It had been real. Hadn't it?
Shit.
Dax tumbled out of bed and staggered to the bathroom. Turning on the tap at full blast, he splashed icy water on his face and stared at his foggy reflection in the mirror. He was a mess. He couldn't even tell what was real any more.
Dax stepped into the shower and braced his hands against the wall as the water sluiced down his back. He replayed last night's events in his head, and his lawyer mind began to sieve out the facts from the emotions. Levi Madden didn't kill that man. Rebecca Rose was still in danger. And Melynda was still...not his.
He closed his eyes, and against his will, the image of her naked body pulsed on the back of his eyelids. She was against the wall, staring up at him as he pinned her hands up on either side of her head. God, he could lose himself completely in her eyes and her body. He was already drowning, sinking deeper and deeper, falling harder and faster....
He saw her, on her bed, on her back, her legs spread for him, her pussy pink and wet and aching for him.
She was...beautiful. In the moonlight, she looked like a goddess, so lush and ripe. Her auburn hair fanned out around her face as she panted and arched her back, presenting her hard, glistening nipples to his mouth.
He could taste her still on his tongue. So sweet and addictive. Dax fisted his erection, but the ache in his loins was unbearable. He was going to explode, violently and messily. The water pounded his broad shoulders as he slammed one hand against the tiles and gripped his cock in his other hand. His thoughts were solely on Melynda as his fist tightened and his hand began to move with an urgent, crazed intensity. She was tight, so fucking wet and tight. Being inside her had felt so damn good. He remembered pushing deep into her slick heat, and pounding into her. She had clenched at his cock, pulling it greedily into her. And she had come, over and over for him. He longed to hear her screams of ecstasy again, if only in his mind. Dax jerked, thrusting hard into his fist. Once, twice, and his seed shot from his body. His thick, white semen hit the tiles and spiraled with the water at his feet. He roared her name as he ejaculated, wishing he was shooting his seed into her hot, shuddering body.
“Melynda!”
Finally spent, Dax pressed his forehead against the cool tiles, listening to the echo of his roar and his deep, heavy breathing. The muscles on his back were still tightly bunched, his need still roiling within his loins.
He raised his face to welcome the harsh, pelting water droplets. He could see her so vividly in his mind, taste her on his tongue, even feel her against his skin. She was a dream.
A dream.
That was what it was.
It wasn't real.
It was just a fantasy.
His mind and his body were conspiring to torture him, to drive him completely mad.
Dax snapped off the water and shaved and dressed quickly. His movements were sharp, tensed, fueled by frustration.
This was no time to lose his head. There was urgent work to be done.
He had to be in the office, right now.
Adjusting his cufflinks and his tie, he grabbed his jacket and car keys, and exited his apartment. There were only twelve units in this exclusive, prestigious development by GC Inc., the real estate firm founded by Glenn Constantine.
Dax liked the exclusivity, the quiet and the privacy. With the long hours he kept in the office, he seldom saw his neighbors, and he liked it that way. He never brought any women home. They belonged in a hotel room, not in his home, and definitely not in his bedroom.
Dax pulled his Jaguar out of the underground parking lot and turned out into the highway. Traffic was still light, and he would definitely make it to the office before nine.
Keeping his eyes on the road, Dax recalled his conversations with Levi. He knew that Levi was telling the truth. He had dealt with enough untruthful and dodgy clients, and Levi was definitely not one of them. Levi was a powerful bear shifter, yet he was wary of Phin Lester, Rebecca's ex. He viewed the human as a serious threat, and he believed with every fiber of his being that Phin would harm Rebecca.
Dax frowned. What kind of a man was Phin Lester?
Turning his car around, Dax sped toward the city hospital. Slotting his car into an empty lot in the hospital car park, he walked briskly to the reception counter and asked for Rebecca Rose's ward number.
“Are you her attorney?” The receptionist checked the records and eyed Dax warily.
“Yes.”
“I'm afraid Miss Rose is...still in a coma. She won't be able to talk to you.”
“She's allowed visitors?” he asked grimly.
