"Don't come any closer!" she warned, holding her knife at the ready, her heart pounding in fear.
"Hang on." He started toward her, his hands held to the side in a non-threatening manner. She saw the cut she’d made across the love line of his palm and winced.
Shit. I really got him good.
She gripped the knife tightly, her knuckles turning white. But there was something about his deep voice that confused her and made her want to get closer to him, instead of wisely backing away.
"Stay back!” She swallowed nervously as she watched him. Her voice held a warning, but he didn’t trigger her prey instinct and she realized with a start that she wasn’t really afraid of him.
As if he sensed her lack of fear, he totally ignored her commands and continued to advance. She took a step back. Her eyes took in his entire body and froze when they drifted down. Her fear was momentarily replaced by sheer astonishment.
Boy, was her assassin hung. Like, super hung. It was hard to tear her eyes away. After years training as a concubine, then working in the brothel where she'd seen her fair share of penises, that was saying something. But now, instead of running for her life, she imagined what it would be like to touch him. What would it feel like to run her tongue under the mushroom head of his shaft? And what did he smell like down there? She needed to give herself a mental shake and get the hell out of there. Instead, she let out an involuntary sigh.
He caught where her gaze had landed and her face went flaming hot when his giant dick responded to her perusal by going semi firm. Her eyes bugged and she continued to back away while he advanced on her, led by his massive, bobbing dick.
"Dolores Black?" His deep voice buzzed over her skin like a mechanical massager, making her tingle.
She managed to drag her eyes away from his giant penis. He spread his hands wide in a placating gesture. The amber color of his eyes had fully retreated to the clear, bright blue of his human form. They sparkled in the streetlight, brighter than anyone's eyes had a right to be in the middle of the night.
"Everyone calls me Lola," she replied automatically, startled that he knew her name. Although, if he was an assassin, he should know who he was going to kill, right?
Her voice was high, and she inwardly winced. She sounded like a schoolgirl. Like a schoolgirl being called on by a teacher when she hadn't prepared for the lesson. Caught red-handed.
He swiped at the blood covering his mouth with the back of his hand and she found herself following the motion intently. He kept his eyes on her, his expression open but determined, and she found it hard to look away.
"I'm here to protect you," he said quietly. "Please put the knife down."
She heard sirens in the distance and relief tinged with disappointment ran through her. No doubt the police she had summoned. If he was really there to protect her, then he wouldn't mind the company, right? She was over her initial panic and confusion. Despite the fact that this shifter was quite naked, she didn't pick up any negative intent from him. He didn't trigger her prey instinct, so she slowly lowered her knife.
"I'm going to get my badge, okay?" The naked man waited for her nod, then waved a hand in the air.
A holographic image of his Omni appeared. She studied it, carefully keeping her eyes on the shimmering image rather than the naked man's penis. As far as she could tell, it looked legit. She nodded in acknowledgement.
"Uh, do you want to get dressed?" She looked around and saw his clothes down the street. His black uniform and shoes trailed the cracked sidewalk leading to the Glide station.
He tilted his head and seemed to be listening to the approaching sirens. With a nod, he turned away from her to retrieve his clothes.
She took a half moment to admire his taut ass cheeks as she slid her knife into the holster on her thigh. Then she turned on her heel and ran.
He heard her retreating footsteps and swore as he held onto his hastily snatched clothing and gave chase.
What kind of a woman, after being rescued from a dangerous supernatural creature, runs from the person sent there expressly to protect her? Who does that?
Dolores Black, that's who.
He caught up with her as she rounded the corner and grabbed her by the forearm. He kept a grip on his clothing with his other hand.
"Let me go!" she said, struggling to pull away from him.
"Why'd you run away? I told you, I'm here to protect you!" He growled in frustration.
He dropped his clothes and while her eyes drifted to his groin again, he used his free hand to smack the knife out of her hand.
"Hey!" she protested angrily.
Her eyes narrowed at him and her cheeks flushed as she struggled against his hold. The police call had triggered the automatic floodlights and he got a good look at her for the first time. He'd expected a former concubine candidate to be attractive, and he'd seen her Omni images before this mission.
High cheekbones, almond-shaped eyes and bow-shaped lips were set in a face entirely devoid of any cosmetics. This was unusual for a brothel worker, and her eyes were not the dark color he had expected. Instead, her eyes were a few shades lighter than the deep brown tone of her skin. Bright brown eyes, without any undertones of gold or flecks of hazel to mar their purity. Just a clear, bright brown that seemed luminescent as she lit into him.
She wasn't just attractive, or beautiful even. She also wasn’t gorgeous.
Dolores Black was absolutely breathtaking. He couldn't stop himself from taking a deep breath. She smelled of oranges and mint. His wolf froze in the back of his mind as inhaling her scent produced an emotional response that felt like sitting down to his favorite home-cooked meal.
He stood there like a dummy, holding onto her arm as she attempted to wrench herself away. His body commenced a wholly inappropriate response considering his job was to get her to safety after the changeling's attack. It tightened and surged with need, his semi-erection becoming a full-on boner the likes of which he hadn't experienced since his adolescence.
