by Kitty DuCane
Dominating Victoria
Kitty DuCane
Dominating Victoria
Copyright © September 2009 by Kitty DuCane
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
ISBN 978-1-60737-438-1
Available in PDF, HTML, Microsoft Reader, and Mobi
Editor: Ann M. Curtis
Cover Artist: Marci Gass
Printed in the United States of America
Published by
Loose Id LLC
870 Market St, Suite 1201
San Francisco CA 94102-2907
www.loose-id.com
This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning
This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id LLC’s e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
* * * * *
DISCLAIMER: Please do not try any new sexual practice, especially those that might be found in our BDSM/fetish titles without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Neither Loose Id LLC nor its authors will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained in any of its titles.
About this Title
Genre: BDSM Shape-shifter Suspense Paranormal
Victoria McLain’s dad was the best DEA agent ever, but now he’s dead and Victoria’s hell-bent on making the responsible Colombian cartel leader pay. Even though she’s not DEA, her dad trained her as DEA and she plans to use all her training to extract revenge. Her only problem is Hayden Hunt.
Hayden Hunt is a DEA agent and a werewolf. His wolf senses are a blessing when Victoria’s lying to him and a curse when her emotional pain bleeds. Even though he doesn’t know the reckless beauty he's hunting by name, he knows her and he’s determined to keep his mate from her revenge, especially since she doesn’t plan to survive.
Brought together by circumstance, Victoria and Hayden spend their days battling each other and fill their nights with passion as Hayden takes and claims his mate again and again.
But when Victoria discovers that Hayden’s the only survivor of the ambush that killed her dad, she wonders if he’s the mole in the DEA she's been looking for. Hayden will have to prove himself again, if he's going to keep dominating Victoria.
Publisher's Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: Anal play/intercourse, BDSM theme and content.
Chapter One
Victoria McLain watched the piece of shit beg for his life. Julio Valdez was going to hell tonight, and she was going to put him there. Hell. She couldn't get him there fast enough.
“I will not die, bitch. You loca. Do you know who the fuck I am? You're gonna die a long and horrible death.” Julio remained behind his desk—like that was going to save him.
Victoria kept her weapon aimed at his head. Her Sig would put a nice, neat hole between his eyes and a gaping hole out the back of his head big enough to drive a Mack truck through. Damn shame to scatter his brains all over that beautiful painting behind him, but surely, someone could scrape his brains off the canvas.
“Listen, dickhead. I'm the one with the gun aimed at your fucking head. I'm pretty sure you're the one who's going to die tonight.”
She heard him shuffle his feet on the floor even as she watched the sweat roll down his face, plastering his black hair against his forehead. “What do you want? I have lots of money. I can make you a very rich bitc—er—woman.”
“I have no use for money,” she said drily. Money couldn't buy everything, and those who thought it could were badly mistaken. Greed. That's what had destroyed her life.
“You loca. Everybody needs money to live. Enjoying life takes money.”
Not when you had nothing left to live for.
“Anything you want me to pass on to your uncle before I kill him too?” she asked.
Julio's eyes widened. “Muy loca. Manuel's gonna hunt you down if anything happens to me. Now, I can forgive and forget if you turn around and walk out that door.”
Negotiate. Did he think he could negotiate his way out of this?
She nodded. “Right. I'm sure you're a man of your word. I'll be sure to give Manuel your love and your finger with that family crest on it, right before I kill him.”
Julio looked at the gold, diamond-studded ring with the snake carved in the center.
“Yeah, that's the one. Don't worry. I'll cut it off after I air out your head.”
Anger flashed in Julio's eyes. “Why, you bitch.”
“No name-calling. It's not polite.”
“Not polite. You're the one pointing a fucking gun at my head.”
Victoria shrugged. “Say good-bye, Julio.”
At that point, three things happened simultaneously.
Julio's bladder sprang a big leak.
Victoria's finger twitched on her Sig.
The door exploded open behind her.
She cursed but kept her gun trained on Julio, just in case he tried something stupid. She could only hope.
“DEA! Drop your weapon!”
“It's your lucky day, Julio. The DEA just saved your sorry ass.”
Victoria raised her hands and let her weapon rotate, dangle on her forefinger, and rest on the back of her hand. She wondered how many weapons were aimed at her head. Not that it mattered; one was enough. Thanks to the DEA, they'd ruined five months of her hard work. Fuck them!
But it was her fault. She should have shot him instead of shooting the shit. She wouldn't make that mistake again.
Someone ripped the gun from her hand a split second before a shove sent her bouncing off the parquet floor.
“Man, I'm glad you're here,” Julio said. “That bitch was gonna kill me. You guys saved my life.”