“Yes. But you'd have to get past the police officer stationed outside her room. She's the victim of a shifter attack, so the police aren't taking any chances.”
Dax nodded, and thanked her. Returning to his car, he swore under his breath as he drove to the office. Rebecca Rose was in a coma. She wouldn't be able to give her statement to the police, and tell them what really happened. She wouldn't be able to testify at Levi's trial. She was the only witness to what really happened that night.
With a deep frown on his face and a lot on his mind, Dax parked his car in his reserved lot and entered an empty lift. The law office of Ferro, Wells and Robertson was on the twenty-third floor, and it afforded him a perfect view of the city.
The glass doors were already unlocked, and Dax glanced at the tall figure pacing in the corner office. Ian was muttering to himself, wearing down the carpet and spinning a pen between his fingers. Dax rapped sharply on the opened door of Ian's office. “You didn't go home last night.”
Ian jerked his head up and scowled. “What? You sound like a wife, or a fiancee, or a girlfriend.” He waved a hand in the air. “And that is why I'm never getting married, or engaged, or...attached. In any way.”
Dax laughed. His partner had the ends of his rumpled shirt out, his top buttons undone and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His tie and jacket were lying in a puddle on the carpet. Ian was clearly “in the zone”, as Matthew so aptly put it.
“When Ian's on a case, he's like a bloodhound. He'll sniff out every inconsistency, every loophole, and he'll go for blood,” Matthew had quipped. “Ian Robertson is one bloodthirsty bastard, and that makes him a fucking good lawyer! Blood and law...hmm, I wonder why there aren't more vampires in our firm?”
Dax had wondered the same thing, but there just weren't many vampire lawyers around. It just wasn't their thing. Lawyering, it seemed, was a human thing. Every city was swarming with human lawyers.
Dax folded his arms and leaned against the door frame. “That's what they all say. Those confirmed bachelors who profess that they're never taking a wife all end up shackled to their marital beds.”
Ian snorted. “And I've dealt with enough divorce cases to know that these fools end up writing alimony checks the size of New Moon City a few years later.”
“You're much too young to be so jaded,” Dax tut-tutted. “You're only thirty-four!”
Ian wagged a finger at him. “Just because you're three times my age doesn't give you the right to lecture me.”
Dax held up his hands. “I'm the last person to lecture you. What do I know about marriage? Mine failed spectacularly.”
Ian stopped pacing and met his eyes. “Yeah. I heard.” There was a note of sympathy in his voice. He chewed the end of his pen, suddenly thoughtful. “Do you think...”
“...that I'll get on the roundabout again?”
Ian nodded.
“Well, I'm not one to deny myself.” Dax winced at his own words. Except when it comes to her.
“Sex, shagging, booze and boobs. We all know that's a different roundabout. It's easy to get off that one.” Ian gave him a lopsided smile.
Dax sighed. “I know the roundabout you're talking about. I will never get on that bloody roundabout again. Because that was exactly how it was—bloody. And it hadn't even been real. It was a bloody illusion. Werewolves are supposed to mate for life. That turned out to be a lie for me. So, no
.”
Ian stared at him in silence. Then narrowed his eyes. “Remind me to come talk to you, if ever I am crazy enough to get on that roundabout.”
Dax barked out a laugh and turned to go. “I don't think we'll be having that talk anytime soon. I heard you're seeing a model though.”
“Model?” Ian looked genuinely confused. “What model? They're all models!”
Dax shook his head, leaving his partner to continue his pacing and strategizing. Ian's skills and tactics in the courtroom were formidable. As Matt said, Ian was a brilliant lawyer. So was Matt, for that matter. Those two humans played hard, but they worked harder.
Dax passed Melynda's desk on his way into his office. He paused a beat as her scent invaded his nostrils and his senses.
He swore under his breath, and forced himself to step away. He couldn't let her affect him so. She wasn't even physically here, and already her scent clung to him, winding around his body and his brain.
He slammed his office door shut behind him. Keeping her out of his sight might keep her out of his mind, for a while. But he would know when she came into the office and settled down behind her desk. He would hear her, smell her, feel her.
