“What?” he asked, misinterpreting her open gawking. “Am I doing it wrong?”
She shook her head, momentarily speechless.
He stopped, his irritation giving way to something else. Their gazes locked long enough for his to burn. He stood, his hands clenched at his sides, before muffling an angry curse and heading into the shower room.
Every inch of her tightened with want. Ellen stood, panting, conflicted.
Her wolf wanted her to go after him. Her wolf’s craving for Hollis was growing more concerning by the minute. She followed him, because she needed a shower. It had nothing to do with the hot and intense ache pulsing between her legs. It wasn’t her fault that the large communal shower was built when the pack was all men—offering up no privacy or room for modesty.
Not that it mattered. He’d seen her naked countless times.
She, however, had never seen him naked. And tonight, her wolf wanted to go to bed with something pleasing to occupy her mind. Maybe, for once, her dreams would be an escape versus a hellish trap of pain and torment.
…
Hollis stood beneath the cold water, eye closed, arms bracing him against the tile wall. His body was in overdrive. Correction. His dick was in overdrive. There’d been no misunderstanding the look in Ellen’s eyes. None. But he wasn’t stupid enough to think it had a damn thing to do with him.
He was a fucking doctor. Trauma, turmoil, shock, grief—the body often sought an outlet. And he didn’t mind being her outlet. Which was a huge fucking problem.
He rolled the bar of soap between his hands and stared down at his hard-on. She got to him. One soaped hand slid over his chest and down his stomach, his breath hitching as he moved lower. If he closed her eyes, she was there. With that grin. That wicked and taunting grin. Fuck.
He stroked his erection. Firm, slow, his breath powering out of his chest. This was chemical. Basic Instinctual. Space. Lots of space. That’s what they both needed. Then he’d be less preoccupied by the tattoo at the corner of her eye, or the way the arch of her brow spoke volumes, or the fact that she never wore a bra and her nipples—well, he damn well noticed them. Being confined in close quarters when emotions and stress were high was bound to distort their connection. That’s all this was.
It didn’t stop an image from her, naked and smiling, to appear. He groaned. Another stroke—
“Are you done with that?” Ellen’s voice.
The bar of soap slipped out of his hand. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I’d think it’s obvious.” Her brows rose. “This is a shower, isn’t it?”
He frowned. “There’s a shower in every bedroom of this house. Why are you using this one?”
“Why are you?” Wide-eyed and feigning innocence, she leaned her head under the stream of water. Rivulets formed along the sides of her face, streaming along her neck, and along the delicate ridge of her clavicle. Then lower. Dammit.
He forced his gaze away from the path the water was taking. Shit. He’d seen her naked countless times, but not like this. Not when she’d looked at him with such hunger. Primal. Raw. Gorgeous. Now, with her close—and wet—his baser instincts were definitely in the driver’s seat. That’s why he had a massive hard-on. Something Ellen was just discovering—gripped in his hand.
“I’m interrupting something?” she asked, her gaze fixed on his dick.
She’d asked something. “Interrupting something?” But the tip of her tongue, skimming along her lower lip, had temporarily disconnected his brain.
“There are drawbacks to being alone. Shared pleasure is always more satisfying than taking care of oneself.” She stooped to pick up the soap, but her eyes never left his erection. When she bent over, his dick throbbed. “Your body is a most impressive surprise.”
Another throb.
“Hollis?” She stood, her gaze finally returning to his face.
She expected him to answer her? To function? Now? “What the fuck do you expect me to say?” He growled, startling them both.
Her grin was pure mischief. “Thank you.” She shrugged. “I hadn’t expected you to be so well-endowed. But you are—”
Another throb. “Stop.”
“Why?” she asked softly. “Most men like flattery.”
“I’m not most men.” He scowled at her.
Her eyes fell to his rock-hard dick. “No, I see that now. Not at all.”
She was teasing him—and loving every minute of it. But she was the one who had looked at him with hunger in her eyes. She was the one who followed him in here. Why? “What do you want, Ellen?” He ran a hand over his face.
