Silver Bound (Sammy Davis Book 1)

by Holly Rutan

  "Lucky you," Charles whispered.

  "I woke up as an amnesiac wolf with limited command of human language and no ability to shift," I said wryly. "It took escaping from Subbasement 4, wreaking havoc all the way up to the ground level, and somehow ending up in the hands of Renard Voneshi for me to understand what I was. Peter Wilkins—you know, that cream puff of a werelion they always have fostering children—had to teach me how to shift so we could figure out who I was, using the Missing Persons files. I could recite my beast name, but that was it. Up until tonight, I couldn't remember a damn thing."

  "That mage..." Charles asked. "You think it was the same man?"

  "The same entity?" I answered. "I'm positive. How many necromancers who create silence in the current, who have eyes of blue fire, and stink of rotting corpses, could possibly exist? The coincidence is impossible."

  "Point," Charles answered with a chuckle, and then sobered. "You're worried I might not want you as a mate because of your past, but all I heard is that you're the kind of girl who will keep fighting no matter how bad the odds are. You'll survive. I need you. I need a partner who can handle the bad things and keep going. I need to replace Irwin before he drowns himself in the current. He can't take the stress. It's killing me to watch him die by inches because I can't find a capable replacement."

  I winced and took a breath. "I'm still the DMA's prisoner, Charles. I can't pick my assignment, and I can't change my partner. I don't even get paid; I live on a stipend in a place approved by the Department. The bracelet has a tracker in it. They can find me and kill me at any time."

  "Under what justification?" Charles asked, his voice dark with a growl.

  "Being an amnesiac, borderline rogue were with a history of manslaughter and cannibalism," I answered.

  "Completely ridiculous," Charles said. "If they really thought you were a danger, they'd have shot you and got it over with, like I did with that mage this morning. No, this is some bureaucratic bigot thinking he'll save money on your salary and stick it to the nonhuman at the same time."

  "I suppose so," I said, and sighed.

  Charles stretched and pulled me closer to him, pressing his lips against the top of my head. "We'll take care of it. Don't worry, love. Even if I have to bash some heads together, we'll get you assigned to me before the case is done. If you want," he added, suddenly hesitant.

  "I do," I assured him. "But what about Moira?"

  He relaxed, relieved.

  "She has a reputation as the iron woman that can drink a man under a table, holding a beer in one hand and a leashed werewolf in the other. People will be piling up a block deep for a chance to get her as a partner," he said.

  I laughed, delighted by the apt description.

  "You know, some weres have this absurd superstition that they shouldn't take their first heat. They wait it out and try to get it to trigger on a person of their choosing instead of listening to what their body is telling them," Charles said.

  "How very human of them," I said.

  Charles's chest quivered with laughter, and I pushed myself away, still amused. Meeting his protest with a finger to his lips, I unbuttoned his shirt. He wasn't excited anymore. I could smell that, and it echoed my own weariness. My own heat had faded to a comfortable warmth, curling in my belly like a contented cat. Even so, he helped my uniform make it to the floor readily enough.

  "I'm tired," Charles admitted, catching my hands in his when I reached for his pants.

  "So am I. I just want to feel your skin against mine until I fall asleep," I answered.

  Naked, we fit together as though our bodies were made for each other. Charles put his arms around me, holding me close. The last thing I remember before morning was the sound of his heartbeat. The heat was a whisper, biding its time.

  * * * *

  I woke in a comfortable cuddle, heat raging between us like wildfire. Charles's dick was pressed between my legs, hard and teasing, erasing the vestiges of sleep in an instant. With a pleased, hungry growl, I twisted around in his arms, my lips meeting his as though our moves were choreographed.

  He tasted like wolf-musk and honey, hot and sweet. I drank in the flavor of him, breathing his musk, tasting the foreign flavor of salty sweat on his skin, until he groaned and rolled on his back, pulling me up on top of him.

  "Mine," Charles declared in a guttural rumble.

  I forced myself to pause, even though his length was pressed up against my wetness hard enough that I ached with the need to move, to deepen that pleasure into something more. My breath caught in little pants. He tightened his hands around my hips, awaiting my response, and I caught my breath in a soft moan.

