Seduced by a Shifter

by Jennifer Dellerman

  “The ten?”

  Tess hummed an affirmative. “Kaylie told me you meet them all your first night here, at her place. I can’t believe you didn’t feel the testosterone overload when you stepped into that room.”

  Actually, she had. A room full of big, masculine, and yeah, proud men. And very gentle, considerate, protective men as well. Willow slumped back on the couch. “Maybe I did.”

  “And maybe you never answered my question.”

  Frowning, Willow asked, “What question?”

  Hazel eyes leveled with blue. “Do you consider me a freak because I’m a shifter? Because I was born with more strength, speed, and sharper senses—and, believe you me, the scent thing can be a real downer at times—than a human?”

  Willow looked at the woman who sat motionless in the chair. The woman whose gorgeous face and killer body had once graced thousands of magazine pages, and not less than twenty covers.

  A light bulb suddenly blazed bright inside Willow’s head, making everything crystal clear. “No. It’s like saying you’re a freak because you’re beautiful, or because you have hazel eyes instead of blue, or that your boobs are huge...”

  Tess waved a regal hand in the air. “Yes, I know the outside package is phenomenal. I’m talking the inside, Willow. The inside package. Just like the men, I carry a beast inside me, so I’m not one hundred percent human like my sister. My DNA is different. My blood is different.”

  “Is it still red?”

  Tess visibly relaxed, her lips curving in a tiny smile. “Yes, it’s red.”

  Willow nibbled on her bottom lip, considering. “And your wolf really can’t come out?”

  A sad shake of Tess’s head. “No, and trust me when I say that the thought of turning furry once a month is a bit much on top of my monthlies, but every now and then I do wish for the ability to produce a sharp set of claws.”

  Willow smiled. Exactly what she thought last night, minus the claws part. Except now that Tess brought it up, Willow could see how that particular talent could come in handy.

  “So what are you going to do about Ben?”

  Willow’s smile died. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re his mate. If you don’t accept him, he’ll either wither away and die or hound you until you either beat him senseless or give in out of sheer irritation.”

  Her smile was back. “That what you did to Caleb?”

  “Naw. I fell in love with him.”

  With no response, Willow looked away.

  “Oookay. So I’ll leave the earrings on the table here. I expect to see you at my wedding.” Her small squeak of excitement at the word “wedding” pulled Willow’s attention from the far wall to the shining glow of happiness in Tess’s eyes. “Anyway. Put them and the dress on. Show up. Go to the reception. Watch us interact. See for yourself that shifters really aren’t all that different than humans. We laugh, live, love. And we love something fierce, Will. It’s what scared me about Caleb. How fierce his love is. Don’t let go of something precious because you were too afraid to hold on. Believe me when I say you’ll never regret holding on with everything you’ve got.”

  Graceful as always, Tess rose to her feet. “And if you need more time to think, take it. But don’t keep Ben hanging. He’s the pack’s heart.”

  Unable to respond because of the fist-sized lump in her throat, Willow glanced away, nodding that she heard and understood. After Tess left, Willow curled up on her side, allowing the tears to flow. She missed her dad. She was scared and didn’t know what to do.

  But most of all, she missed Ben.

  * * * *

  The next afternoon Willow slipped into a nearly empty row near the back of the church, doing what Tess suggested. Observing. People gathered, sat, mingled, or stood up front, talking to Caleb and his groomsmen, all handsomely attired in black tuxes with varying hues of green vests and bow ties.

  From the tingles of awareness that raised the fine hairs at the nape of her neck and how her breasts ached, she knew Ben was around, even if she didn’t see him. Not for the first time did she wonder if his proximity would always cause this type of reaction.

  Her ever-present and now dapperly dressed bodyguards sat behind her. A male voice announced they were about to begin and people started buzzing around for seats. Someone slid down the row toward Willow. Without looking she knew it was Ben.