You belong to me.
The thought popped into his mind out of nowhere and he continued to grip her arm firmly. He was remotely aware of her thrashing struggles, her loud protests.
"Did you hear me? I said let me go," she snarled in beautiful feminine fury.
Her voice went through him like a lightning bolt, splitting his soul into pieces that yearned to coalesce around her.
Home.
Safety.
Mate.
Chapter 3
Who did this ass-clown think he was?
Lola sat in the passenger seat of the truck, seething. She watched the streets fly by.
And where the fuck were they going?
He said they were going to his agency to “debrief” after the incident. The “incident”. She could only assume he worked for one of the shifter enforcement agencies in the city. They functioned as adjuncts to the official police force, but focused on the shifter population. Most red-light district businesses were controlled by shifters and enforcement agencies, not the police, and were responsible for protecting the establishments and their workers.
This enforcer, who had told her his name was Phelan, refused to give her any details on why she had been attacked, or how he happened to come upon her in her moment of distress.
He silently steered his truck through the quiet streets of Dallas, back stiff and knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel. He hadn’t said a word to her since he’d caught her trying to give him the slip. Following her naked through the streets in the middle of the night should have given him pause. Lola knew most shifters possessed not a shred of shame over their naked bodies. The girls at Woodland Creatures scarcely seemed to notice when they were naked. It was one thing that had taken her aback when she’d first started working there. Phelan didn’t seem to mind walking around with his dick swinging in the wind.
She stifled a laugh at this last thought. She looked at him from the corner of her eyes. If he had heard her, he gave no indicati
on.
Lola did not believe for a moment this man wanted to protect her. No man had ever wanted to protect her, not even the ones being paid to do so. Not one of her foster fathers. Certainly not her real father, who had left her in the drop box of the human orphanage in New Orleans. The only person she could truly rely on was herself.
She had to get away from this guy. She chewed her lip as her mind turned over the possibilities. Obviously, she couldn’t open the door and throw herself out of the truck.
Reluctantly, she admitted she probably couldn't get away before they interrogated her. Surely, afterwards, they would have to let her go, right?
She shifted in her seat, emitting an aggrieved sigh. “How much longer?”
He stayed silent. She watched shade and colors glide across his face as the truck moved in and out of shadows and streetlights.
“When are we going to get there?” Again, he said nothing.
She hid her satisfaction when she noticed his hands grip the steering wheel everrrr so slightly harder. His nose flared and his jaw tightened.
Ha! She was getting to him.
Maybe if she annoyed him a bit more, he would finally let slip what the hell was going on. She wasn’t under arrest, was she? She couldn't think of any reason for her to be under arrest. Was the creature that attacked her the same one that had attacked Julie Wheeler? Was it targeting women who worked at her club specifically? Or women who worked in the red-light district?
Lola’s initial shock from the attack had subsided. The need to flee warred with her inherent nosiness. If she went along with the interrogation, she might be questioned for hours and receive no useable information. On the other hand, she might learn something useful. Information she could use to her advantage.
"Does this have to do with Julie?" Mentioning the bar girl who had been kidnapped produced further jaw tightening, leading her to conclude that her attack had to be related.
He glanced over at her and didn't answer. Again. Really, what had she expected?
If she was honest with herself, it couldn't have anything to do with only concubines. She wasn't one. She'd been jettisoned from that program years ago.
That wasn't too unusual and she wasn't really unhappy about it.
The vast majority of concubine candidates were not selected to bear children for the gods. Lola knew going into the program that it was unlikely she’d be selected. But she also knew many of the rejected used their training to launch their own businesses, marry well, or find profitable careers within the skin trade.
When she entered the program as a 19-year-old orphan with no education and no place to belong, it wasn't a bad deal. Candidates got room, board, and an education until they were either selected by one of the gods, or aged out of the system.
Lola had decided to work at Woodland Creatures since it was the most lucrative, efficient way to save a lot of money quickly. Her plan was to open her own costume design business, and in a few more years, she’d be able to start a design studio of her own. She considered the slowly growing nest egg she’d started after being jettisoned from the concubine program.
Knowledge is power, she thought to herself. This particular knowledge might be worth something...to somebody, and cultivate the right contacts. Lola was good at cultivating people, while not letting them cultivate her in return. For the moment, she was stuck with Phelan. Looks like she had to suck it up and go along with Phelan’s plan.
She looked around the cab of the vehicle. Despite the advanced age of the truck, everything inside it was as neat as a pin. It looked as if he had purchased it fifty years ago, parked it in his elderly aunt’s garage, and visited it once a week to wash and detail it. No dust on the dashboard. No smudges on the dashboard. The windshield was so clean it appeared there was no glass there at all. There were no lingering scents of fast food meals, windshield wiper fluid, motor oil, or car air freshener.
“Are you investigating Julie Wheeler’s kidnapping?” she blurted, carefully gauging his facial expressions.
He looked startled but quickly recovered his composure.