  "Yes," I agreed softly.

  We tried to be quiet for poor Irwin's sake—somewhere in the back of my mind, I'd noticed the smell of coffee brewing—but I couldn't help but cry out when Charles grabbed my hips in his strong hands and thrust himself in me. He wasn't gentle about taking me at all, driving himself into my body with hard, eager thrusts and pressing the ball of his thumb over my clitoris, holding it down against the pressure of his moving cock until I had to bite my knuckles or scream.

  Mine, his mouth formed silently, green eyes hot with hunger.

  Yours, I agreed and leaned forward against his body to drink in the taste of his mouth on mine. I tangled my hands in his hair, pulling on it. He liked that; it made him move against me even harder.

  Pressure built, and I let it, panting, making soft sounds, biting my hand or Charles's collarbone when it became too much for me to remain silent. The pain only spurred him on until something finally gave and I came, my body grabbing his tightly and provoking a shocked moan from my mate. His thrusts abruptly became gentler. Our bodies throbbed in rhythm.

  We lay still, tangled together, tied. Panting in tandem, heartbeats matched.

  "Sweet Jesus," Charles mumbled.

  I giggled agreement.

  He shifted to put his arm around me and winced, drawing air between his teeth in a pained hiss. My eyes widened, taking in the indentations I'd made with my teeth along his collarbone. Some of them were bleeding.

  "I hurt you," I said. "I'm sorry. Lick it, make it better?"

  At his confused look, I drew forward and ran my tongue over his wounds. My saliva turned thick, almost slimy, and it coated the bleeding tooth marks, sealing them. The tension leaked out of Charles' body as his pain eased, and I huffed with satisfaction and amusement at his stunned expression.

  "How did you do that?"

  I shrugged.

  My body abruptly released his, proving that sex is, while fun, also incredibly messy. I nuzzled him before I pulled away.

  "I have no idea," I answered. "That's just how it works. Lick it until the pain goes away."

  "Neat," Charles said, and then, "I think a shower is in order, don't you?"

  I grinned. "You go first."

  "I was thinking you could wash my back," Charles said slyly. He trailed his hand over my breasts and down my belly, and I shivered.

  "Imagine being tied in the shower and Irwin's been up and waiting for us," I scolded, but my gleeful expression gave me away, and he smiled.

  "Fine, fine. I'll be quick," Charles promised, and disappeared into the bathroom.

  The bed was deliciously soft, making me want to laze about in the warm blankets that smelled like Charles and sex and heat, but the scent of coffee had woken my belly up. With a sigh, I rolled out of bed and pulled together a clean uniform. It took a while to find my boots. Somehow they had ended up thrown all the way under my bed and against the wall, which made me grin.

  I couldn't stop grinning, especially when Charles came out of the shower in a cloud of steam and we exchanged a lingering kiss in the bathroom doorway. Then he had to get dressed and I had to get washed because it wouldn't do to go to work stinking of sex so strongly even a human nose could pick it up.

  Charles's shower had been hot enough that steam had gathered and beaded on the walls even with the vent running. I turne
d the heat down a tad and stepped in, letting the water pound away the accumulated grime of the last twenty-four hours. The clean scent of herbal shampoo wiped away everything, leaving me feeling refreshed. I turned the heat up and luxuriated for a brief few moments.

  A sudden twist of anxiety bit at my gut. I lifted my head and growled, turning off the water and shaking it off like a dog. That sudden spike of fear wasn't mine, and it calmed just as quickly as it had occurred. Something had surprised Charles, leaving him feeling anxious and defiant. It figured that the first time I'd feel the mate sense it would be triggered by something negative.

  I jumped out of the shower, gave myself a cursory dry-off, and threw on my clothes before rushing into the living room. My boss was sitting on my couch. His shoulders were as square as ever, but telltale lines around his eyes suggested he hadn’t been sleeping. He looked up at my arrival and raised both eyebrows, silently questioning my hostile expression, and I felt my face clear.

  "Oh," I said. "False alarm. Excuse me." I retreated to fix my disheveled clothing.

