Magical Menages 1: Shifters' Captive (3 page)

He noticed she didn’t mention his dry-humping her. “Sorry about that.” Her dimples disappeared and a frown creased her brow. “What does it feel like? The change and being a…a wolf?”

John closed his eyes and inhaled as he tried to think of a way to describe it. The rich bacon smell tickled his nose and whet his appetite, but the subtler smell of the woman standing before him filled his senses and hunger raged through him.

“Like having a bandage ripped off and feeling air on a raw wound. Fully alive and painfully real.”

“Sounds awful.”

He shook his head and opened his eyes to look into hers again. “It’s the greatest pleasure I know.”

“Better than sex?” Her eyebrows shot up.

“Well…a different category of pleasure.”

“So, you and your people all live in this town and you only have sex with your own kind. Don’t you get a little inbred?”

He was amused by her open curiosity and ridiculously turned on every time she said the word sex.

“There are other packs living other places. Sometimes we have to search far away to find a mate.

You’re right. It’s not as easy as going down to the local bar and picking up some girl for the night like humans do. Not when many of the women in town are your cousins.”

“Why not just do it with a human chick? I mean, the body parts fit together the same way, don’t they?”

“Yes. Some shifters do that for quick relief. I don’t choose to.” He was starting to sweat and he stepped away from the hot plate. Her questions were making him think of things he didn’t need to be thinking about when his body was already so sensitized and ready to mate.

Food. Focus on food and getting it into her mouth so she’d stop talking.

“Why don’t you get some bread out? We can’t toast it, but we can have it with the bacon and eggs.” Sherrie pulled slices of limp bread from the bag that was crushed from landing on the floor. “What about food? You don’t eat raw meat?”

“No.” He removed the bacon from the pan and broke the eggs into it in quick succession.

“But when you’re…in that other form, you eat rabbits and squirrels and mice?”

“Yes.” He had to step close to her to get a couple of chipped and dusty plates from the cupboard above her head. It was a mistake. When he inhaled the scent of her hair and her warm skin, fresh arousal surged through him.

John slapped the plates on the counter and the bacon and eggs onto the plates. He thrust one at her.

“Here.”

“What’s the matter? Am I embarrassing you? Well, it could be worse. I could have knocked you unconscious and dragged you somewhere against your will.” His patience and his control were at a breaking point.

“Go ahead and eat. I’ll be outside.” John stalked toward the door.

“Are you mad? What do you have to be mad about?” she called after him.

He closed the door behind him before he did something they’d both regret.

The moment she was alone, Sherrie searched the few kitchen cupboards and drawers for anything sharp she could use to protect herself. John Walker might appear to be a nice enough guy, but she wasn’t taking chances—not when he had an alter-ego that made Cujo look like a pussycat. There wasn’t one useful, sharp, pointy thing except an old can opener.

The smell of the bacon had her stomach twisting in knots. She hadn’t eaten since before her shift started last night, and who knew how late the following day it was now. Sherrie piled the bacon and eggs on a piece of bread, folded it over and devoured the sandwich then she looked at Walker’s untouched plate.

If he was going to let it grow stone cold while he sulked outside, she’d polish it off for him. Gina Stoltz didn’t raise her daughter to waste food.

She slowed down on the second meal, savoring the crisp bacon and salty eggs, and when she was finished, she burped and patted her contented stomach. Yet even though her hunger was appeased, she still felt empty, like there was something else she desperately needed. Maybe it was dessert.

Sherrie poked through the box of supplies and found a box of cookies. She took a couple and wandered around the cabin eating them while she looked for any escape route she may have overlooked.

Four walls, a window and a door—both facing the direction where her captor was no doubt waiting. There weren’t any possibilities there. She slapped a hand on the ragged quilt covering the futon and dust puffed up, making her sneeze.

Sherrie dropped into one of the chairs and stared at the tiny window that framed leafy green branches lit by the sun. The sound of Walker’s footsteps pacing back and forth in front of the cabin was soft but audible. What was he so bent about? She hadn’t insulted him, or not much, anyway. She got the impression he was attracted to her. Maybe it was the way he’d humped her when he was lying on top of her—that’d be a hint. At any rate, perhaps she could use it to her advantage. Playing him until he trusted her and let her escape was a damn sight easier than trying to fight her way free with a rusty can opener.

