He moved past the woman at the door, despite her protests. Weston walked closer to the groups of people. If anyone was touching the woman he was smelling, he’d rip their fucking heads off. She was his.
Mine?
He paused, realizing he was sweating. Someone was touching him, but why? He looked at his forearm and found Bane’s hand there, grabbing him. Bane locked gazes with him.
“Weston, we should go, something isn’t right with you,” he said in a voice that sounded as if he was working hard at keeping calm.
Shaking his head, Weston stood his ground. He’d fight Bane to stay if it came down to it. It would be a hell of a match-up, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t leaving. Not without the woman. “No.”
Bane’s brows met, but he said nothing more as he released Weston’s arm. He stepped back. “Do what you must. I’ve got your back.”
That was all Weston needed to hear. He pushed into the club deeper. Vaguely, he heard a bit of a commotion behind him, but he didn’t turn to see what it was. He kept going into the club more, drawn to the hallway on the far side of the room. The moment he stepped into it, he froze. There was a woman with a shaved head there smelling of vampire, and another woman with her, smelling of the same. It was faint but there. Maybe newly turned. His hard-on began to die as if someone had thrown cold water on him.
Had he been attracted to hardcore vamps?
He was about to turn to walk away when the smell of berries and cream hit him again, nearly knocking him back. Growling, he rushed forward and the vampires turned, their eyes wide. “Where is she?”
“Who?” they asked in unison, attempting to sport innocent looks and failing miserably.
Sniffing the air, he felt his beast begin to win and knew without needing a mirror that his eyes had shifted colors to a deep dark brown, bordering on black. His nostrils flared as the burning need to find and lay claim to the owner of the scent continued to assault him without mercy. He shook, his claws itching to emerge from his fingertips. He would tear the vampires limb from limb if they didn’t give him who he wanted.
The shaved-head one smirked and then licked her lips. The vampires shared a glance and smiled wide as if they were up to no good. “Alpha male shifter, hmm?”
“Yes,” he managed, but only barely. Fur appeared on his forearms and his clothing felt tight. Too tight.
“Weston,” said Bane. “Control it, man, or you will lose it in here.”
The vampire with the shaved head continued to smile as she crooked her finger, drawing him closer. “We have the perfect special going on right now. The virgin prize package. I bet that is what you want, you big, strong, alpha male.”
He paid her little mind, his head full of the scent of the object of his obsession. “Where is she?”
She tapped the door near them both. “Right through here, but be warned, she’ll play the part perfectly. Be sure you play yours. Take her hard, rough and dirty.”
Bane grabbed him roughly. “This is unwise.”
He shook free of his friend and glared at him.
Bane sighed. “Don’t make me knock you out and drag you out of a whorehouse.”
“I’m good,” said Weston through teeth that were bordering on shifting form.
Bane lifted a dark brow. “Really?”
The vampires converged on Bane, petting him and smiling, pulling him from Weston and the doorway. The one with the shaved head motioned to Weston. “Go. Enjoy.”
He opened the door, unable to wait any longer. Once inside the dimly lit room he was hit full-on with the smell he desired. He staggered and had to regain his footing, his breathing harsh, his mind racing. He looked over near the bed and found a young woman there, her dark eyes wide with fear as she pressed her back to the wall, looking as though she hoped she could blend in with the wallpaper. She was small in stature, maybe five-five at most, which was tiny in comparison to himself.
Really fucking tiny.
Her large brown eyes were wide with fear and set in a perfect heart-shaped face. Full lips pulled into a gasp and she touched the back of her hand to her mouth. She wasn’t dressed like the rest of the women in the club—in barely anything. This woman wore a small white t-shirt that pulled against her ample breasts before accenting her waist. The old jean skirt she had on was frayed at the bottom as if made from an actual pair of jeans. Weston couldn’t remember a time in his life when he’d found such a simple choice of attire so damn hot. Long waves of curly brown hair fell over the woman’s shoulders, nearly touching her waist. He could hear his heart hammering as he stared at her, his bear riding his thoughts and actions, making hit hard for him to concentrate.
He knew this woman. How did he know her?
The beast continued to push at him, demanding he give in to his baser needs. Demanding he take the prize before him, to hell with finding his mate on this night. All he could think about was the woman with him now.
Chapter Five
Paisley couldn’t take her eyes off the man who had entered the room. He was huge. Well over six and half feet. There didn’t look to be any part of him that wasn’t solid muscle. The two wenches who had tossed her into the room hadn’t mentioned the boss coming would be hot. Maybe the hottest guy she’d ever laid eyes on. He leaked power and authority all over the room. She should have been terrified of him. Of what he was about to do to her, but she wasn’t.
Whatever she carried in her, whatever had been forcing her to fill up on sexual energy but never permitted her to take it any further, seemed to click into high gear—making her crave the man before her as much as she did.
Maybe more.
With a gasp she moved away from the safety of the wall and the other corner of the room, wanting closer to the man. There was something feral about him. Like he wanted to ravish her and pound into her until she lost consciousness. The idea sounded just fine by her.
Wait—what was she thinking? Run. Get away. Shout.
