The Order Boxed Set (102 page)

He held her hips as he pumped, sliding one hand around her and into the curls at the base of her belly. Moving lower, he found the swollen nub of her clit and massaged it gently, feeling the tension rising inside her. His own orgasm tugged at his balls. So close. He pinched her clit between his finger and thumb, and she exploded, her inner muscles tightening around his cock, tipping him over the edge, and he came, his teeth biting into the soft flesh where her throat met her shoulder.

He rested his forehead against the warm skin of her back, breathing in the sweet scent of her while he waited for his heartbeat to slow and the strength to return to his limbs.

She was the best, and he didn’t think he would ever get enough of her.

Deep inside, his wolf growled in agreement.

He’d never accepted the whole mate thing, never wanted one woman for his own, but his wolf wanted this one.

He forced himself to straighten. If he did persuade her to return, could he continue seeing her? In the Abyss? Go pick her up for a date at her dad’s house, perhaps? Yeah, he could see that happening.

Shit.

And if she didn’t go back… Well, there wouldn’t be a whole lot of her left to date.

She was still leaning against the wall, forehead resting on the smooth plaster, her back to him, and he traced a finger down the line of her spine, felt her skin shiver beneath his touch.

Had he deliberately turned her away so he wouldn’t look into her face as she came? Wouldn’t see her eyes do that spooky, scary demon thing? Now, he took a deep breath and turned her slowly. Her lashes flickered open, and she peered up at him, crimson whirls in the emerald green.

He swallowed the curse that rose up in his throat, kept his expression neutral, and kissed her briefly on the cheek. “Why don’t you go clean up, and I’ll take you dancing?”

The crimson faded and some of his tension eased. A smile curved her lips, and she nodded, slipped out from beneath his arm, and almost skipped down the hall. She looked happy. Seriously happy. It almost broke his heart. Maybe if he told her everything, she would agree to go back with him, to sort this out…somehow.

When he heard the shower running, he headed into the living area and dug his cell phone out of his pocket, punching in a number. “Ash?”

“What is it?”

“Is it a bad sign if her eyes go all red?” No answer. “Ash?”

“Was she…excited at the time?”

“Maybe a little.”

“I thought werewolves didn’t do shifters.”

“Piss off.”

“We talked about this. You need to get her back here. And I mean now.”

“She won’t come.”

“Make her. And fast. Drug her if you have to. And whatever the fuck you do—don’t let her have a drink.”

He couldn’t imagine drugging her, and he hated the fact that he was keeping secrets from her. Important secrets. “What if I tell her the truth?”

“Are you crazy?”

Probably, but best not to share that with the demon—he already sounded pissed-off enough. He heard a sigh on the other end of the line.

“If she’s on the cusp, finding out she’s half demon is probably the one thing guaranteed to tip her over, and then who knows what will happen, but it’s unlikely to be pretty.”

That’s what he’d been afraid of. He rubbed a hand through his hair, but didn’t speak.

“Carl?” The demon’s tone was tense.

“Yeah?”

“So, when will we see you?”

At that moment, Shera appeared in the doorway, a scarlet slip dress skimming her curves, so beautiful his chest ached.

“Carl?” Now Ash’s tone held distinct worry. Carl could almost hear him gnashing his teeth.

“Sorry,” Carl muttered. “I have to go dancing.” And he ended the call before Ash could say anything further.

Things would work out. He’d make them work out. Somehow.

But right now, he had no clue how.

Chapter Seven

They teetered on the edge of a towering precipice. Four hundred feet beneath them, the Zambezi River surged through the narrow chasm. The water boiled and tumbled over the jagged rocks, rising like smoke in the distance where the falls thundered into the gorge below.

And if they did somehow survive the fall, then there were hordes of hungry crocodiles waiting to snap them up.

“Crazy” didn’t do it justice.

Every protective instinct he possessed rose to the surface. Inside, his wolf whined and clawed.

Shera pressed up against him, her back to his front, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, bound by ropes and a harness, their ankles tied tightly together.

“You ready?” A voice said from behind them, holding a hint of impatience.

Hell, no
.

He’d never be ready.