“Right now?” She pretended to think about it before saying, “I want to help you finish what you started.”
“Fucking hell,” he ground out. “I didn’t start a goddamn thing. I was taking a shower. Period.”
“You were…washing yourself?” Her brow rose. “Even if I did believe that, you’re clearly in need of some attention.” She lathered up her hands.
He watched, staring at her hands—torn between arguing and accepting.
But then she washed her arms and chest, her teeth worrying her lower lip and making him growl out. “Shit.”
“Is that a yes?” she asked.
He stood his ground, refusing to back down. She was teasing him—tormenting him. It’s what she did. Normally, they weren’t both naked. And he didn’t have a hard-on. “I can take care of myself.”
“Can you? Let me see.” She crossed her arms, making her already taut nipples jut forward. “Go on.”
“Now?” he asked, thrown.
“Yes, now. Clearly.” She pointed at him. “From the way you’re reacting, I’d say right now.”
Her gaze, her words—she might as well be touching him. She wasn’t. She shouldn’t. They both knew that.
“You are tense, Hollis. Perhaps you’re not taking care of yourself often enough?” Her soaped hands moved over her breasts in slow, leisurely circles.
“Fuck,” he ground out, planting a hand against the tile wall to steady himself and staring up at the ceiling. He wasn’t prepared for this game. And he sure as hell didn’t want to play. “You’re crossing a line, Ellen. Either you leave, or I will.”
“Like that?” She sighed. “What will the rest of the pack think?”
He glared at her. “You’re bored, restless, whatever the hell this is. But I won’t let you fuck me over for your entertainment—”
“I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t be the only one enjoying things,” she finished, her fingers working over her nipples.
He stared, dammit, what else could he do? She had no intention of touching him. This was about control—she needed to feel in control. But there was a hint of desperation about her. A momentary flash of vulnerability in those disarming eyes of hers. It was enough to deflate his temper. Today had been hell. The look on her face when she’d seen Byron had been laden with torment, anger, and fear. She was hurting, lashing out, and he was here. He was here and no one else was.
He had the pack, his family…and she had no one. A wave of empathy crashed over him and wiped out all else. “I’m sure I would. But it’s not what you need.” He didn’t think as he drew her against him.
The press of her silky-soft skin against his chest almost challenged his good intentions. Almost. For a second, she yielded to his hold and he was lost. Everything was off—but in a good way. Having her pressed against him filled him with hunger, yes, but there was something more. The need to protect and comfort her. Things she would dismiss with a laugh and a wave of her hand.
Her hands, sandwiched between them, pushed against him. Gone was the soft and willing woman. “I don’t need comforting, Hollis. Comfort is a false promise. What I need is distraction. Something to ease the heat in my blood.” She stared up at him as her hands explored his arms and shoulders.
But he was still trying to make sense of whatever had happened the few seconds she’d relaxed in his hold. He’d been aware of something hovering in the pe
riphery of his subconscious. Some fleeting sense of belonging. Pinning it down was impossible. Her scent tugged him back to the here and now. The stroke of her fingers along his hips set off warning bells. It was his fault. He’d pulled her close, putting them both in harm’s way.
Her arousal, the flush of her skin, the rigid tips of her fantastic breasts brushing against his chest. It took everything he had not to give in. Not to press her against the wall, wrap her legs around his hips, and bury himself deep. He groaned at the thought, gripping her wrists and holding her hands still—away from him.
“Hollis?” Anders’s voice drifted in. “You in there?”
Anders’s voice was a hell of a lot more effective at snapping him out of it than the cold shower he’d been attempting to take.
With a stern look at Ellen, he released her, grabbed a towel from the hook, and marched from the shower room into the gym.
“You said you wanted to check on Jessa and the baby when they woke up.” Anders waved him forward. “They’re awake.”
Hollis ran a hand through his wet hair. “I’ll be there as soon as I get dressed.” He glanced back at the shower room but thought better of it. Once Anders left, so would his resistance. He’d never been so helpless beneath someone’s touch—so hungry for more.
