Sasha didn’t have to finish her point. Dean knew exactly what had happened before Sasha and his grandfather had united. She had gotten pregnant by another man and had birthed Dante Alighieri.
A whole new fear surged through Dean, one that was worse than anything he could’ve imagined.
“Okay,” he scrambled. “I’ll take her to the station, have Rick arrest Eddie. I won’t let her out of my sight.” He looked at Troy and asked, “What else can I do?”
“Turn her as quickly as possible.”
“I’m right here!” Elizabeth objected. “And slow down! No one is going to turn anyone! This is all happening too fast!”
She hopped off the table to get away from Dean and ran all ten fingers through her blonde hair.
“I’ll go to the station,” she offered, “but I won’t be pressured into anything else.”
***
Rick had closed himself in his office at the stationhouse hours ago. He’d asked Sheila, the receptionist of the precinct, to hold his calls and to prevent anyone from barging in since her desk was directly outside of his closed door. He wasn’t so optimistic to think that this would prevent Eddie Friendly from barreling in, but it was enough to stop Rachel Clancy. He’d heard her confront Sheila about it several times, but Rachel had had enough respect for the situation to leave him be.
From what he had gleaned, his newest detective was questioning Elizabeth Halsey’s aggressive interest in buying the old Devil’s Advocate building, but knowing Rachel, her suspicions surrounding Halsey’s effort had more to do with how they might tie in to Dante Alighieri than about the prospect of rebuilding the corner of Bison and Main.
Either way, however, it wasn’t a pressing investigation if it was a legitimate investigation at all, and for the time being Rick was far more interested in relaxing with the heartwarming possibility that he might have a shot with Nikita Quinn. The regal woman had been on the market for years now and Rick had never once considered her as a romantic option…
…until now.
Sure, it was a little crazy. He feared to imagine what Shane Quinn might think of his sudden interest in Nikita. But unless he was completely out of his mind, he couldn’t help but feel like Nikita might also have been a bit interested in him as well.
He wondered how he might ask her out and it made him feel like a schoolboy. She might like an evening away from Sasha and Gaylord, however. It couldn’t be easy being cooped up in that little stone house with the elderly pair of lovebirds that couldn’t seem to keep their hands off of one another.
Feeling a thrilling zing of nerves tingle through him, Rick picked up his desk phone and dialed the number he found listed for Nikita Quinn.
He cleared his throat, listening to the ring tone in his ear and mentally practicing how he might pull this off.
“Hello?” he heard her feminine voice come through the line.
“Nikita, good afternoon. This is Sheriff Rick Abernathy calling.”
Not bad, but his voice didn’t sound entirely steady.
“Oh, hi, Rick,” she said easily. “What can I do for you?”
Just as he was about to launch into his reason for calling, Detective Rachel Clancy flew into his office.
“Got a live one, Sheriff,” she blurted.
“Ah, Nikita? Hang on a second,” he said into the phone before covering the mouthpiece and demanding, “What the hell is it now, Clancy?”
Rachel closed the door, which told him she was dealing with a highly sensitive matter, and neared his desk.
“Elizabeth Halsey is here,” she began.
“I don’t care about that building project,” he snapped, “just connect her with the county so she can buy the burned down building.”
“No, this isn’t about that,” she said, leaning over his desk. “Elizabeth was attacked… by Eddie Friendly.”
Staring wide eyed at her, Rick spoke into the phone, “I’m sorry, Nikita, I’ll have to call you back.”
“Is it important?” Nikita asked.
“Let me call you back,” he told her before hanging up. “Friendly attacked the new girl?”
“That’s what she’s claiming,” said Rachel. “She brought evidence too, says she clawed his chest to ward him off.”
Rick sprang to his feet. This was perhaps the best news he’d received all summer. If he could put Eddie Friendly behind bars, it would eliminate a huge source of stress in his life.
