Harlequin Nocturne May 2015 Box Set: Wolf Hunter\Possessed by a Wolf (3 page)

Damn it, the spell he had put on her had to be broken. Her murky, inexplicable attraction to him had taken her too far off base. She had feared this kind of face to face for a long time.

Use the phone. Make that call.

Yes, and what would she say to her father if he answered the phone? That she'd screwed up this time? That she'd been mesmerized by a wolf? There was no way Sam's team could find her like this, feverish and out of commission, when so many others expected her to be a chip off the old guy's block.

Plus, all of a sudden she wasn't so sure about wanting the team to find the Were across from her who was too damn pretty to be a rug on some billionaire collector's floor.

“Got to go.”

She needed to hear the urgency in her voice. The muscles of her upper back twitched. Although her heart rate again spiked, she didn't go anywhere because backward wasn't the direction she really wanted to take. Every molecule in her body strained to get closer to the wolf in his human skin, while her mind struggled to find a way out of this standoff that made sense.

Do the smart thing. Turn and sprint. Hope he won't follow.

Why hadn't she at least tried that?

Was he touching her? No. Yet she felt as if he were.

Could he be holding her there physically with his wolf aura?
Yes. Hell, yes.

This wolf was the real deal, times ten. And he was what? Being
friendly
? They were having a
chat
, as though the word
species
didn't matter?

If this Were internalized her scent, or any other of his cousins trapped her with a purpose the next night, she'd make the obituaries, or worse. One swipe of a claw or a bite that deeply pierced her skin and she might become one of them.

Considering that she survived at all.

Abby's lips parted for a speech she didn't make. Without thinking she inched toward this Were like a bug drawn to light, her body, independent of her mind, urging that forbidden touch as if part of her actually wanted to burn. As if the secret guilt she had built up over the years about the whole hunting scene, as well as the lectures from her father, the loneliness she'd endured for so long and the image of werewolf pelts hanging from ceiling beams, would burn with her.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Abby waited for sanity to intervene, hoping it would hurry.

“Will you let me go?” she asked breathlessly.

“Of course you can go. Though I really would like to make sure you get where you're going safely.”

An offer of safety from the scariest thing out here?

As if she was supposed to believe him.

“Nights here are always dangerous,” he said. “Tonight feels especially tense. Do you sense that?”

“Why care about me at all? You don't even know me.”

“It's what I do.”

“You make a habit of accosting women in dark places, and then woo them with the promise of a compromise?”

“I try to make sure that no accosting goes on, actually.”

“Are you some sort of vigilante?”

“Something along those lines, yes.”

“I don't recall asking for your help.”

“Can you assure me that you know the difference between looking for danger and actually finding it?” he countered. “No one comes to this park after dark for fun or shortcuts. Not even if they carry a knife.”

Okay. So she hadn't really supposed he wouldn't know about the knife, scent being one of a werewolf's strongest attributes, and silver being repugnant to them. But why hadn't he hidden his knowledge of the knife, when it couldn't be seen? The forged silver blade would be a wolf's worst nightmare if it touched skin. No human could have smelled it.

Maybe that knife was why he hadn't made his move.

Tilting his head slightly, he said, “Something about you drew me to you, if you want to know the truth.”

“Yeah, like I haven't heard that line a million times,” she said. “I work in a bar.”

No matter how hard it became, she had to keep reasonably calm, at least on the outside. A frightened human's scent, she'd been told, was a veritable aphrodisiac for hyped-up hybrids.

But how did their sense of awareness translate to a human that might not be frightened enough and, instead of fear, held an illicit fascination for this one?

“Are you really so fierce, I wonder?” he asked.

“You have no idea.”

“You've no need for company?”

“Not yours.”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Then go, and I'll watch your back.”

“Or stab me in it.”

“Direct, but way off the mark. I don't have any reason to harm you. And you have the knife.”

“Maybe the weapon deters you?”

“Honestly, I like to think of myself as one of the good guys. What does that knife say about you?”

It was a good question. Because of it, Abby's conscience nagged. What if he turned out to be okay, after all? There were decent folks along with the bad in most cultures, though her father had not once mentioned that possibility with werewolves.

