Authors: Kelly Lucille
Keeping Her
Keeping Her
Kelly Lucille
Text Copyright 2013 Kelly Morrow
All Rights Reserved
Chapter
One
“Nice
tattoo.”
He
glanced over and met the twinkling green eyes of the woman beside him at the
bar. A busty little red head as out of place in the present meat market
as he was. However, where he would be more at home in a down and dirty
biker bar, she should be at a church social.
At
the most five foot four, a good foot and a half shorter than him in her short
healed boots. Her loose jeans gaped a bit at the waist and curved along her
rounded hips without cutting off any circulation. Loose fit all the way down
the legs, her only concession to a night on the town appeared to be a black and
grey bustier clinging to her curves. She wore it above a white button
down top. The cleavage peaking through the top opened buttons was
impressive, but modest by club standards. Her hair glowed thick and shiny
in one of those chopstick numbers. Between her clear green eyes, soft
mouth and soft red hair he was hard pressed to pick out his favorite feature,
well maybe not so hard.
“Nice
tits.” He said, taking a swig from his long neck, expecting her to get
huffy and turn away. A sex kitten she was not, though she had the soft
rounded shape for it. Clearly slumming, as soon as she got a good glimpse
of him she’d run.
She
peered down at her D size breasts and let out a sigh. “I don’t know,” She
met his eyes again, hers still holding a teasing glimmer. “You don’t
think they’re too small?”
He
choked on his beer. She laughed and his two buddies caught the clear
honest sound and leaned back in their stools to get a good eyeball, either
because someone was laughing at him, or because the laugh was sexy as all
hell. He stood up from the stool and turned to face her head on.
One good look should scare her away before he grew any more interested.
It had the added bonus of blocking her from the sight of his friends. As
neck deep in ass as they usually were, he had no interest in adding this
particular woman to their fan club. He could handle scaring off the
little bit, but in no way, shape or form, did he want her moving over to those
players.
Why
he needed to protect a woman he met at a bar about a minute ago he didn't
question.
“You
only need a handful.” He said, presenting his hands. As big as he
was tall, and proportionately sized everywhere, his hands were the size of
dinner plates. She compared them to her impressive breasts and
laughed. Her eyes lit, she studied his face, getting a full view for the
first time. The scar covering his right cheek was not the scar of a romance
novel hero. Not on his homely face. It puckered and twisted from
his jaw up to the hairline shaved to a precise buzz.
She
examined hard lips that rarely smiled and the howling wolf tattoo on the left
side of his thick neck. Between his gargantuan size, the scar, and the
tattoo, most people, men and women, got a deer in the head lights stare and
left his presence stammering out a good excuse. She considered him from
head to toe and back again, which took a while. He was a harsh seven-foot
warrior of solid muscle. He looked like he should carry a bloody sword in
his hands. These days the weapons were more high tech, but the gist was
the same.
She
shook her head with a serious air, “I get it. One day you looked in the
mirror and realized you needed a touch of danger in your looks. Eureka, a
tattoo! Of course! It would give you the little extra edge of
danger you were missing.” She appeared serious but her eyes were laughing
expecting him to share the joke.
Used
to a certain reaction from women, he had no idea how to deal with her teasing.
He heard Ben, close behind him, laughing his fool head off. She smiled
again, leaning to the side, trying to see the source of the laugh. He
leaned as well, growling at the thought of her seeing Ben, who had the
unfortunate code name of Romeo for good reason. She straightened her
expression questioning, but he had her full attention and he planned to keep
it.
“What’s
your name?”
“Clytie.”
“Kite-y?”
She
wrinkled her nose. “Cly-tie, it’s from Greek mythology... Never mind,” she
waved that away, as if she had given the same explanation too many times to
count.
“Demon.”
He said.
