Chapter
Seventeen
He was leaning into her yet Zoey didn’t back up a
single step. She matched his passion with her own, licked and
nipped at his mouth, his tongue. Bit his chin again but lapped over
it softly to ease the sting. There was no hesitation in her as her
hands clawed lightly down his back, then slid around to flick open
his jeans. Her fingertips circled upward, tugging apart his denim
shirt. Buttons flew, but there was no pause, no uncertainty as she
brushed her lips across his bare chest and gently seized a nipple
in her teeth.
He froze, sucking in his breath. Her
tongue played with the captive nipple, then she nuzzled her way to
its mate before resuming her original mission—to get this man
naked. Her hands outlined the hard muscles of his upper body,
rubbed up and over his broad shoulders, then eased the shirt down
his powerful arms, over the strong hands. She held the warm garment
close to her face as she stepped back for a moment, instinctively
drinking in the scent of him as she took in the sight. He stood
perfectly still, allowing her to look.
Fully clothed, the man was sigh-worthy.
Shirtless, his jeans unbuttoned and riding low on his hips, he was
simply heart-stopping. The candles’ glow revealed a powerful body
that combined strength with an easy grace, yet she sensed that the
difference between Day Connor and
Night Connor went deeper than appearance.
There was something dangerous here, a force barely leashed. It
radiated from him, unseen yet palpable. She hesitated. . .
.
And he winked.
Just that quickly he was back to the
Connor she knew, his pale gray eyes amused. She laughed a little,
more at herself than anything, but didn’t move closer, not yet.
Instead her fingertips moved to the buttons of her blouse. The
amusement vanished from his face. It was his turn to watch, to
look. To want.
Peeling away the plaid material, she
dropped it to the floor and ran her hands over her lace-trimmed
cami. There was no bra beneath it and her nipples stood out
plainly. His eyes followed her fingertips as she slid first one
thin strap off her shoulder, then the other—
She never saw him move. In one
heartbeat, she was standing, in the next, she was tangled on the
floor with Connor. He peeled away the camisole as he mouthed her
throat, running his tongue and teeth over her pulse. He devoured
her breasts as he shucked her jeans. She nearly came as he clutched
her ass hard, his big, work-roughened hands rasping deliciously
against her skin. Connor was all raw need, hungry and wild, and
Zoey urged him on, the wildness thrumming in her own veins as well.
All conscious thought had fallen away and what was left was basic,
primal—and urgent.
She wrapped her long legs around him,
pulling him into her, chanting now with
every breath. The unyielding floor should have been uncomfortable.
Instead she reveled in the way it gave her leverage, allowed her to
angle her hips upward in a way that buffered nothing and accepted
everything. And everything was exactly what she wanted.
Now turned to Yes as
he thrust hard and drove deep, shocking the breath from her as her
core exulted.
Yes. The rhythm
pounded in her body, in her veins, in her mind.
Yes. Tension
throbbed and built, roiled and grew rapidly to impossible heights.
As burgeoning clouds before a thunderstorm yearn for the lightning,
her body craved the explosive release even as she feared its
intensity.
Yes. Yes. YES.
She imploded on a stuttered gasp, just as Connor poured himself
into her. For the longest of moments she was suspended in pure
sensation, unseeing save for strange sparkles of blue light behind
her eyes. And for one brief second she thought she heard the howl
of a wolf.
Connor’s senses returned slowly. First
was smell. The air was satisfyingly ripe with sex. Better still was
a scent he had already memorized in every cell of his body. He
pulled that scent deep into his lungs like a drowning man draws
air, then released it with a soft growl. Woman scent. His woman. Zoey.
The candles had guttered out and
twilight had given way to darkness, yet nothing was hidden from his
Changeling vision. He could easily see the unique color of Zoey’s
hair and the golden freckles that blanketed her skin, and he
couldn’t be more pleased that, yes indeed, those freckles covered
her shapely ass too. He’d have to make a point of counting—and
kissing—every last one of them.
As his awareness expanded, there was
warmth and softness along the length of his body where her skin
pressed against his. Her head was pillowed on his shoulder. Closing
his eyes again, he found it hard to tell where she left off and he
began, as if they had melted into each other. Even their hearts
beat together.
His heart was hers, permanently, and he
knew it. It had been tipping and teetering since he met Zoey, but
tonight his heart had just plain fallen off a cliff and might never
reach bottom. That was all right with him. He could feel, too, the
immense satisfaction of his inner wolf, content and peaceful now
that it had found and claimed its mate at last.