“Let’s get a full statement,” he told his detective as he threw his office door open and started through the station. “I want this done by the book so that he can’t wriggle out of it.”
“I put her in Interview Room 2,” Rachel informed him as they made their way.
Rick felt Eddie’s dark eyes glaring at him as they passed his desk, but he didn’t meet the dark werewolf’s gaze.
It was only a matter of time, he thought. Soon Eddie would be out of his hair, and his life, for good.
***
An hour later, Detective Rachel Clancy stood from the interview room table and opened the door. Dean, who had been seated next to Elizabeth throughout her entire statement, helped her out of her chair and not because Elizabeth had indicated she’d like that. He’d never felt more protective of her and had kept his arm around her the entire time as though he needed to always be touching her.
“We’ll make the arrest after you’ve left,” Rick told them discretely. “That way he won’t lash out at you.”
Dean slowed when he reached the sheriff and warned, “Dante’s going to provide him with an excellent attorney.”
“With the fingernail scrapings,” Rick assured him, “there won’t be much a world class attorney will be able to do for him. So long as the DNA matches Friendly.”
“It will,” Elizabeth promised as she joined Dean.
She took hold of his arm and Rachel escorted them through the station, past Eddie who was still seated and brooding at his desk, and out onto the sidewalk.
“You did a good thing, Elizabeth,” she commended her. “Try to get some rest.”
As Dean turned with her and started towards his parked pickup truck, he heard commotion coming from inside the station.
Rachel rushed back inside at once to help apprehend Eddie Friendly, who Rick had wasted no time twisting into handcuffs.
As Eddie swore at them up and down, Dean guided Elizabeth further down the street, but when he glanced back, he saw through the glass entrance doors of the station that Rick had torn open Eddie’s shirt to find long, pink nail marks cutting down his chest.
“Come on,” he told her, pulling her away from the sight they had briefly spied, “let’s get you home.”
Dean drove off along Main Street in silence for a long moment, Elizabeth staring darkly out of the passenger’s side window and Dean minding the speed limit as he turned onto Bison and then Berry Road.
“It’s inevitable, isn’t it?” Elizabeth glanced at him and asked.
“What’s inevitable?”
“Becoming a werewolf,” she clarified. “That was what Troy suggested, wasn’t it? That you turn me as soon as possible.”
“That wasn’t exactly what he suggested,” Dean told her.
“It wasn’t?”
“If you’re meant for me, then it’s inevitable that we will unite. Turning you into a werewolf is just as aspect of that, a byproduct.”
“So, you mean… get married?”
“In werewolf terms, yes,” he allowed. “But technically, it doesn’t involve getting married by human standards, though the rest of my brothers have opted to go in that direction.”
Confused, she asked, “What does it mean, then?”
“It means bonding eternally. Joining our souls. It’s obviously a huge commitment and not something I would want to rush.”
“But we are rushed,” she reminded him. “The only way to keep me safe, according to Troy, is for us to bond like that, which includes turning me into a wolf.”
He sighed as he steered h
is truck off the road and up his driveway. “Yeah,” he agreed, “that’s what it means.”
When he came to a stop, she unfastened her seatbelt but didn’t climb out.
“So… what exactly does bonding together entail?”
He tried not to grin and couldn’t think of a better explanation than to simply say, “We would have to mate, mix blood, turn wolf together, mate again.”
“Mate?” she asked, getting stuck on the first step.
“It’s exactly what it sounds like,” he admitted.
She fell silent as an intrigued mix of thrill and alarm washed over her. Instead of questioning him further, however, she climbed out of the truck and they entered his cabin.
“This is a lot to take in,” she sighed as she flopped on the couch.
“Look,” he began leveling with her, “this is not how I wanted to go about it. Ideally, we would’ve gotten to know each other gradually, formed a real relationship, and it would’ve all felt nature. It still can, Elizabeth. Plus, you have a say in what you do with your life. You don’t have to be with me. You don’t have to agree to anything out of fear that if you don’t decide to be with me immediately, something bad is going to happen to you.”
