Dance with the Devil

by Angela Dennis

  “Always the master of understatement.” She stepped inside her room. “If you want, you can wait in the hall. I have to get ready.”

  Her bedroom was empty. Gareth and Abbey had slipped out while she was distracted with Carrick. The jeans Abbey had given her were low riders. She slid them over her thighs, praying they wouldn’t show more than necessary. Not that she had a problem with nudity. She was a shifter. But she didn’t want to push her luck.

  Carrick stepped inside the room. To be honest, she was surprised he’d waited so long. Her body tingled with awareness as she stood there, topless, her jeans barely hugging her hips and a corset clasped in one hand. Her back was to him, so she adjusted the corset against her curves. “Tie me up?”

  “Whenever you want.” He stepped toward her.

  “How about now?” She gestured to the leather ties and loops that closed the corset. “I can’t do these on my own.”

  He slid his hands up the expanse of her naked back, catching the strings in his fingers, but then he let them drop, unheeded. As he pushed aside the leather to cup her breasts, the corset fell to the floor, forgotten. Instinct taking over, she leaned against him, enjoying the feel of his mouth on her skin.

  “Carrick—”

  He turned her around, backing her against the wall. Her body was on fire, but it was the desire in his eyes that unraveled her and overrode her common sense. In that moment, her body took complete control. She yanked him to her, wanting nothing but to taste him.

  Without breaking stride, he flipped open the top button of her jeans and undid the zipper, sliding the material down her legs. She kicked them off, making short work of the fastenings of his jeans until finally she felt the hard length of him against her bare skin. When he slipped his fingers beneath her silk panties, she nearly came in his hand. She’d never felt anything like this…like him.

  He left her panties on, shoving the wet material to the side so he could join their bodies. Unable to do much more than breathe, she let her head fall back as pleasure in its most base form took her and refused to let go. Pressure built low in her belly, rising into her chest until she felt like she was going to explode. And then she did. The feeling was indescribable. It left her drained, limp in his arms. Carrick lifted her against him and moved them to the bed.

  “That was nice,” she murmured, burying her face in his chest.

  He chuckled. “I’d say it was more than nice.”

  As her mind started to clear and her body recover, she pushed away from him and moved onto her side. “You realize this doesn’t change anything.”

  Carrick rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. “What we have comes once in a lifetime. Why not give it a chance?”

  She blew out a hard breath. He still didn’t get it. “Maybe I will. I have to weigh the pros and cons.” She held out her hands like the halves of a scale. “My happiness versus the lives of my Pride.”

  He sat up with a shake of his head. “You’re thinking about it wrong. You need to balance our shot of surviving the Conclave, combined with our happiness, against maintaining the farce that will be the Pride if you choose Lucas.”

  Her frustration quickly turning to anger, she stared at him. “What are you getting at?”

  “You choose Lucas and you’re not just turning your back on me, you’re turning your back on our laws. You and Lucas will have to lie to maintain your positions. If the Pride finds out, pure-blood or half-blood, they’ll rebel against you.”

  “Not if I explain—”

  “You know better than that. The Prides are unstable. It will be worse when you combine them. They find out the truth, it’ll give them the excuse they need to implode.” He stood and pulled on his jeans. “Do you honestly think I would try to convince you to do this if I thought Quinn could carry out his threat? You’ve known me for three years; am I that selfish?”

  “Carrick—”

  “Just think about what I’ve said,” he interrupted. “And there’s one other thing.”

  “What?” she snapped, as she moved off the bed to dress.

  “You take too long to make a decision, and I might change my mind.”

  Chapter Eight

  The whole situation was ridiculous. How many women would be thrilled to pick between two gorgeous, strong men? As far as love triangles went, Jillian’s wasn’t too shabby. But Carrick was right. As much as she berated him about doing the best thing for the Pride, the long and short of it was she was scared. Hell, she was terrified.

  She didn’t know how to love, had never been taught. She had Gareth and Abbey, but that was different. They understood her, and that had made her feel safe. But she wasn’t facing a lifetime commitment to them; it wasn’t that type of relationship. Mating with someone was a level of serious she didn’t know how to wrap her brain around.