Mate. He had a
mate. He’d half given up hope of ever finding one. Wolves mated for
life and so did Changelings. Changelings, however, lived longer
than wolves, much longer than humans too. Because of that,
relationships with humans were not formed lightly. There might be
sex now and then with a willing partner, but the drive was
infrequent. But all that changed when the inner wolf recognized its
mate.
Connor nuzzled Zoey’s soft hair and
sighed. He hadn’t intended to lose control. He’d been a more
considerate lover behind the damn garden shed at the Watsons’ than
he’d been tonight. Still, she’d surprised him by accepting the
wildness he couldn’t contain, taking it in and giving back.
And then some. He’d thought her passionate
the night of the party. Now, he realized that term didn’t come
close to describing her.
Still, passionate or not, Zoey probably
wouldn’t be comfortable waking up on the kitchen floor in the dark.
Connor gathered her closer to him and maneuvered until he could
roll to his knees. She was a tall woman, curvy and solid. To his
Changeling strength, however, she might as well have been a child,
and he stood effortlessly without waking her. Instead of taking her
to bed right away, however, he paused for a moment to wonder at the
marvel in his arms. Two weeks ago he’d been alone and half expected
to remain that way. Now he was skin to skin with this exciting
woman, and she was his mate. It should feel
strange at best, scary at worst, but instead it felt good, natural,
even normal—as if she’d always been with him.
Connor crossed his fingers that Zoey
felt the same as he carried her upstairs. I’ve got
a helluva lot to tell her.
Connor banged his elbow twice as he
tried to maneuver them both through the bedroom door, and Zoey
couldn’t help giggling.
“You’re not asleep,” he
chided.
“I confess. I just wanted to be
carried,” she laughed. “It was pretty nice, too.”
“You didn’t seem to like it much when I
carried you up to your apartment that first night.”
“That was completely
different.”
She squealed as he tossed her into the
middle of an enormous bed and pounced on her with mock growls and
gentle bites. She tried to fend him off with both hands, squirming
out from under him and finally making a break for the floor. He let
her go—she knew darn well she had little hope of breaking free
unless he permitted it—and she bounced over to the middle of the
room.
And what a room.
It was enormous, almost the whole of the second story. Zoey spotted
a switch on the wall and flipped it, sucking in her breath at what
the myriad of recessed lights revealed. Great ivory beams converged
to a peak along the center of the high ceiling. A stone fireplace
with a tall slender window on each side graced the east end of the
room, but it was the west end that was particularly inspired. The
entire wall, floor to ceiling, was made of windows.
She exhaled slowly as she let her gaze
travel appreciatively over the decor. There was little in the way
of furniture, but it was well chosen and natural colors prevailed.
The enormous bed was near the center of the room, facing the wall
of windows. It was simply framed in dark wood and dressed in rich
earth-toned sheets and comforters. A glance around the broad
headboard revealed a sitting area backed against it, opposite the
fireplace. A sumptuous leather couch was made even more inviting by
the dozen or so richly textured pillows scattered over its cushions
and stacked on the thick furry rug in front of it. A half dozen
books were comfortably piled on an end table. Zoey could easily
picture herself relaxing in front of the fire on a cool evening
with the latest paperback. Although, with a hot naked man in the
house—like the one currently sprawled across the bed—she doubted
she would get any reading done.
“This is really beautiful,” she
breathed. “There’s a harmony here. No distractions. Nothing jars
the eye. Everything is very functional, yet it’s warm and inviting
at the same time. And there’s all this glorious
space.”
“You like it.”
“Very much. Did you design this
yourself? What am I saying, of course you did, just like you did
the downstairs. What a wonderful sanctuary.”
“That’s the right word,” he said.
“Everyone needs a refuge at the end of the day. I like open space,
and I like comfort, plus I love to look at the sky. This is the
next best thing to sleeping under the stars.”
“Better. There are no
wolves.”
He made an odd choking sound and had to
clear his throat. “Well, not every night.”
She laughed at that and switched off
the lights, standing still until her eyes adjusted. “It’s even
beautiful in the dark.”
It was. The pale beams were silvery and
the rising moon cast the faintest of light into the eastern
windows. It pooled on the dark floor like water.
“Come see the outside.” Connor rose
from the bed and extended a hand, leading her to a door in the
glassed wall and out onto a wide deck. Treetops framed it on each
side but nothing obscured the view of the hills in the distance or
the glistening river. “The stars are just coming out.”
