Lycan Packs 1: Lycan Instinct

by Brandi Broughton

  Mackenzie awoke with a start, her eyes focused and alert, her mind confused.

  She sat up, surrounded by silky sheets on a bed in a darkened room she knew was not her own. Much larger than her own bedroom, more spacious than any hotel room, and completely unfamiliar.

  “It’s not quite dawn, though it will be soon.” Rafe’s rich, seductive tones rumbled through her senses and had her gaze sweeping to the right. He lay beside her in the shadows, with only the upper portion of his tautly muscled body exposed. From the faint moonlight through the expansive windows, she could just make out his captivating features.

  A quick glance down told her he’d left her partially clothed, having removed her outer garments and shoes. Still, her lace underwear left little to the imagination, and judging by his hot, determined gaze, it offered even less protection.

  She took another second to get her bearings. “Let me guess. Your place?”

  “Mmm-hmm. Downtown penthouse suite.” He drew her down into his arms, spooning her body next to his. “Have you any idea how much I’ve longed to see you here in this room, to have you lying beside me as you are now?”

  His words, spoken in a voice gone raw with hunger, made her insides quiver.

  As his long fingers skimmed her bare arm, her pulse tripped. When she felt the release of the clasp on the bra she still wore, her hand moved to hold the material in place. “Have you never been told ‘the better part of valor is discretion’?”

  His nose nuzzled the nape of her neck. His lips nibbled just...there...below the ear. “I love a woman who quotes Shakespeare in the morning.”

  “That was not my point,” she said with a chuckle when his tongue found a ticklish spot. “You’ve no concept of discretion, bringing me here with reporters salivating at your heels and...” She squirmed onto her back, trying unsuccessfully to capture his roaming hands. “I mean, after what happened yesterday, don’t you think we should at least keep a low profile?”

  “‘The lady doth protest too much, me thinks’,” he murmured another quote before ducking beneath the sheets. “How’s this for low profile?” He nipped her side, causing her to yelp and laugh, then settled his body between her legs. His fingers and mouth traced her curves, evoking first giggles and then moans as he slid the last layers of lace away. He devoured her until every inch of her body throbbed, arched, and yearned for more.

  Oh...he had a talent for ‘low profile’, not that she could form a coherent sentence to tell him so.

  Several blissful minutes later, his head resurfaced, framed by tousled midnight hair—his handsome face, graced by an adorable, sexy grin.

  Golden rays of morning sunshine spilled into the room, illuminating a face so precious, so achingly gorgeous, that it made her want to keep him forever, to freeze this moment in time, and never let it go. No one had ever looked at her the way he did now, made her feel so much. All at once.

  She stroked her fingers through his hair and stared into eyes that shone with amusement, desire, and something terrifyingly tender.

  Gazes locked, she pulled him near. Flesh met flesh, unsteady breaths intermingled, lips on the verge of touching. And the words burst from her heart and mouth like a geyser. “God, I love you.”

  Her declaration punched him, an instant and powerful impact. Countless emotions overwhelmed him, and his mind shattered under the onslaught.

  He was weak.

  He was empowered.

  Rafe held her still, hugged her closer, and buried his face in her hair. His lips pressed against the rapid pulse in her throat. He drew in a deep breath, filling his lungs with her unique scent even as her words filled his heart.

  Fighting desperately for a thread of control, he sank into her inch by inch and felt whole. Her body fit him perfectly, damp heat that sizzled and inflamed.

  His need for her turned feral. Levering himself above her, his hips pumped deep, deeper—over and over—until she trembled beneath him with that first razor-sharp release. His mouth drank in her cries of pleasure while his soul demanded more.

  “Again,” he said, his voice husky.

  His teeth scraped gently over her soft skin. Her throat, shoulders, breasts. He loved the taste of her.

  When she reached for him, he captured and pinned her hands above her head. He adored her soft, lean curves, but he couldn’t take her touch just now. If she touched him, what little control that remained would snap.

  Mine was all he could think. Forever mine.

