by Lisa Ladew
Her scent flickered suddenly, going harsh, then smoothing out. “You’re him,” she said flatly, her voice changed somehow.
“I’m anyone you want me to be, baby,” he said, leaning in to her neck, about to graze her flesh with his lips.
A sharp point at his abs stopped him. What the fuck? He looked down, and, sure enough, she had a knife teasing his gut, not bearing down enough to cut through cloth or skin, but the threat was obvious. “Seriously?” he growled. “We doing this again? You didn’t slice me up enough yesterday?”
Her eyes found his neck and he knew she was seeing unbroken skin there. Oops. First sign you are dealing with something you don’t quite understand, sweetheart?
“Don’t call me baby,” she growled right back at him.
“Got it. No baby. Now put the knife away.”
“Not if you paid me,” she spit out.
Mac raised his eyebrows, but didn’t respond. Instead, he leaned into her knife, just enough that he felt his skin pucker, then pop, then warmth spread as a bit of his blood flowed where it shouldn’t be. He caught her eyes and held them, but she was good. She didn’t let any emotion out of her cold stare.
Neither of them spoke, until he couldn’t stand it anymore. “I could take that knife from you in a half a second.”
She almost smiled. “I know you think you could, but you’re wrong.”
Something in her stare, her posture, and the way her eyes didn’t quite look at him, but instead stayed loose, taking in his body even as they maintained eye contact, told him she might be good enough to counter any move he could throw at her. He licked his lips, and, Rhen help him, he popped a motherfucking boner at the thought. He would almost be willing to let her slice him up a little bit to see what she could do.
He smiled in gracious defeat and took a step back, but when she felt him going, she sliced out wide with her wrist, but just barely forward, just enough that his shirt split open in a gaping mouth. His skin didn’t even well any blood, except in the spot where he’d pressed up against her blade. The slice had been nothing more than a warning that she really was that good.
She kept eye contact with him, cleaned her knife on her black pants, then tucked it back inside her left sleeve. He watched her do it, then checked her other sleeve. Yep, she had one there, too.
“You don’t tell me your name, and I’ma have to call you something. Blade, maybe.” He cocked his head questioningly but she didn’t respond. “No, ok, how about Hard-ass?” She still just stared at him. “Not Hard-ass.” He put a hand on his chin. “Ok, ok,” he grinned, knowing she would hate it. “No Blade, no Baby, no Hard-ass. I know, I’m gonna call you pumpkin.”
Her eyes narrowed and he almost laughed. He had her fucking number and he loved that she hated it. Loved that she looked like she wanted to murder him. Fuck, what she must be like in bed! A wildcat. A feminine version of him. A full lifetime of scorching hot sex stretched out before him like a promise and he was ready for it. They could start tonight.
He caged her again with his arms, leaning in close, taking deep breaths through his nose. His lips touched her neck and he couldn’t resist nipping her with his teeth. She shuddered and he smiled against her flesh. Oh yeah, this was going exactly where he wanted it to. She raised her arms and put them on his shoulders, holding him in place so she could whisper in his ear.
Her voice was soft, her breath hot against the shell of his ear. “You can call me pumpkin, but every time you do, I’m going to call you princess.”
He captured one of her hands from his shoulders and pulled it down the front of him, placing it on his cock, which strained at his pants. Not his classiest move, but she’d started it. “Let me show you my crown,” he murmured to her, then groaned as her fingers curled around him, moving from base to tip through the fabric, like she was testing his size. She melted against him for just a moment and he celebrated, curling one hand against the nape of her neck to hold her closer to him, to maneuver her head in for their first kiss-She was gone. A twist in his arms and she’d ducked under. He blinked, then turned to find her standing behind him.
Ah shit, he hoped he didn’t make too much of a fool of himself, chasing her like some love-sick puppy. He’d try to keep his shit tight, but he wanted her so bad he could taste it.
He advanced on her.
