Her blood chilled as she caught a particular flash of memory—Eric above her, his handsome face darkened by an intimidating scowl as he’d made her come. He’d looked so...unhappy, and she cringed, unable to forget the rather important fact that he didn’t like her.
Though he couldn’t see her face, he must have sensed that she was crying. “Damn it, Chelsea. Don’t be upset. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I’m so embarrassed,” she said, sniffing. “I can’t believe I begged you... Oh, God. You should have just left me here!”
He gave a masculine snort that normally would have set her teeth on edge, but seemed somehow sexy to her when he did it. Then again, she pretty much thought everything he did was sexy. “You really think I would have just taken off and left you here in pain?” he asked, an edge of anger creeping into his voice for the first time that morning. “Christ, woman. I’m not that much of a bastard.”
She peeked over the edge of the sheet. “Eric, you don’t even like me. This—what happened last night—it couldn’t have been pleasant for you.”
He had the heels of his palms pressed against his eyes, but he lowered his arms and slowly turned his head to the side, locking that beautiful gray gaze with hers. “You’re upset because you think I didn’t enjoy it?” With each word, his eyebrows arched a little higher.
“I’m upset about a lot of things.”
“Well, you can ease your mind on that score.” He swung his long legs over the side of the bed as he sat up, one hand lifting to the back of his neck and rubbing at the tense muscles there. Her gaze moved appreciatively over his powerful shoulders and arms, before snagging on the dark, intricate tattoo that wrapped his right shoulder and biceps. She’d never thought of tattoos as all that sexy before, but she’d been wrong. Eric’s tat was sexy as hell.
Blowing out a rough breath, he looked back over his shoulder, sliding her a heavy-lidded look from under his lashes. “It’s obviously not the way I would have chosen to get a taste of you, but I enjoyed it,” he said in a low, kinda gravelly rumble. “More than I should have, considering the circumstances.”
“You can’t have enjoyed it that much,” she pointed out in a dubious tone, careful to keep her lower half covered with the sheet as she finally sat up. “You kept your jeans on the entire time.” Even though she could remember repeatedly begging him to take them off.
“Yeah,” he muttered under his breath, his tone dry as he turned his head forward again. “And now I need clean ones.”
Color burned in her face at his meaning, making her want to duck back under the covers, but she couldn’t manage to rip her gaze away from the beautiful, flexing muscles in his back and shoulders as he moved to his feet. He reached for the T-shirt that was lying over the room’s lone chair, pulled it over his head, then cut her a wry look over his shoulder again.
“I haven’t done that since I was...” He looked forward and scrubbed both hands over his face, his harsh sigh loud enough for her to hear. “Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever done anything like that.”
A soft burst of laughter slipped past her lips, catching her by surprise, and Chelsea quickly covered her mouth, mortified. “I’m so sorry.”
She could only blink in astonishment as he turned around and slid her another one of those sexy smirks, before sitting in the chair and pulling on his socks. “It’s okay,” he told her, reaching for his battered hiking boots. “You can laugh if it makes you feel better. I’m tough enough to take it.”
Watching him sitting there with the late-morning sunlight creeping around the edges of the cheap motel blinds behind him, Chelsea suddenly realized that her guilt was getting worse. She’d misjudged this man. Perhaps not completely, since he was, after all, a man. But enough to make her feel ashamed.
God, when she thought about what could have happened if he hadn’t shown up to rescue her, there was no “probably” about it. The guy was golden. A freaking saint!
Swallowing the lump of regret in her throat, she raised her knees beneath the sheet, wrapping her arms around them, and stared at the foot of the bed. “I’m sorry about all that crap I said to you before. I was wrong. You’re not a jerk. And the truth is that I should...I should have listened to you about the club. I can’t...or couldn’t, because of Perry. But I know you were only trying to keep me out of trouble. And last night...” She shivered, pulling her knees closer to her chest, and forced herself to find his gaze again...and hold it. “It could have been so bad without you. If you hadn’t rescued me, hadn’t gotten me out of there, hadn’t helped me afterward...I don’t know what I would have done.” She paused to take a deep breath, then quietly added, “You’re a good man, Eric. And I’m sorry for misjudging you.”
His expression was so guarded, it was difficult to read—but there was a smile in his voice as he said, “Yeah, well, I’m sorry for calling you an idiot.”
Her mouth twitched. “But you’re still thinking it, aren’t you?”
“No. I get what you’re doing. Hell, I’d be doing the same thing, if I were in your shoes. I just can’t stand the thought of you putting yourself in danger like that. It really pissed me off.”
“I noticed,” she offered wryly, thinking of the men he’d had to fight to get her out of there. “And while I’m at it, thanks for getting my bus fixed, too.” She didn’t know how he’d done it, but when she’d woken up yesterday morning, there’d been a note slipped under her door that said her bus was in the parking lot and was ready to go, complete with a full tank of gas.
