"Screw easy. I want hard." Hannah cinched her inner muscles and forced his cock deeper. It hurt. Oh fuck, it hurt so good! She wrung a tortured moan from herself, and again, Silver moaned, harmonizing with her. The blasted man even sang while he was making love. She'd have laughed her ass off except every delicious inch of him filled her, sunk to the balls. Seeking more delicious friction, she ground her clit on his pubic bone. Waves of pure pleasure crashed through her.
"Hard huh?" Silver eased back, withdrawing from her. She ached with the awful emptiness but helped him, lifting herself.
"Hard." Hannah plunged down, impaling her pussy on his shaft. She warbled and when he crooned, she no longer perceived it as strange or even funny. Of course, the act of mating was a primal song. She'd only been surprised because she'd never had the privilege of hearing it before... or of creating it either.
She lost herself completely in the music. They pulled apart and clashed together, and her awareness expanded to encompass a fuller understanding. More than just their voices—the creak of the chair beneath their shifting weight, the clink of the handcuff chain, the slap of their flesh when they collided...
All part of the composition.
Too fast, a violent storm of pleasure broke over her and swept her up and tossed her around on buffeting winds. Hannah shook with the force of her orgasm. It ripped her humanity away. Her fox went feral. Still clenching in an endless climax, she opened her eyes and snarled.
Prisoner to his own suffering, Silver had his head thrown back, exposing his throat. A guttural growl resonated in his chest; his coyote in ascendance. His jugular pulsated with the force of his racing blood, and cords of sinew stood out in sharp lines beneath his tanned skin. In the grip of his orgasm, he was unguarded and unaware. She could rip out his larynx, silencing his songs forever.
She had to mark him—Hers.
Hannah lunged and sank her pointy little teeth deep into the solid muscle at the juncture of his throat and shoulder. His hot blood flooded her mouth, as delicious as ambrosia, and she gulped it down. Silver convulsed beneath her and his growl turned into a full-blown howl.
Dismayed, she released him and placed an apologetic kiss on the wound. He tasted like heaven but her common sense had kicked in. For foxes, marking him where she had—when she had—constituted an invitation to court her. The vixen chose one or more suitors, delivered the bite, and then ran. To prove his worthiness, the male had to chase, capture, and claim her in return.
Goddess, had she lost her ever-loving mind?
Panicked, Hannah fell off his lap. She shoved her feet into her sandals and snatched her sundress off the on the desk. She stubbed her toe on the leg of the chair while fumbling to get her dress on. Her heart raced for the few seconds while her face was covered, although it wasn't rational, but there it was. Still, she breathed easier once she got it on and tugged it into place.
She stole a hasty glance at Silver. He hadn't moved from the chair while she'd been vulnerable. It caused Hannah a guilty start over having assumed the worst, if only for a moment. No, Silver's style wasn't to jump her while she was helpless. If she'd learned anything about him, he would turn the rules of courtship upside down. It titillated her to imagine him wooing her with seduction and song until she was the one chasing him.
But oh—an unappealing thought struck her, and delivered quite the letdown. She presumed he wanted to chase her. A vixen might bite but the male fox wasn't required to pursue her. And Silver wasn't even her same species. He might very well still be in the chair as a means of delivering a polite refusal.
Hannah picked up her coat, double-checked to make sure the damnable box was still in the pocket, and put her Glock away, too. Reluctantly. Oh my, but wasn't that quite a blow to her pride? Having gotten what she wanted from Silver, she found the impulse to kiss 'n' run had deserted her. She loathed the thought of leaving him chained to a chair with a used condom on his dick, as though that was all the value he had to offer her. No matter how great her hurry, she refused to forsake common decency so she slipped into the bathroom. She returned with a washcloth soaked in warm water.
"I thought you were in a rush to leave," Silver said in a husky voice.
"I was." Hannah couldn't explain without making herself vulnerable so she left it at that. Unable to help herself, she turned toward him fully... Facing the music, so to speak, as the ironic turn of phrase went.