* * * * *
Hayden Hunt straddled the woman and secured her arms behind her back. “Don't start, Julio. I thought about letting her finish the job but decided that would be too easy. You, my friend, are going to prison for a long time.”
His teammate Aaron Johnson grabbed Julio, wrenched his arms behind his back, and secured them while he recited the Miranda rights.
“Hey, man. What the fuck? I'm the victim here!” cried Julio.
“Tell that to the magistrate on your way to jail,” replied Hayden.
“You know damn well if I go to jail, I'll be there twenty-four hours or less. Your people screw everything up. I'll be out, and you'll have huevos on your face like last time,” Julio said as Aaron pulled him from the room.
Hayden ignored Julio, even though he was making enough noise to “raise the dead,” as his grandma would say. The ranting of a drug lord's nephew didn't interest him right now.
He focused on his prisoner. He sniffed the air and inhaled her scent. She was outwardly calm and internally mildly agitated. Okay, she was pissed, but he detected no fear, which was strange, very strange. The DEA did their best to instill fear in all their takedowns.
Being a we
rewolf had its benefits. Each emotion had a distinctive scent. He sniffed again. Sunshine. Cool, fresh rain.
He frowned. Sin. Pleasure. No, erotic pleasure. His beast roared.
Mine!
What the fuck? That wasn't right. Hayden shook his head to clear it. Fuck no to that!
He focused on his job and not the inner turmoil this little slip of a thing was causing. He patted her ankle and removed her knife, then another knife on the other ankle. He leaned up and put a hand in the middle of her back to hold her down while he searched her legs. He deliberately slid his hand up her inner thigh, lingering against her pussy.
Her anxiety spiked. His nose twitched as her mild arousal slammed into his beast and sent it clawing for escape, for release. He was not going to let that happen. He reined his beast back in and concentrated on his job. His job, not her. Nothing else.
He found throwing stars in the right pocket of her cargo pants. Pants like his, except hers were probably an extra-small; his were XXL and extra-tall.
He sat back down, careful not to put too much pressure on her legs. He felt around her slim waist—six extra magazines in her belt.
“Damn, Hayden. You look like you're wrestling a small gator,” said Kevin. He stood by the door, assault rifle resting in his arms.
“No. This one's got no fight left in her.” Hayden dropped two more magazines on the pile. “Is everything secured?”
“Yep.” Hayden felt his teammate's gaze on them. “Damn. How much shit is she carrying?”
“Same as you and I.”
Well, except for the throwing stars. Those weren't DEA issue, but a few agents and U.S. marshals he knew carried them.
“Well, shit,” said Kevin as he left the room.
Hayden nodded. Who the fuck was she? She was armed like a DEA agent. He pulled two more knives from the back of her Kevlar vest. Her toys were expensive, the best.
Hayden leaned over her and stopped inches from her ear, his chest pressing on her bound arms. He inhaled deeply.
Big mistake.
Her scent was soft, feminine, and wild. His cock responded. Damn.
“What's your name, sugar?” he managed to ask.
She said nothing.
“You don't feel like talking?”
She remained silent.
“Suit yourself.” Hayden sat up and rolled her over. His breath seized in his chest. Big green eyes—cat's eyes—stared up at him from under long, dark lashes. Her nose was slim, her small mouth shaped like a bow. He pulled her black cap off her head, and long red hair spilled like a fine wine onto the parquet floor.
Then her tongue darted out, and she licked her lips.
Lightning sizzled through his body.
Hayden pulled his gaze from her lips and forced his focus back to his job, not that sensuous tongue, that sensuous mouth, or his painful cock. He popped the Velcro on the sides of her vest, and her eyes grew wide when he ran his hands under both the vest and her black T-shirt. Her vest was a custom fit, like his, except his had a notch to fit around his cock so he didn't have to take the damn thing off to piss. He skimmed her sides and found a garrote taped to her belly. That wasn't standard DEA issue.
After tossing it into the pile, his hands continued on their journey. Damn, her skin was soft. That's what he liked about women: they were soft and smelled good. His hands skimmed her breasts, and a small shiver ran through her. No bra. That was a nice find. Something possessed him, and he flicked his thumbs across both nipples. They pebbled instantly.
The scent of her arousal spiked his inner beast. Damn. Sometimes being a werewolf had its disadvantages.
“You packing anything else, sugar?” he managed to ask.
She narrowed her eyes but said nothing. He almost laughed. Pissed. She was getting pissed.
When he was sure he'd confiscated all her weapons, he hauled her up and headed for the door. He should let one of the other agents take her in, but for some reason he didn't want to acknowledge, he couldn't let that happen. His beast snarled, thinking about other agents being near her.
Fuck!
Chapter Two
Victoria rested her head on the cool metal table. She'd been in the Miami interrogation room for three hours now, and she wasn't certain how long they would make her wait to play the cat-and-mouse interrogation game.
