Alphas on the Prowl (22 page)

6

By the time they all sat down at the dinner table, Mac was pretty sure it was only a matter of time before ‘Hadley Granville’ ended up dead.

Thankfully, Andrew Farthing didn’t seem too concerned about the fate of his character. He was stalwartly eating a bowl of vegetable soup, looking relieved not to be reading from his now tattered RSVP instruction page.

Mac looked down at his own soup.

Parker Everly sat at his side. She had stayed close to him all night, except during the brief scenes they’d each had to play.

Mac had liked her from their very first prep period. In that single conversation it became clear to Mac that she was smart and funny as hell. And though he could tell she had a crush on him, it would have been inappropriate to date a student teacher.

Tonight, though, the attraction seemed to have gone to another level. He knew his own reasons for being keyed up. But Parker seemed to be drawn to him more strongly than before.

Mac wondered if even human women could sense his alpha now. He definitely had more confidence than ever. And women liked confidence, didn’t they?

Parker certainly seemed to. She was throwing him all the classic signs of unconscious wanting - touching her lips, throwing her head back and laughing to show him her pale neck. She had even touched his arm several times.

Was she just happy to have someone at the party to talk to, or did she want something more?

Mac got his answer when he leaned in to take his first mouthful of soup, and she ran her hand up his thigh.

He held his breath, growing rock hard as her grip tightened. The room receded. There was only Parker’s warm hand, his muscular thigh, the pulse of her blood, the throbbing demand of the alpha inside him.

Mac forced himself to continue eating. Parker chatted innocently with the woman on her other side. But her hot little hand stayed right on his lap.

Mac scanned the faces at the table. No one seemed to be paying him any mind.

Dr. Thayer coughed loudly several times before she caught Andrew Farthing’s attention, then nodded toward the double doors that led outside. Andrew took another slurp of his soup, and then slipped out onto the veranda. A moment later, Dr. Thayer followed him.

“How
dare
you, Hadley Granville!” Dr Thayer’s voice trumpeted through the open doors.

Everyone scrambled up to see what was going on.

Mac covered Parker’s hand with his own. She wasn’t going anywhere.

When the room had emptied, he peeled her hand off his leg and half-dragged her out of the room. He had no idea where they were going, but he needed to get her alone.

Now.

To her credit, Parker didn’t protest or simper. She fell into step behind him.

They followed the center hall backward past the dining room and kitchens, past a powder room, and a room with a piano.

The next to last doorway off the hall revealed a cozy room with dark wallpaper and three walls of built-in bookshelves.

The library.

Perfect.

Mac tugged Parker inside the open doorway.

“Now what?” she asked him archly.

No.

No, he didn’t just want a hook-up at a party, much as he might need one.

“I like you, Parker,” he told her sincerely, tucking her loose curl behind her ear.

“I like you too,” she said with a real smile, her bravado gone.

He grabbed her hands, and tugged her close to him.

“I always liked you,” he whispered in her ear. His body was pounding with lust at her nearness. But he was determined not to fuck it up by frightening her.

He could smell her desire as she trembled in his arms.

He pulled back and looked into her gray eyes. They were filled with wonder, and just a hint of the merriness he suspected was an inescapable part of her nature.

Mac smiled down at her. Then he leaned forward slowly and brushed her lips with his. The soft friction was so sweet it was hard to stop there, but he was afraid of what he might do if he didn’t keep himself in check.

He pulled back a second time and studied her face. Parker’s eyes looked almost unfocused, now. Her lips were slightly parted. She was lovely.

She lifted her chin slightly to him.

Mac fell on her again. This time he parted her lips with his own and tasted her.

Oh god, the taste of that sharp tongue of hers. She was delicious and so responsive.

Her velvet tongue stroked his, encouraging him.

Before he could stop himself, he pressed her body close to his, flattening her breasts against his chest. Her nipples hardened against him, and a low groan escaped his lips.

When she whimpered back into his mouth and raked her hands though his hair, he felt a flash of the alpha course through his body.

Filled with an angry lust, Mac lifted Parker off her feet and spun her around, pushing her up against the wall, her back to him.

He was surprised at himself, and expected her to be upset. But she pressed her palms against the wallpaper obediently, and looked back at him over her shoulder, chin down, eyes large and welcoming.

Fuck.

He grabbed her by the hips, pressed his aching cock against her ass.

She cried out softly and arched into him.

Mac fumbled with her dress, pulling it up and gathering the fabric until the hem of it rested around her waist.

Her dizzying scent filled the room.

“Hold this,” he whispered gruffly to her.

She took the folds of her dress under her arms, and he let go, stepping back to look at her.

Parker had dressed her part pretty convincingly. Under the dress, black garters held up a pair of thigh high fishnets. The elastic lines led up her thighs and drew his eye up to where a tiny black thong disappeared into her round bottom.

Mad with lust, Mac pushed himself toward her hips.

“Spread your feet,” he whispered, nudging one of her ankles with his foot.

She obeyed immediately.

He stroked the warm globes of her bottom, loving the way she quivered under his touch. He let the tips of his fingers curl around toward her vagina, without actually touching it.

Parker arched her back further, begging him wordlessly.

He continued to massage and torment her with one hand, while he let the other snake around her ribcage to tease and worry at her breast.

Parker whimpered plaintively.

Mac could still hear the guests out on the veranda. He prayed they had enough time.

Smoothing his hand over Parker’s beautiful posterior one last time, he bladed his hand and pressed it against her vagina.

“Ohhhh,” she sighed.

His whole body boiled with lust at the hot, wet feel of her, pulsing through the thin slip of cloth between them. He peeled her thong down to her thighs and slid a finger along her without penetrating.

Parker made a musical sound.