With the same tenderness she'd reserve for a long-term lover, she divested him of the condom and wiped him clean with the washcloth. Under her administration, he groaned and his member hardened again. She quivered, resisting the enticement to take him for another ride. It required all her strength to release his cock. Coming upright, she pitched the wadded towel toward the sink, not checking whether she made the throw.
Blood ran from the bite wound down his chest. The coppery aroma set her mouth to watering, and evoked a painful clenching in her abdomen. Temptation beckoned and she yearned for him. Now that she'd had a taste, she longed for another—and she wanted it more than ever before. Damn it. What a fool she'd been to think that once would be enough to satiate her hunger. She'd probably just made matters way worse for herself. Over the next several weeks of celibacy, until spring finally hit and her mating fever abated, she'd burn for him.
A trickle of blood crossed over the empty staff tattoo on Silver's pec. The spot, he claimed, he had reserved for his mate. Irrationally, Hannah wanted her mark there over his heart. It injured more than her vanity to think that he didn't consider her worthy of being his partner. The desire was wholly unfair because she could never join with him in a mate bond.
"Hannah, look at me," Silver said in a husky voice. A command she obeyed and lifted her face. Their gazes locked. Her breath hitched. Desire and determination burned in his eyes.
"What?" She burst out.
A wicked smile curved his mouth. "I'm going to chase you."
Piercing stabs of excitement penetrated her skin. She trembled and bit back a grin. He wanted her after all, and that knowledge was a balm to her ego. It took everything she had to muster a flippant challenge. "Of course you are. You want the box back."
"I want you, my fox. And I'm going to have you," he said, a velvet promise in his voice. "You're scared. I can see that, but you don't need to be. I'll pursue you, for as long as it takes, until you come racing into my arms."
"Don't chase me, Silver. It's too dangerous." Sorrow wrung her heart like a rag. Unable to resist a final goodbye, Hannah leaned over and rested her hands on his shoulders. She laved the bite mark with her tongue, and then pressed a sweet kiss to his mouth.
When she withdrew, he moaned.
Clutching her possessions, she retreated to the door. Once she had it open, she turned back to issue a final challenge. "You can't have me."
"Run, little fox. I'll be right on your tail."
Chapter Seven
Silver's lanky frame thrummed with eagerness, but he held still with the keen readiness of a hound on the mark, waiting for the buzzer to sound, the gate to fly open, and the rabbit to race. Or, as the case may be, the fox...
She stood in the open entryway with defiant fire in her eyes and the tilt of her chin, but trembling in the grip of excitement. She could've run already but instead waited on his answer to her dare. Without any need for discussion, despite being different species, they both understood the rules of the game.
"I'm going to chase you, and I'm going to catch you," Silver said, tone soft and resolve hard. His promise to her. "And when I do, I'm going to have you."
She softened, particularly her mouth which molded into a kissable pout. But then a terrible thing happened. Sorrow replaced desire. Unshed tears drowned her yearning, and the hurt on her face just about broke his heart.
Fear grabbed hold of him. An ice-cold awakening to what he'd learned earlier but swept aside out of selfishness and stupidity. She'd dropped hints about being in trouble; even outright said her life was in danger. His lust-addled brain had
assumed it to be an exaggeration, but now he suspected it was the literal truth.
"Goodbye, Silver." Hannah turned and fled.
"No, wait! Hannah! Let me help you—" Forgetful of the handcuffs, he lunged and almost dislocated his shoulders when the metal didn't give. The haze of pain cleared his head enough to allow him to think. With a sharp inhalation, he performed a partial shift, altering only his hands and arms so his coyote limbs slid effortlessly through the bands. As soon as he got loose, he returned to full human form and sprang to his feet. He grabbed for his pants, yanking them up as he ran, but on the first step, his forward foot came to a sudden stop.
A startled yip tore from his throat. Silver crashed to the floor. It happened so fast he didn't even manage to catch himself. He landed face down on the carpet, a half-naked, indignant, not-so-wily coyote. Snarling in frustration, he twisted about to get a look at his boots, and an unwilling snort of laughter rocked him.
That little vixen had tied his laces together.