  His breath quickened when he saw her beautiful blue eyes glaze, her lids flutter. “No, don’t.”

  Their eyes met, held, in a poignant bond. Still gripping her wrists with one hand, he lifted her right leg over his shoulder and pressed further than before. Making them one.

  “Take me. All of me.”

  He shifted to long, steady strokes, reveling each time her hips lifted to meet him. He watched her crest again, a violent contraction that nearly sent him over the precipice. Her head tossed from side to side, even as he rocked them both, body and spirit.

  Her whimpers turned to pants and then to groans, followed by puffs of coherent speech. Each sound echoed through his blood and drove the hunger to near insatiable heights. But it wasn’t until she screamed his name that he dragged her shuddering body against him and let himself go.

  When his mind cleared, he rolled off her, legs tangling in the sheets, and gulped in huge breaths of air. Mackenzie lay panting beside him, her arms stretched motionless above her head.

  “I gotta remember,” she said breathlessly, “to say that to you more often.”

  He would have sworn he hadn’t the energy to laugh, but it erupted from him. “Say what?” he asked amid chuckles, as he playfully swatted her thigh.

  She rolled to her side, rested her hand on his chest, a glint of humor sparkling in her crystal blue gaze. “Lord, we won’t survive.”

  He grinned. “I love you, Mackenzie.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “See? It gets easier the more you say it.”

  Pushing herself off the bed and onto her feet, she shook her head, but her eyes were brilliant and her smile broad. “And best said from a distance, I think.” She moved to the nearest door, pulled it open, and sucked in a breath when the light came on automatically.

  “The closet.” He propped himself up on one elbow, enjoying the view of her cute butt.

  “A closet? That’s a house for a family of four,” she quipped, shutting the door. Her disheveled hair flared about her shoulders. Most of the bruises from their night at the warehouse were gone, but the more recent mark on her left breast remained. And the scars on her thigh were still evident, though faded over the passing years.

  “Where’s the bathroom?”

  He pointed to a set of double doors. “Wait.”

  She tossed him a grin as she headed across the room. “You can’t possibly have the energy to go another round,” she said with a touch of amusement and a convincing amount of skepticism.

  Since the very sight of her energized him, he had his doubts about the accuracy of her statement, but he let it go. He had other revelations in mind.

  “Besides, it’s morning.” She cast a meaningful look at the large windows. “You may own a zillion companies, have more worker drones than a queen bee, but even the boss has to go to work sometime.”

  He cut her off at the door and gently grasped her arms. A smile playing at his mouth, he teased, “Trying to get rid of me already?”

  She smirked. “An impossibility. No, but I am in serious need of a revitalizing shower.”

  He grinned, and struggled against a desire to toy with her left nipple and the permanent mark above it. “So am I, but I have something more pressing that must be said.”

  “Can it wait until we at least have clothes on?”

  Deciding she was right, he let it go. For now. He gestured toward the bath and smiled. “Ladies first.”

  An hour later, Mackenzie was refreshed, sated, cleaned, and searching in the house Rafe called a closet fo
r a shirt she could borrow.

  “Who in the world needs this many clothes?” The hanger hooks scraped along the rod as she pushed them aside and grabbed a shirt from the sea of others. “Do you have something against wearing the same thing twice? You couldn’t possibly wear all this in a decade.”

  She heard him laugh from the bedroom.

  Slipping on the white, long-sleeved shirt, she fastened a few buttons, tied it off at her waist, and rolled up the sleeves. She stepped back into the bedroom.

  Rafe sat on the foot of the bed, a wireless phone headset in his ear and PDA in his hand. His plasma screen television aired a news station with a constant stock ticker crawling across the bottom.

  She’d never get accustomed to the many facets of the man. From playful lover to hard-core financier in the blink of an eye.

  “That’s good news, but I want to be absolutely sure. We have a narrow window here. With the unveiling in... No, I don’t intend to cancel it, unless I’m positive of a breach in the software. If my brothers call, forward them to my cell.”