  Could he hear the jagged beat of her heart? She glanced up when he sat next to her, her belly twisting at the naked heat in his eyes. He made no attempt to hide the raw longing as he traced the shape of her body with his eyes. Evidently he liked what he saw, until his gaze landed on his bite mark, now covered by a healthy slathering of makeup. His lips turned down ever so slightly, but he didn’t say a word. He did, however, cover her hand resting on her lap, and entwined their fingers.

  It was both a clear sign of ownership and desire for touch, two characteristics as necessary to a wolf as air, which Willow had discovered in her foray on the Internet. No matter how charming he appeared on the outside, she needed to remember a deadly predator lurked just under the surface. He was a wild mix of danger and passion, an ultimate temptation, and she wanted to slide into his arms, into his heat.

  This was exactly why she couldn’t think properly when he was near. She forgot everything except how she felt in his embrace. I’m an embarrassment to women everywhere, she thought, peeking at him as the wedding processional began. But really, who could blame me?

  An hour later she was standing next to Ben in the hotel ballroom now transformed into an elegant atmosphere. An elaborate display of hors d’oeuvres and drinks were provided while the wedding party remained at the church for formal photos. A DJ played rousing music over in a corner and everywhere she looked, Willow saw people clearly enjoying themselves.

  But she had no interest in any of it. She needed to speak with Ben. Questions still circled her head and in a room teeming with people, some she knew, most she didn’t, wasn’t the place.

  “Is there somewhere close we can talk? Privately?”

  Ben looked around the crowded room, then, grasping her hand, tugged her out a side door and down a carpeted hallway. Near the end of the corridor he pulled her into a deserted room, closing and flicking the door lock.

  “This is a woman’s restroom.” Willow said.

  Ben shrugged. “Best I could do on short notice. If you want, I could check and see if there’s a free hotel room.” This was accompanied by a wicked smile.

  The way she was feeling, a hotel room would be a bad idea. Beds were in hotel rooms. “No. This is fine.” She looked around at the single stall, tiled floor, and wide immaculate marble vanity. A vanity that could easily hold her weight.

  She gulped, her eyes locked on Ben’s in the mirror, his sly smile saying it all. He was thinking the same thing. All too easily she could see herself hopping on top of the vanity and testing it out. She remained rigid, not trusting herself to move away from the temptation.

  Ben closed in behind her, setting his hands on her hips, his chest brushing her back. His lips tickled her neck. “So what did you want to talk about?”

  Her eyes fluttered in helpless acceptance as warmth washed through her. She missed this: his touch, his heat, his scent. Too good to resist. She tilted her head, giving him better access. “I’ve been thinking.”

  His hands stroked her ribcage, his lips busy nibbling on her throat. “About how good we are together?”

  Her response was a distracted murmur. His hands were torture, smoothing over her torso in long, gentle strokes, barely missing the underside of her breasts. Liquid heat gathered between her thighs.

  His low growl startled her. “God, Willow. You’re scent is making me crazy. I want to touch you. I need to touch you.”

  He was touching her, just not where her body begged. Taking her silence as acceptance, Ben gathered the skirt of her dress in his large hands and began to inch the material up. “You’re beautiful, sweetheart. You take my breath away.”
>
  Her lungs understood. Air swooshed out, shallow and fast as her legs, knees, and thighs were revealed. One hand covered her breast, holding and kneading the swollen mound. When her belly was exposed he hooked the material over his fingers, leaving his thumb free to strum over her nipple. He skimmed his other hand over her trembling flesh, inching underneath the waistband of her plain cotton panties, arrowing to her mound.

  “So soft,” he whispered in approval in her ear, giving her lobe a nip, then soothing with his tongue. “So wet.” He parted her folds with two fingers, unerringly finding and strumming her clit with a third. “So hot.”

  She gazed at their reflection, mesmerized. Her legs parted, her hips arching into his touch. “The mating heat.” Her words came out halted, the fiery sensations building almost too much to speak past.

  “What about it?” Ben watched her as he played between her legs, his eyes edging with that amber glow she know knew meant his wolf was rising to the forefront. His control was slipping. Slipping because of her. The hard ridge of his erection pulsed at her spine, a thick enticement.