Dax booted up his laptop and started to type. He wanted to jot down the salient points of his meeting with Levi Madden while the conversation was still fresh in his mind. Levi had given him precise instructions to protect Rebecca Rose. He would visit Rebecca later today, and—hope for a miracle. If only Rebecca could tell him something, something that could help Levi...and save her own life.
Dax stopped typing.
Levi had been so certain that Rebecca was in grave danger. He was convinced that Phin would attempt to attack her, and kill her, even while she was in the hospital.
Dax frowned. He understood the werebear's protective instincts. But what if Levi's fears weren't unfounded? What if he wasn't just being paranoid and possessive? What if he was right?
An innocent woman would be killed.
Dax saved his notes in the PAC folder, and scrolled through his emails. He had to finish up his work quickly and get to the hospital. He'd made a promise to Levi, and he would keep it.
There were queries and new instructions from clients, and the usual office announcements. He answered his more urgent emails and proceeded to work on the agreements and contracts that were piled on his desk.
He knew exactly when Melynda came into the office. He heard her soft footsteps and he heard the scrape of her chair, and the familiar clicking of her keyboard. But she didn't knock on his door and enter his office. Neither did he buzz her in.
He had to concentrate.
Focus, damn it.
Finish up the work and keep an appointment. A promise.
Dax put his head down and worked feverishly. He went through stacks of documents, and his out tray began to fill up. He should buzz his secretary in and get her to send out the completed contracts and documents, but every time his finger hovered over the buzzer on his phone, his hand shook and his mind flashed with thoughts of her, thoughts he had been fighting the whole morning.
Slamming the last of his files into his out tray, Dax leaned back and forced a deep breath into his lungs. Why was he obsessing over her? He had never felt like this, never wanted a woman so much that his desire for her was a physical ache, tearing and eating at him.
Dax gripped the sides of his leather chair and growled, his eyes flying open.
No, that wasn't true.
He had felt like this. Once. Just once.
It had been a witch.
His claws began to inch out painfully as the memory sliced at his heart and his soul.
Melynda was a witch as well.
But she was not that witch. Not that kind of witch. Was she?
From what he knew of her family, they were a coven of Elemental witches. Her elder sister, Jasynta, Blake's mate, was a dedicated healer and an efficient and competent Elemental witch. According to Blake, she picked plants and herbs in the wild, and used the cleansing power of rain and water to power her magick, taking the best of nature to work her spells and potions. Their coven Elder, Lucinda Morgan, who was their grandmother, was also a powerful Elemental witch. So was their mother Anita. Anita's earth magick was manifest in their abundant, overflowing garden. Dax had driven past their house more than a couple of times and saw the garden crowded with golden and silver rose bushes. Flowers of every hue and scent bloomed all over their fence, waving their petals at him as he drove past.
He shouldn't be suspecting his secretary of dark magick.
She was from a good coven. She was a good girl, a good witch.
And he—was just a lusty wolf, panting after his sweet, young secretary and thinking all kinds of wicked thoughts about her.
He shook his head hard.
He had to get over this, get over her.
Snatching up the phone, he pressed the button and waited.
“Yes...Mr Ferro,” Melynda said breathlessly into the phone.
Mr Ferro?
She had always called him by his name before.
What changed?
His eyes narrowed. “Come into my office. Now.”
He put down the phone and waited.
She usually just came in immediately when he called. But this time, she took much longer than usual. It was as if she didn't want to face him and was stalling for time. Was she afraid of him? Or was she...
A knock. Soft and tentative.
“Come in.”
The door opened and Melynda stood awkwardly in the doorway. She kept her eyes down, and approached his desk reluctantly.
“Look at me, Melynda,” Dax commanded.
She bit her lip and flicked her eyes up. Dax froze as he stared at her. Her eyes. They were...changed.
There was a speck of silver in the middle of her deep, brown eyes. Dax shook his head almost imperceptibly. No.
No!
The pen snapped into two in his fist.
