Authors: Avril Ashton
"What time does your train leave?"
Bending over, she pulled her shoes from under the bed then checked her watch. “Thirty minutes."
He took a drag on his cancer-stick and blew out a smoke ring. “So this is goodbye."
"This is goodbye."
Five miles outside Colorado
One week later
In his apartment over Montez’ bar, Blake Montez lay on his bed, chewing on a toothpick, eyes closed. A psychic disturbance hovered in the air, charged with magic he'd never experienced before. It'd been two days since he'd first felt the soft ripples on his skin, and now it grew stronger, more insistent.
The other half of him, his wolf, clawed to get out, but Blake ignored the need for the moment. While strange and very powerful, the magic didn't appear malevolent. These powers didn't come from the cats trying to stake a claim to his territory. Czion, the jaguar leader, didn't have access to the kind of power Blake felt in the air. Still, he should warn his pack to be wary, to be on the lookout for any strange goings-on. As Alpha, it was his duty to protect them and if this
thing
posed a threat, they needed to be prepared.
He rose off the bed, pulling on a pair of sweat pants and the black T-shirt he'd discarded earlier. A few of his guys remained downstairs, playing pool and hanging out. He'd tell them his suspicions and ask them to spread the word. Then he'd go for a run. His wolf itched to come out and play tonight.
Halfway down the stairs, he stopped. The unfamiliar magic seemed concentrated in the room below, the bar. He took his time descending the stairs, using his wolf senses to scent out the source. He found it—or rather her—at the bar.
"Marcus, get everyone out now.” Speaking to his beta and best friend, Blake kept his eyes on the woman. She sat with her back to him, dressed to match the snow white of her hair.
"What's going on, Blake?” Bent over a pool table in the corner, cue in hand, Marcus didn't sound the least bit disturbed.
"Don't you feel the ripples in the air?” Blake struggled to quiet the growls rumbling in his throat. The wolf grew ever more restless. His skin tightened and sweat beaded on his forehead as he fought with his wolf for control.
"What ripples? What are you talking about?” Marcus straightened with the pool cue on his shoulder.
God damn, am I the only one feeling the interference?
"Get everybody out. Now."
Blake approached the bar as Marcus ushered the few confused patrons outside. His friend tossed him a quizzical look and stopped next to the woman.
"She stays."
"What the hell is going on, B?"
"Just get outside."
Marcus exited the bar with a shake of his head, closing the door behind him. Blake took a deep breath and strode across to the woman in white.
"You didn't have to make them leave on my account.” She swung around on the stool to face him.
Blake's breath seized; his wolf roared. His cock, neglected for longer than necessary, stirred. Her smooth skin glowed the palest ivory, making her appear fragile and untouchable. Bone straight, white hair fell to her waist, getting lost in the white of her tight blouse, distressed jeans and floor length coat. The killer heels on her feet were an obscene red, matching her lips.
I can hear your wolf,
she whispered in his head.
Why do you suppose he's fighting so hard to get out?
Blake flinched and stared into her mismatched eyes, feeling like he was floating. He tried getting into her thoughts but came up against a black wall.
That's right. I can read your mind, but alas,
she sighed dramatically
, you can't fuck with mine.
He closed the gap between them on unsteady legs, hands at his sides, heart hammering in his chest. Sweaty skin tightened painfully as his wolf clawed under his skin.
"Who are you?"
"Who do you want me to be, Blake?” Sex dripped from her low voice. Husky and silky-smooth. She posed a threat to him, to his wolf, to—
Now, now. A threat? Li'l ole me?
She winked her right eye, the gold one. The left eye sparked a vibrant, violet hue.
"What are you?” Standing next to her with his teeth clenched, Blake couldn't decide whether to grab her and spread her legs across the bar, or shoot her between those weird, gorgeous eyes.
"Um.” She licked her lips. “I vote for the first option.” He narrowed his eyes and she shrugged. “Just saying."
"Strange magic surrounds you,” he rasped. “And you bring it here, to my pack."
"Well, if you want to get technical, the strange magic doesn't surround me so much as it lives
in
me."
