Dark Wolf Rising (Bloodrunners) (14 page)

“You’re right,” he admitted, blowing out a rough breath. “I’m sure I’d feel the same if I were you.”

Getting back to her original topic, she said, “What I was trying to tell you is that I understand now what you were trying to warn me about. You really were just trying to keep me from getting hurt. And then, when I didn’t listen to you and went back to the club, you risked your life to get me out. So I’m sorry I acted like such an ungrateful bitch.”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing, Chelsea.”

“I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry.”

“Fine,” he muttered under his breath, thinking that all these apologies were getting damn uncomfortable.

She moved to her feet, her hands a little restless at her sides, until she crossed her arms over her chest. Then she carefully said, “You killed him, didn’t you? That bald guy in the hallway at the club?”

He gave a slow nod.
Well, hell.

“Why?”

“He threatened you,” he explained in a low rasp. “Said they’d see you dead before they let me have you.”

“Oh.”

He wasn’t sorry for killing the bastard. Hell, he’d have killed the blond one, too, if she hadn’t been watching him.

He thought she’d ask him more about the killing, but instead, the next thing she said was, “That whole attitude thing you had going when we got here this afternoon. What was that about? Did you think I’d blame you for what you are?”

He snorted, shaking his head. “You blame me for being a guy. What was I meant to think?”

She made a low sound of frustration, as if he was being thick. But it made perfect sense to him. She judged men without getting the facts, so why should he think she’d react any differently to the unsettling news about his species? How the hell was he meant to know she wouldn’t freak and try to nail his ass with a silver bullet? Not that it would kill him, but she wouldn’t have known that.

She took a deep breath, looking as if she was savoring the air in her lungs, before she slowly released it. Then she quietly asked him if he gave off a scent. When asked what she meant, she said, “An attractant? Something that causes desire? Because you smell...really good, Eric.”

He nearly exploded on the spot, knowing exactly what she was getting at. She wanted him, and was trying to learn if the attraction was chemical...or real.

Christ, in a past life he must have been such a bastard, because this was a torment of biblical proportions, standing there and hearing her say his scent made her hot, but not being able to do anything about it.

“Eric?”

“Um, no,” he muttered. “No special scent.”

“Oh. Okay.” She frowned. “I just thought that might explain why Perry ran off, chasing after this guy. I thought that maybe he...affected her or something.”

“She might have a taste for the danger he represents. The thrill. But I doubt it’s more than that.” Unless she turned out to be the Lycan’s mate, but he wasn’t going down that road tonight.

“But you do think she’s with another...Lycan, right?”

Nodding, he said, “After what we’ve learned about that strip club, yeah.”

She closed her eyes, looking a little ill.

“If she’s still alive, we’ll get her back, Chelsea. It’s just going to take some time.”

“Do you have a plan?” she asked, opening her eyes again.

“Yeah.” She followed after him as he headed into the kitchen, took a beer out of the fridge and propped his back against the counter. Then he told her about Sophia Dawson. She listened as she sat at the table, her head propped on her hand, asking questions from time to time, until she finally started to fall asleep right in the middle of their conversation. With a grin on his lips, Eric set his beer down and walked over, thinking he ought to carry her to the bed, when she suddenly woke up with a startled shriek, flinching when she found him standing right next to her.

“I’m sorry,” she panted, pressing one hand to her chest as he took a few steps back, giving her more space.

“Don’t worry about it,” he grated, crossing his arms over his chest so that she wouldn’t think he was getting ready to grab her. “And this seems as good a time as any to tell you that despite what happened between us last night, you don’t need to worry that I’ll try anything with you while you’re here. You’re not really my type.”

She blinked, some of the wild color fading from her cheeks. “I’m not?”

He knew this was for the best, but it still made him feel like an ass. Forcing himself to go through with it, he said, “Naw. I prefer to bed things I don’t have to worry about killing.”

He’d already walked out of the room, and was making his way down the hall, when she said, “You’re lying.”

He stopped in his tracks and slowly turned around. “What?”

She lifted her chin and whispered two soft, husky words. “First time.”

His heart started to pound a little harder. “Chelsea, what the hell are you talking about?”

“In the motel, when I was...asking you for sex, you said you weren’t taking me like that for our
first time.
Thereby implying that we would eventually be having sex with one another.”

Eric deliberately arched a brow. “You should know by now that men say lots of things they don’t mean when they’re in motel rooms.”

She lifted her brow to mirror his. “When they’re in their homes, too, I guess.”

Shit. She was too smart for her own good. And he was so screwed. “I’m not talking about this.”

“Then I guess this is good night.” Then the little human just turned her back on him and walked into the guestroom, shutting the door behind her.

Eric didn’t know how long he stood there, staring at that closed door...wondering what he was going to do. And hoping like hell that he found the strength to stay away from her.

Chapter Nine

T
he next morning, after her shower, Chelsea stepped out of the bathroom wearing her last pair of clean jeans with another short-sleeved button-down shirt, and nearly ran right into Eric.

“I’m sorry,” she said, quickly stepping back to put some space between them, until her spine was pressed against one side of the hallway. She was painfully aware of her wet hair hanging in ropes around her face—a freshly scrubbed, slightly bruised face that unfortunately didn’t have an ounce of makeup on it.
Damn.
“I didn’t...I didn’t think you were here. I heard you leave earlier.”

