Living Extinct (12 page)

That confused her, but it was her own denial that put her in that state. Refusal to believe him. Until she did, she was little more than what she professed to be—his prisoner, kidnapped and stolen. That bit at him harder than the unsatisfying orgasm that released his muscles, allowing him to relax somewhat.

* * * * *

Juan immediately noticed the heavy smell of sex in the air when he returned some time later.

“She as good as you’d dreamed she’d be?” he asked, grinning at Moira while she scowled in return.

“He has no idea,” she answered before he could say anything. “Dante doesn’t seem able to finish what he starts. Maybe he knew he wouldn’t measure up to my standards.”

She said it to piss him off. But her challenge rang loud and clear. Juan laughed, unloading supplies he’d returned with.

“That doesn’t sound like Dante,” he told her, then handed her several bags of clothes. “I guessed on your size,” he said sheepishly.

Moira licked her lips, smiling although there was hesitation in her eyes. She looked at him and her smile faded. Dante moved into her mind while his gaze hardened on her. For a moment she regretted her cocky response, worry seeping through her that she might push him too far. As her thoughts changed, so did her stance. Straightening, her gaze narrowing on him, she let him know she wouldn’t be bullied.

Dante almost smiled. Just that small amount of determination rushing through her brought his cock to life. Then she surprised him.

Don’t think you’re getting a second chance
, she said to him, staring directly at him, raising one eyebrow slightly.

It was the first time she’d moved into his mind, joined their thoughts and communicated with him without speaking. He wanted to jump for joy, grab her and 60

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swing her around the small living area and shout with excitement that he knew she could do it. But she played coy, teasing him. He would share thoughts with her and let her know what waited for her.

My dear little bitch, it is you who will get the second chance.
He could get used to sharing thoughts with her like this, communicating on such an intimate level.

Moira turned quickly, her thoughts leaving him. Tossing her long black hair over her shoulder, she didn’t give him her attention again. When he tried, somehow she’d managed to put a wall around her mind to the point where he swore he saw it when he tried moving through her thoughts.

Damn impressive. Moira was a quick learner.

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Moira watched the two werewolves work preparing the mobile home to leave.

Humans moved around the trailer park but Dante and Juan paid no attention to them.

There was a bond between the two, as if they’d known each other a long time. Juan was darker-skinned than Moira, and Dante paler, almost appearing black Irish in descent.

The two men’s movements were a lot alike and both were built similarly. And other than casual comments, they worked in a comfortable silence like they’d done this task many times before. In spite of different skin color, she’d swear the two were from the same den. And that made no sense. Werewolves didn’t interbreed—not in Malta.

Possibly they had different sires, or maybe different mothers. Either way, her guess was that they were definitely related.

The sun shone through the tall, narrow pines while they wound their way along the narrow mountain roads, heading south.

“I take it you got a hold of your friends in Albuquerque?” Dante sat in the large passenger seat, his broad shoulders visible on either side of the chair.

“Yup. Figured we’d do better mixing with the packs down there. Less questions.”

She didn’t know what questions they were leery of—there could be so many.

Reclining on the couch in the living area of the mobile home, she tugged on the dress she’d chosen to wear from the outfits Juan bought her and stared at the endless blue sky outside the large window. With no clue where they were headed other than, obviously, New Mexico, or what plan the two werewolves had devised, she ached to ask questions.

No way would she open her mind to be searched though. Whatever tricks Dante possessed, and possibly Juan as well, it involved being able to read her mind. No one got that close to her. Someone climbing inside her, hearing her thoughts, terrified her worse than being kidnapped.

Lying there doing her damnedest to think about nothing was harder than she thought. Especially as the hours rolled by. A nap sounded damned good. Storing up energy for whatever lay ahead of her would be smart. There was no way she could control her dreams though.

The quiet rumbling of the engine lulled her to sleep. Dreams quickly haunted her.

