by Eve Langlais
Her damn brother.
If her chemo treatment had gone as planned, she’d be sitting at home chain–watching shows on Netflix with an industrial–sized bag of movie theater popcorn. The thought of blowing through the whole season of Firefly seemed much more appealing. She welcomed the rest now.
Everything should’ve been quiet in the room, but her head darted up when she heard gunfire.
***
By the time Kaden reached the ridge above the cabins, a growing rage had built in his stomach, clenching tighter and tighter. This place was meant to be a safe haven. A territory he’d established for his pack.
Shots were fired to his right. Southward, at least a mile away, he spotted someone hiding among the trees. A long–range rifle in hand. So that was his target. The wolf in him pushed him forward. Seek out your prey. The full moon was coming and it had been a while since his need to hunt had been sated.
The guy in military fatigues darted even closer, searching for an ideal position from which to fire. No one else was coming, but the man was heavily armed.
Crouching low, Kaden shrugged off his coat. He glanced at Sinister and they exchanged nods. Next came his clothes. Pinpricks danced along his skin as the need to transform folded over him. Claws bit his fingertips and sprang forth first. That was but a momentary pain compared to the broken bones and shifting flesh. He’d endured the discomfort each time. The price he had to pay for the wolf’s power.
The forest blossomed into vivid colors and his target became all too clear. Kaden didn’t need to be able to see him as he raced southward in a wide arc. He’d find him by scent alone. Gunpowder was sharp and metallic on his tongue and the scent grew stronger the closer he got. By the time he was behind the freelancer, a clear trail of footsteps led Kaden toward his target. He slowed down, eagerness making his heartbeat race.
Almost there. Up ahead he could clearly see Sinister taking aim, waiting for an opportune moment to fire. The freelancer was behind a rocky outcropping and was hard to see.
Movement from the cabins made Kaden freeze. Cyn emerged from his. No blanket and a stagger to her step. She scanned the horizon as if searching for the gunfire’s source.
The freelancer cocked his head and looked up. “Cynthia? What the fuck?” The guy reached for something on his hip. A gun, a radio, Kaden didn’t care. He surged forward, ramming the freelancer into the outcropping. The hunter’s long–range rifle clamored to the ground. What he should’ve done was subdue the older man, but freelancers were all the same. If this guy knew their position he’d report back and more men would come. More death.
He clamped down on the hunter’s throat. Watched his eyes roll back in his head as his air was cut off.
One man in exchange for many was something Kaden would have to live with.
The freelancer stilled and Kaden left him behind to hurry up the hillside to Cyn. She was still outside and had seen the whole exchange, which was most likely why she was staring at him. A hint of her fear reached him, sour like sweat, and gathered along her temple. He caught the bruising along her cheek and held himself in check.
The cabin was silent except for a steady heartbeat from someone inside. Flashes of what could have happened stumbled before his eyes and it took everything he had to keep himself from storming into that cabin to reprimand his sister. Focus on Cynthia, he reminded himself.
Cynthia kept backing up until she reached one of the trees near the cabin. All the while, her gaze never left his. The anger simmering under her skin cooled and was replaced with something else: exhaustion. Her knees sagged first and she grasped the tree for support. He took a step toward her and she stiffened.
He froze. Every part of him sensed what was coming. Her slowing heartbeat. The way she gasped for every breath and blinked as if she clung to consciousness with her fingertips. The moment she closed her eyes, he transformed back into a man, not caring if she witnessed the event.
When Kaden picked her up, she didn’t stir. Her fight was gone. For now, he thought with a frown. He’d told her he wouldn’t touch her anymore. He’d have to break that promise soon and there’d be consequences.
Whether you heal her or not, you know you want her, he thought.
A shadow crossed him. Sinister didn’t speak. It was for the best.
“Go into the cabin and check on Naomi,” Kaden said. “She did something very foolish and if I speak to her, it will be in anger.” He trembled, fighting to keep his grip around Cyn not too tight.
