Predator's Claim (13 page)

He needed to run. He needed to claw the ground and let his senses explore the dark woods. Not only was he on the hunt for Flynn, he wanted to see if he could glean any trace of Jason Burns on the island. It had been years since he’d smelled the man, but he’d never forget his foul scent, so redolent of hatred and violence.

It seemed he ran for hours, but he didn’t grow tired. One of the pluses of being a wolf, rather than another type of shifter, was the wolf’s capability for endurance. All canines had been built for running, but the wolf’s long legs and muscled back rendered it ideal for the long race.

However, he couldn’t find any trace of Burns. If he had made it to Gemini Island, he was well-hidden. All he smelled was Flynn. It seemed his cousin had left his mark on every corner of the island, almost as if in a pathetic attempt to claim it as his own.

Even still, he couldn’t find Flynn. The man knew how to hide. Every wolf shifter tended to possess particular strengths. They all had elevated senses, far better than any human, but each one was special in his own way. Bart could boast great strength, and had had it since he’d first shifted as a teen. He’d lost track of how many times he’d hurt Nate when they scuffled as youngsters, quite by accident, as he adjusted to his shifter powers.

Flynn, on the other hand, had always been good at evasion. Bart supposed it was why his cousin managed to hide from all his ex-girlfriends so well.

He couldn’t hide for long, though. Bart would track him to the ends of the earth if he had to, and teach him a lesson about respecting pack decisions and members.

As he jogged, he became aware of two shifter presences behind him in the woods. Sniffing the air around him, he looked back. Hell, he didn’t even need to look to know one of them was Charlotte. He’d know that delicious scent anywhere. She walked in her wolf form, accompanied by Ryland in bear form. Stopping at a large tree stump, he turned to them.

“Sorry, Bart. I’ve been called away from the resort for a few hours,” Ryland said, temporarily shifting into human form so he could talk. “I hope you don’t mind I delivered Charlotte to you.”

Bart nodded, glad his friend hadn’t left her alone. That’s why he respected Ry. The man understood about protecting the women in his life.

With a nod, and a smile at Charlotte’s wolf, Ryland shifted back into his bear and left.

Bart turned to the lady wolf.
Let’s go, Charles. I’ve had enough running for the night
.

Ending his hunt, he headed toward his cabin. She moved at his side, her steps faltering, not quite as sure of herself. He could smell her reticence in the cold night air. She wanted him, needed him, but clearly still needed a bit of convincing.

Luckily for both of them, he was in the mood for a little seduction.

He rounded the corner of his cabin, shifted into human form, and yanked open the door. He entered and stood inside the front room, waiting for her. The scrape of canine nails on wood made his hairs stand on end and he clenched his jaw as Charlotte arrived right behind him. Her wolf plowed inside, stopped short, pinned its nervous gaze on him, and shivered. It looked him up and down, its gaze hungry.

Good. She liked what she saw.

As calmly as he could, he walked over to the door, closed it, and locked it. And then he looked at her and waited.

After a few tense moments, she shook the snow out of her wolf fur and shifted into gloriously nude human form. As she transformed, a few snowflakes landed on her shoulders, creating a lovely sheen to her already radiant skin.

Damn, with everything going on, he’d almost forgotten how breathtaking she was when nude. They’d seen each other before. Hell, he’d probably seen every Ursa staff member in their skivvies. But he’d never been allowed the privilege of taking her in slowly, or to appreciate every detail.

They met each other’s gaze for a tense moment, and he allowed his gaze to drop. Just a few seconds of sinful pleasure among the many seconds of madness. At the same time, Bart was conscious of her gaze heading south on him. He breathed in, stood straight with chest puffed out, and faced her head on, eager for her appraisal. A low whimper escaped from her throat, and his cock jumped to attention.

She’d had her hands crossed over her breasts after her shift, but she let them drop and he raked his gaze over each inch of her body. Breasts that would make Helen of Troy sick with envy. Hips so round and full, so perfect for grasping and squeezing. Her pussy was shaved, giving him a clear view of pretty folds covering her female heat. How he wanted to follow those folds with his tongue and finish with lapping at the oasis between her legs. And, saints be praised, a couple of brand-new details: a belly button ring and a sweet little tattoo of a howling wolf on the curve of her left hip.

Jesus Christ
.