The stumble had already cost him precious seconds, so he dared not waste more time on untangling the knot. Instead, he grabbed hold of the two fistfuls of laces and yanked with all his strength. The ties snapped.
Take two—Silver rolled to his feet, grabbed ahold of his waistband, and hip hopped across the room, pulling up his pants as he ran. Shirtless, he stumbled onto the walkway outside the room, and ran straight into the metal railing—which wound up being the only thing that kept him from going over.
He scanned the area below for any sign of Hannah while he fumbled to close his fly. For a panicked second, he thought he was too late, but then he caught a glimpse of a swift figure on the edge of the lot. No mistaking that wild mane of curls for anyone else.
"Thank you, Coyote." Silver offered his patron spirit a heartfelt prayer.
Hannah ducked into the driver's side of a small hatchback. A second later, its lights came on along with the engine. He hesitated, losing precious seconds to indecision. His motorcycle was parked in the lot below, but he had no idea where he'd left his keys. Searching for them would take too long. He could give chase on foot. Even if he jumped from the balcony and sprinted, he wouldn't reach her before she drove off. Flat out at his top speed, he could run at fifty miles per hour, but not for long. A car would outpace him fast. Fortunately, he had a backup plan.
Tilting back his head, Silver loosened a shrill, soaring howl—the coyote equivalent of an urgent SOS. Whether they were far or near, it would bring the rest of the band running. Before the cry faded, Branwen emerged from the room she shared with Ursula, and slid to a halt beside him.
"Branwen, I need your help," Silver demanded, casting a quick glance in her direction. Relief at her fortuitous arrival swept through him. Of all the members of his band, she alone possessed the gift of flight.
"What's wrong? What can I do?" With both hands, Branwen swept her long, tussled hair from her face. The petite beauty was charismatic and mysterious—a force to be reckoned with. She wore red panties and nothing else... Apparently, he'd interrupted her while she'd been changing.
"What is going on?" Ursula grumbled in a voice thick with concern as she lumbered out to join them.
"See that hatchback?" Silver tracked the little car with his finger as it sped across the parking lot toward the main road.
"Yep. What about it?" Branwen asked.
"Follow it. I need to know where it goes."
Branwen looked askance at him. For a panicky moment, Silver feared she would argue. Meanwhile, his fox's getaway car made a sharp turn onto the street and sped away. When he lost sight of the rear lights, his fear returned.
"Please. Go after her. I'll explain later."
"You owe me one." Branwen jerked her head and threw her arms overhead. Ebony feathers burst from her fingertips, across all her skin. She shrank and her panties dropped to the concrete. In the blink of an eye, she underwent a swift, effortless transformation from woman to bird. An unusually large raven rose into the air and soared high, swiftly lost against the darkness of the new moon sky.
"What's going on?" Disco's deep voice came from behind Silver.
Silver pivoted and launched into an unrehearsed answer. "I had to howl. I needed help."
"You're bleeding." Disco stared at the bite wound on Silver's throat. He hadn't changed since the show, and carried an automatic pistol. He measured just a hair under six feet and had a powerful build.
"I'm fine." In an absent gesture, Silver touched the injury. His fingers came away bloody but his regeneration abilities had already kicked in.
"What's the big emergency then?" Disco cocked his head.
"There's no emergency. I mean, there is. See, there's this woman—"
"What the fuck, man? You howled over a piece of tail?" Disco's scowl deepened.
"No. Yes." Embarrassment reduced Silver to stammering. Furious with both himself for losing his cool and Disco for being a jackass, Silver paused to gather his thoughts.
"Which is it?" Disco taunted, daring Silver to lie. His confrontational glare implied the answer was obvious.
"Disco, remain calm," Ursula said in a soothing tone. "This is not helping."
"Thank you," Silver said to Ursula. She nodded and he continued, "Hannah's not a piece of tail. Yes, we had sex, but there's a lot more to it. She's a thief and she stole something from me."
"What'd she steal?" Disco asked.
"Nothing. It was just something I stole from her. She was only taking it back..."
"Man, it's always the same with you, Silver." Disco scowled in plain disgust. "You swore you'd stop. You promised."