It didn't matter.
She had all day, all night, and half of next week.
She'd had Julio in her sights and hadn't completed her mission. It was her fault because she took too much time watching Julio sweat instead of pulling the trigger. And damn the DEA.
Her mind drifted back to the man who'd taken her down. He was perhaps the most handsome man she'd ever met, hell, ever seen. His yellow eyes had that wild look in them, piercing eyes that could see to her very soul.
He was trouble; she knew that much. She would have to be at her best to stay focused around him. In fact, she would enjoy sparring with him, instinctively knowing he'd give her a good mental challenge, something she hadn't had in a while. But sparring with him wasn't part of the mission, and neither was sitting in an interrogation room.
She remembered his hands. Skillful. Too skillful. Hands that had sent her skin to sizzling. Her belly flopped thinking about them—him. She blushed.
She rolled her head to cool the other side of her flushed face. She heard the door open and close and willed herself to remain still. The scrape of a chair and the brush of a file sliding on the table echoed off the concrete walls.
“I know you're not asleep.”
“You are correct.” But she didn't move.
“How about sitting up and looking at me, or I'll tie you upright in that chair.”
She complied because she knew he would do it, and being tied up was not something she enjoyed unless it was in the bedroom. She sat up and stared at him.
“What's your name, sugar?”
She arched a brow. She felt a sexual harassment case coming on, but she said nothing and waited for his next move.
“Your prints aren't in the system—yet.”
She nodded.
“If you don't tell me your name, we'll have to put you in the system as a Jane Doe.”
She shrugged.
“Okay. Tell me why you were holding a gun on Julio?”
“I was detaining him for you, until you got there.”
“Ah. So you can talk.”
She only nodded.
“But you won't tell me your name?”
She shook her head. Her name wasn't important, because she didn't exist. It was planned that way. Who knew that it would come in handy someday?
“Listen, sugar. I always get the information I need, one way or the other.”
She crossed her arms and leaned back. That was probably a true statement. His impressive size alone probably scared the hell out of most people, but she wasn't most people.
He took a deep breath and leveled his amazing eyes on her. “Julio claims that you threatened to kill him, cut his finger off, and give it to Manuel before you killed Manuel.”
“You'd believe a drug runner over little ole me?”
He nodded.
“Well. I guess we'll have to see what the DA's office says.”
He frowned, and she smiled because she was right. Unless the DA was in Manuel's back pocket, like half of Miami was. Then she was screwed.
“So, you're saying you didn't threaten Julio?”
She didn't answer. She couldn't lie. However, evading the truth was something she was really, really good at.
“No answer?”
She shook her head.
“You smell like DEA, but we can't find any record of you as DEA, FBI, CIA, or any of the other alphabets. So you want to tell me exactly who the hell you are?”
Oh, she was DEA through and through, her dad had seen to that. She didn't have it stamped on the back of her Kevlar vest or hung around her neck in the form of a badge, but she was DEA.
Dad had been the best, but he was dead
. Now she was the best, and people were gonna pay.
She pressed her fingers against her temples and massaged.
“You're in a lot of trouble, sugar. You know that?”
“Yes.” That's what my dad always told me.
“Is that all you can say? Yes?”
“Yes…sir.” Her lips quirked. His irritation was evident as he glared at her. She saw the tightening of his jaw in that chiseled face of his.
“You do know you'll have a contract out on your ass before the sun goes down.”
She checked her watch. “I thought it would be sooner than that.”
The man expelled a harsh breath. “Listen, sugar. You're in deep shit. Manuel Corvas is not someone you want to fuck with, given the fact that you threatened his favorite nephew. You'd better start talking, so I can help you.”
She leaned forward. “First of all, I don't intend to fuck Manuel.”
That was disgusting.
“Second, I don't need your help.”
The only help she needed was to get the hell out of here.
He leaned forward, mimicking her. “You don't get it, sugar. There are people who will try to kill you.”
She leaned back in her chair and shrugged. She wasn't worried about that; she could take care of herself. She was in more danger sitting inside this Miami interrogation room than on the outside. She had no weapons in here. She had plenty on the outside.
“I need to know your name. It will be hard for me to get you into the Witness Protection Program without your cooperation and a legitimate name.”
“I am not going into the WPP. I'll sign a waiver.”
“You're as good as a dead woman. Do you understand?”
“I understand perfectly. Now, am I free to go, or do you plan to hold me the standard twenty-four hours before releasing me?”
She could tell he was pissed. Mr. Big Badass DEA wasn't as effective as he thought he was at this whole interrogation thing. Big blow to his ego.
A pain shot through her head, and she winced. Damn, she didn't have time for this now. She leaned on her elbows on the table and massaged her temples. Her head pulsed. Soon it would be pounding.