Unable to stop himself, he walked toward her, his hands clenching in need. He parked himself right in front of her and wiggled the belly button ring. She sucked in a breath. Nice. He’d be sure to remember that reaction. He slowly moved his hand over to her hip and outlined the wolf tattoo with a finger. “This is new.”

She swallowed and reached toward his left shoulder where his own tattoo had lain for years. She followed his lead and traced his ink, a large crescent moon.

“I always liked your tat,” she said on a breath. “You inspired me to get one.”

“It’s as if your wolf is howling at my moon.” His scar throbbed as he uttered the words.

“It is.”

Speechless, he stared at her, and Charlotte did the same. Her silver eyes scintillated for him, drawing him into their depths, and he’d never been so willing to drown. Her nipples grew erect under his gaze, and a delightful flush spread across her chest. He was the hardest he’d ever been.

Fuck
.

“I’m glad you came, Charles.”

“You would have come for me anyway.”

“Damn straight.”

She blushed and edged closer. “I guess you didn’t find Flynn or Burns?”

“No. I don’t know where Burns is. As for Flynn, he could be hiding anywhere. He’s probably skulking in one of the island’s many caves.”

“I was…worried about you,” she murmured, edging away.

“So you do care.”

“Of course I care, Bartholomew. You make me curse cavemen everywhere, but I do care.”

Bart stared, his eyes strangely unfocused and razor-sharp at the same time as he blinked at her. He wouldn’t let her go tonight, wouldn’t linger outside the cabin alone this time. Her beauty spoke to him, drew him in. Although dark crescents framed her eyes and anxiety dragged her mouth down at the corners, she was the most exquisite thing he’d ever seen, and he needed her in his bed.

And even though his own worries pricked at his insides with an unmerciful touch, he also felt a powerful urge to pull Charlotte aside and explore what was happening between them. The need to love her long into the night, to make her his own, quickly overrode his every other necessity of life. He wasn’t hungry, didn’t feel thirsty. He just needed to be inside her and felt he might die if he didn’t get to experience the velvety grip of her pussy on his cock.

But now? When she wanted to leave Gemini Island forever? Damn, it seemed so wrong. Guilt squeezed his throat for even considering throwing a wrench in her plans.

Yet he knew, knew in his heart, one of the emotions flitting through her pained face was desire for him. He could see it in the tense line of her shoulders. It cried to him with her every hushed word. It colored her face with a pale pallor that only served to make her more ethereal, more lovely, to him.

And he could see, so clearly, how she fought it. Hard. He’d be a total asswipe to push things now. Wouldn’t he? At the same time, if they didn’t sleep together at least once, they’d likely both implode.

“I really should go,” she said, her gaze hovering somewhere near the line of his collar bone.

I need you now
. His wolf seconded the motion with a desperate lift of his paw in her direction. “I may be a selfish bastard for saying it, but you don’t get to go, Charles.”

Her eyes widened, and something that looked a little like hope made them brighter. However, she quickly quashed it with a little frown. “I’ll be fine on my own…”

“I don’t care. You’re not winning this one.” He grabbed her hand. So soft. “You’ll stay.” Bart winced when he heard his voice because the request had come out sounding more like a command. He waited for her to argue, as she always did.

But she didn’t. Charlotte followed him as he checked the door, walking slowly as if to the guillotine, but she followed nonetheless.

*

Her heart pounding with an excitement she didn’t deserve, Charlotte watched from inside Bart’s cabin as he locked the door. Even though she was normally impervious to the cold, she shivered and her head spun.

Maybe this needed to happen. Maybe if it didn’t, she’d move to Toronto and wither away one day. They’d find her, all dry and curled up on the floor of her office. And all because she never let Bart Cairo fuck her.

And yet she already knew the can of worms they’d open here was big enough to drown in.

Okay, don’t overthink this. He’s just a guy, just like any man with whom you’ve shared a bed. And it’s just one night. One moment. This isn’t wrong at all. And you’re not a fucking mental case for allowing this to happen
.

As much as she tried to persuade herself she wasn’t indeed the most terrible woman on earth, her friend Marci’s voice broke through her consciousness.

“You’re terrible. You do realize that man loves you?”