The smartest thing to do was stay away from her. Today had put everyone on high alert, multiplying every sensory experience and reaction. Tomorrow would be different. A return to sanity. Until he’d found his self-control, he’d do his best to stay away from Ellen.
Chapter Six
Hollis watched the interplay between his packmates, his cell phone to his ear. While they were swapping jokes and laughing, he was trying to get work done. Important work. He cleared his throat, again, hoping they’d take the hint and leave the room.
“Did you get the attachment?” his assistant, Kim Su, asked.
Anders punched Dante in the shoulder. Dante pushed Anders off the arm of the chair, sending him onto the floor.
Hollis sighed. “I did. I wasn’t expecting the numbers to be this good.” He scrolled through the spreadsheet, highlighting cells with the highest numbers. “Great work.”
Kim laughed. “Thank you, Dr. Robbins.”
“If I’ve been sparing on the praise, I apologize.” He clicked through the other attachments.
“‘Sparing on the praise’?” Anders asked from his place on the floor. “Who the hell talks like that?”
Dante and Mal laughed.
Thankfully, Kim didn’t seem to hear them. “The paycheck makes up for it. Please email or IM me if you want to go over any of the data or have questions,” she said.
“Will do.” He hung up and sat back. “You guys are a pain in the ass, you know that?”
“Yep,” Mal agreed, tossing a wadded-up piece of paper at him.
“What are you working on?” Finn asked, working on his laptop across the table from him.
“Stem cells. I’m beginning to think they might save the world.” He shook his head. “You?”
“Sending all the information we’ve collected on the trafficking ring to Gentry’s man in the FBI.” Finn ran a hand over his face and yawned.
Hollis frowned. The Others’ involvement in sex trafficking had been one more black mark against the pack. Werewolf or not, they could choose to be good. Finn had. Their pack was. They had incredible strength and heightened senses, but, for the most part, they were still decent people trying to do good things. The Others didn’t seem to understand that concept. Kidnapping, trafficking, murder—Cyrus and his pack weren’t discriminating. If it got them what they wanted, they did it. Now that Finn’s pack knew that, they were doing what they could to stop him. Like preventing his trade of women to the highest bidder.
“Gentry? Our gun-loving, shoot-em-up, explosives guy?” Mal was skeptical.
“You mean he’s good for more than destruction?” Anders asked, leaning over Finn’s shoulder.
“Wait, Gentry has someone on the inside at the FBI?” Dante asked. “I thought the FBI was the best of the best. How the hell did that happen?”
Anders laughed.
“He’s smart. Very smart.” Finn sighed. “He was recruited by the FBI but went Special Forces instead. We’re damn lucky to have him on our side.”
Hollis nodded. He didn’t always get their weapons expert’s sense of humor, but he’d proven his loyalty time and again. Considering the Others vastly outnumbered them, they could use all the support they could get.
“What’s left?” Mal asked, sprawled in the chair at the end of the table.
“California is pretty locked up. The Texas border is still an issue, but that doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with Cyrus.” Finn sighed, running a hand over his head. “Cyrus and the Others are done in Chicago, period. They’re on every watch list out there.”
“No shit?” Mal asked.
“No shit.” Finn nodded.
Finn and the pack had learned about the Others’ human trafficking dealings when Mal had been their prisoner. He’d been kept in a cage, repeatedly skinned and tortured, until he was able to break out. With a fellow captive in tow—Olivia. It was her brother who helped Cyrus with the girls, her brother who had left her to be taken by the Others, and her brother who Mal wanted to kill. But, for Olivia, he’d restrained himself.
“Can you arrest a werewolf?” Anders asked.
Everyone looked at him.
“Are you seriously asking?” Dante asked.
“If a wolf is foolish enough to be caught and arrested, it’s possible.” Ellen chose that moment to walk into the room.
Hollis forced his attention back to his laptop. Since their encounter in the shower, he’d been more aware of her. So had his dick. Which could be problematic, to say the least. She, on the other hand, treated him exactly the same.
