Dance with the Devil

by Angela Dennis

  Born to be enemies. Destined to be lovers.

  Soul’s Harbor Pride, Book 1

  After killing one of her father’s enforcers, half-blood lion shifter Jillian Winters ran for her life, landing in an upscale bar halfway across the country. Her boss, Carrick—a pure-blood shifter—has no idea his barmaid is a fugitive.

  When her father’s recklessness puts the Pride at risk, Jillian must return home and assume his place as Alpha. But not before she indulges in a taste of the attraction that’s been building for years between her and Carrick.

  Carrick Granger has had a soft spot for Jillian from the moment she stepped into his bar, soaking wet and afraid of her own shadow. He knows she has secrets. So does he. He’s also the outcast son of an Alpha—and now that his father is dead, he, too, has been summoned home.

  Thinking they’ll never see each other again, the simmering heat between them ignites like a match to gunpowder. But then the bullets start flying, forcing them to choose—duty to their Prides, or the one person they can’t live without.

  Warning: This book contains deception, lies, betrayal, a sexy lion who is determined to claim his mate, and a mating bond that will change the landscape of the Prides forever.

  Dance with the Devil

  Angela Dennis

  Dedication

  To my husband, Jason, for helping carve out the time and space to write. Without you, none of this would be possible. Thank you for being so giving of yourself and your time, so that I can follow my dreams.

  Laura Elliott and Tera Cuskaden, thank you for taking this book and making it shine.

  My son whose strength, determination and joy has helped me relearn that anything is possible. You have my heart, now and for always.

  Last, but certainly not least, to my mom, who taught me not to limit my dreams because they just might come true.

  Chapter One

  It was half a degree past freezing as Jillian stumbled across the snow-covered pavement. When she’d decided to return to the Pride, her only thought had been to erase the life she’d been living for the past three years here in St. Louis. As usual, she’d jumped into action instead of taking a second to think things through. Now, as she stood alone in an empty back alley in the middle of the city, she was having second thoughts. But the bar where she worked was only a few blocks ahead, so she decided to plow through. However, the harder she tried to get to the rear entrance, the more Mother Nature threw at her. Now the wind had picked up. It whipped around her, seeping beneath her coat to slip under the silk of her blouse and lick her already frozen skin.

  Her beast had been near the surface for days, making her antsy and ready to fight. It had nearly exploded from her body when she’d gotten the call. She’d managed to control her lion for three years, mainly because work at the local pub kept her busy and allowed her to channel her nervous energy into something productive. She’d found salvation pouring drinks and pretending to be human. She’d shifted a few times, in the early hours of the morning when the need would not be silenced. But she had been in control, not the beast. That tiny sliver of freedom had been immensely satisfying.

  Tonight, the Pride had stolen that from her as well. She’d be damned if they’d hurt the friends she’d left behind. So, here she was, in the wee hours of the morning, breaking and entering to cover up every trace of her existence. She kicked at the knee-high snowdrift beside the back entrance, and the street lamp beside her sizzled, then died. She jumped back, her eyes quickly adjusting to the pitch-black.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Jillian froze as Carrick stepped from the shadows. Despite the distractions, she should have heard him. She closed her eyes to do a mental check of her safeguards. A barrier of spells danced across her skin.

  “I asked you a question.” He moved closer until he was almost pressed against her. His breath was hot against the back of her neck, the heat of his body penetrating their clothes.

  The wicked part of her wanted to lean back and savor the feeling. The rational side of her brain warned her to pull away. As always, she chose reason over lust, not wanting to excite the beasts that pulsed beneath their skin. “I forgot something.” She forced out a smile with the lie. “I figured you’d still be here, so I didn’t think it’d be a problem.”

  “You still should have called first.” He smiled, a flash of white teeth in the darkness. And, like that, he relaxed.

  Jillian sighed. Carrick was an enigma. They had worked closely together for three years, but they were more strangers than friends. She knew enough to know he had his own set of secrets, and that made him dangerous.