Her body did none of the above. She found herself licking her lips, her gaze raking over him slowly. “H-How big are you?”
He cocked his head to one side, his nearly black gaze snapping to her face. “Bigger than you can probably handle.”
“We’ll see,” she returned, shocking herself even more. What was wrong with her? Why did she suddenly sound like Gale whenever Gale was servicing men? Every warning her friend had ever given her crashed into her at once.
Be careful if you feel like you can’t stop. You could kill someone. Make sure the man can handle it. Make sure he can handle what you are.
As she looked over the man in the room—the boss—she knew without a shadow of a doubt he could handle her. He could more than handle her. Paisley stepped out into the room further, lifting her head, her chin tipped upwards as false confidence seemed to emanate from her. “Are we doing this?”
The man touched the front of his jeans, his long, hard erection outlined there for her to see. “Oh, we’re most certainly doing this.”
She had to hide her smile. She wasn’t the type who just threw herself at a man. Why in the world was she doing it now? Why with this one? He was a jerk who was the boss of that bitch vampire and her friend. More than that, he probably had something to do with Gale’s disappearance. Her rational mind screamed at her to leap on this man, claw his eyes out and demand answers. That wasn’t what happened at all. Her mind seemed to have a thought process all its own. One she found herself more and more willing to go along with as the man yanked his t-shirt over his head and cast it aside.
He stood there, watching her from unnaturally dark eyes, his upper body bare. Every rippling muscle there for her to see, taunting her as if saying “come touch me, come feel how hard I am.” Her mouth watered as she covered the distance between them, each step she took confirming what was going to happen. She was going to have sex with him, and odds were she was going to love every second of it.
Simply being in the room with him was a rush of sexual energy unlike any she’d ever experienced b
efore. It made her feel alive, refreshed, and it left her craving more. It would be easy to become addicted to him, to what he seemed to radiate—pure masculinity and raw need.
His wavy, dark brown hair hung just past his shoulders, adding to his sex appeal. A decent dusting of facial hair covered his strong jawline and she found herself reaching up, wanting to make contact with his face.
He bent his head, his breathing rapid. It was then she noticed his hands were out to his sides as if he was fighting the need to make contact with her. Fighting the same pull she felt to him.
“Can I touch you?” she asked, feeling more like her old self and less like a wanton, sex-crazed junkie.
“Hell yeah,” he said, sounding labored. “Touch me all over, baby.”
“Paisley,” she told him, blurting out her name without thinking anything of it. Deep down she knew she should ask about her friend. Find out what this man might know, but that wasn’t what came out of her mouth. “Or my name could be whatever you want it to be.”
His lips quirked, and darn it if he didn’t get even sexier. “Your name is Paisley?”
She nodded.
“Real name or club name?” he asked, easing closer to her, taking her hand in his and bringing it to his cheek. He then traced her hand down his neck to his upper chest. His skin was blazing hot to the touch. As she soaked in the sight of him there, his darkened eyes, his rapid breathing, his hot skin, she bit her lower lip.
“Shifter?” she asked, unsure what made her lean the way of guessing shifter rather than another type of supernatural.
He nodded. “Bear.”
“You’re a bear-shifter?” she asked, surprised. She’d never met or even heard of one of them.
“Answer my question first, baby,” he said, trailing her hand lower on his torso. “Is that your real name?”
“It is,” she said, gasping as her fingers skimmed over the start of a line of hair that ran from his bellybutton down into the top of his jeans. “Now answer mine.”
“Yes. I’m a bear-shifter. Is that going to be an issue?” he asked, his hands making their way to her hair. He lifted it and brought long strands of it to his face, inhaling deeply. His eyes rolled slightly and he snarled lightly. “Berries and cream.”
“What?” she asked, focused more on his abs than his words. His torso had scars on it. They were faint but there all the same. Several tattoos covered parts of him, only adding to his hot factor. She grinned as she noticed one of the tattoos was a tribal bear. She wanted to lean forward and lick him. When she thought harder about where she was and who she was with, she did just that. She licked a line near one of his longer scars.
The man sucked in a big breath and then surprised her by lifting her off her feet, making her yelp. They were suddenly eye-to-eye. His full lips were so close that Paisley did what any self-respecting girl who required sexual energy would do in the situation.
She kissed him.
His mouth opened and before she knew it, he was in control of the kiss. His tongue darted into her mouth and she moaned, hers greeting his. Fire erupted deep within her and she thought she might burn alive if he didn’t hurry up and get things moving faster and soon.
She ran her hands over his shoulders, their kiss growing faster and more heated. She bit at his lower lip as her legs wrapped around his waist, their bodies pressed tightly together. He smelled like a man should. Like the wild—the forest, the earth, the air.
Everything about him excited her, demanding she draw all she could from him. He appeared willing to give in to her needs. Very willing.
Paisley stopped caressing him long enough to pull her shirt over her head. Her hair got tangled up in it for a moment, but she managed to free herself, her bra-covered breasts rubbing in the man’s face as she did. Her nipples hardened and he growled, catching one in his mouth and biting lightly through the lace, turning her on more.