His voice came out deep and rumbling. “We’re almost there. Save your questions for the debrief.”
Lola leaned back in her seat, impatiently tapping her thumb against her hobo bag. She noticed an old radio in the dash. She fiddled with the dial, twisting it until it crackled to life with a loud shriek.
“Turn that off,” he bit out. He kept his hands on the steering wheel and continued to look straight ahead, the muscle in his jaw ticking.
She huffed, then blinked at him, her lips pursed, considering what to do. Asking polite questions did not produce any good information, but it appeared irritating him might. She looked at him under her lashes, her lips pouted.
“No,” she said, turning the dial slowly, trying to pick up a station. Most people used their Omnis for entertainment in the 22nd Century. However, she had heard there were still radio hobbyists out there.
“I said, turn it off,” he said in an aggravated rumble.
Though his tone was aggrieved, the man himself didn’t trip any of Lola’s danger instincts.
“And I said no.” Her tone was light, unconcerned. She shrugged. “I’m bored. You won’t talk to me, or tell me what’s going on. So.”
Phelan gave her a cranky look. He sighed and shifted in his seat. “We’ll be there shortly. You’ll learn more then. Now turn that off.”
Lola continued to turn the dial and ignore his orders. She slowly hunted for something other than the annoying static the radio produced. She was focused on trying to find a station, her ears straining to hear anything at all, when a calloused hand grabbed hers.
“Stop.” His deep voice was inches from her ear.
Her body froze at the contact. Her blood began to heat in her veins like molten lava. It felt as if both fire and ice radiated from his fingertips. She leaned back in her seat and looked through the windshield. They were stopped at a red light and the only vehicle at the intersection. A dizzying haze came over her. She turned to look at him again.
His bright blue eyes fixed on her with a look of tenderness and the world around her blurred. She took the chance to study him. Her eyes took in the minute details of his face: the fringe of dark lashes around his eyes, the aquiline nose with a bump on the bridge, indicating an old fracture. The thin, hard lines of his lips. The cluster of small freckles that started under his left ear and dotted his neck like the stars of the Big Dipper.
In a rush of pounding desire, she imagined tracing the features of his face, cataloguing every detail with her lips and her fingertips, not just her eyes.
He didn’t move as she perused his face. She leaned toward him, her eyes sharp but somehow unfocused, until they were close enough that their breaths mingled. She paused when she realized he looked at her with equal fascination. Equal wonder. And hunger. He had hunger in his eyes.
“You smell wonderful,” he said softly, his voice producing goosebumps on her skin.
“Huh?” In a million years, she would never have expected him to say such a thing. Her mind stuttered over the unexpected sensory inputs. The way his eyes seem to glow with interest. The deep rumble of his voice. And most of all, the way he made her feel.
He licked his lips. “I—”
The blare of horns behind them broke the spell and they jumped apart like two teenagers found making out on a parent’s sofa.
They were no longer alone at the intersection. One of those modern fuel cell cars had snuck up on them with its stealthy engine.
Phelan ran a hand through the soft, black waves of his hair as he pulled through the green light. She noted his flushed cheeks, his red-tipped ears. She sagged back in her seat, feeling vulnerable and confused.
She expected attraction from this man. She knew how to recognize sexual interest. She saw all the signs in Phelan- the dilated pupils, the barely perceptible release of pheromones, the way he leaned into her as if drawn by a magnet.
Her concubine train
ing and her experience working at Woodland Creatures had done nothing to prepare her for the feelings Lola sent Phelan’s way. The greedy desire to map the contours of his face with her mind. The way she wanted to press her nose into the crook of his neck where the end of the Big Dipper’s handle touched his collarbone. The way she wanted another closer look at his big, beautiful cock.
So, this is what it feels like to be attracted to someone.
She turned this thought over in her mind. She would separate from this man at some point. The most likely scenario would be that his business with her would be done after the debrief. She would tell him about the encounter with the changeling, he’d realize she was of no further use to whatever investigation he was a part of, and that would be that.
In this context, what did their mutual attraction mean? The only logical conclusion was not much. Enjoying their shared sexual interest was out of the question since her goals didn’t include getting involved with any man. And what would he think about her involvement with the sex trade? While skin trade establishments employed shifter sex workers, rarely did shifters seek the services offered therein.
With unexpected disappointment, Lola came to the conclusion that her desires would not be explored with this handsome, virile man. She was trained in seduction—not in being seduced.
Concubines didn’t have lovers.
Concubines didn’t have love.
So, what the fuck was that?
Phelan pulled the truck into a street-level lot and parked.
“Let’s go,” he said as turned off the ignition.
He didn't spare her a glance as he stepped out and slammed his door shut. She stumbled getting out, the truck higher off the ground than she remembered. He was there to grab her before she hit the ground.
“Uh, thank you,” she said.
His cold demeanor gave no indication that he’d experienced their little “moment” at the red light as she had. It was as if it hadn’t happened — or at least, it hadn’t happened for him. She didn’t know why that thought disappointed her, but it did.
The Wolf's Concubine Page 2