But could she seduce a man who wasn’t really a man? And what if she manipulated him right into her pants? God, the thought of him turning while he was screwing her was horrifying. She suddenly realized she should be horrified by the thought of fucking him at all. He was her kidnapper! What was the matter with her that she was actually thinking about having sex with him and was pretty turned on by the idea?

Her skin was itchy and too hot. The feverish feeling had been present ever since she’d seen him naked.
What an incredibly fit body.
Sherrie rubbed her upper arms and tried to ignore the sensitivity in her nipples and the dull throbbing in her pussy. Sick, wrong and twisted, that’s what it was.

Outside there was the musical sound of a cell phone ringing. She listened to Walker answer it. During the rhythmic murmur and silence of the conversation, he spoke with rising annoyance in his tone. She could tell the call was finished when he cursed loudly then the door opened and he filled the frame.

Sherrie resisted the urge to jump up from the chair and back away. He was intimidating, even if he didn’t intend to hurt her. She met his gaze boldly.

“Who was that?”

“Cox wants me to bring you to his house. His daughter Liberty is one of those stricken with the sickness, and he wants to see if you can do anything for her.” Sherrie’s pulse sped a little faster. A change of location might give her an opportunity to escape. “I doubt I can help, but sure, I’d be happy to go.”

Walker shifted from one foot to the other, and the movement made her think of her mother’s dog Buster when he’d done something wrong.

“I’m sorry. I have to blindfold you.”

“Are you serious? I’m already in this so deep I know you won’t just let me go afterward. What’s the point in blindfolding?”

He shrugged. “Cox demands it.”

“Do you do everything he tells you to, kidnap people and blindfold them? Seems like you’d be capable of making your own decisions.”

“He’s one of the leaders. When the Council decides, the rest of the group trusts their decisions. We’re a pack, not a democracy. It’s how we do things.”

He walked toward her, and this time, Sherrie did step back a pace.

“Turn around, please.” He lifted his hands with a folded piece of cloth stretched between them.

She obeyed his quiet command. The cloth smelled of motor oil and it tickled her face as he covered her eyes. The brush of his fingers in her hair as he tied it and his strong presence behind her sent another rush of perverse excitement through her, as if they were playing a bedroom game. What would it be like to be blindfolded and bound naked to a bed, completely at his mercy? She could imagine soft growls, stroking hands, a playful nip on her breast. Then he’d lunge, cover her with his hot body and give her a fucking like she’d never experienced before.

“Too tight?” he asked.

“N-no,” she stammered. “That’s fine.”

He took her arm and led her outside. She felt the change in air, the ground beneath her feet, and the heat of the sun on her head. Being blind made her more aware of Walker than ever: the sound of his breathing, the warmth of his hand on her arm, and his smell—no cologne or soap, just male scent wafting from his skin. But he wasn’t a man, was he?

Images of him changing to a beast, which she’d managed to close out of her mind until now, suddenly flooded back in. The full realization hit her that this was not a dream, but her new reality. Creatures that were the stuff of nightmares lived on the Earth, side by side with humans.

“What about vampires?” she asked.

“Excuse me?” A car door opened, and Walker pressed his hand to her head, lowering it as he helped her inside. She smelled the mingled odors of old pizza and pine air freshener and felt him lean across her body to fasten her seat belt.

“Are there vampires too? Zombies? Goblins? Demons?”

“Re-animated dead people? Um, no, not that I’m aware of. And I think there’s plenty of evil all around us without Satan unleashing demons on earth.”

“So you believe in the devil and God?” she asked after he’d walked around the vehicle and slid into the driver’s seat.

“I don’t know what I believe in. Good and bad actions, sure. A code of ethics. Beyond that, your guess is as good as mine.”

“So I can assume your code of ethics includes kidnapping?”

“This isn’t a normal circumstance. You have a destiny in our world.”