The crewmember had explained what to do—which essentially boiled down to—leap off a fucking high bridge into a monster-infested river. What the man hadn’t explained was what would happen if Carl lost control and shifted during the jump. He’d slip straight out of the harness and…

He swallowed and told his wolf to fuck off.

Shera twisted around slightly so she could look into his face. “You don’t have to do this,” she said. Her gaze held no fear and no sympathy. In fact he detected a glint of amusement in her eyes. “I can do it alone.”

Never going to happen.

“Let’s go.”

Carl gritted his teeth and took a stumbling step closer to the edge, staring straight ahead so he wouldn’t have to look down. Shera spread her arms and his own tightened around her.

Then he leaped into space. “Fuuuuck!”

Shera screamed, but the sound was filled with joy and life and excitement, and for the first time since he’d stepped onto the bridge he was glad he’d done this.

Then he was falling, head first, down into the gorge. A howl stuck in his throat, but at least his wolf had decided he didn’t want to come out and was cowering somewhere deep inside.

Hot air rushed past them, the water coming closer and closer. He wanted to close his eyes but somehow they wouldn’t obey. Then the rope snapped taut. And they were going up again, rising, while careening wildly from side to side.

He was going to puke, hot acid rising in his throat.

Then they were going down, and whatever was trying to escape was forced back into his stomach.

Up. Down. Up. Down.

Finally they slowed and stopped, dangling head-down above the water. Carl searched for crocodiles.

His wolf whimpered.

A motorboat drew up beneath them, and they were lowered the last twenty feet and hauled into the boat. Someone unfastened the harness, and Carl pried his hands from their hold on Shera’s waist and dragged himself onto the seat, only narrowly resisting the urge to curl into a fetal ball.

They were alive.
Wow.
Totally unexpected.

“That was fabulous,” Shera said, her eyes sparkling.

Carl took a deep breath and cleared his throat. He could do this. For Shera. “You want to go again?”

His wolf growled, raking his claws down Carl’s spine.

Shera giggled, then leaned across and kissed him on the cheek. “No. Once was enough. Thank you.”

…

Shera almost laughed again as relief blossomed across his face. She’d never expected him to be scared of anything. It was a revelation. She’d loved that he was terrified but had still gone ahead.

For her.

Resting her cheek on his shoulder, she breathed in the warm air, heavy with moisture and redolent with the scent of growing things. And was that a hint of sulfur in the background? No, it was gone. Just her imagination.

Carl had been so good to her, claiming that if they were going to bungee jump, they should do it properly. So he’d brought her here to Victoria Falls, right in the heart of Africa.

“So what’s next on the list?” he asked.

She thought about teasing him and saying sky diving, but he’d been so brave. They’d danced all night, made love on the beach, he’d kissed her and for way longer than five minutes, and now they’d bungee jumped. What was left?

“Horse riding?”

“Oh good,” he muttered.

“Don’t you like horses?”

“I like them. But
they
hate me. Or rather they hate my wolf.” He straightened his shoulders. “Horse riding it is. We’ll sort something out.”

It was a seven-hour drive from Victoria Falls to the Matobo National Park, where apparently they could ride horses to see the wild animals. She was a little worried that the horses would sense her cat or even worse, her hellhound, but from the moment they saw her, they loved her. But Carl had been right about his own effect on the animals. His mount shied away from him, side-stepping and snorting.

“He’s usually good,” the guide said.

“Let me talk to him,” Shera said. She rubbed the horse’s nose and whispered in his ear. “Give him a chance.” The horse stamped a foot. “I won’t let him eat you,” she promised.

The horse held still while he swung into the saddle, then shifted restlessly, but finally settled.

She mounted her own horse. She’d never ridden before, but it felt natural as she edged her mount up beside Carl who, despite his shaky start, looked relaxed in the saddle. She copied his position, holding the reins in one hand as they followed the guide across the wide open plains.

It occurred to her that she knew very little about him. They’d been together over a week now, but by some unspoken agreement, they’d steered clear of personal matters. But she wanted to know about him. If she was honest, she wanted to know everything. But how to get him talking?