She did know about this good-bad thing in other animals, though, being an animal control officer three days a week. There were nice dogs and bad dogs, and she had quickly learned how to tell the difference. Telling signs started with the eyes.

Could that ability translate to decoding good and bad Weres?

Who was he really?

How different was this Were's world from hers?

What did it feel like to carry a fully formed wolf inside, and be part of such a dangerous minority that had to hide from the masses?

No one had explained those things to her, because no human she knew had the answers. Her father killed werewolves on sight. If he had interrogated any of them, she'd never heard about it.

Here was her chance to find out about the so-called enemy, and she couldn't afford to take that chance. Not out here. Not like this, when it had become increasingly obvious that she wasn't thinking properly.

Will you really let me go, wolf, or is this some sort of cat-and-mouse game?

Time to find out.

“Well, then, I'll be on my way. I'd like to say it's been fun...” Her sentence faded when he took another step forward, bringing his heady physical powers of persuasion with him.

Abby widened her stance defiantly, her body exhibiting more visible signs of distress. The mere fact that she had questioned herself and her motives for being here meant that she'd started to cave. The Were knew this. Animals zeroed in on weakness. His silence told her he recognized what her body wanted in spite of her arguments to the contrary, and in spite of their differences.

He would have noticed her flushed face and averted gaze. He'd feel the return of heat she gave off and intuit with his wolfish senses about the very private spot between her thighs that had seldom been accessible to anyone, yet had become a quaking mass of need for a stranger.

Not just any stranger.

What was wrong with her? Who could interpret the idiocy of what she'd been thinking and feeling? One more step, and she'd feel his breath on her face.

This is not okay.

“But you'd be lying.” He completed the sentence she had left dangling, in a tone that wafted over her like a length of fine, drifting silk. “About the fun.”

“Yes,” Abby admitted. “I'd be lying.”

She knew right then and there that it was too late for escape. Electrified excitement charged through her. Moonlight sparkled around them like a desert sandstorm, dulling the edges of reality, making closeness to a wolf seem viable. Making sexual fantasies with one seem viable.

Hell, possibly she did have a death wish.

And God...his eyes, drawing her to return his gaze, turned out to be gold, like the rest of him. A light, pure gold.

“I won't hurt you. Go on. Take off.” The gruffness of his voice suggested that he might be sharing her inner turmoil.

“If you follow me, you'll know where I live. I can't allow that,” she said.

He held up both of his hands in a gesture of placation. “Then I'll just wait here. I won't follow.”

Abby's left hand hovered over the pocket that held her cell phone. Her right hand straddled her right thigh above the knife by her boot. But she didn't use either escape route, imagining she already felt his heated breath on her cheek.

Up close, this guy was outrageous. He oozed male masculinity and owned the term
raw animal magnetism
. This wolf was sex on long, lean legs, and seduction by design. He smelled like a man, not a monster. Drifts of aftershave, damp cotton fabric and musky male moistness floated in the air.

She wanted him in a really bad way, and there was no excuse. Her chest hurt. Bones ached from standing at attention. Her heart felt as if it had been squeezed, and not one breath she took in seemed sufficient to fix her oxygen deficit. It had been a long time since she'd been this close to anyone of interest. Her life had been that of a loner for reasons that necessitated never allowing anyone in.

At her father's bar, she had remained more or less camouflaged, which made coping skills in dealing with her inner angst so much easier. She did her job. She did what she was told to do in order to be left alone afterward. Alone time away from Sam Stark and his gang had always been a reward.

Did it take a creature so unlike herself to make her desire something more? Someone not completely human who had to understand what it was like to feel out of place?

Damn it, she had caved. Someone had to pull her away because she couldn't do it herself. The dichotomy of what she had been taught versus what they had going on here ratcheted up the tension of her internal tug-of-war. There had to be some good with the bad, and she wanted proof of that.

The pulses of desire passing through her were richly intense. Just looking at this guy was a treat and a pleasure. Doing anything more, however, might be suicidal.

“You have the police on speed-dial?” Her companion pointed to her pocket. “In case you meet someone else out here who's not so accommodating?”

Another surprise. The concern in his tone sounded genuine.

An inexplicable flush burned its way up Abby's neck and into her cheeks. The exposed triangle of flesh at the base of this guy's neck had become like a glimpse into a world completely foreign to her—a world that was off-limits, new and untried, yet something she suddenly and desperately wanted to find out about.