She feared for a split second that she might actually go up in flames if he kept going, kept turning her on more and more. She caught the sides of his face. “Have a name or do I call you boss?”
He waggled his brows. “Boss works.”
Something loud hit the door and Paisley jerked in the man’s arms, grabbing hold of him, deep down knowing he represented safety, despite being the leader of the mean girls. He moved his hands around her, holding her up by her backside.
“What was that?” she asked, her gaze going toward the door.
He toyed with her nipple through her bra once more. “I don’t fucking care if the world is ending. I just want this. You. Here and now.”
Her attention returned to him and she met his gaze, her chest tightening, her body aching for more of him. The need reflected in his gaze moved her. She unfastened her bra in front, allowing her breasts to be free, there for the taking. And did he ever take. He used one hand to hold her up and the other to cup a breast as he kissed it, sucking on her nipple. Each swipe of his mouth left her pussy contracting as if it knew what was coming next. She wasn’t even sure what was going to happen next, but her body was.
She closed her eyes a second, enjoying the rush of sexual energy moving through her. She’d never felt so alive. So free. So wild. She loved every moment of it.
He walked her in the direction of the wall and then pressed her against it, using his body to pin hers in place. He reached down and edged her skirt up more, his fingers skimming over her panties. She tensed as he eased the material aside, his finger finding its way to her slit.
He kissed her mouth as he touched her wet, hot entrance. She tried to move her hips more, to force herself onto his finger but he was too powerful and had full control over their movements. He froze, his tongue wrapped around hers.
He stopped the kiss but kept his face where it was, his finger at her entrance, his body pressed against hers. “You’re a virgin?”
“Yes,” she said, trying again to wiggle onto his finger with no luck.
“A real virgin?” he asked, his voice raising somewhat.
She paused. “What other kind is there?”
He remained in place. “Shit. I thought when they said you were the virgin prize package they just meant you were some girl pretending to be one and playing the part. Pretending to be one and actually being one are two different things.”
She pushed at his chest, wanting more than he was giving. “Boss guy, fuck me. Now.”
His entire body tensed and then he took his finger from her entrance, leaving her in a state of wanting. “Not like this.”
“Oh, this is perfect. Do it!” she demanded, tugging on him this time. He was a lot like trying to move semi-truck using nothing but a pinkie finger. It wasn’t happening.
“Paisley, I want to. Trust me, I do, but I have to live with myself come morning,” he said, drawing his face back from her slightly. It was then she noticed his eyes were no longer dark. They were a royal blue that seemed to suit him even better.
She tipped her head, her fingers going to just under his eye. “Your eyes are blue now.”
He nodded and then his gaze narrowed. He lifted a lock of her hair and smelled it again. Before she knew it, he had her set gently on her feet and was turning her away from him. She’d seen enough people having sex in the club to know all the positions. If he wanted it this way, fine. Just so long as he finished what he started. When he did nothing more, she looked over her shoulder at him.
“Boss?” she questioned, noticing then his eyes were wide and a sheen of sweat was now covering his brow.
“Oh shit,” he said softly.
“What is it?”
“The scent, the hair, the profile from behind,” he said, his voice steady even as additional sweat beaded on him, this time his chest. “It’s you.”
“What?” she asked, no longer following. “Boss, you’re not making a lot of sense.”
He ran a hand over his face. “I ran to a whorehouse in hopes of heading off my behavior before I met my mate, and instead I walk right into her and nearly los
e control anyway.”
“Okay, you’ve totally lost me now.” She turned to face him.
He paused and then his expression narrowed more. “Wait a minute. Why the hell are you here in a whorehouse?”
She stiffened, disliking what he was implying. It wasn’t as if he was above reproach in the situation. His halo wasn’t sparkly or shiny by any stretch of the imagination. “You’re here, why can’t I be here?”
“Were you just waiting here in this den of debauchery for any old guy to show up and punch your V-card?” he demanded, moving toward her, his chest heaving.
“Den of debauchery? Are you for real?” She took a step back and put up her hands. “My V-card? Boss guy, are you on drugs?”
He waved a hand in the air for a moment looking as though he were swatting flies. “Virgin dance card. It’s what the kids today are calling it.”
She couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled free from her. She covered her mouth and kept laughing. “Virgin dance card? Seriously? I think you were misinformed.”
“This is funny?” He crossed his arms over his massive chest. “Explain why you are here.”
Huffing, she put her hands on her hips. “You run the place. Explain that.”
“I what?” he asked, appearing confused. “I don’t run the place.”
“They said the boss was coming in and he’d take my virginity,” she said, referring to the vampire bitch and her friend. “I thought you’d be a hideous beast of a man. Now I realize you’re just a jerk.”
He blinked, a show of surprise on his face. “Oh, I’m a beast all right, baby. I’ll show you just how much of one I can be later. Now, get your stuff together. We’re leaving.”
She held firm. “I’m not going anywhere with you, Boss.”
He leveled his gaze on her and she had a feeling he’d just toss her over his shoulder if need be. It wouldn’t be hard for him. He was huge and powerful. “You most certainly are and the name is Weston, baby. Learn it, because you’re stuck with it and me.”
Damage Report Page 5