by Kim Schubert
I licked my bloodied lip, watching his eyes follow my movements. “Make me,” I challenged.
He flexed his hands, and I waited for claws to sprout when Jerry stepped up. “You guys alright?”
“No,” Logan growled through clenched teeth.
I snarled at him, snapping my jaw, ready to fight again.
“Olivia!” Blake yelled, running to my side. “Down,” he commanded as I snarled at him as well.
“Control your woman,” Logan hissed demeaningly at Blake.
“You better shut up, shifter; she is borderline berserker, and I will not step in her way if you push her much more,” he said, holding his hands up to me, reaching out.
“Berserker? She isn’t hurt that badly,” Logan said disgustedly.
“Let him feel it, baby,” Blake said, smiling knowingly.
Always a practical problem solver, I dropped my guard, letting the pain in my leg seep into Logan along with the throbbing in my temple, not to mention the gash along my back. He staggered, and I grinned, my true evil nature loving to share my pain.
“Enough, my love,” Blake said, touching my face gently, reminding me there were rules in this world I unfortunately had to obey.
I nodded, folding myself into him, pushing up my barriers, and heading to the car.
“Let me handle this, Olivia. I don’t need any more dead shifters at your hands,” Logan bellowed deeply to my back. Right, because clearly I am the only one who dismembered the already dead shifters.
Tate, Mercer, Blake, and I got into the SUV. Blake had driven out upon hearing about our very cleverly laid trap and the fact the asshole had damaged all of our vehicles. Darren was livid.
“What now?” Mercer asked, checking the rounds in his gun from the back seat.
Shifting in the seat next to him, I organized my thoughts. The killer had been identified; Darren, who was now arguing with his brother, had given me the positive ID of Steven. Killing him was not only sanctioned but a necessity in order to keep the peace between humans and supernaturals.
“Are you really going to let Logan handle this as he is demanding?” Tate asked, leaning between the seats to look at me.
“No,” I answered, rolling my sore shoulders. “I’ll petition the council for immediate action, pulling all the resources we have to find Steven and eliminate him. Leaving this in Logan’s hands will undoubtedly lead to more deaths at his incompetence,” I concluded, calling Grams on my phone.
“You do realize his brother is marrying into your clan,” Tate prodded, feeling good after going a few rounds with things it was legal and encouraged to tear into little pieces.
“Yeah, I have no problem with Darren. Logan and his fiancé are social-climbing idiots,” I responded, reaching back to see how much blood I was losing from the wound on my back. It was a steady drip that would eventually seep through my jacket. “Do you have any bandages in here?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Blake said, instructing Mercer on where to find them as I stripped out of my jacket and shirt.
Chapter 22
“What do you mean I can’t kill Steven yet?” I yelled, slamming my open palms against Grams’s desk. Killing was what I did, what I excelled at; my entire existence was defined by killing the bad guy.
Slightly cringing, she answered from her plush chair. “We have to give him twenty-four hours before we start our own attack.”
“That’s bullshit,” I said, pacing the room. My wounds were healing nicely after a few rounds of mind-blowing sex with Blake.
“Those are the rules,” she answered, turning back to her computer.
Groaning, I slammed myself into her bright blue modern couch. “I should change that rule,” I muttered.
“Relax, Olivia; you only have twenty more hours to wait, and you are needed at Kitten if you’re up to it,” she said carefully, not making eye contact with me.
I huffed, storming out to play video games with Tommy until my Kitten call.
…
I was on for every song at Kitten, as we neared the ending scene, the beat slowed, no longer inducing quick hip thrusts from me as the stage emptied to me and one lone incubus. His power washed over me, calling to my own, and I surrendered, stroking the naked flesh of my stomach. I trailed a hand playfully up to linger at the side of my breast, adorned with a dark glittery bra, before continuing my self-exploration up to my pronounced collar bone and soft neck.