Chapter Seven
This time when Cyn woke up, she rose to a noisy house and a pounding headache. The normal kind folks had when they’d slept for too long. She didn’t feel like shit, though. There should’ve been a huge–ass bite mark on her shoulder, but there wasn’t. The lump under her eye was missing, too.
What became the immediate concern were the blankets. They weren’t Kaden’s. The jovial pink pattern with flowers didn’t seem his taste. The furnishings were spare, just a dresser and chest. When she peered into a darkened corner, her jaw dropped. Crates, boxes and what–not filled with weapons. High–caliber weapons, crossbows, and enough knives to sharpen the branches off these pine trees into a million spear points.
So that’s where he keeps all his Christmas cheer.
Beyond the closed door, she heard voices.
“Just because she’s awake doesn’t mean we have to go,” a woman’s voice barked. Naomi’s. “This is my home!”
“Do as you’re told.” This time it was Kaden’s sharp voice.
Naomi laughed. “I’m still against the idea of bringing a hunter here to endanger us.”
“A bargain has been made and I’m prepared to live with the consequences.”
“And will those consequences affect the entire pack? Will that affect all the work we have put into this place? Your Shangri–La in the mountains?”
Cyn rose from the double bed. Naturally, it creaked. What were they talking about? What bargain had been made? Had her brother made a bargain of some kind with them for her life?
She strained to listen further, but when she got to the living room she found only Kaden sitting on the couch. He sat back in the seat, his feet propped up on the coffee table.
“Where are they?” she asked him.
“I heard you get up so I told them to leave.” This protective streak of his bothered her, but there was nothing she could do about it.
“How long did you let me sleep this time?” she asked him.
“As long as was necessary for you to recover.”
She harrumphed. “There’s not enough time to scratch the surface of that problem.”
She took a seat on the opposite side of the couch. Some distance would be good until she sorted out what was up between them. She sat for a bit, almost waiting for him to have something to say. Wasn’t he an alpha? Didn’t he want to take control of the situation?
“Look, as much as I want to hunt down your sister and beat the crap out of her for punching me, I can be the grown–up and let it go. What I can’t let go is that you and what’s going on at this place are bigger than I can even imagine. I suspect you’re making a safe haven for your pack.”
“An attempt of many,” he replied drily.
“Do you think more freelancers will come?”
“Probably not. If someone sounded the alarms, more than one hunter would be coming for us.”
She nodded, recalling the man she’d seen before Kaden had killed him. Gregory was a batshit loner who only showed up during large hunter gatherings every couple of years. The chance to take out an alpha was too delicious a kill to share with others. But then again, Gregory had seen her. What if another hunter had spotted her and reported her whereabouts back to her clan? She was a hunter living in a werewolf’s den. A traitor. Her stomach soured at the thought, but it was the truth.
“I shouldn’t stay here,” she finally said. “I’d endanger everyone.”
“Bullshit.” He scooted closer to her. She tried to shift the ot
her way, but there was no place to go.
Her head whipped to look at him. “I’m a hunter, Kaden. My people hunt yours.”
“Not here.”
“In your, as Naomi would call it, Shangri–La? A utopia for werewolves? The way I see it, there are too many bad eggs in the box to push the bad feelings away. There’s money to be made hunting your kind.”
His mouth formed a hard line. “Did you ever collect a paycheck?”
She didn’t look away. She refused to be ashamed for doing what she’d thought was right.
“Personally, I don’t care if you got paid. What matters is right now. Your brother asked me to save your life. He said his big sister was more precious to him than even his clan. At first I didn’t believe him, but now I do.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’ve known me for what, two or three days? How do you know what kind of person I am?”
The dark smile on his face widened as his eyebrows lowered. He leaned toward her, close enough for her to smell the whisky he’d been drinking. “For most werewolves, they can sniff out the useless ones after a midnight run. It’s different with alphas. It’s my job to assess. One night with you was more than enough for me. You’re amazing in more ways than one.”