Would he act on her show of weakness at last? Take advantage? Push her over the edge?

Abby briefly closed her eyes.

Despite everything in her life so far, and while knee-deep in danger, she wanted very badly to see what lay beneath his baby-blue shirt.

She wanted to know what made this Were worth so much to the team, and why he hadn't yet hurt her, when the people in her life wouldn't have given him the same consideration.

More than anything, she desired to run her tongue along the crease of his lips, drink deeply from his Otherness and truly indulge in the flavor of night. She would get those longstanding questions about his species over with, once and for all.

Right now.

“Perhaps you'd like me to go first?” he asked soberly. “The sooner you're out of the area, the better. That's a fact.”

He raised a hand as if he'd touch her, then let it fall before he did. Hoarsely, and as though the words stuck in this throat, he said, “My advice? Run away, little girl. Run fast.”

On quaking legs, Abby stubbornly stood her ground. “You first.”

His sigh struck her like a soft caress. “All right.”

When he took a step back, the strange bond that had sprung into place between them stretched tight.

“Good night,” he said without leaving her or turning away. The bastard just stood there, his golden gaze riveting.

Perhaps sensing how the mood had changed, he shook his head and smiled warily. Though misplaced, the smile dazzled, lifting the corners of lips Abby fantasized about licking, and making him seem way more human and approachable.

Suddenly, she felt like the animal here.

His unexpected exhibition of lightness seemed a confirmation, a mutual acknowledgment that the link that had sprung into place between them had grown red-hot and all-encompassing for no apparent reason, other than that old adage about the craziness of animal attraction.

That smile made something inside Abby shatter. Pieces of the reasoning process scattered like confetti. Sparks imploded down deep inside her with an interior fireworks display, creating a craving for this Were like no other, a craving the equivalent of a wave of primitive primal need.

Swearing beneath her breath, Abby realized that she truly hadn't finished with this Were. She knew with absolute certainty that the treacherous moon above their heads that was nothing more to most people than a silver disc orbiting the earth was now about to become either her keenest enemy...or her future lover.

Fully aware of the risks, and discounting the consequences, she took that last stride forward...

And looked up just far enough to see the surprise on the gorgeous Were's face.

Chapter 3

“W
hat the...?”

Cameron Mitchell took a good look at the woman standing before him and frowned. She was within touching distance, and he hadn't put her there. The woman had gotten right up in his face.

Her actions were a complete surprise, and not wholly unwelcome. His feelings for her had come on strong from the first glance, and as unlikely as it seemed, her feelings appeared to parallel his. Still, acting on those feelings would be a huge mistake.

They were strangers, talking because of the way these immediate attractions went. Though the urge to touch her was impossible to resist, and he didn't want to resist, he did have to maintain control. She wasn't the reason he patrolled the park, and was, in the end, a distraction.

Still, his groin ached over the lushness of her scent. The inhuman parts of him swirled in reaction to the way she licked her lower lip after speaking, with the tip of a small pink tongue. Looking at her made the wildness trapped inside him long for release, and there was only one way to solve that problem.

Crazy woman! She telegraphed her willingness to break down barriers in a way that even the dullest senses could have picked up on. But the heat signature that had drawn him to her in the first place would also be a homing beacon for other Weres in the area, and a lightning rod for lunatics.

He couldn't have her. The sooner she got out of range, the better. He had to let her go. Discounting others in the area, there was no way to predict what might happen if he acted on his sudden addiction to her, or if she might end up getting hurt. Though his wolf wasn't in charge tonight, it hovered close enough to be in favor of taking this opportunity.

And the wolf's motives, he had discovered, were unreliable.

Hell, woman, I could be one of those criminals. I could be lethal.

She had to know how easily she could be overpowered by a larger source. Surely she understood that this park was off-limits for a reason. She had confessed to knowing the awful statistics.

She eyed him keenly in return with an intelligent emerald-green gleam that suggested she was no fool. Her defiant stance lent her a certain air of capability. Yet she had been alone at night in a place where no other human dared to trespass. This meant no one would probably be coming to her rescue, and that if he desired to give in to the force of his rising libido, she'd be his for the taking.

