In Heat: Mating Call (In Heat Shapeshifter Romance Series #2) (12 page)

“You seem a little tense,” he said, his hands sliding up to grip her waist and making her belly heat through.

She cursed the way he could do that, could chase away all her anger with just a touch and steer her feelings down a different course.

“What's wrong?”

She looked back in Charlotte's direction.

He laughed again, turning with her on the spot and starting to dance.

“She's just a girl I knew in my youth.”

She frowned, searching his eyes. “You knew her, or you
knew
her?”

He sighed and shifted her arms, one hand clasping hers while the other held her waist. He danced with her in silence for a few seconds and more of her anger dissipated, drifting away on the notes of the music.

“Kim?” he said, voice heavy with emotion, so much so that she looked straight at him to see if she could make them out in his eyes. “You're being ridiculous. I only met her after I started having my visions of you.”

“And?” She wasn't satisfied with that answer. It didn't mean he hadn't done anything.

He lowered his mouth to her ear. “I've not been with anyone since they started.”

She stopped dead and stared at him, and then realised that everyone was stopping to see what was going on. She started dancing again, her pulse racing as she thought about what he'd said. He'd not slept with anyone in the twenty seven years before he'd met her. Dear God. No wonder he'd come after her with a vengeance and he'd been intent on winning her.

No, it was more than the lust. He needed her. He'd waited half his life for her, from when he was barely in his twenties to after he'd matured and stopped ageing during his thirties. Literally waited. She was more than flattered. She was speechless.

Not knowing what else to do, she kissed him, hard. She unleashed everything she was feeling and hoped he could feel in her kiss how his confession had made her feel.

When she broke the kiss, she swore that he was blushing.

He swept her up in his arms, turning on the spot with her feet dangling inches above the floor.

The moment her feet touched the floor again, she continued their dance, battling him for the lead. She relented when he growled, the low dangerous sound sending a flash of heat racing through her.

Their song turned into another and so did their dance. It was a slower piece this time and she frowned when people began to change partners. Before she had a chance to tighten her grip on Erik, she was in Sean's arms. She was thankful that her temporary partner was a friendly face.

“You two still not found that room then? You've both got the old folks grumbling about propriety.” He was beaming at her. Clearly he didn't share the older generation's opinion that her and Erik should get a room. He found their moments of public intimacy a source of amusement. “If it wasn't for Prince Kristian attending, I'm sure most of them wouldn't have come. It's not a mark against you, but the old types prefer to mingle with other lycans and keep their distance from humans.”

She didn't really hear what he'd said after ‘Prince Kristian attending'. Her eyes scanned the room. She'd completely forgotten that he was coming and when she cast her mind back, she couldn't remember greeting anyone that could've passed for royalty. Surely he would be wearing something that would make him stand out. She wanted to meet him so she could tell everyone back at the office that she'd met a real prince.

She was just about to ask Sean to point him out when everyone shifted partner again and she was in the arms of a slightly rotund middle-aged man. He smiled, moustache bristling. There was more hair on his face than his head. She wondered what possible animal he could change into and then reminded herself that it was rude to stare. She looked around again, still trying to find a sign of the prince.

Two more partner changes and she was growing tired of both the constant switching and her search for the prince. Screw him then. So she wouldn't meet royalty tonight after all, but she had got to meet a whole group of depressing old fogeys that had barely touched her while dancing and had given her looks that made her feel diseased.

She was about to call it quits and make her excuses when her next partner took hold of her.

And he really took hold of her.

The surety and tightness of his grip on her waist and hand made her think it was Erik at first. The way she felt on being in their arms, close to them, was exactly how Erik made her feel. She opened her mouth to speak, raising her eyes at the same time. Her voice left her. In place of honey eyes were dark ringed ice blue ones that sent a shiver through her.

He smiled, exposing perfect white teeth. All she could do was stare, and she didn't care how rude it was.

Or the fact she was staring at royalty.

There was no one else this man could be. The power he emitted, and his looks, even his poise and clothes screamed of prince. He was dressed in black, a tall collared and very military looking jacket with a long white and red sash that darted diagonally across his broad chest. His hair was cut short around the sides but longer on top and was pure white, as white as fresh snow. His eyebrows were dark, knitted into a frown of sheer concentration as he looked at her, sweeping her along without her even noticing where they were going or what was happening around them.

She had to think of something to say before he got the utterly wrong impression that she thought he was hot. Because he wasn't. That winsome but sinful smile that tugged his full lips, causing cute dimples in his cheeks, was not making her tremble inside.

No one but Erik did that.

Or the mystery man.

Her eyes widened when she sensed a change and the man's hands tightened against her back and around her own hand, almost painfully.

She looked into his eyes again, this time not seeing him but seeing herself being swept along in his arms. She felt his heart pounding steadily in her own chest, a beat that made her stomach dance and jig with it.

“Hell no,” she said, frantically pushing against his chest as the panic crashing through her sent her own heart thundering.

He held her tighter, the smile still there, his eyes intent on her.

“I do not believe we have met,” he purred, his accented voice making her shiver in a way that was wrong—it felt good.

“We bloody well have,” she muttered and tried to get free again. He wasn't letting her go. What was she supposed to do?

The thought of kicking him in the balls crossed her mind, dredging up memories of Alistair again, and she felt sick to her stomach.

“Let me go,” she said, almost pleading.

“Never.” His voice was a deadly whisper, too close to her ear for comfort. “Not until we have been introduced. Such a beautiful woman as you must have a name.”

“Let's just say I'm not yours.”

He laughed and the timbre of it sent another shiver through her.

“I am Prince Kristian of Denmark, but you, my sweet, may call me Kristian.”

