by Kate Douglas
Keisha blinked, caught dreaming. “Oh…I’m sorry. Dinner was excellent.”
Stefan held the plates out of sight. “What did we have?”
“What?” Oh, lordy, what had she just eaten? She blinked. “For dinner? Uh…we had…I ate…” Keisha felt her skin heat up, knew she was probably blushing. Caught, she slumped in her chair. “I don’t know. Sheesh, I feel really stupid.”
“You’re worried about where you’re going to sleep tonight, aren’t you?”
Did he have to look so damned smug? How could he know what she was thinking? Her blocks were tight, not a thought escaping. “I…”
“With me, I hope, but you know you don’t have to, and I won’t mind if you don’t.”
She took a deep breath. “I want to. Sleep with you, I mean. It’s not like we haven’t before.”
“Yeah, but the others have always been nearby, or with us.”
He set the dishes near the sink, walked back to the table and knelt beside her chair. It was so eerie looking into Stefan’s eyes—eyes exactly like Anton’s. He seemed to be weighing something when he took her hand in his, turned it and traced her lifeline with his fingertip, following the dark crease in the lighter flesh of her palm.
She felt each stroke all the way to her womb.
It was such a sensual act, the callused tip of his finger slowly, gently tracing that deeply etched line, back and forth, over and over. Mesmerized, she watched him while her pussy clenched, and she felt the hot moisture gathering, readying her.
“Stefan?” She placed her other hand over his, stopping the motion before she embarrassed herself and jumped him right here in the kitchen.
He covered her hand, so kneeling there, their hands sandwiched together, he looked like he was proposing. His eyes were luminous, his expression troubled.
He licked his lips. When he swallowed, she watched the muscles of his throat contract, mesmerized by the fluid motion. He was beautiful, every bit as gorgeous as Anton, just as sensual, just as caring. And Lord help her, but she loved the man. Not in the same way she loved Anton, but the feelings were there, so strong and true, they made her ache.
“Keisha?”
He looked troubled. Almost sad. She tilted her head, studying him, not daring to read his thoughts. His hands were warm, strong, holding hers tightly.
“Sweetheart, have you ever talked to anyone about what happened to you? Have you told Anton, your therapist, anyone, about the wolf? About your attack?”
What? She hadn’t expected that question. Not in a million years! “Of course I have.” She tried to tug her hands free, but he held on. After a couple of tugs, she gave up. “Anton knows I was raped. So do the police, the therapist and, after that newspaper article, half the known Western world.” She choked back a sound that could have been a sob. She hoped he thought it was laughter.
Stefan stared at her a moment longer, then he smiled and stood up. Held out his hand to her. “C’mon. We don’t need to have sex, but I want you beside me.”
“You sound like Anton.” This time the laughter was easy when she took his hand. “That poor man. He was so frustrated, and all I wanted to do was snuggle.”
“Snuggling’s good. Fucking’s better, but snuggling works.”
He grinned at her, perfect white teeth, brilliant amber eyes, the most gorgeous black hair shot through with silver, a body to die for. Without a doubt, the sweetest, most lovable guy she’d ever not fallen in love with…
But I do love him.
Not the way she loved Anton. No, though just not as deeply, every bit as fiercely. “How’d I ever get so lucky?” She flashed him a smile as she let him pull her to her feet. “Let’s finish the dishes first. I hate to leave a mess for Oliver.”
She watched him, sneaking glances to her right as he carefully dried each dish she handed him. Maybe her brain wasn’t too sure, but her body definitely wanted more than snuggling. By the time the counters had been wiped down and the last dish put away, Keisha’s taut nipples were rubbing themselves raw against her sweater, and she was afraid her jeans would show the dampness between her legs.
Stefan flipped off the light switch, turned and took her hand. His nostrils flared. She knew he’d caught her scent, knew just how aroused she was, knew how much she wanted him deep inside her. Keisha felt the awareness leap between them, felt it curling hot and live in her belly, flowing through her veins like liquid fire.