Noise from the dinner crowd died off as the dance continued, my power of seduction washing over everyone. Servers stopped to gawk, plates of food forgotten in their arms. My gentle swaying changed as Luke, the European incubus lightly laid his hands on my flesh above my low-slung skirt, making an enjoyable show of pushing his gloriously bare and oiled chest against my back, our hips snug together.
Lifting both hands above my head our emotions swirled, mingled, testing, and enjoyed the heightened feelings we were building.
His calloused hands stroked slowly up my sides as our hips kept perfect rhythm together. Trailing the same pattern that I had explored with my own hand, Luke kneaded my sides, his fingers leaving depression marks as he traveled my slick body. His mouth blissfully close to the sensitive spot below my ear, arching my back into him, I stretched, pressing my breasts into his waiting hands.
We felt, more than heard, the collective gasp from the crowd.
His hands rested there for a brief moment before he spun me to face him.
Settling my hands on his muscular shoulders, he reached for my thigh, pulling it tight against his hip. Smiling, I leaned into him as the sound ended, darkness sweeping our bodies and desires.
“Careful,” he whispered in accented English.
“You afraid?” I whispered back, sliding my body towards his, his fingers pressing into my back.
“You are a taken woman,” he reminded me.
That was the shock of cold water I needed. I pulled him off the stage and into the dressing rooms. He was careful not to meet my eyes, as my barriers slammed back into place.
I could still feel Luke’s desire and his self-control, restraining him from pulling me into the closest room with a locking door and finishing what we started on stage.
His words remained, “taken woman” and I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about them.
Did I enjoy the respect of the exclusivity arrangement with Blake? Or was I annoyed at others deciding who or what I was allowed or expected to do based upon a label I had agreed to? Thinking about it made my head hurt.
Slipping out of the rigid glittering costume into soft jeans and a black shirt, I gathered my belongings, heading out the back where Jerry was waiting for me.
Phone pressed to his ear, his usually carefree expression was replaced by anger and concern. Not bothering to acknowledge my arrival into the Beast more than to shift the car into drive, he headed out of the alley.
I waited, sensing the change in him, watching closely as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
He was driving too quickly, throwing me against the car door.
“Jerry?” I said, asking the question what was wrong with a single word.
“Mark’s been hurt,” he answered, running a red light. “They took him to a hospital.”
“Why the hospital? That’s a terrible place for an injured shifter,” I asked, grabbing onto the oh shit handle as we made a left that rocked the SUV.
I watched his jaw clench before he answered softly, “They didn’t think he would make it to Gunner’s.”
Any response I had died on my lips.
I dislike hospitals for a variety of reasons, namely, for my childhood experiences of being strapped down to a pristine white bed while having surgeries done to me. Shaking from the inward tension, I slammed an extra set of barriers on my emotions, holding my body rigid as I followed Jerry through the mass of hallways.
“I’m sorry, sir but you cannot go in there. He is too unstable,” said the nurse, placing a restraining hand on Jerry’s chest, shaking her head sadly. “We can�
�t afford any human casualties.”
Jerry pushed her hand off storming into the room; I followed, smiling. “No worries; we aren’t human,” I explained to her bewildered expression.
Yelling drew our attention first; I heard Logan’s voice followed by Kass’s shout of “Leave him alone!”
The grunting and the popping of a taser being fired was not a good sign, and Jerry took off at a sprint crashing into the room, shielded from the outside hospital by only a thin blue privacy screen. Following behind him, I pulled the screen back, taking in the scene before me.
Mark lay badly broken, half on the floor and half on the bed as Jerry throttled the security officer who had sent painful electricity into his dying lover. Stepping over the fight, the other guard attempted to pull Jerry off. I rested my hands on Mark’s raw back, not flinching when his bloodshot eyes focused on me.
Pulling a deep breath, I closed my eyes, focusing on pulling the pain from Mark’s body; the sheer weight of it had me staggering as he made a mournful cry.
The noise had Jerry jumping to his feet ready to take me on as well. Thankfully, Kass pushed her way between us, hands outstretched with a pleading look on her face.
“Get the doctor,” she ordered Logan.