She’d refused to think about how disappointed she’d been when she found that note. Grateful, yes. But there’d been an uncomfortable surge of regret, as well. Stupidly, she’d been hoping to get one more look at Eric Drake, thinking that he might bring the bus down himself. But he hadn’t. And she’d thought that was it. Thought she’d never see him again.
And now, in a bizarre turn of events, she’d spent the entire night with his hands on her body, thrusting inside her, making her come with violent, scorching waves of pleasure over and over again, until that damn drug had finally worked itself out of her system.
Finishing tying his second boot, he looked up and said, “I’m afraid the bus is probably a lost cause at this point.”
She sighed. “I figured as much.”
“Don’t waste time worrying about it right now. We’ll figure something out. The important thing is how you’re feeling. Does your head hurt?”
Rubbing her forehead, she said, “I have a bit of a headache, but it’s not too bad. And my eye hurts from where one of those jerks hit me. Is it bruised?”
“Just a little. We’ll grab you some aspirin on our way out of town.”
She gave a slow blink, feeling like she’d missed something. “Uh...where are we going?”
He leaned back in the chair with his hands resting casually on his muscular thighs, his gaze disturbingly direct, as if he was getting ready to bark out an order that he expected to be followed. But all that he said was, “First, let me ask you this. Are you going to keep searching for your sister?”
She raised her chin. “Yes.”
“And you’re low on money, aren’t you?”
She started to splutter. “That’s not any of your—”
He cut her off. “It’s a waste of time for you to get embarrassed. It won’t help anything, and I need you to be honest with me. How were you planning on paying for the search?”
She looked away for a moment, then back at him, shrugging her shoulders. “I decided yesterday that I was going to have to ask my parents to loan me some money. I’ve never had to do it before, but I put every cent to my name on the down payment for my condo. So all this chasing down Perry stuff couldn’t have hit at a worse time. They really don’t care about her one way or another, but I’m hoping they won’t say no. If they come through, then I’ll hopefully be able to
hire someone who can help me track her down. If not, I’ll sell some stuff and keep looking for her myself.”
He leaned forward with his elbows braced on his parted knees, hands hanging loosely between his legs. It was one of those purely masculine poses that would have looked ridiculous on a woman, but fit a rugged guy like Eric to perfection. “Chelsea, you need to think about what’s happened. There’s a good chance I’d be signing your death warrant if I leave you here to deal with this on your own. And we need to make sure that you’re doing okay after the effects of the drug.”
Trying to hide her fear, she said, “I don’t need any medical attention. I’m fine. And you’ve already done enough to help me, Eric. More than any other man would have, that’s for sure, and I truly appreciate it. But this isn’t your problem.”
The brackets around his mouth deepened, his gray eyes glittering with streaks of silver that must have been a play of the light. “Those men from the club last night—they’re not going to let you just walk away from this. They more than likely searched your wallet, which means they now know your name, your address. They have the kind of connections that will let them get to you if they want to, Chelsea, even if you decide to run.”
“But you can stop them?”
He nodded. “With the help of my friends.”
She licked her lips, then carefully said, “I don’t understand.”
* * *
This was the part Eric had been dreading. The part where he had to persuade her that taking off with him was her best possible option, and not a scenario right out of some B-rated horror flick.
With a tired sigh that no doubt matched some dark smudges of exhaustion under his eyes, he said, “I want you to come up to the mountains with me. I can keep you protected there.”
“Would we be staying in the town where you live?”
“Not quite. Some friends of mine live with their wives in some cabins that aren’t far from the town. It’s the most secure place I can think of to take you. And not only will they help keep you safe, but they’ll be able to help us figure out what’s happened to your sister.”
Tears glistened in her eyes as she asked, “What do you think has happened to her?”
“I don’t know much more than you, Chelse. But based on what Maggie told you, I think she’s with a guy who has ties to the men who drugged you.”
“Oh, God,” she whispered, turning as white as a ghost.
“I hate to say it, but you need to be prepared for the worst—for the fact that Perry might already be dead.”
Her throat worked as she swallowed, lashes fluttering as she tried to keep her tears from falling. “You think that’s why they tried to keep me?”
“It could be. Or she could be somewhere they don’t want you to find out about. And if she is still alive, coming with me is your best chance at getting her back.”
For a moment, she just sat there, staring at some distant spot over his shoulder as she slowly rocked forward and back, the furrow on her brow telling him she was deep in thought. “What do you think it means?” she finally asked, bringing her worried gaze back to his. “The drug they gave me?”
Shaking his head, he said, “Nothing good.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” She shuddered, looking scared, and it was an expression Eric knew he would probably see again before the day was over. If he took her to the Alley, the others would insist she be told the truth about their species. It should have bothered the hell out of him, since there was a chance she might never come within ten feet of him again, once she knew what he was. But that wasn’t what was tying his insides into knots.
No, what really had him on edge was the fact that she’d be living right under his nose. There’d be nowhere for him to run, no way for him to escape, and he rolled his shoulder in a restless motion, feeling as if there was a cage closing in around him, trapping him inside.