She nudged her horse a little closer so they were riding side by side, knees almost touching. Carl glanced across, gave her a lazy smile. “What is it, kitten? I can hear you thinking.”

“I was just wondering…?”

“Hmm?”

“I was wondering, what it’s like being a werewolf? Do you belong to a pack? Do you have a girlfriend? How did you come to work for the Order…?”

“Whoa. Pick one.”

She wanted to ask the girlfriend question but perhaps it was too obvious. “Do you belong to a pack?”

“No.”

“You can’t just say ‘no.’ All werewolves belong to a pack. Everyone knows that.”

“Not me.” He shrugged. “I did once. It didn’t work out.”

“What happened?”

“Well, half of them wanted to kill me, the other half wanted me to kill the alpha male, mate with the alpha female, and take over the pack. Neither option appealed to me at the time.”

“So you just left.”

“Not quite. The half who wanted to kill me sent an assassination squad. They would have succeeded, too, except Christian Roth interrupted the attempt, saved my life. Back then he was head of the Order. He offered me a job, and I’ve been working there ever since. So that answers two of your questions.”

“One more won’t matter then.”

“Make it an easy one.”

“Do werewolves have girlfriends?” She kept the question general so she wouldn’t sound quite so nosey.

“Why wouldn’t they? Some of them have lots of girlfriends. Though, actually, there’s a legend that says each werewolf has one fated mate.”

“Really?” She twisted sideways in the saddle so she could see his face and found him looking back. “Do you believe that?”

“Two weeks ago, I would have said no.” His lovely lips curved up in a smile; his eyes crinkled. “Now, I’m not so sure.”

For a second she almost drowned in a warm, fuzzy sensation. Then she stiffened her spine and stared straight ahead. Hah. This was just some devious plot to try and convince her she didn’t want to die. She sniffed. What sane woman would want to be a werewolf’s mate anyway? She gave him a sideways peek. There was that fuzzy feeling again.

But strangely, as her happiness had grown, so had her determination not to go back, to never again live as a slave, as though the awakening part of her refused to bow down to anyone.

Besides, if she hadn’t run away, she would never have had this time with Carl.

At that moment, the guide halted, turned his horse and waved up ahead to where a vast herd of antelope, zebra, and giraffes spread out over the flat plain.

A low growl rumbled beside her, and her horse pranced restlessly.

“Sorry,” Carl said. “Wolf wants to hunt.”

“Bad wolf.”

He grinned. “Tell me you don’t. Tell me you wouldn’t like to shift right now. Imagine the thrill of the chase. The joy of the kill.”

Hunger woke inside her, her mouth flooded with saliva as she imagined her teeth tearing into warm flesh. She swallowed and pushed the feeling down, nodded to the guide waiting for them a few feet away. “Not a good idea.”

“Then maybe later.”

Carl woke her with a kiss, and she rolled over onto her back. Outside it was dark, and she sensed dawn was still far away.

“Come on,” he said. “Time to experience the real Africa.”

Without waiting for her to answer, he stripped off his shorts and stood naked, so gorgeous she almost dragged him back to bed. Even as the thought crossed her mind, magic trembled on the air, and a minute later the wolf stood staring at her. He whined low in his throat.

Excitement fizzed in her blood, and she jumped out of bed. They were going hunting. A cat wouldn’t do—there were some big predators out there. She willed the shift, and soon she stood on all fours, taller than Carl’s wolf. The world held a crimson glow as though her hellhound brought a hint of the Abyss to this world. Beyond good and evil, in this form she felt so right. Unconflicted.

She stalked out the door after Carl’s wolf. Everything was quiet, and she stood for a moment sniffing the night air. She caught the scent of sleeping humans, and beneath that a faint hint of sulfur carried on the breeze. Again, she pushed it from her mind; she’d worry about it later.

Side by side, they padded out of the compound, following a well-worn track through the bush. After about a mile, Carl stopped, raised his head, let out a yip, and was away.

The warm scent of distant prey filled her nostrils. Shera leaped after him, and soon they were racing across the African plain, the wind in her fur, wild and free as she had dreamed.

Chapter Eight

Everyone had to die sometime.

The thought flashed through her mind, but she ignored it.