that held her in thrall. Her body tightened, heat tracing a web from the top of her head right down to her toes to hold her captive.
He thrust and withdrew his tongue, chuckling as he teased her, but she couldn’t summon any anger. Not when her breasts ached, heavy and needy, and her pussy clenched, liquid need dampening her panties.
He dragged a sharp breath in and growled. Normally it was a sound she associated with aggression, but not this time. This growl was all about need, heat and sex. Sliding his free hand around her waist, he hauled her up into his lap, the movement dislodging the cushion there.
She whimpered in protest as he pulled away for a second to part her legs either side of his hips. Then he was back, plundering her lips, his hands in her hair to hold her in place for his mouth. Excitement tightened her stomach as she settled down, feeling the hard bar of his cock between her legs, pressed against where she needed him the most.
Frustration rolled through her. He was gloriously naked, and here she was still fully clothed. His hand, large and strong, closed on her breast over her shirt, and she forgot to breath, the sensation almost overwhelming her.
His chuckles were gone as he ground her down over his cock, the rigid hardness pressing against her clit to send sparks of pleasure spiralling through her. He followed it up with a quick tweak to her nipple, the pleasure-pain rolling through her system like wildfire. She gasped against his lips, the sound lost in his mouth as he drew her tongue in and sucked on it.
She needed him, had to have him. There was nothing else for it. Her entire body quaked with the need to feel his skin sliding against hers…to feel that thick cock sliding deep inside her, filling her, stretching her…
The sharp jingle of a cell-phone going off made her jump. Zane cursed and dragged his lips from hers, breathing heavily as he reached for the clothes she’d dumped on the couch next to him.
Dazed, she watched as he dug out the ringing cell, flipped it open and growled. “Holder.”
Now that he wasn’t kissing her, sense returned like a speeding bullet. A chill rolled down her spine, chasing all the feely-good stuff away as she realised she was seated on a naked werewolf’s lap, dry humping him with her shirt half open. God alone knew what would have happened if she’d been wearing a skirt. No, correction, she knew exactly what would have happened. A few more seconds, her panties would have been history and he’d have been balls deep inside her.
Her pussy clenched hard, her cheeks flaming in response. God, what kind of a slut was she? She didn’t do this, not with men she’d just met. And definitely not with men who weren’t even human.
“Reinforcements are on their way to get things cleaned up.”
Snapping the phone shut, he watched her as she did up her blouse with trembling fingers. He didn’t bother to cover himself, his cock standing thick and proud against his stomach as if to proclaim his masculinity.
She looked away, her cheeks burning even more as a whimper tried to
escape, but she locked it down. He wasn’t just big, he was huge. And heaven help her, she wanted some of that cock.
“We still have a little time. Come back here, sweet thing.”
“Nu-uh, no can do.”
She shook her head and redoubled her efforts to do up her shirt, but the last button was turning out to be a total bitch, slipping and sliding under her fingers. She flicked a glance at him, all smugness on the couch.
“You’re a werewolf. I don’t do wolves.”
Chapter Four
She didn’t do wolves.
Three days later Zane could still hear the contempt ringing in Ashlee’s voice as she dropped her coup-de-grâce. Didn’t. Do. Wolves. Fuck that then, he didn’t do snotty humans who couldn’t get over the fact that theirs wasn’t the dominant species on the planet anymore.
But hot damn could the woman kiss.
The growl tumbled from his throat before he could stop it, his breath visible on the cold air as he breathed out. Standing in the small recess that the door of the bar provided against the elements, he took a drag on the cigarette in his hand, his eyes almost crossing as he watched the cherry end light up.
The air that streamed into his lungs was clear. He’d never smoked so it was fake, an electronic cigarette without an insert. Just a prop. One that gave him a reason to be out here and survey the area without being too obvious.
Right not though, he didn’t care about obvious. These pixie bastards had attacked a defenceless woman—he put aside the fact that she’d damn near battered him to insensibility with a chair leg and called his wolf—so they were going to pay. Painfully. And he and his team were going to be the ones to hand their asses to them. On a plate.
His cell jingled in his pocket, the jaunty tune reminding him of the kiss in the office it had interrupted. Fucking thing. Just a few moments more and he’d have had her under him and the cell could have gotten screwed.
Despite Ms. I Don’t Do Wolves assertions, she’d been hot for him when he’d had her in his arms. Her passion ran deep under that pretty little face and human body. It called out to him to mine for it and tap into what he knew was a deep seam, then impale her on his cock and take her to heaven and back.