“But that’s precisely what Troy implied would happen,” she reminded him. “Last night was a close call.”
Dean agreed wholeheartedly.
“I can’t believe I fought Eddie Friendly off. I’ve never fought in my life.”
He moved closer to her on the couch and took her hand.
“I’m not going to leave your side, okay? Nothing like that is ever going to happen again. I’m certain that if we stick together, you’ll be safe, and that’s enough for now. You don’t have to make any big decisions just yet.”
She let out a rocky breath that to Dean’s ears sounded like agreement and he put his arm around her and pulled her into a hug, feeling her warm cheek against his neck.
Resting her palm on his chest, she looked up at him and as he gazed down, her lips found his.
At first, she met him with the softest brushing of lips. Hers felt like satin, smooth and warm against his mouth. He pursed his lips, adding pressure, and she reciprocated. Gradually, as if they were both savoring the slow build, they deepened their kiss until Dean was guiding her down onto the couch.
Her blonde hair spilled over the side of the couch when her head met the cushion. Her breathing was quick and shallow as he angled over her, Elizabeth spreading her legs apart and guiding his hips down to rest in-between.
Why couldn’t life be as simple as this? Why couldn’t their relationship start and stop within the territory of kissing and cuddling? Why did everything have to be so complicated?
The fact of the matter was that Dean knew if he had to do complicated with anyone, he could do it with Elizabeth Halsey. But circumstances being what they were, neither of them had any real choice but to move fast. Even if she didn’t want to become his one true mate immediately, things had already snowballed beyond his control. He had told her everything, overwhelmed her with information, and there was no turning back. She couldn’t very well unknow what she now knew. And it wasn’t like Dean wanted to take it back; he just wished they could have gone slowly. He wished that kissing her on the couch could last forever.
But nothing ever did, did it?
Elizabeth grazed her warm hands down the firm wall of his chest, shifting her grip midway before spreading her fingers under the hem of his tee shirt. Her warm hands felt incredible against the bare skin of his lower abdomen and as she fumbled with his belt buckle, a strong surge of arousal shot through the length of his entire body.
He loved the effect she had on him, both physically and emotionally. It wasn’t lost on him that he barely knew anything about her, but that didn’t outweigh the intense connection he felt towards her.
He lifted up slightly, giving her room to work his fly down and slip her hand under the elastic of his boxer-briefs. As she reached further down, he felt her hand firmly take hold of his erection and he groaned into her ear, melting over her.
When he lifted up, his crushed a hard kiss over her soft lips then searched her eyes as he delivered light, intermittent pecks to her beautiful mouth.
She breathed in-between kisses, “You feel good.”
“I like how you can abandon all stress just like that,” he grinned.
“Oh, I’m extremely stressed out,” she laughed. “But being with you is becoming my favorite distraction.”
“I’m a distraction? I thought I was the cause of the stress.”
“You are,” she agreed teasingly. “It’s a Catch-22.”
“At least there’s a name for it,” he growled out in her ear as he once again got swept up in the feel of her hand wrapped around his body. “I want you.”
“Yeah?” she breathed, locking eyes with him.
He lifted up again, this time to make enough room to push her designer tee shirt up her torso until her white lace bra was exposed. He grinned down at the shape of her in her sexy bra.
“You like?” she asked.
“I might like it more if it was on the floor,” he admitted. “But yeah, you look good.”
She let out a breathy laugh that had him stiffening even harder in his jeans and he pressed the hard length of himself in-between her legs until her eyes fluttered shut and she moaned, arching her head back in response to the feel of his body.
God, she did look good. Maybe they could keep at it for weeks, maybe they could stay holed up in his cabin until after the full moon had passed, avoid the war that way, stay nestled and cocooned in each other’s arms.
He helped her shirt up and over her head and when she arched her back for him, he reached around and unfastened her lace bra.