  Voneshi hadn't been by my apartment in a long time. He used to come have a talk with me when he was concerned that my behavior needed correcting, but I'd been behaving more or less appropriately for years.

  I'd never seen anything amiss in being visited by my boss—Voneshi was the reason I'd been permitted what freedom I had, rather than being executed or confined like so many other ferals were. He'd seen some goodness in me, even when I could barely speak, and he'd vouched for me. He had okayed my living quarters, vetted my partner, and personally escorted me to the station on my first day of work. Voneshi would be held responsible if I caused any permanent damage, so it only made sense that he would check on me now and then.

  Back in the bathroom, I straightened my rakish collar and rebuttoned my shirt, eying my reflection in the still-steamy mirror. My face looked alien, as though I had a stranger's eyes in place of my own. They weren't animal eyes, golden yellow and without whites, but instead an almost human blue. The color was a bit deeper than the human norm, and the black border of the iris was wide, like Charles's. My eyes hadn't looked like that since before puberty. Before I'd been sold away by my mother and tormented until I hid behind the soul of a beast.

  I opened my mouth to examine my teeth. They were unchanged—still sharp. My ears hadn’t rounded out, but they had been the same since I was born, so that was no surprise. My eyes, though… A were with human eyes was stable. Safe. Not feral.

  The men were talking in the living room, their low voices rumbling formlessly through the walls. A blush heated my face as I followed that observation to the logical conclusion. Sound carried two ways.

  Cheeks burning, I claimed myself a cup of coffee from the kitchen, added enough sugar to make it sweet, and finally steeled myself to rejoin the men in the living room.

  "Where's Irwin?" I asked.

  "Still asleep," Charles answered. "He'll sleep as long as a nightmare doesn't wake him."

  Voneshi was sitting on the couch, and Charles was standing in front of him, hands in his pockets in a pose that I was starting to recognize. He was uncomfortable, and I tucked myself under his arm and nuzzled his shoulder, giving him some support and breathing in his scent. I met my boss's eyes with a direct look of my own. He raised both eyebrows, startled, and then dipped his chin in a slow nod.

  "So that's how it's going to be, is it?" Voneshi asked.

  "When heat strikes, only a fool ignores it," Charles answered. "I'm not made of iron, to rebuff the chance at a lovely mate just because there might be a conflict of interest. Besides, Samantha's not going to break any time in the foreseeable future."

  I nodded, clutching my cup of coffee with one hand. The other remained wrapped around Charles's waist. Touching him, feeling the warmth of his body and the closeness of his scent, made me feel safe.

  "She went berserk last night," Voneshi said.

  "Under perfectly reasonable provocation," Charles replied. "Having someone you killed come back from the dead and possess an acquaintance's body would terrify the most rational of people."

  Voneshi leaned forward, cupping his coffee in both hands as though to savor the heat. "Is that true, Davis? Have you remembered something?"

  "Yes, sir," I answered. "Poor Tim—that's the fellow who was found dead last night—did, at least temporarily, house the spirit of a very familiar milker. He had the same eyes and the same voice. I swear he even smelled the same. Hearing the spirit speak brought everything back. The shock threw me through a bit of a loop. I'll write a full report as soon as I get to the office.

  "Charles was able to subdue me before I did any damage, fortunately. I don't expect anything like that to happen again," I said, nuzzling Charles's chest. Voice muffled, I continued, "The necromancer can't pull that trick twice, and the mating bond makes weres more stable, not less."

  "Mating bond," Voneshi said, and then sighed. "Not a temporary fling, then? Do you have any idea how complicated that makes things for me?"

  "There's nothing complicated about it," I answered with a shrug, and nudged Charles toward the one sturdy armchair in my living room. "Let's talk."

  Apparently content to let me speak, Charles occupied the battered, comfortable seat, and I sat at his feet with my legs tucked under me. I cleared my throat, seeing Voneshi recognize what our seating choice said about which of us was dominant, and began.

  "Irwin is getting lost in the current. He's damn good at his job, but the stress is getting to him. The Department doesn't need to—shouldn't have to—use him up and throw him away. I'm a mage. I can replace him, and while I lack Irwin's incredible strength, I more than make up for that pure physical ability."

