by Celia Kyle
The sight of him stole her breath. He was tall, but almost everyone was considered tall when compared to her five and a half feet. But Grant easily topped six feet and he had wide shoulders and a broad chest that tapered to a solid waist. She resolutely ignored his package, unwilling to imagine her boss’s cock, and moved on to his muscular thighs.
But it was those eyes… Those eyes seemed to change color with every brief moment that passed. It was the eyes that kept her frozen. Eyes that finally made her ninety-nine percent sure she was facing a wolf. The one percent was simply pure hope that she was wrong in her assessment.
“Rachel?”
She blinked, pulling herself from her musings and she concentrated on giving her boss her full attention. “Yes?”
“I have a problem, and I hope you can help.”
Chapter Two
His mate.
His mate was here, in his office, feet from him and bent over his desk. Only not in the way he desired since he wasn’t mounting her and her attention was focused on the vampire contract.
Rachel Riordan.
No, she wouldn’t be Riordan for much longer.
Rachel Hemming.
Her scent had assaulted him the moment she’d stepped across the threshold. The delicate peaches-and-vanilla fragrance had wrapped around his cock, and his wolf howled in triumph. He’d found his mate, the other half of his soul.
Now he was more determined than ever to thwart the vampires.
Grant watched her read through the contract, brow furrowed, nose scrunched, and tongue peeking out now and again as she absorbed the words. He ached to brush away the wrinkles of concentration and kiss her breathless before he…
He took a deep breath. He couldn’t claim her, shouldn’t even entertain the idea of binding her to him until the threat was gone. If there was a threat. Maybe he was just being paranoid.
Rachel had him bewitched. He couldn’t tear his gaze away. He’d glimpsed her sky-blue eyes and then had continued cataloguing her features. Her pert nose that tipped up at the end. Her lush lips that begged for his kisses. And her body… She was shorter than him by at least six inches, but her frame held everything he ever desired.
She was covered in curve after curve. Her breasts were full and plump, seemingly perfect for his hands. Her waist dipped in ever so slightly and flared to wide hips that would cradle him when they came together. He’d grip them during their mating, hold her tight while he thrust in and out of her pussy then lean down and sink his teeth into her beckoning shoulder. He’d bind them together. Forever.
A low grumble reached his ears and heat suffused Rachel’s face, her plump cheeks reddening. She bit her lower lip and squeezed her eyes shut, only to open them and peek at him beneath her lashes.
Grant couldn’t suppress his smile. “Hungry?”
This, he could handle. Mating needed to wait, but the wolf demanded that he meet Rachel’s needs.
“Yeah, sorry. I was just leaving for the day and Hagan came and took me and…”
“Say no more. The man is incredible at his job, but sometimes acts more animal than man.” He smiled wide, imagining his sentinel on the other side of the door, gritting his teeth at not being able to respond. Rachel gave him a half-smile, the expression not quite reaching her eyes and blood seemed to abandon her face. Curious. “Burgers? Steak? Mexican?”
“Steak?” Her eyebrows rose, she seemed to bounce back. “You order take-out steak? Really?”
Of course, she would find his world odd. “I guess telling you that I have a chef on staff would be too much.”
Rachel shook her head. “A little, but it’s your dollar.”
She turned her attention from him and back to the page in her hand. He took that opportunity to call Hagan.
The wolf answered on the first ring. “Man, I heard that. More animal than man. I’m crushed, Alpha.”
Grant smiled. Nothing was going to ruin his good mood, and it certainly wasn’t going to take a hit from his sentinel’s bit of insolence. “Order the food, Hagan. Maybe I’ll let you stand up with me at the ceremony.” He glanced at a still distracted Rachel. “She’s mine.”
Silence descended, but the man quickly recovered. “Congratulations, Alpha.”
“Thank you.” A rumble from Rachel’s stomach reached him. “Two steaks with baked potatoes.” Grant hung up the phone, not waiting for Hagan’s confirmation.