Damn it, he should have never come down to Wesley. Should have never—
Yeah, and where would she be? his wolf asked. Trapped, some other Lycan’s plaything, at the mercy of his twisted instincts?
No, he couldn’t have let that happen.
So it’s time to suck it up and deal.
He choked back a snarl, irritated by the animal’s gloating tone. It was getting exactly what it wanted, which was more time to figure out the puzzle. More time with the human...time that was going to drive him out of his bloody mind.
How the hell was he going to get through this without begging her for another taste? One he knew damn well might end in disaster.
Why? You made it through last night without hurting her.
Yeah. And maybe he’d just gotten lucky. Maybe he’d—
“Eric?”
The sound of her voice jerked him from his thoughts, yanking him back to the moment. “Yeah?”
“Where were you?”
“Sorry,” he grated, scrubbing his palm over his stubbled jaw. “I was just thinking.”
Her head tilted a little to the side, the look in her blue eyes deep and curious. “What about?” she murmured.
Moving to his feet, he said, “We can talk about it later. Right now, we need to get going. Are you coming with me?”
He could feel her following him with her gaze as he moved around the room. “Are you sure your friends are willing to help?”
“Yeah, I am. But it’s going to take some trust on your part,” he said, gathering her jeans and panties off the floor and tossing them in her lap. “Can you manage that?”
With a scarlet blush burning in her face, she clutched the clothes to her chest and took a deep breath. “I can try.”
“Then let’s hurry and get out of here,” he muttered, hoping like hell that he wasn’t making the biggest mistake of his life as she ducked back under the sheet to get dressed.
Chapter Seven
To Eric, driving up to the Alley felt like a journey into the Underworld, with him starring in the infamous role of Hades. The deeper they went into the forest, the sharper his awareness of their differences became. Of his true nature...and her inherent vulnerability. If he wasn’t careful, there would be hell to pay—a single lapse in concentration or control bringing disastrous consequences. He felt as if he was tempting fate...thumbing his nose at rational, sane behavior. But his damn options were so limited. If he left her in Wesley, God only knew what kind of trouble she would get into...or what kind of trouble would find her.
No matter how he looked at it, the Alley really did seem like her best bet at surviving this nightmare—so long as he could keep himself on a tight leash.
Since they were both starved, they’d grabbed some breakfast sandwiches at a fast-food place before heading out of Wesley, as well as two large, steaming cups of coffee they were still sipping from, long after they’d made short work of the food. “So what was the story with the bus?” he asked, rolling his window down a little to let in some fresh air, since her scent was still seriously screwing with his head.
“What was wrong with it?” Tucking one leg under her body, she turned in her seat to face him. “It was...adorable.”
“Adorable, huh?” Eric slid her a laughing look from the corner of his eye. “That’s not exactly the image I think you’d go for. Did you have to buy it after losing a bet or something?”
“Not exactly.” Pushing her hair behind her ear, she gave a low laugh. “To be honest, I was feeling a bit...rebellious, when I bought it.”
He arched a brow. “Yeah?”
“I loved the bus as soon as I saw it, but only because I knew how much my father would hate it.”
“And that was a good reason to buy it? Annoying your father?”
This time, when she laughed, there was a touch of bitterness to the husky sound. “You have no idea.”
“You might be
surprised,” he murmured, thinking they just might have something in common, after all.
“Oh, yeah? Is your father a world-class bastard, as well?”
“He was.” Just thinking about Stefan Drake had his insides twisting. “But he died five months ago.”
“Oh.” Her voice was soft. “Should I say I’m sorry?”
He snorted as he shook his head. “Only that it took so long to get rid of him.”
“That bad?”
Giving her words back to her, he said, “You have no idea.” And he wanted to keep it that way. “What about your own?”
He could feel the force of her gaze against the side of his face as if it were a physical touch—could sense the rise in her tension like it was his own. For a moment, he didn’t think she was going to answer, and then she turned her head forward, staring out the windshield, and said, “He’s...not a nice man. Hateful. Angry. The biggest misogynist you could ever imagine. He can’t even be bothered to worry about what’s happened to Perry.” The quiet words vibrated with a low frequency of rage. “When I called to tell him and my mother that she was missing, he actually said that it served her right for leaving home and that he hoped she got what she deserved.”
Eric shot her a sharp look of disbelief. “And you thought this man would be willing to loan you money to keep searching for her?”
She gave a tired shrug. “Not without a long, drawn-out fight. And I probably would have had to sign over the deed to my condo.”
“You’d have been willing to do that?”
When she nodded, he said, “She’s a big girl, Chelsea. Why do you feel so responsible for her?”
Turning her head toward him again, she gave him a disappointed frown. “You have a sister. Wouldn’t you feel responsible for tracking her down if she went missing?”
“I would.” He almost tacked on a But I’m a guy, and caught himself just in time. There was no telling what she would have done to him if he’d made such a sexist comment. “But you’ve gone above and beyond the duty of a sister. There’s a story there. That’s all I’m saying.”
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