A low growl slipped from between his lips. Slowly he tilted her chin up, positioned her perfectly for his mouth, then took her in a long, slow kiss. He brushed his lips across hers, dampened the seam between her lips with the tip of his tongue.
She opened for him, suckling his tongue into her mouth, tasting the flavors so much like Anton’s, yet so unique to Stefan. He slipped his arm beneath her hips and lifted her easily, still kissing her, his tongue a warm and welcome violation.
She moaned. Could she come from just kissing? Stefan shoved the bedroom door open with his foot and deposited Keisha on the bed. Still fully dressed, he lay over her, kissing her mouth, the part of her throat exposed by her sweater.
There was something wonderfully decadent about making love fully dressed—decadent but woefully unsatisfying. Keisha tugged at the soft flannel shirt tucked into his jeans, felt the pressure of his hips against hers as he kicked his shoes and socks off, slipped out of his pants, ripped the shirt off his shoulders.
Completely naked, gloriously aroused, Stefan knelt between her jeans-clad thighs, his huge cock trapped in his hand. Slowly, he pumped back and forth, all the way from the base to the thick, dark crown.
“Are you going to undress?”
She giggled, suddenly nervous, her mouth dry. Instead of answering, she leaned forward and licked the very end of his cock. He shuddered, his hand stopped all motion.
She licked him again, then arched back and raised her hips, putting pressure on his testicles. He groaned and settled himself closer against her. There was something empowering about Stefan’s nudity, the contrast to her clothed body. Something wild and carnal, to be fully dressed while he was naked.
Keisha leaned forward and licked his right nipple, then dragged her teeth across the hard little point. He groaned, pressed more tightly against her, arched his back to bring his chest closer to her mouth.
She repeated with the left nipple, almost preternaturally aware of his racing heartbeat, the blood rushing in his veins, his harsh intake of air. Moving slowly, Keisha slipped out from beneath his parted thighs and pushed Stefan to his back. She straddled his hips, trapped his erection beneath her pussy and slowly rubbed her jeans-clad body over his.
Even through the denim she felt his heat, the hard ridge of his cock, the solid strength of his muscular thighs. On each backward sweep, the broad, plum-colored head peeked out between her legs, then disappeared as she swayed forward.
She palmed his nipples with both hands, supporting herself as she continued rocking, back and forth, moving slowly, smoothly, against his rigid flesh.
The seam of her denims hugged her clit, his erection forcing the fabric tight against her pussy. Keisha gasped. Her body tightened, her breath caught. Awash in the familiar coil of heat and need and lush sensitivity, she strained against him, riding this gorgeous naked man to completion.
Faster, uncaring how rough her jeans might feel to him, taking control, she turned her body loose. Back and forth, with Stefan’s hands now clasping her hips, helping her ride him hard and fast, his cock suddenly jerking, spurting, shooting his seed all over his belly. The sight of his climax tipped Keisha into her own. Her body convulsed, spasmed. She arched her back and pressed down hard.
Her pussy clenched against the emptiness, as if searching frantically for more. Her heart pounded.
Stefan laughed. “Shit. Haven’t done that since I was a teenager. Feels good, but not nearly so good as…”
He flipped her to her back. Still boneless from her own climax, she could barely move her hands. Giggling, gasping for
air, she helped him tug her jeans off, helped when he pulled her sweater over her head.
Could only lie back and moan when he fastened his mouth between her legs, stabbed into her with his tongue, licked her sensitive clit. Gently, so very gently, he brought her back to the edge, brought her to crying, quivering need before kneeling between her legs and slowly, surely, driving his newly erect cock deep inside.
This was what she needed, this hot, stretched feeling of total fulfillment. Raising her hips to meet his, she took him deep inside. The thick head of his cock touched the hard mouth of her womb on each downward thrust.
His fingers clutched her buttocks, holding her close. He thrust hard and fast, harder, until she shattered once more, until her arms and legs trembled and her pussy clutched his cock.
