Authors: Stacey Espino
Gideon shrugged. He didn't know what to do with the wolf, but
knew he wanted to keep her around for a while longer. His days were long and
dreary. After he left at night, he had no mate to go home to, only an empty
penthouse condo. His furniture was black, leather, the décor modern and
minimalistic—it was the last time he'd allow a decorator free reign. He felt
more at home in his office, which he had decorated himself with mementos from
his roots. Gideon had a proud heritage, traced back countless generations to
the grass plains of Africa. Since he spent most of his days and evenings at
Club Frenzy, he needed to feel comfortable, to immortalize a link to the past.
"First things first. What's your name?"
She huffed, then obliged him. "
Freya
."
"Spend the night with me."
He grabbed her upper arms before she bolted out of range. She
snarled at him, her incisors lengthening. Gods, it made him hot seeing those cute
little fangs emerging.
"You're just like all the others. Let me go!"
"
Kiss me."
The feisty thing struggled like a wild woman, attempting to kick
and bite. It was so easy to hold her still, and even easier to rile her. He
laughed, something he rarely did these days. He'd have let her go if not for
the waves of lust rolling off her, nearly knocking him flat. A woman like her
would no doubt be wicked in bed, much more of a challenge than the women eager
for his affections. Her breasts were soft and full, pressing against his chest
as he held her steady. He'd love to give those fleshy mounds a love bite to
remember.
A loud knock at the door stilled them both. "
Gideon!"
The muffled voice carried a threat even with the barrier separating them.
He growled his disapproval. "Nobody better open that
fucking door!"
Darius burst in.
Again.
"Aha, I knew you were up to
no good."
He eased his hold on the wolf and she bound for the human. The
other man was quick to pull her into an embrace, a mix of desire and
territorial threat seeping from his pores. Even a blind man would know Darius
had the hots for the girl, but to a shifter, the chemical signature was
unmistakable. If he knew he was getting a hard-on for a wolf-shifter, he'd be
running the other way. Freya glared back at Gideon, finding security with the
human—security he wanted her to find with him. How had he managed to fuck
things up with her already?
He should knock the other man through the wall, but he couldn't
stay mad at Darius. "You were a difficult child, weren't you?" His
friend smirked. He'd taken the human under his wing years ago. When he first
spotted him in the club, drunk, and lacking any ambition to live another day—he
intervened. Gideon offered him odd jobs around the place, and usually enjoyed
his company. Keeping his shifter identity a secret wasn't too difficult.
Gideon rarely had the time or space to connect with his beast, something he
began to resent over the years. It seemed the décor around him was the only
reminder of who he really was.
He'd given up his fight with the royal family when he opened Club
Frenzy, but seeing a princess in the flesh brought back all his animosity for
the royals. In his opinion, lions were the rightful heirs to the thrown, not
the wolves. Yet only select daughters with royal wolf blood were capable of
continuing the shifter races.
"I think the isolation gets to your head sometimes, boss.
She owes you ten bucks. Worry about your blood pressure and let her off the
hook."
"Yeah. You're right." He wouldn’t make matters worse
by ordering her to stay. As Darius led the wolf out of his office, he called
out. "Offer still stands, sweetheart."
Gods he
was
a jerk.
She only turned back with a heated glare. It would have been fun
if she'd stuck around, but Darius was right, he needed to stop being such an
asshole. But it hadn't been a power trip, and he wasn't angry. He just felt
the need to be close to Freya, and the thought of letting her walk out his door
didn't sit well with him. But he couldn’t inspire his own desire into another,
so it was good his friend showed up when he did.
****
"You alright?"
"I am now. Thanks for coming to the rescue."
Darius didn't fail to notice she still clung to his shirt even
though they were out of the office and past the dance floor.