He put a hand to his forehead, hoping to stall those thoughts, and posed a string of silent questions.

Why are you here?

Why this odd attraction?

Unable to help himself, he studied her.

For all her defiant attitude, she was small. He topped her by a full head or two. She had a hard-muscled sensuality that cut into him as though she had wielded the blade near her boot—the blade that sang to him of its presence as if it were alive.

She wasn't a classic beauty or the stuff most men couldn't forget after a first glimpse. No hourglass curves, big breasts or blond curls. Lean, taut arms were exposed by a sleeveless black shirt. Baggy cargo pants hid the sculpted lines of her legs. Straight, shoulder-length hair, a brilliant shade of auburn with purposefully dyed dark black tips, seemed to him an edgy color combination.

She moved again, closer.

Damn her.

Her fragrance intensified, filling his lungs with each breath he drew in. Every woman had her own unique smell, but this one...this one smelled like candy.

One touch. Only one.

He pressed his palm to her cheek and waited to see her reaction. Her eyes blazed. His own reaction wasn't so simple. The beast inside him began to unfurl, adding depth to his illicit desire to possess her. His need to circumvent control began at a cellular level and dug in deep.

“Don't you get it? I can be dangerous,” Cameron said to her. “There's something about you.”

She did not reply. How could she, after that confession?

Neither did she run.

Which made matters worse.

Her skin felt like velvet, an intoxication that streaked through him. The fact that he hadn't been with a woman for a long time came home to haunt him. He hadn't indulged since the damn gangbanger he'd been cuffing in a raid bit him, changing his life forever.

I'm in control. I can do this. Stay firm and see to her safety.

He chanted that silent internal directive several times before deciding that she had to do the moving. He couldn't be trusted. Not completely. Not so close to a full moon.

How do I make you go? Scare you? Be the bully you had expected me to be? Maybe another touch will frighten you into doing the right thing.

Testing that theory, Cameron let his open hand linger on her cheek, almost able to hear time ticking away. Yet she didn't take him up on the invitation of a hasty retreat.

He felt so damn beastly.

A roar of conquest rumbled in his chest as his heart changed rhythm to adapt to hers, lifting and falling in a series of vertical spikes. With utmost willpower, he fielded an oncoming rush of adrenaline.

The nameless woman's legs were apart, with her feet planted. She had fisted her hands at her sides. Her teeth were clenched. But in her eyes lay another kind of unspoken invitation.

When his fingers slid slowly downward, she flinched as if she'd been stung, and blinked slowly. The level of her defiance in the face of rules governing two strangers meeting in dangerous places made his needs escalate. Cops were adrenaline junkies out of necessity, but this situation flowed out of the box. He was hot for her and wanting closeness. Any kind of closeness.

A growl erupted from his throat unchecked. Hell, he hadn't meant to do that.

The woman beside him swayed in reaction to the sound. Her delicate face lost some of its color. Long lashes fluttered. Her chest rose and fell quickly with each new breath. But she stood there with her pulse racing hard enough to lift the skin beneath her right ear, movement that caused the two small diamond studs in her lobes to sparkle.

When she finally moved, it was in a way Cameron truly hadn't expected. She stepped closer, pressing her chest to his, her hips to his. Suggestively.

Her eyes were on the top button of his shirt. She kept her gaze there while her body telegraphed quite clearly what she expected to happen.

Cameron swore. Restraining himself took real effort and came close to being the hardest thing he had ever attempted, after being a cop for five long years. More than anything, he wanted to throw her on the ground and prove just how dangerous he could be. His wolf liked the idea.

“You haven't gone,” she said, speaking now through seductively moist parted lips.

“Neither have you.” The blood in his veins thrashed, racing toward the places already erect and ready for action.

“I'm thinking about going,” she said.

“Maybe you should think harder.”

She shook her head. “My advice to you is to take it or leave it before I change my mind.”

Another streak of heat tore through Cameron, magnified by surprise. What had she just said?

She had no qualms about this? About sex with a stranger who could have been anyone, and was, in actuality, so much more?

“I don't know what game you're playing, or what you're up to,” he said, “but I just told you I never accost women in dark places, and I wasn't lying.”

“Okay. Leave it, then.”