  While he spoke, his eyes scanned the figures on screen and dropped to his PDA, where he scribbled notes or some other shorthand she wouldn’t recognize even if it was in English.

  “The man’s a multitasking machine,” she murmured to no one in particular.

  He glanced at her over his shoulder and smiled. “What? Yes, I’ll meet with them in Boardroom B. Reschedule my 9 o’clock video teleconference with London for tomorrow, and Sylvia, arrange security clearance for Mackenzie Lyons.” He winked when she cocked an eyebrow. “L-Y-O-N-S. No...All floors. Thank you. See you shortly.” He hung up.

  “You didn’t have to do that.” She stuffed her fingers in the back pockets of her denims.

  “I know.” Tossing his PDA and headset beside him on the bed, he tugged on the shirttails knotted at her waist until she stood between his legs. “But you look so sexy wearing my shirt, I couldn’t help myself.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, well, I got tired of searching for a turtleneck.” She tilted her head, exposing her neck. “You didn’t leave any visible marks this time, did you?”

  His lips curved as he feathered fingertips along her throat. “No, not here.”

  The whispered words, uttered in a solemn tone, had her frowning.

  “But I have marked you.” His face appeared somber, earnest.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The mark on your breast remains.”

  She smiled, let his silk tie slide through her fingers. “Oh that. Don’t worry about it. I’m not made of crystal, you know. I can take whatever you dish out, wolfman.”

  He nipped her chin. “That’s good to hear, since I expect no less from my mate.”

  Her heart stopped, lungs seized, and it took a conscious effort to get them working again.

  He lightly touched her lips with his, and the air in her chest came out in a whoosh.

  “I... Did I hear you...?”

  “Speechless, love?”

  “You said, ‘Mate’.”

  His impressive face brightened. “Yes, I know.”

  “God...but...Rafe, you can’t be serious. I’m barely used to the I love you part...and...and I’m not Lycan.”

  “You don’t have to be.”

  “But I thought...” She shook her head. “I’m a cop. Well, not literally right now, but in here I still am.” She tapped her chest. “I haven’t given up on getting my badge back. Mating’s like marriage, right? Do you know what the divorce rate is for cops?”

  He cupped her cheeks, pulled her forward for another brief kiss. “Cop or not, I love you. And the divorce rate for Lycans is zero.”

  “But—”

  He put a finger on her lips. “No buts. This changes nothing. I love you. You love me. You have all the time in the world to get used to the rest. We’ll take things slow.”

  “Slow? God, you broke records convincing me to sleep with you, never mind the love part.”

  He laughed. “Darling, you flatter me.” Standing up, he kissed the back of her hand, laced fingers, then headed for the door. “Hungry?”

  Still off-balance, she blinked at the sudden change in subject. “Uh, yeah.”

  “There’s a fabulous restaurant on the second floor. Order anything you like; I’ve arranged for the bill already. Unfortunately, I’ll have to pass on joining you. I’m expected in the office....” He glanced at his watch and frowned. “Five minutes ago, and I can’t put off the reporters much longer. Sylvia tells me Evalyn Drake’s already called three times this morning. What are your plans for today?”

  “I have to swing by my apartment, return several files on the case to the office, avoid the media, and I’d like to check with your brothers to see what they turned up on my hunch last night.”

  “Okay. Wait.” He disappeared into the bedroom again and came out with his PDA, slipping it into his pocket. He looked up and smiled. “Never leave home without it. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, Simon can take you anywhere you’d like to go.” At her frown, he chuckled. “Or...if you’d rather, the Jaguar is downstairs. You’re welcome to drive it.”

  That thought flipped the frown. “I’d love to...” His car was hot, but with her suspension, she thought it best not to show up at the station behind the wheel of his sports car. “But, I think it best I take the L or a cab.”

  He grinned and shook his head. He dug a hand into a pocket. “Only you would choose public transportation over a Jag, but if you change your mind. Here are the keys.”