"You shouldn't have taken off on me in the beginning. I
would have been more than happy to buy you a meal." He had money, if only
his friends knew how much. Darius just had enough of his father's iron fist,
long hours behind a desk, and never being good enough in his family's eyes. He'd
never embraced the high society making him an outcast. The night he walked out,
resigning as CEO, he came to Club Frenzy to get wasted. He didn't care if he
had to live off the streets, it would have been a better life than the
deceptive paradise he left behind. A week later, Gideon picked him off the
floor and stood him on two feet.
They sat at the bar, facing each other. Freya lowered her eyes to
the ground. "It's just hard to know who to trust."
"I can understand that. But, I promise, I'm not a bad guy,
Freya." Looks could be misleading. When people thought he had no money,
they didn't give him the time of day. He may give off a hardcore image now,
but he'd never done anything criminal in his life.
She kept silent, fidgeting, not giving him her full attention.
"Are you in trouble?" He took a section of her shirt
between a thumb and finger. She was wearing ill-fitted, dirty clothes and her
hair was in tangles. Her beauty radiated through it all, she just needed to be
taken care of. Protected? "You can tell me anything. I'm not going to
judge you."
She licked her lips and raised her eyes to meet his. After
opening her mouth to speak, she shut it. He slanted her chin up to focus on him
alone. "It's complicated."
"Life can be sometimes. Now, what's the problem?"
Just before she filled him in, Vincent leaned over the bar.
"How's our little dine and dasher doing?" His wide smile carried no
hint of resentment.
Vincent was Gideon's right-hand man, the club manager. Sometimes
he bar-tendered, other times he watched the doors. Keeping the peace and
making life simpler for the boss-man were his top priorities. "Knock it
off, Vin."
The demand for more drinks down the bar pulled him away as
quickly as he'd arrived.
"I don't have a place to stay," she said, barely
audible. "I've never been to this city."
"How'd you get here then?" What was her story? There
was a mysterious air about her, and he wanted to know it all. He wanted to
help her, as Gideon had helped him once upon a time.
"My sister wanted me to stay with her, but I don't like
being a burden to anyone."
"A burden? How could a sweet thing like you be a burden?
If you just need a place to stay for a while, I can help you out."
She stared at him for a moment. "Stay with you?"
"I have a place not far from here, but a free room just came
up. One of our bouncers, Jacob, just quit. Gideon says I can have the room.
It's yours for now, if you need it."
"Oh… Thank you."
"And don't worry about Gideon, either. He's a big softy
once you get to know him."
"I'm sure he is," she said with skepticism in her
voice. He noticed how she continually scanned the room as if expecting someone
to jump her.
He slipped off his stool and scooped her up under the arms,
setting her on her feet. "Come on, I'll show you the room. There's a
shower you can use, too."
She latched onto his arm as he navigated through the patrons
clamoring to get closer to the back bar to watch Vincent and Steve work their
magic with the bottles. It was loud. It was always loud. The music, the
people, the inhibitions—it was his world now, what he used to drown out the
life he left behind.
He pushed open the door to Jacob's old room. He'd been one of
the biggest guys working for Gideon and the boss-man wasn't happy to see him
go. But he gave no notice, saying he was moving in with his new
"mate", and nothing anyone said could convince him otherwise.
"My sister was in here," she said as soon as they
entered the small windowless room.
"How do you know?"
She dismissed his question and walked the perimeter, her unease
nearly palpable. What had the poor girl gone through?
"There should be fresh towels in the bathroom. I can find
you something to wear, too."
She turned around, as if suddenly remembering he was still there.
"Thank you."
As Freya showered in the bathroom, he sifted through the lost and
found box, hoping to find something suitable for her to wear. The little dress
he found looked to be about her size and clean. It wasn't what he wanted to
give her, but he had little alternative, and anything would be better than the
rags she wore. He intended to leave the pink dress he'd found on the counter
and slip out without a sound, but when he opened the bathroom door she was
standing there in the cloud of humidity, completely nude.