  She glanced at the door, at anything other than him. Carrick was far too perceptive. He would see the truth in her eyes.

  “I’m tying up some loose ends before I leave for a few days.” He pressed his hand into the small of her back to guide her up the ice-covered steps and inside the back entrance.

  “Where are you going? You never mentioned it.” His touch sent a wave of need flowing through her blood. She ignored it, praying he wouldn’t notice she was trembling.

  “I just found out. Something came up.” He unlocked the heavy metal door and pushed it open, flipping on the light. As he turned to face her, she drew in a sharp breath. Strain was etched in every hard, chiseled line of his face.

  “Everything okay?” She moved toward him and touched his arm. Even as she asked, she knew something was wrong. Carrick rarely left the bar, and he never left the city. At least, he hadn’t in the three years she had known him.

  He jerked away, then grimaced, an apologetic look in his eye. “Sure. It’s fine. Go ahead and get what you need.”

  Although she stepped back, she didn’t relent. She needed to get what she’d come for and leave, but Carrick had taken her in when no one else would. She wanted to help. Even if she could only lend a temporary ear. “When I left, you were handing out free beer and grinning from ear to ear. What happened?”

  He shrugged and turned away. “It doesn’t matter. It’s fine.”

  She wanted so badly to touch the lines creasing the smooth skin of his forehead, to soothe him. He was lying, but if she pushed him it would only alienate him further. So she changed the subject. “What’s with the new hairdo?” In the few hours since she’d seen him, he had shaved his thick dirty-blond hair into a buzz cut that made him look more like a soldier than a barkeep.

  He turned to face her, one hand smoothing over the top of his head. She could practically see the wall come up. “Long story.”

  “Which you don’t want to talk about.” She held up her hands in defeat. “I get it. No more questions.”

  He crossed the distance between them, his powerful stride quickly closing the gap. When he stopped, he was so close she could feel his breath hot against her forehead. She trembled even before he smoothed his hands across her shoulders. Her mouth went dry. As he bent down so they were eye to eye, need sizzled in her belly.

  He stared at her, an indiscernible expression on his face. “I don’t know if I’m coming back.” For the first time since she’d met him, he smelled of uncertainty.

  Jillian pressed her hand against Carrick’s cheek, overwhelmed with the need to reassure him. He hadn’t shaved and his beard stubble was rough against her palm.

  “Tell me,” she breathed.

  For a moment, he leaned into her embrace. His eyes slipped closed and a long breath drifted from his lips. “I can’t.” Tearing away from her, he prowled across the room like a caged animal. She could feel his beast leaping beneath his skin.

  The pain in his eyes ripped at her heart. She was pretty sure what was wrong. Every five years, the Prides gathered by order of the Conclave. Even the prodigal children were called back. Th
e Elders left nothing to chance, ordering the shamans to send forth a compulsion spell, cloaked in an invitation. Fighting it wasn’t just painful, it was useless. If you didn’t heed the call, the enforcers were sent to bring you back by force. Some Prides took advantage of the summons to hold a Claiming, but never hers. Her father preferred to do his Claimings in secret, hand-picking the participants. Or he had, until now.

  Jillian moved across the converted warehouse. Even though it was sparsely furnished, the space had a warm touch to it. Several colorful area rugs covered the concrete floors alongside a smattering of brown leather furniture, high tables and barstools. Carrick had stopped beside the bar, one hand on his hip, the other resting on the mahogany surface. The urge to confess and tell him she understood lay heavy on her heart. And she would have done it, if it wouldn’t have added to his burden.

  Her attraction to him was beyond dangerous. Thankfully, that attraction wasn’t mutual. If it had been, it would have been impossible to turn him away. A smarter person would have left town the second they realized Carrick was a shifter. Like an idiot, she had stayed, unable to resist being around him during her short stint of freedom.