"Disco, you are being deliberately obtuse—" Ursula's disproving tsk-tsk stomped down in the middle of the disagreement with the weight of a leaden ton.
Both Silver and Disco stopped arguing and looked to her.
With a solemn nod, the Russian woman gestured at Silver's throat. "Can you not see this is a mating chase? Look, our bard has been bitten."
"Congratulations! Ah, hell, man! Why didn't you just say so?" Disco's deep, bassy chortle boomed through the night. He whacked Silver on the shoulder and knocked him off his feet.
"It's not—" Sputtering in denial, Silver toppled and hit the ground again. At least this time he managed to catch himself with his arms, landing in a crouch. Branwen's dropped panties lay directly beneath his nose.
"If this is a mating chase, why are you still standing here?" Disco continued to yuk it up with great enthusiasm. "Didn't anyone explain—when she runs, you're supposed to follow."
"Hilarious," Silver bit off but without real heat. He found Disco's good-natured mocking more palatable than his derision. The mistaken assumption, however, rendered Silver thoroughly discombobulated.
"While brashly worded, Disco is correct. Though he has never managed to catch a mate, he has participated in many mating chases." Ursula nodded sagely, a motion that rocked her entire upper body.
"Hey!" Disco bellowed from his wounded ego. He muttered, "One, not many."
"This isn't a mating chase. She may've bitten me, but we're not even the same species." With a snort, Silver snatched the panties off the cement and rose. He derived a certain sadistic pleasure from Disco's disgruntlement. Wasn't so much fun when the tables were turned, was it?
"Gods, please tell me you're not chasing another raven-shifter..." Disco ended on a melodramatic groan.
Ursula stared at Silver with a long look from beneath her knit brow. She pursed her lips. "Men," she said with a disgusted snort. "All so willfully stupid. From the scent of her, which is all over you..."
Silver's face burned. All the while, Disco grinned and watched with the lewd fascination of a shameless rubbernecker at a train wreck.
"She's a fox and she's in heat. If you are dumb enough to believe this is not a mating chase..." She shook her head sorrowfully.
He possessed enough sense to recognize an argument he couldn't win. Throwing up his arm, Silver waved the red panty flag of defeat. "Hannah's in trouble.
Her life is in real danger. That's all that matters."
"Hate to say it, but he has a good point..." Disco's gaze caught and then riveted on the bit of red fabric. A snarl rumbled in his throat, and then he lashed out and snatched the panties from Silver's hand. "Where the hell did you get these?"
"Branwen dropped them when she shifted." Silver smirked at his bandmate's jealous glare. It was an open secret that Disco objected to having a raven-shifter in the band. He often voiced concerns about integrity. Stability. Trustworthiness. He wasn't a bigot, because he accepted a werewolf and a werebear without question.
"You sent Branwen into danger?" Disco scowled harder and transformed into a towering threat.
Silver raised his hands in warding and retreated. "No, of course not. I'd never. I only asked Branwen to follow Hannah."
"Branwen will be fine. She is a smart girl." Ursula placed her hand on Disco's elbow, soothing him. "You should learn to trust her."
Narrow-eyed, Disco hunched and grumbled. "Fine, but if she gets hurt, it's on you." He pinned Silver with a warning glare, then let it drop. "We should get dressed and round up Oz and Cheyenne, so everyone's ready to go when Branwen gets back."
"Good idea," Silver said in heartfelt agreement. He got halfway to his room when Disco lobbed a parting shot.
"Hey," Disco drawled. "Isn't it cheating to use a shifter who can fly to track your mate?"
Silver's stride hitched. Damn it. He should've known the matter wouldn't drop so easily. No doubt, Ursula and Disco would fill the others in on the juicy details. The razing over his supposed courtship would go on and on.
"It is cheating to escape in a car," Ursula countered smoothly, coming to Silver's defense. "Cheating may be countered with cheating. Besides, as the saying goes..." Her smile widened dangerously as she continued, "all is fair in love and war!"
Chapter Eight
Outfoxed: A Zodiac Shifters Paranormal Romance: Gemini Page 7