She gasped when he stood up, rising to his full height. He saw her gulp and take a tiny step back.
“Close the door, Melynda,” he said in a voice that was very quiet and very dangerous.
“We need to talk.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Standing at the door to Dax's office, staring into those stormy gray eyes, Melynda had to force her legs to remain steady.
She had seen and experienced his overriding emotion towards her last night. What he felt for her was undeniable, unstoppable lust.
But now, she could see none of that fiery passion in his eyes. Instead, she saw only anger, cold, deadly anger.
She gulped as she closed the door behind her. Did he know what she'd done to him? Melynda knew she shouldn't have done it, and she swore she wouldn't do it again.
“Dax,” she began. “I...” I can explain.
“What is going on with you, Melynda?” Dax asked, his voice deceptively calm.
“N-nothing.” Oh God, she couldn't even look him in the eye.
Dax stared at her a long time before uttering just a single word. “Don't.”
“What?”
“Don't lie to me.”
“I...I'm not...”
Dax closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, painfully. Very softly and slowly, he said, “Not you, Melynda.”
“Dax, what...”
“Not. You!” He slammed his palm down on the side of his desk. “You...are not an Elemental witch. Are you, Melynda?”
She gasped. How did he know?
Dax let out an angry, ugly laugh. “You are wondering how I know. I know, because I can smell a lie and I can smell your fear. I can smell many things on you, but I have never detected the smell of nature on you. No scent of rain or sunshine, the earth, the wind...nothing! You never called on the elements for your magick. Never. Am I right?”
Melynda took a step back, then stopped herself. Why was she backing away? What Dax had said—was the truth. She shouldn't be backing away from the truth. She had been doing that her whol
e life. It was time to stop hiding and denying. She would stand firm, stand tall, and face him.
She sucked in a deep, steadying breath and said, “Yes. You are...absolutely right. I am not an Elemental witch. I tried, I really tried, to work my magick using the elements. But—you either have it, or you don't. I just didn't have Elemental magick in me. What I am...”
“I know what you are,” he spat.
Her eyes rounded at the vehemence in his voice. What did he have against Emotional witches?
She stood her ground as he stalked towards her. She saw the conflicting emotions in his eyes, a mixture of revulsion, denial, hunger and hate.
With a finger under her chin, he tilted her face up to him. “Your eyes reveal what you are, what you have done.” His breath was hot against her cheek.
With a hiss of pain and anger, he released her abruptly and stepped away from her.
Melynda reeled, feeling the world tilt and spin around her. Dragging a hand across her forehead, she blinked hard and tried to center herself. Her eyes? What did he see in her eyes?
She lifted her face to the tinted windows behind Dax, and saw her faint reflection. She saw just her pale face, a head without a body, floating like a specter behind Dax. There was a glint of silver from her reflection, and it wasn't from the glass or the glare of the sun. She squinted to get a clearer look at her reflection, and let out a small cry. That glint came from her eyes. There was an unmistakable spark of silver in her eyes.
Melynda shook her head rapidly. It couldn't be.
“When Emotional witches mess with someone else's emotions, it shows in their eyes,” Dax said, watching her intently. “I have...seen that, up close and personal. I have personally experienced that.”
“W-what do you mean?” she stammered, her mind whirling.
“I was once...mated, to an Emotional witch.”
She gasped, blinking at him in confusion.
“It wasn't a true mating. She used Emotional magick to manipulate my feelings, to make me believe that she was my true mate. But what she wanted was just my wolf. Silver Wolves are very rare, and they can channel the power of the moon like no other creature. The moon holds tremendous sway over Silver Wolves, and a Silver Wolf can pull and absorb the pure, potent power of the full moon. We make very good familiars, and are highly sought after by magickal practitioners. But you can't tame a Silver Wolf. No Silver Wolf would willingly become a witch's familiar, or a warlock's slave. A Silver Wolf would only be a witch's familiar if the witch was his mate. Many witches and warlocks have tried to catch and keep a Silver Wolf, and they have died trying.”
Wolf Mate Page 5