  Even now, the call of the Pride echoed in her mind like the beginnings of a migraine. She massaged her aching temples. Carrick was so close that her hand brushed his shoulder as she reached for her head. Although it was an innocent touch, the heat of his body seared her skin.

  Damn it. Fate had a twisted sense of humor. No other man had ever affected her like this.

  When he turned, the intention in his green eyes was unmistakable. She stepped back, stunned, heart pounding. With a nervous swallow, she licked her dry lips. He moved closer, eyes focused on her mouth. Torn between flight and surrender, she froze.

  Their bodies brushing, Carrick ran his hands down the length of her arms. “How many layers do you have under there?” He squeezed her shoulders gently. “Take them off. I’ll make a fire.” He grasped her hand, tugging her toward the fireplace.

  Jillian didn’t move. She couldn’t do this. “Thought you didn’t want to talk?”

  “I changed my mind.” He released her hand and moved across the room, crouching before the hearth to kindle the flames.

  She couldn’t make herself move, either forward or away. This was her last chance. Once she walked out that door, she was gone forever.

  He stood and turned to face her. Behind him, the flames flickered, casting shadows across the concrete wall. The undisguised yearning in his eyes was her undoing. She walked toward him, unzipping her jacket as she moved. It hit the floor with a thud.

  She was barely a foot from him when the cat inside her began to purr, arching against her skin, begging to be touched. A sweeping flood of need rose, burning her blood and shortening her breath. She squeezed her eyes closed and fought for control.

  Carrick had settled on the leather couch before the fire. As he patted the cushion beside him, Jillian again reminded herself of all the reasons she should walk away, but found she didn’t care. She wanted him, and it was about damn time she got something she wanted. To hell with the consequences.

  “Talk to me, Carrick.” She settled herself sideways on the couch so she faced him, her back against the armrest.

  He laughed. It was a bitter sound that left her on edge. He leaned forward, cupping her face in his hands. “I’ve never met anyone like you.” His gaze dropped to her lips.

  She pulled away, suddenly nervous, “It’s hard to tell whether that’s a compliment or an insult.” She faced the fire, staring into the orange flames and trying to regain her balance.

  He grabbed her arm and turned her to face him. “I’ve tried to stay away from you. I wanted to keep you safe.”

  “I don’t need your protection.” She moved toward him, brushing his face with her fingertips. “I can take care of myself.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  She knew the moment he gave in. The tension in the room snapped as he lunged forward, a moan spilling from his lips. He grabbed her by the nape of the neck and pulled her toward him, slamming his mouth against hers. His embrace was frantic, his hands tightening around her. For a moment, she lost track of herself. All she knew was the heat of his skin and the feel of his mouth. Desperate for more, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer.

  “Don’t,” he gasped, pushing her back. “We can’t do this. I’ll hurt you.”

  Damn it. She had forgotten he thought she was human.

  Lust overwhelmed her common sense. She pushed him onto his back as she murmured the incantation that would deactivate the charm around her neck. Free, her beast peered through her eyes. She rubbed her cheek against his, a purr spilling from her lips.

  His body loosened, his fingers tightening in her hair. He yanked her head back and scratched his teeth against the tender underside of her neck. The claiming gesture filled her with a mixture of joy and relief.

  He faced her, his eyes full of confusion. “How?”

  “Magic.” She lunged at him, covering his mouth with hers before he ruined the moment. He tasted of whiskey, wine and beast, and she drank him in.

  He swept her beneath him, the abruptness of the movement almost knocking them from the couch. Jillian clung to him to keep from falling, then, changing her mind, turned so they tumbled onto the braided rug in a tangle of limbs. She sank her face into the warmth of his chest, reveling in his telltale shudder as she smoothed her hand across his stomach. Muscles moved beneath her touch. The feel of him had heat pooling between her legs. Her desire for him was a tangible thing.

  He tangled his hands in her messy black curls, tilting her face to his. “I’ve wanted you since that first day you stumbled into my bar.”