  Knowing she could make a man lose control was daunting and exciting. At the same time, knowing he had the same power over her was terrifying. Her knees started to wobble, her body growing wetter with need. From only his fingers. As if sensing the rising hunger, he applied more pressure, faster, right over the throbbing nub.

  A sharp gasp escaped. “Ah. What happens when it’s gone? The mating heat. Then what?”

  “Nothing will change, baby. I’ll always want you.” He punctured his words by thrusting two fingers deep inside her pussy. Her eyes rolled up into the back of her head, which fell against his shoulder. “I’ll always want this tight little sheath wrapped around my cock. Squeezing me dry.”

  She gripped his forearm, tightening when his pumping fingers scissored, his knuckles rubbing over tender tissue, making her gasp and cry out. “Ohmigod. I need...I…”

  “I know, sweetheart,” he whispered roughly against her cheek, his own breath harsh and unsteady. “I know.” He dropped his other hand down to her clit, working her sex with both hands. Her muscles quivered and clenched. “Come for me.”

  It was impossible not to. She fell apart in his embrace, coming in a soft cry as the world spun away. Her body still shivered when she felt his hand go to the front of his pants. The sound of his zipper rasped loudly, and she heard the crinkling of foil.

  She was limp as he turned her in his arms. “Kiss me,” he demanded against her mouth. More than willing to comply, Willow threw her arms around his neck, wrapped her legs around his waist as he hefted her up with ease.

  “I’ll always need your scent filling my lungs, your taste in my mouth.” He sucked in air, eyes burning with unquenchable fire as he pushed her panties to the side and slid, big and thick, into her, tunneling through muscles so exquisitely sensitive she let out another cry.

  “Christ. You feel so good.” His hiss was more a growl, heavy with dark needy pleasure. “So fucking good.” He kissed her temple, her cheeks, as he moved within her. murmuring words so low and deep she couldn’t make them out.

  Within a few strokes Willow found herself right back at that perilous edge. She whimpered for more, feeling surrounded, consumed. Taken. He pulled back and thrust in, stretching her so tight she could barely breathe.

  “You’re my heaven, Willow. My light in the dark.” Bending his knees for better alignment, he surged into her. The world spun away last time. This time it exploded. From deep within the gut-wrenching need shattered into a million pieces, so visceral she knew nothing but ecstasy.

  Ben’s muffled roar echoed in the room as he followed her over, his head buried in her neck. It took several moments for her to realize he hadn’t bitten her and the disappointment shocked her.

  He kept them up on trembling muscles, his heart a freight train in his chest. His mouth was on her face, her neck, her hair, as if he was loath to let her go.

  She opened her eyes and met his. “Hey.” He pressed his lips to the tip of her nose. “You okay?”

  She didn’t have a clue. “Yeah.”

  He pulled out and eased her feet to the floor. “Let me...”

  She nodded and turned away as he headed to the stall to dispose of the condom. When he returned he was tucking in his shirt while she busied herself in her purse which she’d dropped on the floor. “I need a few minutes.”

  He leaned against the wall, big and dangerous and very sure of himself.

  “Alone, Ben.”

  One brow rose. “There’s nothing—”

  Oh yes, there was. “Please, Ben. Just go and give me a few minutes.”

  He studied her flushed face, silent. “We need to talk about this shyness of yours.”

  She shook her head. “Go, already.” When he didn’t move she shooed him out the door, causing his eyes to light with laughter.

  “Fine, I’m going. But I’m watching the clock, sweetheart.”

  He could watch it all he wanted. She wasn’t going to move from this spot until she was good and ready to face him again.

  And they hadn’t even talked about the future.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Finally,” a male voice said as Willow stepped from the bathroom. She froze, looking up in horror at a woman dressed in a waitress uniform in front of her.

  “Really, Willow. A bathroom?” Marg Valen tsked. “That’s so tacky.”