Dante, large and powerful, touching her, stroking her, making her come with a predatory look. Hands so warm and strong spread her legs, gripping her thighs while his tongue probed her, released her juices, until she begged him to fuck her.

Then there was his cock. Like steel, throbbing, promising her satisfaction like she’d never experienced before. She saw him in her dream, toward the front of the RV. If he walked to her, he did it without her noticing because suddenly he was there, in front of 62

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her, looking down while she dreamed. And it was a dream. Even as it happened, as he grabbed his thick shaft with long, powerful fingers and began stroking, she had no doubts she slept.

Her pussy swelled, eager and ready. She sat up, reaching for his cock, smelling his sex wrap around her like a thick, warm blanket. All she wanted to do was taste him, experience that rich scent inside her. He’d deprived her of it before, and after working so hard to seduce her. It pissed her off, leaving her horny and anxious.

She lapped at the tip of his cock, its smoothness swelling against her tongue and lips. He growled over her, showing his approval. Her mouth stretched over his thickness. God. He was fucking huge. Dante would be damned flattered that her mind created such a huge cock for him. He wasn’t that big in real life. But her lips stretched and she struggled to wrap her mouth around him.

He was salty. His taste appealed to her and she stroked him with her tongue, working him farther into her mouth, which was no easy task. He grew the more she sucked. Her jaw would split in two if she tried taking much more of him. She let her lips slide back and they tingled when he was no longer in her mouth.

Moira gazed through blurred vision up at him. His pale blue eyes glowed as if electrified. Set against creamy white skin and hair so dark it was like a midnight sky, the contrasts heightened his incredible good looks.

The rich smell of his lust mixed with a tangy, clean smell. Satisfaction and happiness were like a mixture of fresh oranges, just cut with their juices flowing, and a beautiful day, clean and washed free of all clouds and turbulence.

I promise I’m even better in real life.
His growled words vibrated in her mind, unspoken, but as clear as if they were.

Waking disoriented, her hair tangled around her, she stared at her surroundings.

She lay on a couch built into the side of the RV. The engine rumbled with confidence underneath her. Her body tingled, every inch of her charged with sexual energy. She licked her lips, swearing she tasted Dante on them.

That dream was too damned real. And it left her craving, throbbing, dying to experience more of him. Suddenly she was grouchy and sick to her stomach with the reality that she might not even be in control of her own dreams. She scowled at the two men sitting in the captain chairs with their backs to her. They drove in silence.

She didn’t like being seduced in her dreams. Somehow she knew that’s what had happened. If she jumped up right now and hurried to look at Dante’s crotch, she’d bet he was hard as a rock. Her stomach twisted even more while a hot, damp sensation crawled over her skin. It made her uncomfortable realizing that for five years she’d craved her freedom, the knowledge of where she was going, what she would do next.

Here she was, yanked out from under GWAR’s teeth, and still in the same damned predicament—and by a werewolf she was lusting after. Fucking great. Straightening, sore muscles cramping from sleeping on the couch, she stayed put and attempted 63

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combing her hair with her fingers. Maybe it had just been a dream stemming from his aggressive seduction earlier. And maybe she wasn’t ready to find out.

Dante drove now. The two-lane highway, a dark burnt red from the natural resources it had been made from, curved around rugged hills and sandy ground. A soft blue sky spread endlessly in front of them. The view was incredible.

“Where are we headed?” Still groggy, she fought to create her wall around her mind.

“The Sandia pack. I’ve stayed with them before.” Juan gave her the once-over, his expression and scent one of curiosity and interest. “Want some coffee?”

Before she could answer, he stood, taking her arm and seating her in the passenger seat then moving past her toward the back of the trailer. Within minutes the rich smell of coffee reached her nose.

She dared to look at Dante. His profile burned its image into her mind. His jaw set and determined, his look focused. Black, straight hair shone against the bright sun coming through the windows. One hand rested on the steering wheel, the other relaxed on his leg. He wore a simple T-shirt, faded jeans and boots. The plain clothes didn’t look so ordinary adorning the body of a powerful warrior. Muscles leapt out at her from every inch of his body. There wasn’t a damn thing simple about him. With that one quick glance, memories of how controlling, how powerful he could be reminded her to be on her guard.