“Excuse
me?” Now she appeared confused and Demon was bemused to note that when
her forehead scrunched he wanted to run his lips across it. Of course, when
she laughed he wanted to kiss her and when she spoke in that smooth as cream
voice… O.K. so he wanted her, no way was it going to happen. He
liked down and dirty sex, the harder the better and as frequently as
possible. She looked like she woke up every morning to birds braiding her
hair as they sang happy songs. Fuck.
“My
name is Demon.”
“Wow,
and I thought my name was bad.” She laughed again, then something caught
her attention behind his back. Demon glanced back to find Ben giving her
a come-hither gaze and flashing a toothpaste ad smile. Demon glared,
thinking fondly of grinding bones into dust when he sensed movement and
turned.
Reacting
to a possible threat, he almost knocked Clytie on her delectable ass just for
trying to jump off her stool. Thankfully, he caught her just as fast,
sparing her the fall. Her softness gave all along his hard length.
He growled, and her eyes snapped up to his. She finally seemed nervous,
but that could be the massive erection poking her soft belly like a steel
rod.
The
growling probably wasn't helping either.
It
was her lips, he thought, his eyes locking on to target, definitely his
favorite. He leaned down wondering if she would taste as good as she
smelled. Like goddamn fresh baked cookies. The wolf inside him stood
up to take notice.
He
stopped his forward progress trying to remember she wasn't his type. She
cleared her throat, her lips pursing with the act. A little pink tongue
darted out and whipped moisture across her bottom lip. Any blood he had
left in his brain promptly headed for his dick.
“Uh,
Demon.” She said her breath coming faster and her eyes wide. “You can
let me go now.” He felt his brain attempting to click back into
gear. He let go, knowing if Ben turned on the charm, he had no chance,
and for once the thought bothered him. Bothered him so much he seriously
contemplated mayhem when she managed to slip out of his arms.
Ben
grabbed her hand pulling her around Demon into the space between them. Demon’s
wolf came so close to the surface he could feel the brush of fur just beneath
his skin. Neither of them liked the cat touching their female. Demon
turned and glared wolf gold over Clyties head. The heat of that stare
should have been enough to incinerate Ben on the spot.
“Don’t
let Demon scare you away.” Ben said, teeth flashing. At 6’1”, he
had piercing blue eyes and the golden toned body of the jungle cat he held
inside him. Of course, he might not look so good without teeth.
Something to think about.
Ben
smiled down at the little red head. Short and plump, pretty but a little
too Suzie homemaker, he wouldn't have noticed her except she had the sexiest
laugh he’d ever heard. It was pure sex and she’d been sharing it with Demon,
which meant she was unusual enough to merit his time. Demon growled
again, his wolf trying to warn the other male away. It just plain tickled
Ben’s funny bone. It was rare anything got to Demon. He upped the
wattage of his smile. “I’m Ben.” He said, squeezing her hand.
She smiled a little, removing her hand from his.
“Hello.”
A
throat cleared behind Ben so he waved his hand over his shoulder and said
dismissively “That's Mac.” He smiled again, flashing a dimple as he took
a leisurely but thorough study.
Clytie
laughed at his audacity then something caught her eye from across the
room. She glanced over her shoulder at Demon standing close behind her,
glaring at Ben with murder in his eyes. “Nice to meet you both.”
She leaned around Ben to smile at Mac “all of you really.” She turned back to Demon;
the dimple peaking out matched the wicked gleam popping up in her green
eyes. “Now remember Demon, repeat the mantra. ‘I am dangerous, I am
tough. I have a scarey tattoo on my neck.’ In no time at all
everyone will believe it.”
She
gave a sympathetic pat to one of the rock hard arms crossing his barrel chest.
Then she slipped away, grabbing a dark purse from beside her stool and leaving
him alone with Ben who sniggered until Mac spoke up.