Mac stroked her thighs and then slipped his hand around to tickle her belly.

She wriggled in frustration, pressing her hip against his raging erection.

The blood was pounding in his ears now. He needed to take her.

But it would only be right to give her pleasure first.

Parker tossed her head back against his shoulder.

He slid his hand down.

She tensed, waiting.

Mac felt the smooth thatch of hair and then tender flesh.

Parker cried out.

He slid his finger along her opening, then up to stroke her clit. She was so satiny wet.

Another wave of need jolted through him, but he managed to stay it.

Parker angled her hips for more contact, completely forgetting to try to be sexy for him, only chasing the pleasure he could give her.

His wolf growled approvingly in his chest. She was almost ready for him.

Gently, he massaged slow circles around the tiny bud.

Her heart pounded and the sounds she made were indescribable.

Mac stopped his movement, and brought his other hand around to push against her opening from behind. Slowly, he pressed a finger inside her, searching for the spot that would undo her.

When her fingernails scraped the wallpaper he knew she was close to ecstasy.

His wolf roared to take her and he held it back again.

“Good girl. You’re going to come for me right now,” he whispered to her.

“Please,” she cried brokenly.

With his last ounce of self-control, Mac coaxed her body to the edge and then made quick circles on her swollen clitoris.

Parker came hard, tightening on his finger and rubbing herself deliriously against his hand.

Mac managed to wait until the last spasm of her pleasure was done. Then he turned her to face him.

Her cheeks were pink and her pupils were dilated. A second tendril of curling blonde had escaped from her bun.

“Wow,” she whispered to him.

Before her mouth was closed again he was kissing her, claiming her mouth the way he was going to claim the rest of her.

Soft footsteps passed in the hallway outside, but Mac paid them no mind.

Parker’s hands explored his chest, sliding down his abs, and then down the front of his thighs.

Another scream from down the hall broke his concentration.

That one didn’t sound fake.

He tried to focus on kissing Parker.

More footsteps sounded in the hall, louder this time.

Shit.

The door to the room burst open. Mac turned, but only caught the sound of footsteps headed quickly away.

Had someone seen them?

“Who was that?” Parker asked, pushing her skirts down to cover herself and smoothing her hair. “Didn’t you lock it?”

“I don’t know,” Mac replied, confused. “I thought I did.”

“I wonder what’s going on out there,” she said. “We’d better go check it out.”

The shouting intensified. It sounded like the entire party was headed their way.

“Shit,” Mac said, fighting back a roar of frustration as he realized he was not going to assuage the beast just yet.

7

Out in the hallway, they met with a great deal of murmuring. Mac wrapped his hand around Parker’s and they joined the crowd.

“Empty your pockets! Empty them! Right this minute!” Dr. Thayer screamed.

Andrew Farthing stared at her, dumbfounded.

“Wow, she’s good,” Carol Lotus whispered.

“How dare you stand there and stare at me?” Helen Thayer shrieked. “Give me back my
keys
.”

“I…I thought I was supposed to be dead,” Andrew stammered, holding out his now crumpled RSVP page.

“This party is over and you know it!” she spat.

Surprised reactions rippled through the crowd.

“Helen, what’s going on?” Brad Lloyd-Thayer’s languid voice carried over the crowd.

Everyone parted, allowing the man to approach his wife.

Brad was handsome, and considerably younger than his wife, but clearly devoted to her. He had been her student, and when they married, the Tarker’s Hollow rumor mill very nearly exploded.

But since then, they had remained quietly happy. At this point, Brad must be in his early forties. But the faculty would always see him as Helen’s young man. And his well-defined cheekbones and too-long blond hair only added to the impression.

Dr. Thayer didn’t break her ominous glare at Andrew Farthing, who looked like he couldn’t decide between fight and flight.

“This
person
has stolen my key collection,” she told her husband.

“Why would he do that?” Brad asked, raising his eyebrows skeptically. “I didn’t think they were worth anything.”

“I wouldn’t,” Andrew said quickly. “I didn’t.”

“They might not be worth anything to the general public,” Helen retorted. “But they are a part of Tarker’s Hollow history. They’re priceless, not worthless. Just ask Andrew, he’s got a collection of his own. And he’s always been very interested in
mine
.”

“Darling, are you sure the keys are missing?” Brad asked.

“Go see for yourself,” Helen cried.

Brad headed toward the door at the very back of the hall.

Fascinated, MacGregor followed, with Parker in tow. The sound of many footsteps told him the rest of the guests were following, too.

As they passed the library. Parker squeezed Mac’s hand. He gave her a smirk, and tried not to think about what had transpired there. Or, almost transpired.

Dr. Thayer’s study was painted a deep colonial blue. A Waterford crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. Paintings of the Thayer family lined the walls. The large chestnut table she used as a desk was centered beneath a framed photograph of Dr. Thayer shaking hands with Vice-President Joe Biden, while her assistant, Ava Gray, looked on.

Mac could tell from the photo that it had been taken at Helen’s small office at the college, because of the decorative chest with the circular carved symbol that was on the desk behind them. Her students had always wondered what was in the chest. She liked to joke with them that it was the remains of students who asked too many questions.

Dr. Thayer gestured dramatically to an antique table in the center of the study. Resting on top was a clear glass bell jar. The top had been removed and set down beside the wooden base, which now stood empty.

The gathered partygoers looked around at one another.

The keys were gone.

“Someone call the police!” Dr. Thayer cried.

Obediently, they all grabbed for their cell phones.

Mac reached his hand into his pocket.

Instead of the soft leather case of his phone, he felt something cold and bulky.

Oh god, no.

He didn’t dare pull out the mysterious object, but he knew already what it was.

Dr. Helen Thayer’s keys.