“That was rude.” Rachel’s soft voice ruined the building silence. “Oh, God, I’m sorry.” She flashed him a stricken look. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t… I…”
“It’s fine, Rachel. It was rude.” Not that he’d change his behavior when it came to his wolves. She wasn’t part of the pack yet. She didn’t understand…
“No, it wasn’t. I’m sorry. Seriously. I’m not usually so… I would really rather not get fired.”
Grant had never seen such stark fear before. He’d cut down countless challengers to his position as Alpha, but they’d never looked so terrified after he’d kicked their asses. Reaching out, he covered one of her shaking hands with his, stilling the trembles.
“I said it’s okay. I’m not going to fire you.” When she tugged against his hold, he released her and forced himself to lean back into his chair, pretending a nonchalance he didn’t feel. His mate needed her job. Desperately. And he had to wonder why.
A heavy knock on the office doors signaled dinner’s arrival and he pushed the question aside. Food first, demands later.
It took a few moments to convert the coffee table into something suitable for dinner and in no time they were seated side-by-side on the couch. He didn’t hesitate to dig into his meal, cutting into the rare steak and savoring the delicious flavors. One bite after another passed through his lips, and it wasn’t until the fifth that he noticed Rachel wasn’t eating.
Not only was she not eating, she was staring at him as if he had two heads.
He popped another bite into his mouth and chewed. “What?”
“Did they cook it at all?” Her nose had that adorable wrinkle.
Grant quirked a brow and chomped on another piece. “Maybe.” He nudged her with his elbow. “Eat your fully cooked steak before it gets cold.”
He and his wolf couldn’t allow her to go hungry.
Eventually, Rachel began eating, giving him the opportunity to get back to observing her. He saw past the flowing brown hair to the frayed collar on her shirt. He looked beyond the curvy lines of her slacks to the scuffed pumps. At first glance, his mate appeared to be dressed appropriately for a job at Hemming Industries. A closer inspection revealed evidence of financial struggles.
“Tell me about your family.” Asking would have meant she could decline answering.
She nibbled on a dinner roll. “No.”
“What do you mean no?” Grant paused, steak halfway to his mouth. Had she actually told him no?
Rachel took a sip of soda. “No.”
“Rachel…”
Rachel shook her head. “If it’s all right with you, Mr. Hemming, I’d rather not.” She turned pain-filled eyes on him, and a glimmer of tears lurked in their depths.
He nodded. He’d have someone dig into her past. There was always a cursory check when a person was hired, but he needed to know more about his mate, even if she refused to answer his questions. “Okay. I thought we agreed you’d call me Grant.”
“You agreed.”
He rolled his eyes. “What have you found in the contract, then?”
* * *
Rachel was going to die before she got the job done. Dead. Dead, dead. Say hello to Elvis Presley kind of dead.
She’d been a bit bitchy to him when he’d ordered dinner. And then she refused to tell the man about her family.
Or lack thereof.
Now he wanted to know about the contract.
She should have answered his questions about her personal life.
Really.
Argh. She wasn’t sure what she should spill first. Either a
nswer would mean a trip to somewhere dark, dank and dinner table-y. Particularly her on the dinner table. As dinner.
Because, yeah, based on what she’d read, she really, truly, holy-shit-ly was dealing with wolves. And vamps.
Rachel pushed away her empty plate, thankful that her last meal was a good one. It would have been perfect with a chocolate dessert. Something rich and thick and—
“Rachel?” Grant’s deep voice washed over her.
Even if the man was moments from ending her life, his voice stroked her, aroused her. Wolves and witches had a zero tolerance policy from what Great Aunt Petunia had told her when she was a child. There’d been a group of hags forever ago that’d decided werewolves would make lovely pets. From then on, the wolves had tended to kill first and tell the questions to go fuck themselves.
Once she explained the contract, he’d know that she knew exactly what she’d read. Oh, the lawyers had couched the involved parties in vague references and paranormal euphemisms, but there was no mistaking the subject matter.