“I'm not your sweet and I don't give a damn what your name is.” She shoved him hard and he lost his grip for a split second but before she could move, she was back in his arms again.

Surely someone had to have noticed their struggle by now?

An electric shiver bolted through her.

A second later a roar split the air.

She didn't need to see them to know whose it was. Her heart rocketed as she redoubled her effort and managed to break free of Kristian's arms. He gave her a hurt look, holding his hand out to her as though she was going to go back to him. He clearly didn't know how to win a girl over because he'd made one hell of a bad first impression on her.

She squeaked when a hand closed around her wrist and she was yanked backwards, her face pressed against someone's chest before she could see who it was. Not that she needed to see. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes as the comforting scent of Erik's aftershave calmed her.

He roared again and it was loud in her ears. It felt like a warning to her too, not just Kristian.

The music screeched to a halt.

Murmuring filled the silence.

“I believe we have met,” Kristian said, his tone snide.

“Never a pleasure,” Erik answered him in the same cutting tone.

She tried to look up at him but he held her against him, not letting her move an inch. She forced him backwards, whimpering when he hurt her by refusing to budge. He relented and loosened his grip enough that she could raise her head and see his face. She nestled close to his side and glared at Kristian. The whole room had stopped to watch.

Erik growled.

She'd forgotten just how commanding he could be and just how hot it made her to see him like this—protecting her possessively, not letting her get out of his reach.

When he bared his teeth at Kristian, revealing slightly extended canines, and Kristian replied with a growl of his own, it thrilled her. She'd never had two men fight over her before. In a way, it was exciting, but that was only if Erik won and the other man went away. She looked at him and wanted to look away when his eyes met hers but she couldn't. There was disappointment in them. She felt like telling him it wasn't as though he'd charmed her by forcing her to stay in his arms when she'd clearly wanted to leave, but she remained silent.

An odd sense filled her and she looked up at Erik, finding him watching her with a darkness in his eyes that would make midnight moonless skies pale in comparison.

He stared at her for a moment, conveying everything silently. He wasn't happy and a part of it was because she'd been looking at Kristian. She placed her hands against his chest and tiptoed to kiss him, but something else flickered in his eyes. Was it anger or desire? Hunger and need, or disappointment and hurt? Before she could reach his lips to kiss away any fear he had of her leaving him, he was dragging her towards the French doors.

His grip on her wrist was so tight it hurt, his pace so swift she was stumbling along behind him.

Behind her, Kristian roared and she turned to face him, catching a glimpse of him being restrained before he disappeared from view.

K
im rubbed her wrist and listened to Erik apologise for what seemed like the millionth time. She knew that he hadn't been wholly in control of himself back in the ballroom. His emotions had been ruling his actions and his fear of Kristian taking her from him had driven him to hold her too hard.

Her rubbing moved up to her bare arms and she gave Erik a grateful smile when he stopped her, removed his jacket and handed it to her. She slipped her arms into it, savouring the warmth it held from his body.

Her gaze fell to his hand nearest her. It was clenched into a tight fist and she could almost sense the tension in him. His dark look hadn't shifted yet. Every time she looked at him, his brows were knit into a pensive frown.

Moving her hand across, she brushed the back of it against his and then wrapped her fingers around it, holding it and coaxing him with gentle caresses into opening it up. She wanted him to relax again because she was beginning to get the terrible impression that he was angry with her too and she hated the feeling that gave her.

When his hand eventually uncurled, she slipped her fingers between his, interlocking their hands and holding his tightly so he'd know that she was still here.

Her eyes wandered the moonlit garden. It looked beautiful tonight, even more magical than it had done last night when they'd stood on the balcony with Sean and her sister and listened to the church bells ringing in Christmas Day and calling everyone to mass.

She moved closer to Erik when they approached the fountain. His thumb brushed against hers, chasing away a little of the chill in her body. She never felt the cold when he was touching her.

The church clock chimed in the distance as they reached the fountain. She watched the water cascading down, catching the moonlight and shining. The edges of the pond below it were beginning to freeze.

So were her legs.

She wondered how long Erik was going to want to walk for. They'd already been outside for over ten minutes and he had to be getting cold too.

“Erik?” she said and he turned his head to look at her. His eyes looked brighter in the moonlight.

He didn't say anything in response. He just slid his arms into the jacket and settled his hands firmly on her waist. She went to him, not daring to ignore his silent command or question him.

When he began to dance with her, slow and sensual, she placed her hands on his shoulders. He shifted closer, until his body was brushing hers with each step and she could feel his heat through her dress. His hands slid forwards and his fingers skimmed slowly up her back in a light touch that sent fire to her belly. She wanted to get closer to him.

She trailed her fingertips up his neck, tickling him behind the ear briefly and smiling when he closed his eyes. She felt so powerful when he did that, responding to her touch so dramatically.

His hands dipped down to her thighs, drawing the hem of her dress up with them when he moved them back to her waist. He turned with her, his leg moving in between hers and brushing her crotch. She wondered if a dance was all he wanted. Was he planning to lead her in a different kind of dance out here? She glanced around at the empty garden, a little panicked by the thought, and then didn't care when his thumbs brushed the underside of her breasts.

She leaned her head back and buried her fingers into his hair. He pressed his palms into her back, pulling her flush against him and planting wet kisses on her neck that caught the breeze and froze to her skin. The fire he was stirring inside her chased away any cold she was feeling, leaving her burning for him.

A sigh left her, her breath opaque in the air, and she stared at the sweeping rainbow of the Milky Way as he teased and tickled her, arousing her senses with barely-there caresses. She melted in his arms, weak for him as he moved her and she felt his cock against her leg. She wanted him, wanted to let him do whatever he pleased with her. She was powerless to resist him when he was like this, so attentive and focused on her.