***
Rogue held up a hand, glad to see him stop dead in his tracks, like he still had some control over himself. She barely had any left herself, but if this… thing between them went any farther she was going to let him do all kinds of dirty, delectable shit to her, right out here in the open, cop or not, criminal or not, all-sorts-of-weird-shit-between-them or not.
She did the only thing she could think of to throw water on the situation. “You fuck me once and disappear and you really think I’m going to let you do it again?”
That did it. He blinked and stammered and lost every ounce of cool he’d had, and he’d had way too much of it to be good for her, if she wanted to keep her pants on.
Finally, his mouth managed to work. “Fucked you… once?” His face went hard. “Don’t tell me you have me confused with someone else.”
She rolled her eyes. “You don’t even remember me. Great, even better. Just what a girl wants to hear. Is four years so far out of your man-whore cycle that you can’t remember anyone from that long ago?”
His eyes narrowed, then widened and she could see very well the moment when the knowledge of who she was slammed into him. He half pointed at her, then wiped his mouth, then pointed at her again. “You’re her. From Yosemite.” His voice was barely a whisper.
She nodded briskly. “Nice job, cop. I mean princess. Great memory you got there. You’ll excuse me if I don’t want a repeat.”
She turned and headed away from him, across the walkway of the playground, catching the steps lightly, reaching the ground, a fierce kind of satisfaction filling her that she’d thrown him such a mean right hook, even as her body screamed at her that she did want a repeat, that he’d been the only satisfying sex she’d ever had, that she should let him back her up against a tree the way he’d backed her against that rock. She could use another orgasm that made her think she was going to die. Since that one time, she’d almost decided that was the only kind of orgasm worth having.
Behind her, he must have finally came to his senses, because his heavy footfalls sounded, crossing the walkway, then down the steps, she turned around, walking backwards, and held up her hand again, the cool air whistling past her ears as she went. “Seriously. I’m done here. You really want to help me, just let me go.”
He shook his head, looking all deadly again as he followed. “I can’t do that.”
“You said you weren’t going to let anyone arrest me.”
“I’m not.”
“Not even you?”
“Not even me.” But he didn’t stop coming.
Rogue pressed her lips together and looked around. She couldn’t outrun him fast enough to get into her car and start it, but there was no way she was sticking around. He was too dangerous for her.
… Unless she went home with him. Just one night. Fucked him into a stupor, then slipped out while he slept. She already knew it would be the best sex of her life.
Crap. But it would also be dangerous as shit. A guy like that, you let him into your life just a little bit, then all of a sudden you feel like you can’t live without him. You do stupid shit. You never leave. Become his girlfriend. Give up all your dreams and desires and your own self for whatever the two of you make together. Then he asks you to marry him and you say yes because it’s a promise of him loving you for the rest of your life, feeding you orgasms like candy every single night until you don’t care about anything but getting home to him, making sure he still loves you as much as he used to, as much as he promised he always would.
Still walking backwards, still being stalked by Cop Danger, Rogue barely restrained herself from pulling at her own hair in frustration. She didn’t
want him to know how conflicted she was, didn’t want him to see anything but belligerence in her stare. If he knew how much she wanted him back, he would never give up until he was balls-deep inside her. Then he probably could take her or leave her.
True, after their tryst in Yosemite, he’d wanted her name, wanted her number, but she hadn’t given it to him, so she’d never known if he would have called her or not. Never known if they could have had something then. But she sure as shit knew they didn’t have anything now.
She had to get out of there.
***
Mac followed where she led, his brain scrambled. He’d known her before! He’d had sex with her! He’d been 31, and she must have been 21. She believed he’d forgotten her because she hadn’t meant anything to him, but, truth be told, he’d been fascinated with her from the moment he saw her clinging to that rock alone. Fascinated because she was hot, with a tall, athletic body that was exactly his favorite kind, fascinated because she was alone, fascinated because she was fearless, but there had been no glimmer of her being his mate then. She’d even smelled different to him. He’d liked her, sure, but had never realized, never even dreamed…
He raised his eyes to meet hers, trying to collect his thoughts. “I wanted your name, I wanted your number, you were the one who said it would be a better fantasy if we never knew each other’s names.”