“I
don’t know what you’re laughing about.” He said, his deep voice holding
his own wicked humor. “She didn't even notice you. I think that’s
the first time I've seen your legendary charms fail Romeo.” Mac, the
shortest of the trio at 6’ nothing, was rock hard and wiry with the build of a
swimmer. He had brown hair and hazel eyes that turned almost silver when
his animal came to the surface. He tended to blend into crowds until he
all but disappeared. Demon had cause to know he could do the same thing
standing alone in the middle of the desert. Despite appearances, he was
probably the most lethal of them all. His code name was
Ghost.
Ben
frowned, staring where Clytie had disappeared across the busy club. Mac
had a point; she had seemed to prefer Demon to him.
Nah. That
would be ridiculous.
Demon
smiled at him with many teeth.
“Seriously
Demon, if you smiled at her like that it’s no wonder she ran. That would
scare anybody.” Ben frowned again when Mac snorted.
“Right,
she patted Demon like a poodle and looked right through your best come hither
smile because he scared her. Face it Romeo, you crashed and burned as
badly as Demon did.”
“Hey,”
Demon lost his smirk. “She liked me.”
“Of
course she did. That’s why she’s way over there with another man.”
Demons’
head snapped up, finding it easy with his height to see over all the humans
packed into the bar area. Clytie was in fact next to some suit.
They sat down at an intimate table around the back end of the large stone
column separating the dining area from the bar.
“What
the fuck?” His wolf growled, loud enough that several people turned,
blanched and then skittered out of the way as he tramped through their midst.
He
stood right next to the column before he realized he was about to make a
complete ass of himself in a public place.
Fuck!
He thought of
Mac and Ben back at the bar, probably already rolling around on the floor
heckling his reaction to a pint sized human. They were never going to let
him live this down.
He was about to turn around and head back to
face the taunting when the conversation grabbed his attention with two
words. “…blind date...”
Standing
right behind the tall column, he heard every word. If he was stealthy,
enough he could see Clytie around the sides of the pillar without giving
himself away. He was SEAL trained, stealth he could do. Her date
was still talking.
“..
I don’t think this is going to work long term. You seem like a nice
enough lady, but I’m a health nut myself, like to keep fit, ride bikes in my
spare time, hiking, the outdoors. I don’t think we’d have anything in
common.”
The
little shit thought he was in shape? He wouldn't last five minutes on an
obstacle course. An hour of survival training and he’d be calling his
mommy to pick him up. Nevertheless, as long as he made his way out of the
date with Clytie, Demon would let him be.
“I
enjoy the outdoors.” Clytie mumbled before going on in a louder
voice. “But you’re right.” She said, her cheeks a littler redder
than they had been before, whether from anger or embarrassment Demon didn't
know. “We can have a friendly drink and go our separate ways.”
In
other words,
Demon thought,
don’t let the door hit your skinny ass on
the way out. That a girl.
“I
won’t hear of it.” The mouth continued his nasally tone hitting Demons last
fucking nerve. “We are clearly not compatible for a long term
relationship but we can enjoy tonight. I just wanted that out of the way
so no one misunderstood and got hurt.” He reached across the table and
patted her hand leaving no doubt who he thought would get hurt.
Fucking
little prat.
The
voice lowered in a clumsy attempt at seduction. “My place is around the
corner. Now that we know where we stand, no one gets hurt, and” he paused
meaningfully “We have all night.”
Demon
could easily picture the spineless little fuck dangling from the end of his
fist. There would be a lot of blood. Bones would be broken, limbs
detached.
“The
thing is,” Clytie said, her voice a little strained. “I shouldn't be out
at all. The doctor said it would be at least another two weeks before the
infection clears up and I’m no longer contagious.” His hand whipped off
of hers and he slid back in his chair fast. Demon tried hard not to laugh
aloud. Clytie seemed to brighten at a new thought. “Though I think
as long as I keep most of my clothes on and you don’t touch any of the actual
infection we should be OK.” She blinked innocently and nodded
decisively. “Absolutely.” Then her eyes narrowed in thought.
“You wouldn't want to touch my vagina would you? The pustulates can be
really itchy if they pop.”