“But they’d have to be kept collared with silver to keep them weak and prevent them from shifting.” She stretched, moving with her normal predatory grace that warned a person away but was, oddly, impossible to resist. Especially when she stretched her arms behind her back, pulling the thin cotton of her tank top tight across her full breasts. Shit. No bra. Of course not. Not Ellen. He knew how she felt. How deceptively soft she was in his hands. The last few nights he’d dreamed of little else.
Hollis cleared his throat, flexed his hand, and stared at the spreadsheets, the numbers blurring before his eyes.
“Cyrus did that?” Finn asked.
“Regularly.” She nodded. “He was researching injections that contained slight traces of silver to keep a wolf weakened. Everyone he tried it on died while I was there. But he believed it would be successful.” She bit into an apple, the crunch drawing his gaze back to her.
A drop of juice hung from the corner of her mouth. His chest compressed, a hollow, aching heat taking up residence deep inside.
“Jesus.” Dante shook his head. “He’s one sick fuck.”
“You’re just now figuring that out?” Mal asked.
Dante glared at her. “And you want to go back to that?”
Ellen glared right back. No, she didn’t want to go back, he knew that much. It was more than that. Not that she was going to tell him about it. “I have unsettled business with him.”
“Speaking of business. If Cyrus keeps turning people, might be a new industry. Like a ‘How to be a Good Wolf’ training camp, you know? Once he’s dead and all.” Anders picked up.
“Your brain is a mystery,” Dante muttered, shaking his head.
But Hollis kept watching her. The slow ease of her posture as she regarded each member of the pack. Her expression remained closed, until her eyes met his. For a brief moment their gazes locked. Long enough to make it hard to breathe, let alone think. Then her gaze fell away from his. But, still, he couldn’t look away.
“Gentry’s contacts know what they’re dealing with?” Mal asked.
Finn nodded. “As much as you can know before you come face-to-face with them.”
Ellen was staring at the apple in her hands, turning the red fruit with unsteady fingers. “When you killed Byron—” Her mismatched eyes homed in on Mal.
Mal nodded, his dark gaze meeting hers.
“Did he suffer?” she asked, her chin thrust out in defiance.
Mal cleared his throat. “Not enough.”
“He should have suffered.” Her voice was edged with fury. And grief. “He’d done unspeakable things to so many. His death should have reflected that.”
Mal studied her for some time. “I agree. But Olivia was in danger—”
Ellen interrupted, “Your mate’s wolf is more capable than you give her credit for.”
Mal’s jaw clenched, something that caused most people to back off. Not Ellen. No, her eyes narrowed and her hands fisted. And, damn it all, she was gorgeous.
Olivia rested her hand on Mal’s arm and, with that touch, stole Mal’s wrath. “You can protect yourself. Your wolf is a badass, I know that.” He spoke to his mate before turning back to Ellen. “But you wouldn’t stand by and let your mate fight if you knew the opponent didn’t fight fair. It’s not about trusting her, it’s about knowing them.” He shook his head. “When you have a mate, we’ll talk.”
Hollis was all too familiar with the hard smile she gave Mal. It was a defense mechanism. Mal had hit a nerve. Something that had Ellen’s eyes blazing and her cheeks flushing a deep red. He waited, hoping the storm brewing inside would spill out into the room. If he knew what demons still tormented her, maybe he could find a way to help chase them away. But she bit, angrily, into her apple and stalked from the room. Leaving more questions than ever.
…
Claws. Flaying skin from her body in long, fine strips.
Her blood scenting the air.
Teeth.
Biting her. Tearing flesh away in chunks. So deep her nerves jumped and quivered from each new assault.
Cold chains around her wrists and ankles kept her secured to the stone floor.
There was no escape.
She was trapped, their prisoner. Images, sounds, scents pressing in on her until she wanted to cry out. But she wouldn’t give Cyrus more satisfaction.
Protecting the Wolf's Mate (Blood Moon Brotherhood) Page 6