The vamps and wolves were renegotiating the territory and Rachel wondered who the hell had drawn up such a shitty contract. And why?
“Well…”
A low thump had her attention whipping to the office door, the sound immediately followed by another two in rapid succession.
No.
She knew that sound, knew what the low, muted thud represented.
Childhood memories overtook the present and thrust her into the past.
Thump.
Daddy slumped in his seat, head bent forward, and a bright red splotch formed on his chest.
“Daddy? Daddy?” Five-year-old Rachel rolled her eyes and poked her father’s arm. “It’s not nap time, silly.”
Her mother’s gasp quieted her. “Mommy?”
“Come here, Rachel. Right now.” Mommy reached over and grabbed her hand tight. So tight it hurt, and she was gonna tell Mommy right now. Except…
Thump.
Mommy stumbled and fell to the ground, dragging Rachel down with her.
“Mommy?” Red stuff was soaking her mother’s shirt. Blood. Mommy was bleeding. “Mommy?” Tears stung Rachel’s eyes.
“Shh… Do you remember where you’re supposed to hide if bad men come? Do you remember the spell you have to say once you get there?”
Rachel nodded.
“Good girl. Go hide right now, sweetheart. Mommy’s going to come and get you just as soon as she can, okay? But you have to wait.” A tear escaped Rachel’s eye, but she nodded again. “That’s my good little witch. Go now, baby. Mommy and Daddy love you.”
Mommy squeezed her hand and then let it go, pushing at Rachel to move.
So, she did.
Rachel ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Faster than ever. And she raced to the kitchen, right to the special cabinet that Mommy had spelled a long, long time ago. In she went, crawling until she couldn’t crawl anymore and then she whispered the words Mommy and Daddy taught her.
“Night, night, no more light, you can’t see me until tomorrow.”
Grant’s roar wrenched her from her memories, rage filling every decibel of the sound.
Fear pounded through Rachel’s veins, battered her from within until she could barely breathe. But it was the gray veil covering her vision that frightened her more than anything.
She’d said the words aloud and now she was invisible. As in not visible. Like, “now you see me, now you what-the-fuck don’t”.
Shit. Shit-shit with a dash of shit on top.
Lost in her memories, she’d repeated the simple spell from her childhood and now—
“Rachel!” The snarl grabbed at her, and she turned toward the source, spun to face a raging Grant. Well, almost Grant. His features had stretched and reformed, his face resembling a wolf more than man. His arms were covered in gray fur. His growing, bulging muscles had rented the fabric of his tailored shirt. His hands had transformed to deadly looking claws.
“Rachel!” The word was a deep growl, almost unrecognizable amongst his roaring and she knew his rage was only heightened by his inability to see her.
Fear and worry warred within her. Now he truly did know she was a witch, just as her suspicions that he was a werewolf were confirmed. He’d also know she was an enemy so many of his kind had fought to exterminate.
Rachel extended an invisible shaking hand, intent on soothing the raging beast and ready to accept whatever would come. Great Aunt Petunia had always warned against rampant wolves, cautioned her about what they could accomplish when the wild violence they contained was released.
“Fur means you should run, child. You can talk one of ’em down from those yellow eyes, but once they go furry, you best run as fast as you can.”
Rachel wasn’t running.
Her fingers were a hairsbreadth from his furred forearm, so close and yet…
The splintering of wood snared their attention, and Rachel watched as specters of her nightmares flooded the room. Gasping in fear, she slumped sideways, leaning against Grant, not caring that her simple touch threatened her life.
Vampires.
“Rachel?” That scowling snout turned toward her unseen form. His nose twitched, and he exposed all of his teeth. “Witch.”
She tore from Grant, backing away from him…and the others. Vampires. Vampires had killed her parents. She’d never forget their long fangs, the paleness of their skin…
Rachel kept putting distance between them, tripping over furniture until her back hit the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined one wall. She had to get out, had to hide, had to run, had to…
A deafening roar split the air, and she focused enough to watch three vamps come at Grant simultaneously, fangs bared, eyes glowing red and fingers tipped in razor sharp claws.