Oh, shit. She was the most terrible woman on earth. Officially. She felt convinced there was even a stamp on her forehead to that effect, dated and everything. Sure, Bart had never come right out and declared his feelings, but they’d been clear nonetheless. All these years, working together, the sexual tension had been thick enough to make her choke with want. Damn, she could butter bread with it. And yet she’d always turned a blind eye for fear of hurting him, or losing herself, or some other fucked up reason that didn’t seem to make sense anymore. Bart Cairo was probably the best man she’d ever met. How could she do this to him now?

How can you not do this?
her wolf countered.
He needs this, and so do we
.

To illustrate its point, her inner hound lifted its tail to Bart, as if to say, “You can smell me now!”

Oh, this was so wrong! She looked down and realized her hands were trembling as she clutched them in front of her. She squeezed them hard, to get rid of the shakes, but it didn’t work.
Fuckdamnshitpisshell!
She’d never lost control during a hookup. She’d always been the one calling the sexual shots. And yet now, as Bart turned slowly to face her, her synapses fired and sparks flew through her brain, making it impossible to move or think. Was she having a stroke?

He advanced at a torturous pace, his mouth slightly open and his lips wet. When his nostrils flared, she knew he breathed her in, and his pupils dilated to confirm her suspicions. She backed up slowly, matching his pace as he moved toward her, and found herself pressed against a dresser. As he closed the distance between them, his gaze dark with hunger, she leaned back and smacked her head on the mirror behind her.

“Careful,” he warned, his voice deeper than she’d ever heard it, a rich caress.

She reached behind her and grabbed the first thing she felt on the dresser, bringing it forward to act as a sort of shield. God help her, she needed something between them if she was to retain any sanity. She looked down and a nervous laugh escaped her. “Potpourri. That’s nice.” She lowered her head and sniffed it like an idiot. “I thought I smelled apples and cinnamon in here. It’s a little girly, but still a homey touch.”

As his eyes devoured her, Bart pried the potpourri jar out of her clawed hands and put it back on the dresser. So close, his legs between her splayed ones, he leaned in and smelled her neck, his arms closing her in. “You seem nervous, Charles.” The tip of his tongue darted out and flicked at her skin, and she groaned as he did.

“Who me? Nervous?” Her voice sounded as smooth as a ride on a highway full of pot holes. “You know me. I don’t get nervous. It’s just sex.” Even still, she maneuvered away from him a little and reached out for a wad of clothing on his dresser, finding one of his shirts. Needing a break from his intense scrutiny, she threw it over her head and eased it over her body.
There, much better.
She could breathe now.

He pulled away a bit more, making her regret her moronic outburst and the loss of his magnificent tongue. He frowned at her, and she fancied she saw the telltale amber glow of his wolf in his dark eyes again. “Just sex, huh?”

“Yup.”

For a long moment, Bart just regarded her in curiosity. Under his harsh scrutiny, she broke out in a cold sweat and swiped at her upper lip in annoyance.

“Well?” she demanded.

“Oh, nothing. You just continually amaze me with your ability to ignore what’s right before your eyes. It makes me a little sad, Charlotte.”

“Is that right?” Her defense mechanisms flared and her voice came out sounding defiant, even to her own ears.

His eyes narrowed and the slightest curl teased his upper lip. Right now, he resembled the cocky man who’d first kissed her in the pub coatroom, the one who’d promised to make her wear his cum. And taste it.
Oh, fuck
. Just remembering his outrageously sexy words had her drenching her panties. Or at least, she would have if she’d been wearing any. “I’m just saying what I feel. It’s what you wanted me to do, right?”

“Right. There’s no reason we can’t act like adults here.”

“Absolutely.”

He put his finger to the tip of her nose and slowly traced it down to her lips, chin, and neck, leaving a trail of goose pimples in his wake. As he continued his incredible one-finger assault, edging over the length of her neck, her skin came to life and she shivered. As he reached her chest, and the shirt that covered it, he slowed his pace and she heard a tiny
crack
. She looked down and saw he’d allowed one wolf claw to poke through his skin. Catching her breath, she looked back at his face and saw him grinning at her. In that moment, his claw sliced through the front of the cotton shirt. He cut through the fabric, as easily as a hot knife slicing through melting ice cream, and she sucked in a breath at his power. As soon as he reached her abdomen, his claw retracted and his soft finger explored the skin around her belly button ring.