“I still can’t stay.” She tried to be vehement, but having him so close was doing something to her insides. “I’m not gonna lie. I’m attracted to you, but you and I can’t have a relationship.” She sighed. “I even had to let someone else go.”
“Why did you let him go?” he asked softly.
“He was perfect.”
He chuckled.
“Not in the way you’d think.” She paused. “Michael had the kind of life I could’ve had if I hadn’t become a hunter. I’d wear heels to cocktail parties. Yacht rides on the bay. An apartment in the city. But I turned it all away. I had to.”
“Why?”
“Because I made a choice, Kaden.” Her voice grew stiff. “I chose to protect him from my lifestyle. Even if I’d married him, what would he do if the werewolves came for him to blackmail my clan? What if we had children and ended up dead like my–”
He caught her arm. “That would never happen if you were with me. I’d protect you. Us. Every single night you’ve been here, you’ve lain in my bed. In my arms. It felt right.” His fingertip brushed against her knee. “Give me another good reason why you shouldn’t stay.”
She had a million and one, but couldn’t speak. Finally, she gave in. “You told me you wouldn’t touch me anymore.”
“After your fight with my sister, I had to do what was necessary to keep you alive. Even if I’m fighting the need to make you mine.”
Her stomach dropped and she sensed his heated gaze. He placed his hand on her knee. The warmth from his palm should have angered her, but she felt pleasure instead. Somehow, she had to drive a wedge between them before she gave in to what she was feeling, too. Here she was, sitting next to an alpha and she wasn’t fulfilling the obligations her parents had drilled into her every day: exterminate the vermin. Falling for one of them was unacceptable.
“You don’t get it, do you?” She took a deep breath. “If I let you heal me completely, I give up my humanity. I have to give up the cause I’ve fought for years to defend.”
His grip on her knee tightened. There was no place for her to go. “I want you to stay–I told myself it was my drive to heal you. The need to help another person, but every moment we’re together I want more.” His gaze raked over her from her face down to her legs. “You smell so good. You’re driving me crazy.”
“What are you saying?” she breathed. What if came to mind and she couldn’t shake it. What if he could be the normal she needed?
His lips were almost close enough to brush hers, but he didn’t fill the gap.
“I care for you.” He sighed. “And I want to touch you again, but I’m willing to wait until you’re ready to come to me.”
Chapter Eight
Cyn couldn’t believe he’d said that. He cared for her? Had he lost his mind? But as her hand rose to rest on his chest, the same question could be asked about her. His heartbeat thundered under her palm. She was the one who was doing that to him.
The man whose lips hovered above hers wasn’t the same man she’d met when she awoke in bed. The hidden layers she hadn’t known about were now bare for her to see.
Even after she’d seen him attack that hunter, she could still see his real side. He wasn’t a brute or a conman like the men she hunted–so what was he? And what place could she have in this new life?
He was waiting for her. She had to be the one to bridge the gap.
She stood, as if turning away from him would make him disappear. But she still caught his scent, and the warmth from where he touched her lingered. He was standing behind her now, his breath fluttering against the top of her head.
Maybe if she faced him and told him she planned to leave, he’d let her go. Good luck trying. When she met his gaze, the raw intensity of his green eyes dissolved any words she had gathering on her tongue.
Say it. Tell him you’re leaving.
Instead she pressed her lips against his. Bliss. A second later, her back was slammed into the wall. The Christmas tree shook, making the red and green lights dance against the walls. He smothered her body with his. Every hard inch of him, from his stomach to his legs, held her in place. His breaths were hard and heavy, the primal part of him evident in his lidded eyes. With one hand, he stretched her arms above her head, granting him access to her neck. His mouth drifted from hers to nibble over her jaw down to the sensitive skin along her neck. She struggled to touch him. To feel his face or explore the width of his back.