“What happens if the psychic is wrong and I’m no use whatsoever? Will your ethics tell you to let me go or shut me up?” It must have been the blindfold making her so bold and mouthy, as if it wasn’t really her talking so she could say anything. Taunting the man who held her life in his hands certainly wasn’t a smart thing to do.

There was a long pause before he replied. “I’ve told you no harm will come to you. You’re safe with me.”

Spoken in his gruff rumble, the words sent an excited thrill through her, another of those inappropriate reactions she’d been having. What the hell was making her respond to the sight, smell and sound of him like a sex-starved nympho?

“Whatever happens, I promise to deliver you home safely,” he continued, “no matter what the Council advises.”

The car jolted over rutted roads, and Sherrie could tell from the incline they were descending a steep slope. She stopped talking and tried to pay attention to how many times they turned and in which direction, because that’s what people did in suspense novels. But at this point it didn’t much matter if she could retrace the route to the cabin since she already knew who these people were, the name of their town and their dark secret.

The hum of the engine and the aftermath of adrenaline rush soon lulled her into a stupor from which she jerked awake only when the car stopped.

“Brian’s family isn’t very accepting of outsiders. Try to realize they’re frightened and worried about their daughter. It galls them to ask help from a human, so if anyone is rude or brusque, that’s why.” She could’ve made some crack about the irony of her, the prisoner, needing to be sensitive about her persecutor’s feelings, but Sherrie held her tongue. “How old is the girl?”

“Nine, I think.”

“What kind of symptoms is she having?”

“You’ll see soon enough.” He got out of the car and came around to let her out. When he leaned across to unbuckle her seatbelt, his shoulder brushed against her tits. Her nipples went instantly erect at the contact as if he’d taken hold of them and twisted. She sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth and knew he’d heard her.

He took her hand and helped her out of the car before guiding her down a path—she felt and heard woodchips underfoot—and up a couple of steps. The door opened without him knocking or ringing a bell.

“Bring her in.”

She recognized the voice of the man who’d been in the cabin when she awoke. As they entered the house, she smelled cooking meat and heard voices arguing in another room.

“I’m taking the blindfold off, Brian. It’s ludicrous. If she’s going to help, there can’t be any secrets or mistrust. We have to let her into our lives.”

As Walker removed the cloth from her eyes, Sherrie blinked and looked around the foyer of the Coxes’ house. It was hardly a wolf den and could’ve been any middle class suburban home. Kids’ shoes and backpacks lay in one corner. The coat closet door was ajar, and inside she could see jackets hanging and sports equipment on the floor.

Brian Cox was a middle-aged, African-American man of medium height and build with permanent frown lines etched between his brows. As different as he was in appearance from John Walker, there was an odd similarity in his bearing when he cocked his head and gazed at her. From the way his nostrils flared, she got the impression he was inhaling her scent and assessing it. His frown deepened.

“This is supposed to be our healer? She doesn’t seem very special.” If he was in wolf form, his hackles would be raised and he’d be snarling. With a scornful twist of his lip, Cox turned and led them into the house.

An open plan living-dining-kitchen area filled the first floor. Two women stood by the stove with arms folded, watching as they passed. The younger of the two looked like she’d been recently crying, and Sherrie guessed she might be the sick girl’s mother. The older one could be a grandmother.

In the living room, a couple of teenage boys, one black and one white, were playing a video game on the TV. They paused the game to look at the stranger too. The silence and watchful eyes and lack of polite introductions made Sherrie nervous and uncomfortable. She was here supposedly to help yet they acted like she’d caused the sickness.

As she and John followed Cox upstairs to the second floor, John whispered near her ear, “I told you, they don’t much like strangers.”

“What’s your daughter’s name?” Sherrie asked, determined to break the barrier. It was not for nothing she’d been a waitress most of her life. She’d had a lot of practice finessing difficult customers.

“Liberty.” Cox stalked ahead of her along the hallway and paused before an open bedroom door.

Sherrie’s already speeding heart pounded a little faster. She felt like she was about to see a scene from
The Exorcist
. What was wrong with the kid anyway? She was relieved when she followed her reluctant host into the room and saw a normal, sleeping child on the bed.