I had assumed he would argue, but only the sound of his rushed footsteps reached my ears. Tilting my head back, I sucked more into my already aching body. Thankfully, Mark’s beast stayed silent. Drawing on his energy would have made me useless and just as violent as Mark.
“Help me get his feet up,” Kass gently instructed Jerry.
I felt Mark’s body moving under me, and I shifted with him so I could lean against the hospital bed, shifting my hands to his battered chest.
Running footsteps announced Logan’s return with the doctor.
“I’m sorry; I can’t help your friend. Aside from the fact he is a danger to everyone here, I know nothing about shifter medicine,” the doctor stated as Logan growled.
“He isn’t a danger anymore,” I grunted, squinting my eyes open. “As long as I am touching him, he won’t hurt you.”
“As for the medicine,” I continued, my knees going weak, “he is the same as humans, just with a higher pain tolerance.”
The doctor scoffed. A painful moment of silent stretching out into the already tense room.
“Alright,” he agreed reluctantly, “we need to move him into surgery.”
I lost track of time, of yelling, and the beeping of machines in my fight to stay conscious and keep Mark calm. At some point, Jerry had to pry my fingers off of him, whispering he was going to be okay. That was the last thing I remembered.
The next thing I knew, I was waking up stiff and sore. I peeked at my surroundings, annoyed and starving. “She’s waking up,” Kass said, blowing out a breath of air as she sat with me on her old couch known to some as a designer antique.
“Why are we at Logan’s?” I asked shifting my hips, attempting to sit up. It was clearly too soon, as I toppled back into the couch.
“Easy,” Kass said, laying me back down. “We needed a safe place to reconvene.”
“What happened to the manor?” I asked, attempting to sit up again.
“You won’t want them there after what happened with Steven,” Logan said from behind me. Groggily, I turned to face him, my head feeling too heavy for my neck to support.
“What the fuck did you screw up now?” I yelled before passing out again on the sofa.
When I woke up, my eyes focused on Mark, sitting on the couch across from me, his bloodied face healed with only scratches and a broken nose to show, while his leg was in a cast. “You look like shit,” he said, grinning at me.
Rolling to my back, I pressed the heel of my hands into my temples; it didn’t help in stopping the pounding there.
“Come here; I want to give some of your pain back,” I croaked, crooking an index finger at him.
Jerry came into my line of sight, sitting on the arm of the couch Mark was on, beaming. “Now, Olivia, that ain’t no way to accept a compliment.”
Lifting my head a few inches off the pillow, I gave him my best shock and annoyed look.
He continued unbothered, “I am sure Mark was just about to confess his never-dying gratitude for saving his life.” Rounding on his partner, he gave him a warning look, crossing his arms over a very neon pink polo.
Mark shifted uncomfortably, casting a furtive look my way. “Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “thank you, Olie,” the sincerity reaching his eyes.
“Enough talking; I’m starved,” I said, not wanting to have a heart-to-heart about saving Mark.
Logan picked that moment to walk in tensely with Lorrain, who said, “Finally, you people can get off my designer couches.”
“Someone please hit her,” I said, throwing an arm over my face.
Mark chuckled as she continued, “I see no reason why they couldn’t have stayed at the hospital.” She stormed out.
Mark snickered and I looked back to Logan, who watched his fiancé walk away with a slight twitch in his jaw. “Just the picture of shifter hospitality,” I goaded. My injured condition earned me a few one-liners.
Logan looked back at me and growled low, and I couldn’t help but join Mark in laughing. Shifters are pack animals; they enjoy and thrive on having others around. Thus, as the soon-to-be pack mate of the leader of the North American shifters, Lorraine would be hosting her fair share of injured shifters, and hating every minute of it apparently.
Was it wrong I enjoyed that fact?
Blake picked that moment to walk in a side door, sauntering up with the most amazing smelling food ever.
“Who's your daddy, baby?” he asked, holding the bags up.
I gave him a pained smile before croaking, “You are.”