Cameron stared down at her, his stability tumbling. Finding this female had temporarily taken his mind off pressing problems. Imagining what he'd like to do to her was a luxury. But finding her alone in this park on a night like this—especially on a night like this—made all those sinful thoughts unacceptable.

Several gangs called this place their home turf. The whole area stank of wolf gone mad, and those mindless badasses, minus the fur, were out tonight and always up to no good. No werewolf could resist the play of moonlight so near to a full.
He
hadn't been able to ignore it.

He could barely ignore this, or her.

Despite his eagerness, and after a monk-like few months, mating with this woman, on this spot, just wasn't possible. He was what he was, and had been for a while. Wolf particles had been introduced to his bloodstream, creating and sealing a wolf to his system, leaving him unstable.

It had taken days of severe agony in order to recover from the initial nightmare of the bite that had made him a hybrid. In his mind, the image of the hyped-up bastard that had chomped on his arm remained fixed.

He might have lost his mind completely for a few of those terrible days afterward. Nothing of that existed now, other than the brief remembrance of uttering prayers about needing to be put out of his misery.

Yet he had survived. And closeness to others had become impossible, at home and at work. He stopped returning the stares from women on the street, and made no dates. He quit having drinks after-hours with the guys on his beat. All that withholding was paramount, and out of necessity, until he found out as much as he could about his present state, and about the control necessary to maintain it.

He existed now in werewolf infancy, with no way to anticipate what might happen if his emotions got involved. What if he hurt a woman by accident?

So you
, he wanted to say to the female with the shining green eyes,
are the ultimate temptation
.

Until he knew everything, and maybe not even then, he wasn't relationship material. And it was a given that a one-nighter with a pretty woman in a notoriously feral park wasn't a win-win for anybody, under any circumstances. This close to a full moon, any thought to the contrary would be pure lunacy.

If you knew what resides at my core, Green Eyes, and what I have become, you would run off, screaming.

I hate what the moon does to people
, she had said.

Those words still echoed in his mind.

Its beauty is deceitful
, she'd said.

Looking at her now, he wanted to say,
If you only knew what deceit actually is.

His wolf stirred, raising goose bumps on the back of Cameron's neck. The wolf was searching for an early way out. This wolf, Cameron feared, might want to bite somebody back.

Oh yes, I want you
, both man and wolf agreed when eyeing this woman, though in spite of the physical need pounding through him, he had told this woman he was a gentleman.

No joke.

Still, he had to admit that she possessed a streak of wildness unlike anything he'd encountered in a female, and this sparked his pleasure buttons. Part of him voted to take her up on her offer of closeness. Heck, most parts did. He was hard in all the right places and aching to act.

Didn't everyone need company on a dark summer night?

Even a monster?

As the scent of female hormones floated in the moonlight, Cameron's heart thundered. Her face was dewy, and enticingly damp. The slightest flush of pink had returned to her cheeks. Those large emerald eyes, slowly lifting to the level of his neck, his jaw, and continuing upward, were wide open. Her generous lips opened as if she'd say something else or take back what she'd said about him either taking her up on her offer, or leaving it.

He almost wished she would take all this back.

Cameron ran his hand over her black T-shirt, his heated palm sliding slowly from the rounded collar to the swell of her breasts. The shirt was thin. He felt her fullness as if there were nothing between his hand and her skin. And indeed, she was lacking undergarments that would have taken precious time to remove.

The raised buds of her nipples were an erotic discovery and a telling symptom of her heightened state of arousal. She was exotic, narcotic, and had become his drug of choice on a moon-filled night.

After all, the whole gentleman thing only went so far.

The sting in his fingertips announced the closeness of claws that had no business intruding on tonight. A ghostly shudder of lengthening ligaments tickled Cameron's spine as his baser side pined for release, when in reality, he and the wolf were one, and inseparable.

The feisty woman's heart beat frantically beneath his hand. She dripped with the same moonlight that would soon issue a command for him to trade one shape for another, and the light made her features appear more angular, and riddled with shadows. She was moonlight personified...and he was going to use her. Because, swear to God, she looked as if she could handle what he wanted to do to her, and like it.

Stroking upward from her breast, wedging himself tighter against her, Cameron allowed the beastly cravings some room, just this once, and angled his ravenous mouth toward hers.