****
Freya had turned on the shower, stripped, and studied herself in
the full length mirror. Gods, how long had if been since she'd seen her
reflection? She look pale, tired, nothing like the girl she remembered who
used to look back at her. Once upon a time she wore beautiful dresses,
handmade by renowned tailors. Her hair was professionally styled, along with
her nails. She barely recognized herself now.
Yes, she'd been a spoiled brat, almost unwilling to follow her
two sisters hell bent on escaping the royal palace. Before they split up, all
she did was complain—the hotels weren't good enough, the food unacceptable, and
she was bored to tears. That was the past. After years on the run, and
endless hours of inner reflection, the girl she once knew was dead. Freya had
reinvented herself, prided herself on her strength of character, her ability to
survive.
Still, no matter how strong she'd become, there was always a
lingering doubt deep within. It begged her to give up, to run home to safety
and security. She didn't have time to nurture that insecure girl locked up
inside her, instead stifled what she considered weakness.
As she assessed her body, she noted how emaciated she looked. An
irregular diet had lessened all her curves, and her muscles were more toned
from a life constantly on the run. Who the fuck would want her? Why did nearly
every male shifter want a woman like her as a mate? She shook her head, a look
of disgust staring back at her. Steam began to collect on the mirror,
distorting her image.
She used to be beautiful. If only Darius, or even Gideon, had
seen her then. She dug her nails into her palms, angry for the traitorous lust
cramping her stomach when she thought of the two men. And what of the cougar?
She'd felt something for him, too.
"You're sick," she muttered. "Sick, sick,
sick."
Or deprived.
She wasn't as comfortable with her sexuality
as Carna had been, but still knew what her body craved. Just as she'd
attempted to blot the illicit thoughts from her head, the door swung open.
Darius froze in the doorway, a shock of pink material hanging
precariously from his right hand. His eyes instantly roamed over her body, not
leaving an inch untouched by his greedy gaze. She could see the heavy rise and
fall of his chest, the glaze settling over his black eyes, and feel the heat of
his dark desires. It affected her,
he
affected her—a human no less.
Logic dictated that he was inferior, weak, an unacceptable mate. But her body
and mind burst alive with sensation. His toned body, dark features, and
dominant aura pulled her in, tempting her to let it all go. What would sex
with a human feel like? Could he compare to a shifter? Would he disappoint
her?
Chapter
Three
"I thought you were in the shower." He paused, still
staring, speaking in a whisper. "I brought you clothes."
She couldn’t talk, couldn't move. Her nipples tightened in
awareness. She was naked with a man, but didn't attempt to cover herself as
she should.
"Water looks ready." Darius took the lead since she
was frozen in place. Rather than shielding his eyes and darting from the room,
he set the clothing on the counter and held the shower curtain open, urging her
to enter. Why were her eyes riveted to the bulging muscles in his arms? Why
did she want to run her palm along his jawline to feel the roughness of his
goatee? It wasn't even a full moon, yet her wolf howled within in her,
desperate to be let loose, to nip and scratch—to fuck.
She followed his instruction, stepping into the shower stall. The
humid heat made it hard to breathe when she already gasped for breath due to
her rising hormone levels. What could he see in her? She had never been so
unattractive, and Darius was a human, unaffected by her royal blood. Right now
she wished she looked as healthy and curvy as she had been so many years ago.
"Do you need help with your hair?"
Her voice wouldn't work, so she nodded, unwilling to see him
leave the room. There was an unspoken connection between them, and his lust
grew stronger by the second, pulling her in. She faced the wall, and his hands
began to work her hair. He rubbed the sweet-smelling shampoo into her tangles
and massaged out the knots with care. It had been far too long since she
stopped and took proper care of herself. The feel of his fingertips working
her scalp had her entire body lighting up, coming to life.
"That feels good," she murmured. It was so unlike her
to let down her guard. Darius was a stranger, but also the most familiar person
in the world. She sensed no sinister motives, no threat—only genuine
attraction.