  She’d never considered herself particularly lovable. Her only use to her father had been as a pawn, an enforcer. When she had refused to do his bidding, he’d cut her off. And she’d been grateful, had never looked back. Even as a child, she’d seen him for what he was, and despised him for it. She barely remembered her mother.

  As much as she’d wanted to have a family of her own, she’d never looked at it in practical terms, never thought about the vulnerability that came alongside it. A part of her had leapt at the chance to bond with Lucas. There was no risk. She didn’t love him, so he couldn’t hurt her. Carrick was a different story. The connection between them was so intense it was terrifying. A part of her was hiding behind Quinn’s demands, not because she was scared for her Pride but because it gave her an easy way out.

  She couldn’t avoid the truth any longer. If she did, it was going to bite her in the ass. Because although she didn’t agree with everything Carrick had said, he was right about one thing. Whatever they did, they had to have a united front or Quinn would tear them apart.

  Pulling on the thigh-high, black leather boots Abbey had insisted she bring, she zipped them slowly, using the time to calm her nerves. As a child, she’d clung to the structure of the Pride. Although things had always bordered on chaotic, her father had strictly enforced his laws. It had given her a false sense of stability, which she had desperately needed. If she was going to survive this, she’d have to rip those laws to shreds. It was more than disobeying the Conclave; it was challenging a belief system she’d relied on her entire life.

  Carrick leaned against the wall, watching as Jillian stepped inside the main hall. If she kept this up, she was going to kill him. He growled, a low rumbling sound in the back of his throat. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. But she was far from convinced.

  It was impossible to get his bearings underground, so he glanced at his watch. He had nine hours. Damn it, he had to move quickly. But if he pushed her, all she’d do was push back. It had killed him to agree to Lucas’s plan, but he hadn’t had a choice. And Lucas was right. Ultimately, it was Jillian’s decision.

  Regardless, it was going to be hell to keep his possessive instincts in check. The second he’d seen the mating mark, his beast had taken over and his self-control had gone to hell.

  “Living in your head?” Jillian stopped in front of him, a smile playing on her lips.

  “I’ve got a lot of thinking to do,” he replied.

  “Don’t we all?” She glanced around the room. “What does Quinn have planned for us?”

  Carrick shrugged. “Don’t really care. We won’t be participating.”

  “Quinn told you to hunt alone.”

  “Since when have you listened to Quinn?” He grinned and pulled a wadded-up paper from his back pocket. “This is a list of all the pure-bloods that are here. I figured you’d be hot to get this guy. Here’s your chance.”

  She took it from his fingers and smoothed it on her leg with her palm. “You think it was a pure-blood?”

  “Had to be. His blood wasn’t tainted. And as much as I hate to admit it, Quinn’s never wrong. He’s a hell of a tracker.” He glanced at her feet. “Those
stilettos are going to be hard to run in.”

  “I don’t run. I fight.”

  “Right.” He grinned. “I keep forgetting that.”

  “Besides, I like these boots. They’re dual purpose: sexy and dangerous.” She shifted her leg and the metal stiletto shimmered in the light. “Nothing like a built-in weapon.”

  “Were you this bloodthirsty when you were working for me? You sure didn’t dress like this. Not that I’m complaining. It’s…enlightening.”

  “I’m sure it is. When we worked together, you were too busy to notice.” She shoved the paper into her pocket. “And I avoided you.”

  “Afraid you’d end up in my bed?”

  “Something like that. Guess it’s too late now.” She stepped into the crowd. “Are you coming or not?” she called over her shoulder. “It’s time to get this party started.”

  Someone, probably Quinn, had had the sense to strip the decorations from the room. The platform was uncovered, the candles blown out and replaced by lamps. They were stuck with the burgundy walls, but at least now it looked less like a strip club, and it was easier to see the other cats. And there were a ton of them. Packed shoulder to shoulder in human form, they prowled through the room. Their pheromones saturated the air, impossible to ignore.