She felt him dragging his fingers through the moisture between her legs, then the soft slide as one finger found her ass, pressed lightly against the puckered flesh, then gained entrance. Still caught in the throes of climax, her mind missed the significance of his slow, tantalizing thrusts as first one finger, then two, then finally three, stretched the taut muscle.
When the head of his cock pressed against her, she freaked.
“No!”
What the fuck did he think he was doing? Screaming, crying, she shoved him with her legs, pushed him away and scrambled to the far side of the bed. Huddled there, crying, lost in shame, so embarrassed she wanted to fall through the floorboards and just disappear.
Stefan sat back on his heels and watched her. He offered no comfort, didn’t try to hug her, as if he realized any movement on his part might send her over the edge.
She fought for control, hugged her arms around herself and took deep, steady breaths. Looked anywhere but at Stefan.
“Mind telling me what just happened?”
Keisha shook her head. Stared at her toes and felt more naked than she’d ever felt in her life.
He grabbed his jeans off the floor and pulled them on. Then he threw a soft afghan to Keisha. She wrapped it tightly around herself. Hid within its multihued folds.
“I asked you earlier if you’d ever talked about the rape and the wolf with anyone. What just happened is linked to your assault, isn’t it?”
She nodded. Still couldn’t look at him.
“Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
She watched him go and thought her heart would break. Couldn’t tell him she’d had the same reaction when Anton had tried anal sex, though she hadn’t remembered why then.
This time, the memories were clear and true. Brutal and bloody, so horrible she couldn’t tell anyone how afraid she was—not for herself, but for them.
One other man had taken her that way, and because of him, three men had died horrible deaths. Screaming in agony, bleeding, terrified to the final moments when their torn throats were no longer capable of sound.
Chapter 25
Alexandria awakened, sated, sleepy—alone. The hotel room was dark, the bed beside her empty. She sensed movement, sat up and focused through the gloom with her enhanced Chanku sight.
A wolf prowled. Large, predatory, it paced back and forth beneath the covered window. Twelve floors up, there was no risk of it jumping, but still it paced.
Anton? What’s wrong? Can’t you sleep?
No. I sense Keisha. She’s troubled. I feel her.
She’s a thousand miles away. You can’t possibly…
Yes. I can.
She felt his very human sigh. If you say so.
He snorted, a very human sound from the large wolf now standing in the middle of their room. I realize Stefan will tell me if she’s in trouble, but I can’t ignore the fact I sense her. It’s frustrating, knowing there’s nothing I can do from so far away.
You can come back to bed. I’ll let you pretend I’m Keisha. “C’mon.” She patted the sheets beside her.
He sighed again, took a single leap and landed on the bed. Still in his wolven form, Anton curled up beside Alexandria and draped his muzzle across her breasts.
His head was heavy, comforting. She drifted off to sleep, her fingers slowly rubbing the soft fur behind his ears.
Stefan carried two brandy snifters filled with Anton’s special stash of aged Scotch whiskey. What he had to do with Keisha was going to take more than a couple of glasses of wine.
He’d been so close to linking with her at the moment she had lost it, so close he’d actually picked up shadowy visions of her thoughts, terrifying images that left his heart pounding and his stomach in turmoil.
If what he’d seen had actually happened, it was no wonder Keisha hadn’t fully recovered.
He pushed the door to the bedroom open. She hadn’t moved. Still huddled in the corner of the bed, her back pressed against the headboard, the crocheted blanket wrapped tightly around her body, she looked like a little girl awaiting punishment.
He sat down next to her, reached inside the twisted blanket and grabbed her hand. Carefully unfolding her clenched fingers, he placed the glass in her hand.
“Drink this. It’s just to calm you down. We may have a long night ahead of us.”
“I don’t want to…”
“Drink.”
He watched while she took a deep swallow, gasped and coughed, stared at him with hurting eyes, then sipped again, slower.
He took a chance. Crossed his fingers and hoped Anton wouldn’t kill him for what he intended to do. He glared at Keisha. “Okay. You can put the glass down now. I don’t give a shit what you don’t want to talk about. Keisha, I love you. Anton and Xandi love you. We are damned tired of seeing you hurting, knowing you have so much bottled up inside that it’s keeping you from being the woman you’re meant to be. Let me help you. I’m not totally without skills.”