Blake reached a hand out, but snatched it back at the last second. “Get out now before I kill you.” He couldn't have her here, distracting him with her strange pull and her particular brand of magic.
She laughed. Invisible arms wrapped around his waist and jerked him forward. To her.
"There are many reasons you can't kill me, but let's start with the one you refuse to acknowledge.” Rising off the stool, she leaned over and dragged her tongue down his neck.
His wolf erupted, awakened further by her touch. His cock, aroused before, hardened to painful proportions. Blake growled and grabbed her by the neck. She stared at him with her lips curved, those eyes twinkling.
The name's Voltaire, but what do you call me, Blake?
He tightened his fingers around her neck. Her strange-ass pupils dilated. The wolf scented her arousal and went crazy, ready to mark. To claim.
Say it, Blake.
His eyesight dimmed as the wolf grew stronger, his other half already accepting what he fought to deny. Blake jerked her to him, speaking the word before his mouth descended on hers.
"Mate."
That's me.
Voltaire parted her lips but Blake thrust her away and stepped back. His chest rose and fell rapidly. She felt his struggle with the wolf—the animal intent on claiming her, the man fighting to stay in control.
It would be cute if she wasn't on the edge. She needed to feel him as much as he needed to feel her. Too bad he played hard to get.
"Who sent you here?” Muscles bunched as he clenched his fists and rocked back on his heels.
Voltaire hopped off the bar stool and approached him slowly.
"Here's the thing,
mate
, nobody sends me anywhere I don't want to go. You'll learn that soon enough."
"Don't call me that."
He snapped his teeth at her. The eyes, so familiar to her, flashed green flames. An outline of his hard cock pressed against the front of his sweat pants.
She licked her lips. “Don't call you what? Mate?"
Chest to chest with him, she breathed in his wildness and arousal.
"It's what you are to me, even if you aren't ready to acknowledge it."
Why the hell am I standing here debating this with him?
The danger surrounding him grew closer with every breath she took—she felt that shit coming.
"Did Czion send you here? You can tell him to fuck off. Not happening."
Voltaire laughed. “I'm here because your wolf wants me here. He's been waiting for five years."
His exotic features hardened to concrete. “What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Okay, Blake, I'll thank you to watch your motherfucking tone.” Shaking her head, she murmured, “Men,” under her breath.
Blake grabbed her by the shoulder and turned her around, hauling her back against the wall of his chest.
Voltaire rolled her eyes as he held her in a chokehold with his left hand. The right held a wickedly curved blade she fell in love with immediately. He pressed the weapon to the side of her neck, the sharp tip nicking her skin.
"Tell me why you're here,” he growled. “Else I'm sending you back to where you came from in pieces.” And he sounded quite sure about it, too.
Aww, too cute.
Voltaire wiggled against his front. Their bodies lined up perfectly so her ass caressed his cock. He sucked in a breath. Leaning her head back on his chest, she sighed.
You know, mate, all you're doing is making me wet. I've got a thing for aggressive men.
She used her mind to caress his back and squeeze his ass.
He groaned, the sound a deep rumble in her ear. When he pressed closer to her back, she eased the knife away from his tight-knuckled grip with invisible hands. The blade hovered in the air several feet from them.
"I'm all for knife play,” she whispered. “But we don't have time right now.” Twirling around, she met his hungry gaze. “I get your distrust of me, but why can't you put faith in what the wolf is telling you?"
His delicious lips thinned. “The wolf isn't in charge, I am. And right now, I want you far away from here."
"Aww.” She pouted. “If I were any of those other fake-ass bitches you seem to like fucking with, my feelings would be crushed right now.” Sliding a hand up his chest, she leaned in and licked his neck. The wolf went nuts. “But I know better, ‘cause I can see the mini-movie in your head,” Voltaire whispered. “The one where your head is between my thighs and I'm screaming your name."
He sank his fingers into her hair and jerked her head back. She met his eyes with a wink. Blake's elongated pupils darkened.
"Get the fuck out of my mind."