  Crushed between a short, fat slob and a gum-popping grunge fan, Mackenzie wished she’d taken Rafe up on his offer instead of hopping on the L. What the hell was pride compared to comfort? And fresh air?

  The standing-room only crowd swayed as the train shot down the tracks toward its next stop. When Mr. Slob’s beer-belly rubbed against her back, she glanced over her shoulder. That stop couldn’t come soon enough.

  While she hung on to a chrome pole like a life preserver, she watched the public she used to serve and protect. What a mix of people. Young, old, conservative, and just plain weird. The city. The noise. The hum of life. She loved it, even if traveling through it was a pain in the ass sometimes.

  When she felt Mr. Slob’s fat-fingered hand skim her backside, she decided some things the city offered just pissed her off. Turning, she snatched his little finger and twisted it backward at an awkward angle to ensure pain. The man yelled a rather inspirational curse.

  “Touch me again, and the next thing I twist won’t be your finger. And if that’s not enough to convince you, I can haul your ass to the nearest CPD precinct. I’m sure my fellow officers would love to hear how a slimeball like you was stupid enough to try to feel up one of Chicago’s Finest.”

  So she didn’t have a badge; that was a minor technicality the creep didn’t need to know.

  The train slowed to a stop, and the crowd poured out like rainwater down a storm drain.

  “Bitch,” the slob muttered, holding his hand as he shuffled away.

  Yeah, she loved the city. On the landing, she flipped her collar up and strode toward her apartment.

  Inside, she estimated the best time for pickup, then called a cab service.

  She spent the next several minutes gathering up her files on the case. Most of the data was already at the station, so it didn’t take her long. But Cooper would need every clue to wrap up this one, so she’d give him everything she had. Well, almost everything.

  She wavered on telling him about the possibility of their New Jersey hitman being a Lycan, but scratched the idea. She was in enough hot water. She didn’t need her partner calling for a psych-eval. Besides, she couldn’t betray Rafe’s trust.

  As she slid the box off her desk, a piece of paper underneath it fell to the floor. After replacing the box, she knelt to retrieve the post-it note. Scribbled across the yellow square were some notes she’d jotted down after the second victim’s funeral.

  Three letters stood out. PDA.

 
“Damn. I never did check on that for Emily.” She tossed the note into the box, grabbed the box, and headed outside where the taxi waited to take her to the station.

  When she walked in, she ignored the telltale stares as she made her way to Cooper’s office. Obviously, the grapevine was alive and thriving.

  “Cooper?” she asked, knocking on his doorframe and nudging the door open with her toe.

  “Mac?” He was behind his desk but rose when he saw her.

  “Hey.”

  “Mac, you shouldn’t be here.”

  “Yeah, well, I know. I thought you’d want these notes on the case. They were at my place.”

  He took the box from her, put it on his desk, and shut the door.

  “Here. Have a seat.”

  “No. That’s okay. Look, I know you must be busy, but I need a favor.”

  “Mac—”

  “I know I’ve no right to ask, but it’s not for me. Not really.”

  “Sit.”

  She took a seat. “Emily, Shumaker’s widow, asked me about a PDA her husband carried. She was hoping to get it back when we were finished with it. I told her I’d check on it, get back to her, but with everything that’s happened, I forgot. I’d like to make it right. Do you mind?”

  He’d propped a thigh on his desk and crossed his arms while he listened. When she stopped, he blew out a breath, then leaned across the desk for the phone.

  “Hey, it’s Cooper. Could you check the personal effects from the Shumaker case for a small handheld PDA? The widow’s asking for it.” After a few minutes, he said, “Yeah. You sure? Okay. Thanks.”

  Hanging up, he told her, “There was no PDA entered into evidence. Are you sure that’s what she wanted?”

  “Yes. That’s strange. She said he never went anywhere without it.” She remembered Rafe had said something similar this morning. What were the chances...?

  “Uh oh. I know that look.”

  She met Cooper’s curious gaze. “What look? Never mind. I’ve gotta call Emily.” She snatched the phone, started punching buttons.

  “Mac,” he warned. “What are you doing?”