  Lucas was perched on a table near the stage. In typical Lucas fashion, he wore a pair of worn jeans and a black sweater. To a stranger, he’d look completely at ease. But Carrick knew better. His brother never relaxed, especially around this many dominant cats.

  “Your father’s genes run strong. The two of you could be twins,” Jillian said.

  She started to move toward Lucas, but Carrick grabbed her hand. “We need to talk.” He glanced at Lucas. “All of us.”

  “Agreed.” She pulled from his grasp. “But manhandling me in front of my Pride is going to get your ass kicked.” She turned back to Lucas, and plowed into another cat.

  “Princess.” The half-blood was enormous. He stepped back and nodded an acknowledgement to Jillian, ignoring Carrick. “Some of us are concerned you’ve misunderstood the situation.”

  Carrick clenched his hands. If he didn’t let her handle this, he’d be belittling her in front of the others. She’d hate him for it.

  “What situation, Leo?” she said coyly, moving closer to the half-blood. “Last I checked, you were an enforcer, my father’s lap dog. Since when do you think you rate high enough to give me advice?”

  “I’m just saying, you should watch yourself, Princess,” he snarled. “You’ve been consorting with the enemy. Someone might get the wrong idea. Think you’re a traitor.”

  She moved like lightning. Before Carrick realized what was happening, she had the half-blood on the ground, arm twisted behind him, her knee in his back. She tightened her grip and the sound of a snapping bone echoed in the now silent room.

  “My name is Jillian,” she said, dropping his arm. “And I’ll talk to whomever I want. I may not officially be your Alpha, but I’ll be damned if I’ll put up with your shit.” She stood, releasing him. “Get out of my face.”

  Leo jumped to his feet with a growl. It was a warning sound, raspy and filled with hate. Jillian shook her head. She cracked her knuckles, moving toward him. “Wasn’t that enough? You still want to fight?”

  “You took me by surprise, bitch.” He lunged, but she swerved, and he ran into a nearby table. Beer bottles flew into the air, shattering on the cement floor. As he stood, he swiped a hand across his face, wiping away the beer and sweat. “You’re not strong enough to rule this Pride. If I kill you, we get a new Alpha.”

  “Fine. Then kill me.” Jillian motioned him forward. “Show me what you’ve got. Shame about your arm.” She motioned to the limb that hung limply at his side. “Probably would have helped.”

  This time when he lunged, she grabbed his good arm, flipping him onto the ground. Before he could move, she was on top of him, one knee in his groin. “I was hoping I could at least get through the first night without killing someone.” She cocked her head, as if considering, then slammed her knee into his groin. Leo’s face turned purple, and his scream made Carrick flinch.

  She leaned down until she was nose to nose with the half-blood. “Come at me again, and I’ll make it permanent.” She jumped to her feet and motioned to some of the other males. “Get him out of here.”

  Carrick hadn’t seen that coming. That lion had been nearly twice her size. She’d kicked his ass, and she wasn’t even winded. Stunned, he watched her move toward Lucas.

  “Remind me never to piss you off.” Lucas grinned and handed her a beer. “Where did you learn that?”

  She shrugged. “I’ve got a few black belts, and I’ve always been abnormally strong. It’s a black lion thing.”

  Carrick swore. He’d forgotten to tell him.

  “Black lion?” Lucas slid off the table.

  “Carrick didn’t tell you?” Jillian laughed as she sank into a nearby chair. “My beast. It’s a black lion.”

  Lucas took a step toward her. “But you’re a—”

  “And things were going so well. Didn’t realize you were prejudiced. Especially since…” She motioned to Carrick.

  Carrick hated this, every second. They were both bristling like porcupines. He should be glad, but Lucas didn’t deserve her judgment. “Both our fathers were power-hungry bastards. And ours—,” he motioned to Lucas, “—hated half-bloods. Lucas isn’t him. He’s one of the good guys.”

  “Never thought you’d be singing Lucas’s praises to me. Doesn’t that defeat your purpose?” Jillian leaned back, kicking her feet onto the table. “Besides, aren’t we supposed to be hunting? We know what the bastard smells like. If he’s here, we should be able to find him.”