She shrugged. “I guess it didn’t mean that much to me either. You were kind of forgettable.”
Mac’s heart stung in his chest and his steps faltered. But, no, he remembered her breathy gasps in his ear, the way her nails had dug into his skin as she came, the way she’d screamed, then blushed when her orgasm was over, looking around to see if anyone had heard them. He remembered her hot pussy clenching at his cock as she drenched him. She was lying now, but her body had told the truth then.
He pressed forward, matching her step for step. She threw a glance over her shoulder to keep herself on the path, then glared hotly at him.
He glared back. “You came so hard you forgot your own name, pumpkin. I’m not sure why you’re lying to me now, but you can take this to the bank. I know you’re lying. I know I rocked your world.”
Her lips curled and he thought she would slow down. But no. “Arrogant, much?” she told him, then turned on a dime and sprinted away from him.
“Fuck,” he growled, breaking into a run. She really was going to make him work for it.
The moon shone down on them as if to say it was a good night for a chase.
He agreed.
Chapter 24
Rogue laughed as she ran, stepping off the path, racing not the man behind her, but the moonlight as it dipped and spattered between the trees. She knew she couldn’t outrun him forever, but she could wear him the fuck out, until she decided what to do next.
One night of pure, animal sex was looking better every moment, if only it wasn’t laden with everything that would come after. No, it was better this way. Something would happen that would give her a chance to slip away. The second she did, she would go straight home, pack what little she wanted to take with her, and get the hell out of Serenity. Chicago, too. She’d head out there, grab the pendants, split the state, maybe the country, and decide what to do about her house and Boe and her sister later.
But, for now, she ran, the simple childhood joy of moving warring with the hot anticipation of being caught. If he caught her, would she let him kiss her? Maybe. Maybe she would jam his thick hand between her legs and rock on him until she came, stealing enough satiating pleasure to let her think clearly, get over this obsession with him.
Werewolf, man, it didn’t matter what he was. She would regret leaving him, but she would regret staying with him more.
She zigged and zagged between evergreen trees, her hair streaming out behind her like a flag, her boots landing evenly on the ground. She could sense him behind her, keeping the same distance between them, just keeping pace with her so he didn’t lose her, looking for his opportunity to turn on the speed and catch her around the waist, throw her to the ground and fall on her. Take her, fuck her. She groaned as she ran, wanting it badly, trying to tear her imagination away from the images. How fucking hot would it be?
Her lungs burned in her chest and she pulled ahead a little, then stopped dead and held out her hand, turning to face him. “Stop!” she cried. “Let’s make this interesting.”
He skidded to a stop and looked at her, hands on hips, and she was dismayed to see that she might be just a bit more out of breath than he was. Fucker was in phenomenal shape. Which only made her want him more. Oh, and what do you know, his dick was still hard.
“I’m listening,” he said.
“I tell you what. If you can catch me, I’ll give you what you want. If I can elude you for ten more minutes, you let me go.”
He shook his head and said it again. “I can’t do that.”
She frowned. “Can’t do what? Let me go?”
He nodded, panting only a little, his shirt flapping where she’d cut it, revealing his hard abs. “Can’t let you go. Can’t ever let you go.”
She turned in a little circle, breathing heavily, encouraging the anger that flared up at that statement. She would need it. “You aren’t going to arrest me, you already said that. So I don’t get what you fucking mean, you can’t let me go. What are you planning on doing, kidnapping me? Holding me hostage somewhere?”
He shook his head. “No. But you and me, we’re together now. You just got to… understand.” He held his hands out, his words still coming in huffs. “Look, I can see how this is confusing for you, but believe me, you are going to want to stick with me. We’ve got some shit to talk about.”