Zoey looked up at the night sky in
wonder. Connor was right. New stars seemed to appear even as she
watched. A cool breeze reminded her that she was stark naked and
yet it felt like the most natural thing in the world to be standing
outside beneath the stars. With Connor. She nestled back against
him comfortably, grateful for his intense body heat, for his
powerful arms wrapped around her. Safe and
warm. Maybe not so safe. . . . She grinned as she felt his
erection nudging at her hip. She stroked it softly with her
fingertips, felt it rise and bump her hand as if asking for more.
She slid her hand along the fiery length of it and gripped it hard.
Connor was a large and powerful man—but it satisfied her
tremendously to feel the tremor that passed through him from her
touch. To her surprise he removed himself from her grasp, turned
her to face him and held her at arm’s to length.
“God, baby, don’t do that just yet or
I’ll lose my mind again.” He grasped one of her hands and held it
to his lips, kissed each fingertip gently. “I was too rough with
you before. I didn’t mean to be.”
“Maybe I liked it.”
“Only maybe?”
She made a grab for him but he eluded
her easily. “No fair! Your arms are longer.” Before she could
blink, she was wrapped up tight against him.
“Can you reach me now?” he
grinned.
“Much better,” she laughed and
wriggled, rubbing her breasts against his hard chest, rocking her
pelvis against his powerful thigh. She was gratified to hear the
hiss of breath drawn in through his teeth. Without warning, he
scooped her up. She didn’t have time to protest before they were
through the door—and no elbows were banged this time—with Connor
striding across the room. To her surprise he bypassed the bed and
set her feet on the deliciously soft rug in front of the
couch.
“Sit down,” he whispered.
She sat a little gingerly, expecting
the leather to be cold. Instead its buttery soft surface warmed
immediately to her skin and she relaxed back. Connor knelt and
lightly stroked his strong hands over her, ankle to thigh,
fingertips to shoulders. His great strength was leashed, his touch
tender as he traced tiny circles and swirls over almost every
square inch of her. And the almost was
driving her crazy. Calves and belly, collarbone and ribs. Places
that seldom received much attention were extravagantly fondled,
traced, and teased. Zoey squirmed, craving Connor’s touch and yet
it left such heightened sensitivity in its wake that her skin felt
electrified. Her breasts were aching, her nipples straining,
begging to be kissed. Yet Connor ignored their call, simply
continuing to stroke the unsung parts of her body with his
fingertips. Zoey could feel the moisture pooling between her legs
and yet he didn’t touch her there either. She was buzzing with
sensation, her body taut and yearning.
“Turn around,” he whispered and her
core clenched hard. It was all she could do to move as he guided
her into position, knees on the seat of the couch, her arms resting
on its back. Oh God, oh God. She jumped as
he ran his hands gently over her hips, the roughness of his palms
rasping lightly over her back, her shoulders. Soothing and igniting
at the same time, delicious torture. She trembled as he stroked the
back of her thighs, still drawing endless patterns upon her. She
was wet for him, so wet that a droplet of moisture trickled down
her inner thigh with the same painstaking slowness as Connor’s
caresses. She wanted him to take her, needed him, she was so damn
ready for him. . . .
All of her senses were startled as he
kissed her ankle. A single hot, openmouthed kiss, followed by a
light swirl of tongue. She shivered as he breathed over the spot
and planted another kiss on the other ankle, then eased her legs
apart. She trembled as he kissed his way slowly up her left leg,
taking his time until she was sure she would scream. She did cry
out as he kissed her right leg, above and below the bandages, but
it certainly wasn’t from pain. Eventually he lapped up the little
droplet of moisture on her inner thigh, and the ones that had
followed it. Closer, closer. . . . His hot mouth kissed its way
over her cheeks, adding soft gentle bites. She was shaking, she
couldn’t help it, and she was on the verge of begging when his big
hands suddenly parted her and his hot wet tongue slicked over her
in one long stroke from clit to tailbone.
The orgasm slammed into her with all
the force of a tsunami, and she might have been knocked from the
couch by the intense wave, except that Connor held her securely,
his big hands cupped around her hips. As her body throbbed and
pulsed, he breathed over her folds and began lapping at them again,
penetrating them with his tongue, licking around her swollen pearl
until she came a second time.
The pleasure was nothing short of
devastating. Finally he stood behind her, using the head of his
cock like a giant’s finger to stroke the length of her crease.
Breathless, Zoey managed to call Connor’s name. It was both a plea
and a summons, and he answered it, sliding smoothly into her until
he had filled her completely. To her surprise, he stopped, holding
himself there in perfect stillness. For an instant she savored his
size, the incredible heat that radiated from him inside her. So
big. So hot. And then some primal instinct erupted and she thrust
her hips wildly, impaling herself gladly and still unable to get
enough. She nearly wept with relief when he pulled her from the
couch and flipped her over on the plush rug, plunged into her deep
and hard. Faster and faster. She dug her fingernails into the
muscles of his butt, needing to pull him into her even further,
needing to be in one skin.