He growled against her mouth. “No moving. I want to taste every part of you.”
Her head naturally tilted as the kiss deepened. His tongue brushed against hers, commanding and bold. With each stroke of his tongue, his hand, which had rested on her hip, snaked under her shirt to yank it upwards. The moment his hand touched her skin, honey–like warmth radiated from his palm. Strength surged into her limbs and her body trembled from sheer pleasure. But it wouldn’t be any fun if she hung out like this all night while the good doctor healed her.
She grinned. Oh, no, you’re not gonna be captain of this ship for very long.
She managed to twist one of her wrists from his iron grip. With one hand free, Cyn grasped his arm and curved it with a jerk behind his back. He grunted, not in discomfort, but surprise. Especially when she shoved him away. Now a few feet separated them. He waited, their breaths heavy in the silent room.
Now this game could be played on her terms.
“Cyn…” he gasped. The thick muscles along his forearms twitched and his mouth parted to reveal clenched teeth. Was he hanging on a thin thread like she was? Straining to make this moment last instead of screwing without a care?
Their gazes locked. She took a step toward him. Placed her index finger on his chest and pushed him backward until the backs of his legs hit the couch. He sat down and she straddled his lap. Off came her shirt. She grasped at his and when the buttons gave her trouble, she ripped the shirt open. Screw the buttons.
He was sheer perfection. Hard abs. Even the delicious V–shape of his hips.
She sampled his skin, kissing, sucking, and nibbling at his lips. With every lick she tasted him. The saltiness around his neck. The dry bite of the whisky along his lips. He was just as eager. His hands were everywhere, grasping at her hips, unhooking her bra, kneading her ass. Every touch added fuel to the frenzy growing under her skin.
All the while, she rocked her hips, rubbing her core along the bulge under his zipper. She eased herself slowly back and forth. Jerking against him until his hands locked on her hips and he thrust upward.
“Cyn…” he hissed. “You’re making it hard for me to control myself.”
There were too many pieces of clothing between them. She wanted everything from him. No boundaries set by hunters or werewolves.
He
pushed her up, and she shrugged off her jeans and panties. Now she was bare before him. She expected him to carry her to bed, maybe even bend her over the couch and plow into her. But he sat there. Still clad in his pants–a matter she’d remedy soon–and all he did was stare. He took in the curve of her bare breasts. His eyebrows rose with amusement and his tongue darted out to lick his lower lip, then his attention turned to the gold ring jutting out of her belly button.
Next his hand rose and he brushed his fingertip against the elaborate tattoo on her hip. The red paw print that was the symbol for her hunting clan. “Nice tat.” He swiveled his fingertip over her nipple and she gasped. Then he dipped his fingertip into the damp seam between her thighs.
Just that one caress from her nub to her channel’s entrance made her moan.
He tried to draw her down to him, but her gaze flicked to his jeans. “Too many clothes.”
His half–grin did something to her insides. Without a word, he unbuttoned his pants and pulled them off. The ladylike thing to do would be to meet his hungry gaze eye–to–eye, but she wanted to see what she’d been grinding against for the past few minutes.
Off came his briefs next and his cock sprang forth, thick and long. The freakin’ tip extended to his navel. Hot damn on a stick he was a tasty holiday treat waiting to be devoured.
“I think we’re about even now,” she whispered.
She pushed him back on the couch and he drew her toward him. She eased down on his length, her core stretching to accommodate his girth. Over the years she’d had a lover once in a while, never a one–night stand, but all of them had been humans. She’d never felt so tightly wound, so ravenously hungry to make love.
His hands tightened on her thighs as she slowly rose again. Heat seared her skin from where he was continuing to heal her.
“Oh, Cyn…you’re beautiful.”
She lowered herself again, savoring how much he filled her. As agonizing as the slower pace was, there was something so intimate about facing him. Lips against lips. Her cries of pleasure sucked into his mouth.