Annoyance flashed across his face. “You again underestimated how drained she is from keeping Mark’s pain under control,” he said, glaring at Logan.
“I’m not her babysitter,” Logan informed Blake, and I scowled at him before returning my attention to Blake.
I smiled at Blake, sitting up slowly, patting the couch next to me. With an annoyed growl, he set the bags on the coffee table. “We need to talk,” he growled at Logan, motioning with his head to Logan's office.
Rolling my eyes, I was happy when Jerry started unpacking everything, and I slid to the floor and leaned my back against the couch.
“Can you hear them?” I asked Mark.
Tilting his head, he focused on where they had walked out, and shook his head after a moment. “The office is soundproof,” he said with a shrug before looking back at the mouthwatering food. “I hope he brought enough for both of us,” he said.
Mark and I devoured the food, leaning back heavily. I smelled the hospital still on me and cringed. “Jerry, can you help me to a shower?” I asked.
He nodded, making sure Mark was good for a moment before guiding me to a guest room. The hot water sliced through the ache between my shoulders, pounding my lower back as I shifted and arched sighing. The door to the room I was in opened and closed loudly.
Turning off the shower, I pulled a plush cream towel over my body before running a second towel over my wet short locks.
Opening the door, I peeked out at Blake sitting on the bed, legs wide and muscular arms braced behind him, and heat instantly flooded my body, sending my pounding headache away for a few blissful moments.
Opening his eyes, amber lit his gaze as I dropped both my towels, coming to stand before him. His eyes roved my body taking time before meeting my own sea-green eyes. Resting my hands on his shoulders, I straddled him bringing our lips together. His hands spread wide on my back, pressed me closer to him. Smiling against his lips, I obliged him, setting my hips down on his pressing erection.
With a growl, he flipped us pinning my hands above my head, arching my aching body against him. His soft mouth trailed down my jaw line to nibble at the soft flesh of my breast before his cool tongue swept over my pebbled nippl
e. My hands found his hair as I tried to pull him back to my lips. A warning growl had him pushing my hands away. “I will tie you up,” he warned, which only made me rub my naked flesh over and against him more.
Smiling at me, he kissed me slowly, a cautious swipe of his tongue heating when it met mine in his still injured mouth. Locking my ankles around his waist, I pushed the soft folds between my legs against him. “You’re overdressed,” I whispered as his mouth found my other nipple.
Shifting down, he smiled at me between my legs, my breath catching. “It’s all that is keeping this slow,” he said, breathing onto my heated core.
“Blake,” I whispered.
Flicking his tongue, he hit my nerve center, causing me to writhe with pleasure. “I do love how you shave for me, Olivia,” he whispered before using just the tip of his tongue to tease my core. Arching, he pressed his hands against my hips, keeping me in place as he explored farther. The soft sensations he was building had me forgetting there were other supernaturals here who, if they wanted, could hear every whisper and moan.
I couldn’t care less.
Bucking against him, I begged with just his name, “Blake.” Reaching down to run my fingers through his dark hair, he looked up; pleasure at his skills shown from his amber eyes. He soon discarded his clothing, landing heavily on top of me.
I smiled, locking my legs around his hips, kissing his lips and tasting myself, which only had me applying pressure to my ankles in order to bring him fully into me. Pulling back and leaving off foreplay, he looked down at me seriously as he slipped into my waiting warmth, sending my eyes closed and head arching back. “Look at me,” he commanded.
I did, thinking he was lucky I took his commands in the bedroom. His mouth hung open in bliss as he moved within me. Shifting my hips slightly, I clenched my muscles enjoying his groan as he nipped my neck. Slowly, furious strokes had me pushing against him for more as I suckled his bottom lip. Pulling me up into a seated position, we moved in harmony, driving me to the edge faster as I whimpered his name.
My breathing was ragged and Blake pulled a few breaths as well as I squeezed my ankles tighter, feeling my entire body clench in pure release. Slamming back onto the bed, he kept up his pace as my vision cleared and his body arched in his own release.