They imploded together, and it was as
if they had leapt from the balcony. Zoey felt airborne,
ethereal—and inextricably blended with Connor like twining breezes
among the stars. She drew a great shuddering breath and the
physical world returned. Connor was half-draped over her,
sheltering her, warming her, the weight of him a secure blanket.
She planted a kiss on his chest where his heart pounded in rhythm
with hers, and received a warm kiss on her forehead in return.
Sighing, she closed her eyes and allowed sleep to take
her.
Instead, a dream took her
over.
In it, Zoey wandered to the balcony.
The bright stars seemed to direct her to the stairs and she
followed them down to the yard. But it was not Connor’s farmyard.
There were few trees here, and the buildings were painted dark,
perhaps red. It was hard to tell when the light of the waning
half-moon washed away all color. Clumps of brush and wild grass
dotted the yard and surrounded a small house with a swayback roof.
The open windows emitted the sound of a television cranked up as
loud as it would go. The owner must be deaf or nearly
so—
Zoey spun as frantic bawling erupted
from a nearby corral. Cattle stamped and ran, their flanks heaving.
Several bashed into the wooden rails of the fence, knocking it
down. A dozen cows poured through the break, stampeding wildly into
the night. And close on their heels was her own worst nightmare,
the grizzled gray wolf. Soundlessly it followed the cattle,
slashing at their flanks with gleaming teeth. Finally, it singled
one out and leapt for its throat, bringing the big animal down as
easily as a lamb. Terrified, Zoey pressed herself behind the wall
of a shed, watching in horror as the enormous wolf gave chase and
pulled down each of the cows in turn until all lay dead or
twitching on the ground.
The sound of the television stopped
abruptly, leaving an eerie stillness in its wake. A porch light
came on and a man emerged from the house, silhouetted in the
doorway long enough for Zoey to see that he had a gun. Slowly,
cautiously, he stepped down into the yard, looking this way and
that. As the moonlight illuminated his face, Zoey was certain that
she had seen him before, but she didn’t know his name.
Suddenly he spotted the broken fence of
the corral and ran to it, yelling. He swore at the dead cattle
inside, then looked wildly around for the rest of his animals.
“Dammit!” he yelled again as he spotted dark heaps scattered around
the farmyard. “Goddammit to fucking hell!” He fired his gun into
the air, the shot a punctuation mark to his frustration and anger.
He kicked at a dead cow and turned away—
Almost right in front of him, the
enormous wolf rose from a clump of tall grass like a lion on a
savannah. Its tongue lolled from wide grinning jaws.
Frightened, the man backpedaled and
stumbled. He struggled with his gun, trying to bring it to bear as
the wolf walked stiff-legged around him. He fired off a shot but
missed. The wolf leapt and snapped at his leg, the empty ring of
its jaws sending a shiver down Zoey’s spine. The gun fell to the
ground as the man crab-walked backward, then turned and ran for his
life.
No, thought Zoey. No,
no, no! She raced from her hiding place, heedless that she
was naked, and tried to grab the gun. She couldn’t. Like a ghost,
she wasn’t truly there, was only a helpless observer. She swore,
and ran toward the man’s screams.
He was silenced before she got
there.
Zoey watched with angry tears streaming
down her face, her fists clenching and unclenching. The wolf shook
its lifeless victim by the throat like a rag doll. She could
plainly see the terror and surprise still stamped on the man’s
face, the same expression she had seen on those people killed by
the drive-by shooting, and that she had witnessed in the eyes of
the child who lay dead on the sidewalk. . . .
Horrified, she cursed the gift that
didn’t enable her to intervene, only to see too late. Then she saw
something else—the wolf was greedily drinking from its victim’s
torn throat. As it drank, the creature was making a strange
chuckling sound as if it were laughing. Zoey’s stomach heaved and
her lungs were suddenly not getting any air, yet she was unable to
look away. And as she stared, the wolf lifted its dripping muzzle
and looked directly at her, its eyes glowing with unholy
light.
You.
The word was in her head. In. Her.
Head. The wolf had put it there. The murderous creature before her
had put a word in her mind.
You’re going to Change
for me, sweetheart. I own you and I’ll have
you.
The words weren’t loud and yet they
shook her. She felt violated, dirty. She tore at her hair as if she
could pull the words out of her head. And then she saw the wolf
lope toward her, its bloodied jaws gaping wide as it leapt. . .
.