She grinned. “Yeah, no can do. Are you going to let me go, or keep me like this? I think you should know anything with your hands on me is fine."
The left side of his mouth twitched. “Who are you?"
"I told you my name. I want to hear you say it, Blake."
He shook his head, a lock of black falling into his eyes. “I can't. I'm not claiming you, I'm sorry."
Voltaire cocked her head to the side. Her toes curled. A challenge.
Ow-ee
. Her spine tingled. He really thought they would say goodbye, that she'd walk away. She read his regret and hunger, but also his strong resolve not to trust her, not with the unexplained magic surrounding her.
He was thinking of his pack, of the many threats coming from all sides, and he didn't want to subject them to another. Voltaire could respect that.
All I have to do is prove I'm not a threat...which will be a bit of a problem
She posed a threat to anything breathing.
"I think I might admire you more now than I did before.” She smiled at him. “But I'm sorry to disappoint. I'm not going anywhere."
A blast of cold chilled her spine and killed her smile. Bad things were about to happen. She reached inside her coat and pulled out her guns, one in each hand.
"We've got company,” she told him quietly.
His green eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about? Is this your doing?"
Ack, really?
"You know, Blake, if I didn't like you so much I'd shoot you for that. Now get your fucking men,” she shouted.
He made a rumble-howl and, one by one, his men lumbered through the door of the bar. Voltaire could see questions on their faces as they eyed her and her guns with open hostility.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She waved them aside. “Y'all can try to tear me apart later. Right now the felines are on their way and they've got plans."
"How do you know?” Blake asked. He stood at her elbow, with his men crowded behind them.
"I've got my ways,
mate
.” She looked up at him through her lashes. “Ways you won't know unless you claim me, and yes, that's blackmail.” Looking over her shoulder, she instructed the men, “I want everyone to stay behind me. Oh, and, uh, someone get me a drink. Preferably something with salt around the rim."
"We don't take orders from you,” the blond named Marcus growled.
Um, yeah, you kinda do.
Voltaire snapped her fingers and sent him flying backwards into the far wall. He grunted at the impact, then slid to the floor.
Talk to me when my drink is ready.
"Stop that,” Blake said. “Tell me what you know."
She cracked her neck. “No time."
The door of the bar splintered. Behind her, a deafening ruckus broke out. Blake's men had all shifted forms, their nails clicking on the wooden floors. Her would-be mate remained in his human form, but his growl rose louder than the rest.
Voltaire strode forward. Blake tried to grab her arm, but she shrugged him away. Jaguars, as tall at the shoulder as her knees, bounded through the ruined doorway. She waited until all six stood staring at her with their yellow-green eyes, before she addressed the leader.
"Hello, Czion."
A jolt rocked Blake as Voltaire spoke to the leader of the jaguars. Did that mean the jaguars had sent her after all? Blake didn't want to examine too closely the twinge of hurt coursing through him.
The first cat to come through the door reared back on his hind legs. His shiny, black coat disappeared as he shifted back to human. Czion Whitehall rose to his full size, towering over Voltaire in his nakedness, black hair flowing around his neck and shoulders. She swept a glance down his body and Blake's wolf growled in warning.
"V?” Disbelief was evident in Czion's voice. Clearly he hadn't expected to see her there. “What are you doing—you on a job?"
Voltaire shook her head. “Personal business—and you're part of it."
"How so?"
"Let's see.” She tapped a gun against her chin. “You've declared war on the wolves, no?"
Czion sent a glance loaded with venom Blake's way. “Yeah, but these were my ancestors’ lands before the wolves stole them. I want them back."
"Not gonna happen,” Blake snapped at him.
"We'll see, wolf. We'll see."
Czion turned back to Voltaire. His gaze softened and Blake gritted his teeth. They had a history, those two, and he didn't like it one bit. Familiarity had the fucking jaguar leader calling her
V.
He had no right. She belonged to Blake.
Yet you refuse to claim me.
"Czion, I'm thinking you don't want this war,” Voltaire said.
"Are you telling me what I can and can't do?” The jaguar stepped forward. So did Blake.