  "Werehunters don't partner with weres," Voneshi stated.

  Charles tensed, and I put a hand on his knee. Voneshi hadn't said no; he was willing to negotiate.

  "Is that policy?" I asked.

  "No," my boss said.

  "If a were goes bad, whether in clan or pack or pride, his own family puts him down," I said. "The DMA is only notified if the pack fails or the rogue goes undetected. The Department is ignoring a resource that wants to be used."

  "Higg's Instinct," Voneshi said. "You may have a point."

  Charles leaned forward. "More than that, and something your superiors might recognize, is that all weres suffer if one of them starts killing humans. They fully support the efforts of werehunters. Red Fire even specializes in training them. The West Coast Coalition of Weres has been looking to place someone in a prominent position for a while to bolster their good image. Since Samantha's gotten positive press more than once, she's a shoo-in."

  "And the Coalition Elders would be terribly offended if her promotion isn't approved," Voneshi commented, and drummed his fingers on his knee. "No need to present the stick when the carrot will do, Agent Smith. If I weren't sympathetic to your position, I wouldn't be here. I have been pro-were ever since a wolf cub with more guts than sense took it in her head to escape through no less than three layers of security—out of the prison level, no less!—and my superiors saw a dangerous animal when I just saw a scared child who happened to be running on four feet instead of two."

  "Sir," Charles said, his voice reflecting our mutual gratitude.

  "Don't thank me yet," Voneshi said. "Agent Davis will have to undergo the Hopkin's-Edwards again before a promotion can be approved. That's standard, and if she scores under an eight, I'll be forced to deny your request. Also, I'll be leaving it to you to inform your partners."

  With a sardonic smile, Voneshi stood and walked out of my apartment, closing the door quietly behind him.

  Charles rubbed my shoulder with strong fingers.

  "Don't worry about Moira just yet," he advised. "One thing at a time, love."

  "The job comes first," I agreed.

  I tilted my head back so his fingers tangled in my short hair, and neither of us moved or spoke for several long minutes. It was enough to simply be with each other, touching. Charl
es's contentment sang through my nerves gently, feeling something like the soft music of a gentle current. The sensation went deeper than the current, though, to parts of my mind and body that were left untouched by chords of music. It went to primal places that whispered of fur and fang and pack. At the core of my being, I felt whole.

  The mood was broken by the cranky rumble of my empty stomach.

  Charles chuckled.

  "It's Tuesday. A bunch of us enforcer types meet most Tuesdays at Rico's in Hollywood for breakfast before we get back to cracking heads. It's good to touch base and check in with the guys every now and then. Want to go?" he offered.

  "Enforcer types?" I asked. "Who are we talking about?"

  He shrugged. "Tactical agents, mostly. Rodriguez and I, of course. Have you met Rod? He's the other werehunter for our region. Nice guy. Sanchez the helicopter guy. Gunny. Anyone whose job it is to either clean up a mess or eliminate a problem, really. There's around a dozen of us that like to meet up."

  "You know Gunny?" I asked, and then snorted to myself at the stupid question.

  I could feel Charles smiling down at me. "Sometimes it's safer to take targets out from a distance. So? What do you say?"

  "Sure," I answered, levering myself off the floor. "Just let me get a quick snack. I'll make more coffee for Irwin if you can get him out of bed."

  "I'm already up," Irwin said from the hallway.

  Startled, Charles and I both looked in his Irwin's direction in unison. The lanky mage was standing in the hall doorway, his little familiar cupped in his hands and a wistful smile on his face. His hair was rumpled and the tag of his shirt was sticking out of his shirt. He didn't look like he'd been awake for very long.

  "It seemed rude to interrupt," Irwin said. "You two were being kind of cute."

  "Cute," Charles said.

  Irwin's smile widened. Pyggie ran from his hands and up his sleeve to perch on the mage's shoulder, stubby little tail waggling back and forth.

  "Sweet as, cute as a button," the chipmunk chirped.

  "Ugh," Charles answered in disgust.

  I grinned. "Let me go get that coffee. Charles wants to go to Rico's, you two in?"