“I’m better in real life,” he mumbled under his breath so only she could hear him.

Heat raged over her cheeks and down her neck. Embarrassment attacked too quickly for her to hide its tart smell. She gawked at him, unable to speak, while he stared ahead at the road, a small smile playing at his lips. Full lips—kissable lips.

God. She was fucking losing her mind.

Albuquerque traffic quickly distracted her, the smell of humans strong enough to detect through the glass and metal of the RV. Dante maneuvered the large vehicle with ease until they’d reached a quiet, suburban area. Similar homes, made from white stucco and looking like any comfortable American suburb trailed on either side of them.

The few people she spotted in yards and at their cars in driveways stopped what they were doing, watching the mobile home drive by.

Dante’s expression didn’t change. Juan reclined behind them where she’d napped.

She didn’t smell any emotions on either of them that clued her in to why they were being watched intently as they drove by.

“It’s the next right,” Juan said from behind her.

“I know where we’re going,” Dante grumbled.

“Where are we going?” she asked again.

“I’m sure the accommodations will suit you,” Juan said.

“Don’t mock me.” Moira glared at Juan. “You take me from my life and then we hit the road. I have a right to know where the hell we’re going.”

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“I can’t imagine working for GWAR was such an incredible life. At least now you’re free and with Dante.” Juan straightened, running his hand over thick black hair, looking at her as if he believed she’d always wanted to be with Dante. “The Sandia pack has a nice resort outside of town. I’m sure neither WA nor any other pack you’ve run with have treated you as well as what you’ll see here.”

He raised an eyebrow. Juan had his charm. More than likely bitches rolled over for him on a regular basis. She met his gaze, not missing what he was trying to do.

She wouldn’t give him any clue about which packs she’d been with. For the most part, there hadn’t been any. But if they didn’t already know that, it was none of their damned business.

“Why is it that you’re treated so well by this pack?” she lowered her voice, turning in her chair to give him her complete attention.

Where Dante was a closed book, Juan appeared easier to read than a billboard.

Juan ran his tongue over his lip. Something in the way he looked at her matched Dante’s expressions. And in his scent, definite interest. She’d smelled that same pungent smell last night from Dante. Not that she hadn’t smelled interest and lust on plenty of werewolves before. It was more than that. These two werewolves smelled the same, like they were from the same den. She glanced at Dante. He kept his attention on the road, slowing the RV and turning right.

“I can’t take credit for the red carpet treatment,” Juan said, stealing her attention.

“Red carpet treatment?”

“Enough,” Dante growled.

Moira tilted her head at his sudden scowl. “Is that why everyone turned and watched us arrive? Are you famous somehow?”

Juan snorted. Dante adjusted his grip on the large steering wheel, relaxing his hands and then tightening them. Muscles twitched in his arms. Something dangerous lingered in his expression although he let off no scent to reveal his thoughts. She didn’t trust a werewolf she couldn’t smell. Having the ability to hide feelings to the extent that they couldn’t be smelled made a werewolf unpredictable—dangerous.

“WA shouldn’t keep its agents in the dark so much,” Juan muttered.

“I said that’s enough.”

Moira tore her attention from Dante, knowing he was irritated even though she smelled nothing. He didn’t frighten Juan. If anything, the werewolf behind her seemed very relaxed, continuing to smell amused. She glanced his way and he winked at her.

She would have questioned him further, pried information from him, but they pulled into the parking lot of a large mansion. The place was almost surrounded by jagged white rock, climbing high, inviting her to run, explore. The natural enclosure hid the place from the neighborhood they’d driven through. And it was well hidden.

Mountainous cliffs climbed toward the pale sky all around them.

Run
.
Claim your freedom. Escape
, she thought to herself.

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