Rogue’s heart pounded, and she knew suddenly that the answer to her werewolf problem was hers for the taking. All she had to do was talk to Mac.
But she didn’t want to know. Didn’t want her life as she knew it destroyed with a few words. Didn’t want to be put in this fucking situation!
Anger spilled through her and she whirled, using it to her advantage, taking off at a dead run, sensing she’d gained a few precious seconds on him.
She would get away from him.
***
Mac cursed in the moonlight as his mate pulled away from him, widening the distance between them. He put on a burst of speed, half-tempted to shift and corner her, but that would scare the shit out of her, so he wouldn’t do it, not unless he absolutely had to, but there was no way he was letting her out of his sight. Like the knowledge had been dropped on him from above, he finally understood Trevor, Crew, Graeme, and Beckett all choosing to live on the same plot of land. There was safety in numbers, and when you managed to mate a female this… phenomenal, one that a demon would give his left nut to get ahold of, you didn’t leave anything to chance. You didn’t let her out of your sight for a second. Even if she was strong, and sharp, and deadly, like his mate obviously was.
Now if only she would stop running and realize that she belonged with him.
His need for air drove all conscious thought from his brain as he tracked her movements and tried to avoid tripping over anything. She never once looked back over her shoulder to see if he was gaining on her, or even still chasing her. She turned suddenly, left past a tree, and he skidded right past where she’d disappeared, widening her lead on him. If he only knew her name he would yell it out, scream it, but he didn’t know it, and he needed his breath, anyway.
A thud and then a curse told him she’d hit the ground. He put on a burst of speed, saw her up and trying to run, but not quite standing, and he caught her, throwing one arm around her waist, twisting his body so he came down on the ground hard on his back, with her on top of him.
She didn’t struggle, just let him pull her until their bodies were snuggled in next to each other. He loosened his hold on her, just a bit, enough that she could push herself up, her legs on either side of his torso, her ass dangerously close to his erection.
“I caught you,” he told h
er, panting, and trying not to show it.
“Only because I fell.” Her voice was tight like she was pissed. At him? Or herself?
“Still counts.”
She didn’t say anything for a few moments as she caught her own breath, but her fingers on his stomach were coming dangerously close to caressing his skin through the hole in his shirt. He held her tight around her hips, so she wouldn’t think of running again. He stared at her, soaking in the feeling of her on top of him.
“Ok,” she bit out. “You caught me. So what do you want?”
Mac could see in her face what she expected him to say. But he wasn’t going there. When he kissed her, when he took her, she wouldn’t be doing it grudgingly. She would be completely there with him, wanting it as much as he did.
“I want to know your name.”
She licked her lips, then wiped sweat off her forehead. Her hair fell down around her face, and her small breasts bobbed with the great rolling breaths she pulled in. His hands itched to touch her there, so he clamped down harder on her hips.
She bit her bottom lip as if she was deciding what to tell him and he braced himself for a lie. It wouldn’t mean anything, if she lied to him, just that she had her own stuff going on. He could understand that. She didn’t know him, had no reason to trust him.
Her fingers spread, moving over his stomach and he bit back a groan. Her touch burned him, spread lust over his skin, made his cock jump in his pants. Fuck.
She wiggled backwards a bit, until her ass came in contact with his erection, then she gave him a sly smile. “You sure you don’t want something else? A kiss maybe? Or…?”
He smiled back. “I’m sure.”
Her smile disappeared. She appraised him with sharp eyes, then lifted her hips and moved towards his feet, then settled back down on him, the hottest part of her now in direct contact with his dick. Fuck him, he didn’t know if he could take it. The desire to get her under him, to get inside her was killing him.
His eyes drifted closed and his hips punched upward, lifting her, pressing their bodies together where they were joined. He groaned at the friction they were creating, groaned at the tightness in his balls, the pure need that had ahold of him.