“No…no, I don’t want…”
“Keisha!” He grabbed her shoulders, stared into her tear-filled eyes. “Look at me. You remembered something tonight, something that has scared the shit out of you. Don’t say it, don’t even go there, but please, let me into your mind. Drop the barriers. Let me see what’s got you under its control.”
She dipped her chin so that it almost rested on her chest. Her voice was nothing more than a broken whisper, and it ripped his heart out.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she said. “I knew I did something awful, but tonight I remembered. It was worse than I thought. I’m afraid of what I’ll do…”
“Show me.” He felt like a liar using his mind like this, the skills to mesmerize that Anton had been teaching him, but he used them anyway, nudging Keisha gently in the direction he wanted her to take.
Exhausted, frightened, already feeling the Scotch in her system, she was an easier subject than he expected. She raised her head and stared blankly at him, totally under the spell of his suggestion. At his subtle command, she dropped her barriers, removed all the blocks she’d so carefully maintained and let him in.
It was all he could do not to vomit. She shared her rape and its bloody aftermath, linking completely with Stefan. He was Keisha, straddling one man, her insides raw and bleeding from repeated penetrations as her attacker brutally shoved into her from below. Another man held her head while he drove his cock down her throat. The pain was excruciating, the gag reflex overwhelming, but there was nothing she could do. No way to fight back, not with her hands tied behind her with wide strips of tape, her hips roughly held by the man beneath her.
Fear, blinding, overwhelming fear and pain, so much pain her body began to shut down, to find another state, another existence. Then the sensation of someone else, the third man, behind her. Groping her, grabbing her hips, spreading her buttocks, then agony—blinding, unavoidable agony—as he forced entrance, shoving himself deep inside, tearing, ripping her flesh.
She wanted to scream, but the cock in her mouth kept her mute. She wanted to die, but her life force was too strong.
She wanted to kill. Wanted the taste of their blood, the sounds of their death screams. Wanted to live. Stefan felt it then, the shif
t that had saved her, the crackling of bones and straining of sinews unprepared for such an act. The shift that happened so quickly, her attackers were suddenly screwing a full-sized she-wolf, a wolf that did exactly what any wild animal will do when it’s frightened or in pain.
She attacked. The cock in her mouth was simple. She simply snapped her jaws and jerked her head, tearing the man’s genitals from his body. Turning with lightning speed, she ripped out the throat of the man who sodomized her, at the same time disemboweling the one beneath her with her hind feet. The claws tore into his gut, shredding skin and tendon as if it were paper.
Her attack was fast and efficient, though only the man who’d had his throat torn died instantly. The others screamed for what seemed a long, long time. Exhausted, still in wolf form, Keisha stood alone in the middle of the blood-soaked room, her head hanging almost to the floor. Blood poured from her body, but she finally staggered to the door, only to discover paws were not made for dead bolts and doorknobs.
Exhausted, weak from loss of blood, she finally collapsed against a wall as far from the three men as she could get. Her mind shut down completely, blotting out the moans and screams. She laid her bloodied muzzle against her crossed paws and slept.
Her mind was completely blank during the shift back to human form, but Stefan became aware of a loud pounding on the door, of the smell of blood and death in the room, of the death rattle of the last of the attackers as he finally died from loss of blood. Then all was confusion and disorientation as the police broke through the door and reality once more intruded.
Stefan realized he had somehow reached for Keisha, held her in his arms as both of them cried. He’d never imagined the horror she’d lived through, knew Anton had no idea how brave and strong his mate actually was. He tried to tell her those things, tried to impress upon her the power of the wolf, the strength and bravery it had taken for her to fight back when fighting was all but futile.
He released the link and held her close. She shuddered and tried to pull away, but he rubbed her back and whispered silly phrases in her ear until she finally calmed down. Her heart rate slowed, her tears ended. Finally, exhausted, both of them slept.