  So much had happened over the last several days that Willow almost forgot about the danger she was in. Now, she made to rush back into the bathroom but the man who’d spoken slid behind her. Something small and hard pushed against her back.

  Oh shit.

  “I think it’s time we had a talk. Don’t you, sweetheart?”

  Willow wanted to spit on the other woman for sullying Ben’s endearment. “I’m not your sweetheart.”

  Valen reached up to touch Willow’s hair and she had to clamp her mouth shut to keep from biting the gnarly fingers.

  She’d probably end up with rabies.

  “So short, but still so pretty. Let’s go, Tom.”

  Tom prodded her back with his gun. Wild-eyed, Willow looked around the empty hall, wishing for help even as she hoped no one would show. Terrified as she was, anyone popping into the hall would be just as vulnerable as Willow.

  At the far end of the hall, near an exit sign, another man came into view. Though dressed for the wedding, the big black weapon in his hand told another story.

  As if Willow’s sinking heart couldn’t fall any farther, the door to the ballroom opened and Kaylie stepped out. With Lukas in her arms. Oblivious to the danger, she smiled in relief. “Oh, hey, Will. Ben told me there was a bathroom down this way. Lukas needs changing.”

  Marg’s smile was full of professional helpfulness. “Sure is. Just down the hall and to your right. What a darling child.” The woman reached out and ran a finger over Lukas’s downy cheek. Willow understood the hint. If she so much as breathed wrong, Kaylie and the baby were dead.

  In that second Willow understood Tess’s comment about a good set of claws coming in handy, because if she’d had them, she would have ripped Marg’s face off. The rage was so fierce, Willow shook with it.

  “Caleb and Tess are back?” She prayed the tremors in her voice didn’t betray her. She needed to act natural, and as a friend, she wouldn’t walk past Kaylie without speaking. Tom edged slightly away, making Willow wonder what he looked like, since the sight of an unknown male at Willow’s back didn’t seem to rattle Kaylie.

  Kaylie let out an exasperated sigh. “They’re still at the church for photos, so they say. Personally I think they’re looking for some ma-n-and-wife time before they head over.”

  Lukas started to fuss and she kissed his head, moving past Willow in the hall. Amazingly enough, both Marg and Tom let her pass without incident. “They’re like two wolves in heat. Nothing can separate them.” Kaylie said with a wink..

  Once Kaylie and the babe entered the restroo
m, Tom urged Willow on with a muttered “move” and nudge of his gun.

  “I’m going.” She glanced over at Marg to see the woman’s lips turn up.

  “Surprised? I’m not a complete bitch, Willow. As long as you don’t cross me. Besides, I do so like babies.”

  Willow shuddered and kept moving. As they neared the exit, the second man opened the door. Outside it was nearly dark, the sun long gone and the moon’s glow not yet strong enough to seep through the thick clouds. Willow was shoved inside the back of an SUV, the vehicle of choice in the mountains, and sandwiched between Marg and Tom. A third man sat behind the wheel, a nasty leer on his face as he checked her out through the rear-view mirror. Willow gagged.

  As they took off, Marg caught her looking out the side window at the second man. “Jack’s going to remain behind. He’ll let us know when they start looking for you. I figure, what? Ten minutes? Plenty of time to get out of town.”

  They stopped at a red light—nothing wrong here, officer—and Marg continued to blab away. But under the blabbing, Willow heard a sound that made every hair on her body stand up. It was the sound of a howling wolf. A wolf in great distress, or furious anger. Perhaps both. Willow turned in her seat, barely catching a glimpse of a huge tan wolf careening around the corner of a building and running full speed ahead as the light turned green and Leery stepped on the gas, snapping her around.

  “Ben,” she whispered.

  “What?” Marg asked.

  Willow swallowed hard. “So what have you been up to?”

  One painted on brow rose. “Uh-huh.”

  Tires squealed behind them, and several horns blared long and sharp.

  “What was that?” Marg peered over her shoulder.

  “Looks like some dog is loose.” Leery the gag king raised a shoulder, still eyeing her with undisguised interest anytime she caught him looking at her.