  “If I’m going to help, one of you will have to let me tag along, or you’re going to have to get me the scent.” Lucas glanced around the room. “There are close to a hundred dominant males here. We’ll have to split up and work the room.”

  “You can come with me.” Jillian stood, offering her hand. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

  There was no way in hell that was happening. Carrick still had nine hours. But when he opened his mouth to protest, Jillian cut him off. “It makes sense, Carrick. You and Lucas walking the room will be too obvious.”

  She was right. Everyone had paired up, male and female. Jillian was two steps ahead. She motioned her friend Abbey over. He couldn’t hear what she told her, but the other woman turned and walked toward him.

  She slid her arm in his. “Don’t look so angry,” she teased. “I’m not that bad.”

  He couldn’t answer. Mainly because he couldn’t hear over the blood pounding in his ears as he watched Lucas place his hand in the small of Jillian’s back and lead her into the crowd.

  Jillian squeezed closer to Lucas. Carrick was furious. The smell of his rage was unmistakable, and completely irrational. Not only had it made sense for her to go with Lucas, but she needed a moment away from Carrick. The confrontation with Leo had shaken her more than she’d let on. When he’d come at her, she’d seen Gabe, the enforcer who had tried to rape her, and she’d wanted to do far worse than break his arm. She’d barely kept control.

  She’d done the same thing after Gabe’s attack—maimed an innocent lion who’d been trying to help her. Leo was far from innocent, but he hadn’t deserved the broken bone. Subduing him would have been enough.

  Three years, and she still wasn’t over it. That had to change. There was no way in hell she was going to run this Pride like her father. Blind aggression wasn’t leadership, and nothing good could come of it.

  “Are we sure it’s a pure-blood?” Lucas asked. He slipped his arm around her waist as the crowd thickened. “You identified him?”

  “Quinn did. Carrick said he rarely makes mistakes.” She let him lead her to a small enclave where they could rest for a moment. Once they stopped, she closed her eyes and concentrated. “Nothing.” She opened her eyes. “Let’s go.”

&nbs
p; They moved back into the crowd, winding through the mass of bodies. “So, I hear that it’s you and me after tonight. Carrick’s backing off.”

  “Yeah. That’s the agreement. We’ll see what happens.”

  “You don’t trust him?” She stopped so abruptly that he almost ran into her. “I thought you were close.”

  Lucas grinned. “We are, and I do. But it’s a non-issue if you choose him. And it’s pretty clear that’s what you want.”

  “If I choose him, the Conclave comes after us all. Carrick thinks we’re strong enough to fight them, but I’m not sure it’s worth the risk.”

  “That’s humbling.” He chuckled. “The only reason you want to mate with me is to keep the Conclave from trying to kill us. You realize our rule would be a farce, a violation of everything the Prides believe. If they found out we’d lied, that we aren’t true mates, they’d overthrow us. We might end up dead anyway.”

  “True.” She walked over to a nearby table, suddenly needing to get her bearings. “And what about you? The Pride won’t accept you as Alpha without a mate, and they may not even then. The half-bloods are going to do everything in their power to kick you off the throne, but we have to combine the Prides to have any chance at holding off the Conclave until we can rally the others against them. If you’re not strong enough to hold them, it’s a death sentence for all of us.”

  “I’d have you and Carrick at my back.” He pulled her closer. “But you and I both know it won’t be enough. I need you at my side or this will never work,” he whispered. “Convince Carrick to become Alpha. With the two of you ruling, his plan might actually work.”

  “But what about you? You’d be an Alpha without a Pride.”

  “There are worse things.” He maneuvered them closer to the exit. “I never wanted to lead. That was my father’s dream. I was his pure-blood son, his only option.” He paused, glancing over at Carrick. “My brother has been through hell. Our father loved to beat the shit out of him to see how strong he was, but Carrick never fought back. He knew if he did, he’d kill our father, and I’d be killed by the Pride since I was too young to take over. I owe him, more than you can imagine.”