  Trembling, she leaned closer, tasting his lips. The world fell away. All that remained was his mouth, hot against hers. Her hand slipped inside his sweater, then beneath the thin T-shirt underneath.

  After a few moments, he released her mouth and leaned back, watching her, a bemused expression on his face. “This can’t go anywhere.” His eyes were bright with unspent desire. “I’ve been called home.”

  She closed her eyes, taking a long breath. “So have I.”

  He tensed, his grip tightening. “Where is home?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” She fought her rising panic. When he didn’t release her, she squirmed between his legs, scooting backward to free herself from his grasp. He let her go, pushing himself to a sitting position so he could see her better. She pushed aside her fear and knelt before him, sliding her hands over his shoulders until the black leather jacket slipped down his arms to pool on the floor. Lifting the hem of his sweater, she tugged it over his head. The T-shirt followed.

  Bare-chested, he watched her, unmoving. Light from the fire licked across his skin, highlighting his chiseled abs and the smattering of blond hair on his chest. “This is all I can give you. One night. Nothing else.”

  She held his gaze, her arms twining around his neck. “That’s all I need.”

  “Thank God.” He pushed her onto her back with his body and made quick work of stripping off her shirt. His skin was hot against hers, and she could feel the strength of his beast beneath the surface. It called to the one inside her, which screamed in her mind, desperate for release.

  Jillian shared in the beast’s torment. Both of them were filled with a need so potent it was painful. She had never wanted anything, or anyone, like this. The connection between them was so strong she couldn’t turn him away.

  She shivered as his fingers traced across her bare stomach, popping open the button on her jeans and pulling down the zipper. He slid the rough fabric down the curve of her hip until she was bare to his touch. She felt bereft at the loss of him when he stood to strip off the rest of his clothes. His naked skin was hot against hers when he returned, grabbing her hips to pull her against him. She could feel the hard length of him through her thin panties. A moan slipped from her lips as he ran his fingers across the sensitive skin of
her inner thigh.

  When the front door slammed open, spilling cold air into the room, Jillian scrambled from beneath Carrick, grabbing the afghan from the sofa. She tried to stand, but Carrick yanked her down.

  He whispered in her ear, “Damn it. Don’t let him see you.” With hurried movements, he pulled on his discarded jeans and T-shirt. “He’ll catch your scent, but he won’t know who you are.”

  She nodded, uneasy as the intruder’s scent filled the air. It was another shifter. Oddly enough, their smell was familiar, but she couldn’t place it. Hidden by the couch, she wiggled into her clothes. When she was fully dressed, Carrick pressed a silent kiss to her lips, then stood to face the intruder. Jillian huddled in the darkness, waiting.

  Chapter Two

  Lucas always had impeccable timing.

  Carrick cursed and wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans as he moved toward the front door. He was still fully aroused, and Lucas wasn’t an idiot. He would know what he’d interrupted. But, hopefully, Jillian would be long gone if Lucas decided to look around. He loved his brother, but some things were private. Especially Jillian.

  He’d wanted her from the moment she’d stumbled onto his doorstep. Soaked to the bone, clothes askew, she’d looked like a drowned cat, but the fierceness in her eyes had been impossible to ignore. His protective instincts had kicked into overdrive, refusing to let her leave. When she’d asked for a job, he’d immediately given it to her, no questions asked.

  So she had a few secrets. He had plenty. He had never asked, and she’d never told. The sexual tension between them had reached an unbearable pitch in those first few months, but he hadn’t touched her. She’d seemed too vulnerable. Over the years, he’d managed to repress his lust. But tonight, when she stared at him with those big violet eyes, her beast unleashed, she’d been impossible to resist. If he’d known she was a shifter… He shook his head. There was no going back now.

  Distracted, and not a little sexually frustrated, he stalked toward Lucas. “What are you doing here? I’ve got twenty-four hours.”