Sharp, sharp, sharp—
The wolf…
No, Grant. The wolf was Grant and he battled the vamps, striking and swiping at them, snarling with every fierce swing.
But the vampires were as determined. They returned his attacks, drawing just as much life-giving fluid as they lost until the heavy, coppery scent soaked the air.
Rachel gagged, pushed her rising gorge back, and fought against the memories that threatened to intrude once again. Blood, oh God, there’d been so much blood. The shots had killed, but they’d torn into her parent’s bodies…
Splatters of the combatants’ lifeblood found their way to her, hitting her invisible form, practically painting her with the liquid. She whimpered, crowding against the glass.
Beneath her gaze, one of the vampires disappeared in a shower of gray, the ash fluttering to the ground and then Grant swung his attention to the remaining attackers.
More blood. More spraying of the red fluid. More whimpers, her tears now joining the liquid.
The sound of her sobs drew one of the vampires, snagged his attention. A pair of glowing red orbs zeroed in on her blood-stained body, focused on her with an unwavering gaze.
“Witch.” The word was a hiss, tongue fighting with exposed fangs.
Rachel blinked and then the towering creature was before her, looming over her, arms extended and aimed for her throat.
Oh, God, no. No, no, no…
Grant must have seen the vampire’s wandering attention, and he dispatched the man before him, sending the creature sailing through the air until he slammed into the wall. The sheet rock crumbled beneath the power of the collision.
Cold, dead fingers wrapped around her neck. The nails cut into her vulnerable skin and sank deep into her flesh. “Found you, little witch. Sophia’s been looking for you.”
The sickening smile widened and then transformed into a gaping maw as the vampire leaned forward, teeth flashing, and she knew she was about to die.
Dead. Dead. Dead.
Then she wasn’t. Then the vamp disappeared in a fluttering shower of ashes, leaving her with a blood-soaked werewolf. Grant’s chest rose and fell in rapid succession, his breath heaving while he stared her dow
n.
The vampire hadn’t killed her, but maybe this werewolf would.
Rachel closed her eyes, unwilling to watch her death. The blood and gore let him see her shape, and she had no doubt the killing blow was soon in coming.
Only… Only, a dangerous claw wrapped around her wrist. Not in a crushing hold, but tight enough to ensure she couldn’t escape him.
A low groan had his attention snapping to the other side of the room, and she watched as a ripple traveled through him, saw his muscles bulge and grow further. A clatter drew his gaze and a bleeding Hagan pushed through the shattered doorway.
He wasn’t dead.
Relief coursed through her veins. The man had been nice to her, annoying, but nice.
“Get out of here, Alpha.” Grant growled in response to Hagan’s order, the vibrations snaking through her with the threatening sound. “You can kick my ass later, but I need you at a safe house. More of your sentinels are coming, and we’ll deal with this one. But I need you to go somewhere safe until we know what’s going on.”
“Come on.” Snarling, Grant wrapped his fingers around her wrist in an unbreakable hold. He spun and stomped through the office and she had no choice but to follow.
Rachel wondered what Hagan must have thought of his Alpha’s actions and her disappearance, but she didn’t have long to ponder. She stumbled after him, his long legs eating up the ground. He paused long enough to scoop the contract from his desk and then he was dragging her to a door on the opposite side of the room.
Grant shoved her into the space, and she realized they were in a small bathroom, a single sink, toilet and shower stall occupying the area.
“Wha—”
“In.” He wrenched the door to the shower open and shoved her into the compartment, slamming the door closed as soon as they were crowded inside. As she watched, he prodded and poked at a few tiles, and then wrapped his arms around her. “Hold on.”
Rachel opened her mouth to say something. Anything. A plea for her life, maybe? Was he taking her somewhere to kill her quietly? He should have just done it in his office. The room was covered in enough blood that hers wouldn’t have made much difference. He should have—