Looking down at her nudity, having cast her shirt and bra aside to the floor, Dean stroked his large hands up and down her supple breasts and watched her nipples harden in response. Her shape was perfect, not more than a soft handful in each palm.
He sat back and took his time undoing her khaki shorts. She lifted her hips for him as he pulled them down her toned thighs and he didn’t hesitate to pull her matching lace panties down next. They bunched with her shorts midway down her thighs and trapped her legs together. She was completely nude where it counted most and Dean felt his mouth start to water.
Delivering long, caressing strokes up and down the full length of her, he drank in the sight of her pleasured expression. He studied every mound and dip in her curvy body as he continued to stroke her, the bony points of her hips, the dip of her taut stomach, the supple soft mounds of her breasts, even the shape of her collarbone and slender neck—he memorized all of it until he had worked her into a relaxed state and knew she would be ready to feel him gently explore the skin between her thighs.
As he brought his hand to gently cup the flowery curve of her sex, she let out a fluttering moan that turned him on to no end.
“You’re wet,” he groaned, his deep voice like wind over reeds as he ran his finger along her slippery core. “You’re killing me.”
“Ha!” she breathed. “I’m killing you?” As she questioned him, he explored deeper, gently penetrated the warm sheath of her body and her voice clipped with choked arousal.
Instead of answering her, he stepped off the couch and scooped her up into his arms.
He was going to need a lot more room if he wanted to follow through with his plan.
Dean carried her straight into his bedroom and shut the door.
Chapter Twelve
ELIZABETH
Elizabeth landed with a plop on the bed, Dean having carried her into his bedroom, her khakis having fallen off somewhere along the way.
He took one of her hiking boots in his hands and pulled it off, then the other, letting each boot tumble to the wooden floor, as she hungrily stared at him with wide, aroused eyes. She still felt trapped in a surreal, parallel universe that didn’t at all resemble her real life, but she couldn’t say that this particular
aspect of it—being with Dean as he ravished her nude body—was as worrisome as the rest. Quite the opposite, in fact. It was times like these that Elizabeth felt the prospect of being with him for the rest of her life might be the best thing that could ever happen to her.
Not that she was about to take that plunge. She’d barely wrapped her head around everything he had told her. She didn’t want to go there, mentally. Not now. All she wanted, what she needed, was to get lost in the moment and give herself a break from the insanity that had become her life.
Coming onto her knees, she neared Dean who stood at the foot of the bed, fully clothed. She was about to change all that.
She took his tee shirt by the hem and lifted it up and over his head. As it fell from her fingers, she drank in the sight of his muscular chest, the blackened lines and shapes of the tattoos that spanned his strong arms. He was a vision. Men didn’t look like him as far as she had ever been able to tell. His body was perfection, totally ripped with chiseled muscles and hot skin. And he was all hers.
After running her hands over his rippling body, she cupped his handsome face in her hands and studied his boyish, bad boy features, feeling the light dusting of stubble across his hard jawline and chiseled cheeks. His eyes were dark and stormy with a lustful hunger that turned her on to no end.
Whenever their eyes met, it was like she could see all the way through him, deep down into his spirit far beneath the surface. And now she wanted nothing more than to feel him deep down within herself.
With that in mind, she pushed his jeans down his hips, eager to undress him. As Dean worked his boots off, one after the next, and helped his jeans to fall so that he could step out of them, Elizabeth hooked her thumbs under the elastic edge of his boxer-briefs, sitting on her heels and coming eye-level with his waist.
She made slow, savoring work of helping his boxer-briefs down his thighs. The hard length of his sex sprang free and slapped against his chiseled lower abdomen and it was enough to cause an aching swell of arousal to flare hot between her legs.
Looking down at her, he ran his fingers through her hair and she offered him a coy, sultry smile as she wrapped her hand around his thick dimensions and guided the length of him towards her open mouth.
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