“Just got back.” He watched her with the predatory intensity of a hawk. Or rather, a wolf, she corrected herself, finding his Lycan heritage easier to believe when he was standing right in front of her. While he was out, she’d been hoping to use his computer to do some research on Lycans, eager for any additional information she could dig up on his species. But if she got lucky, maybe he would simply answer some of her questions for her.

“You sleep okay?” he asked.

She gave him a tight smile. “Great, if you can believe it.”

Something moved through his dark gaze—something hot and primal—and she reacted with a shiver, chill bumps racing across her bare arms. Last night, when they’d been talking, she’d actually argued that he wanted her. But that had been more pride and temper than actual confidence. After she’d gone to bed, her old doubts had crowded back into her mind, making her feel like a fool for the things she’d said to him. She didn’t recognize herself around him. Didn’t know this woman who looked and wanted and hungered with such visceral craving, as if she were starved for him. Who could say things that she never would have dreamed of saying to another man. She didn’t know if it was because of what had happened between them after she’d been drugged, or if it was just Eric. But she liked the way he made her feel, every bit as much as she hated it.

No, she realized, sorting through the chaotic tangle of her thoughts. It wasn’t the feeling that she hated. It was the fear. That he could hurt her. That he could make her vulnerable in a way no other man ever had. Not physically, because that was a given. She was human, while he was...something much more primal and powerful. But her fear didn’t stem from their differences. It was rooted in this strange attraction that held such a strong emotional element. That held so much power. It was as if he vibrated with a raw, sexual frequency that pulled on her, making her crave him with an intensity that was unlike anything she’d ever known. Such a heady, wonderful feeling, and yet, it made her feel so lost. Threw her even more deeply into new, uncharted territory than the knowledge that werewolves were real, walking the streets around us.

“How do you feel this morning?” He rubbed his palm across the rugged angle of his jaw, the sleeve of his
T-shirt shifting to reveal the bottom edge of that sexy tattoo wrapping his thick biceps, and his voice got even lower. “Are you sore?”

Her face flooded with color. “I’m fine,” she choked out, stunned that he would just lob a question like that right at her, like a grenade, without any warning. The man was a fiend!

His gaze narrowed, and from this close she could see the way his long lashes tangled together at the corners of his eyes. “It might be a good idea to have Jillian take a look at you anyway,” he rumbled in that low, rough-velvet voice.

“I told you I’m fine,” she said, trying hard to ignore the effect that wicked-as-sin voice had on her, heat spreading through her system in a slow, inexorable slide. “But I do have some more questions for you.”

With a grin lifting the corner of his mouth, he rested his back against the opposite wall, his hands placed behind him. “I’d be surprised if you didn’t.”

Fiddling with the wet ends of her hair, she said, “Jillian told me about Shadow Peak. How many pack towns like that are there here in the U.S.?”

He gave her a higher number than she’d expected, and she shuddered. “I’ll never look at small towns the same way again.”

“You wouldn’t be able to tell which ones are human and which...aren’t. Not just passing through. We’re good at hiding what we don’t want others to see.”

Taking a deep breath, she held his dark gaze and asked, “Will you...show me? A change? Even if it’s only a partial one—like maybe just your hand?”

She watched the muscles in his face tighten, his dark brows pulling together as he said, “I don’t think that’d be such a good idea.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to make you more afraid of me than you already are,” he bit out in a rough tone. “So drop it.”

“I’m not afraid of you, Eric.” She might be out of her mind, but it was true.

He watched her through his long lashes, as if he didn’t want her to be able to read the look in his eyes. The brackets around his mouth were deeper, his breaths getting deeper, too, and she had the craziest feeling that he was completely focused on her, aware of her every movement, no matter how slight—of her every thought, no matter how crazy.

Finally, he said, “Your adrenaline levels are off the chart right now, Chelsea. Whatever’s causing it, I’d rather not add to your tension.”

Letting it go, she crossed her arms over her chest and asked, “How did it go with Sophia?”

He explained that the girl had agreed to talk to Brandon, and was going to visit him that afternoon. When he noticed how nervous she was about the plan, he frowned, saying, “I thought you’d be relieved she was willing to do it.”

“I am, because I want Perry found. But I hate the idea of another woman putting herself in danger.”

“She’s not human, Chelsea.”

Her chin lifted at his tone. “She’s still a woman.”

One of his dark brows arched. “So then you don’t think we’re all monsters?”

She flinched. “I never said that.”

With a smirk, he said, “Honey, your face was saying a hell of a lot last night that your mouth never did. Doesn’t mean you weren’t thinking it.”

“You’re wrong,” she argued, hating that that’s how he saw her. “I’m not a judgmental person.”

A gritty laugh rumbled up from his chest, and he shook his head. “Hell, Chelse, you’re one of the most judgmental women I’ve ever known.”

She scowled. “If that’s how you feel, then I’ll just get out of your—”

He caught her as she tried to storm past, pressing her back against the wall and trapping her there with ridiculous ease—caging her in with his huge, hard, muscular body. God, she had to tilt her head back just to see his face.

With his fingers still wrapped around her upper arm, he braced his free arm against the wall and stared down into her eyes with a dark, hooded gaze. “You might be a man-hater, Chelse, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want you so bad I can taste it.” His voice was so soft she almost didn’t hear the words. But she watched them form on his lips, mesmerized by how such a sensual mouth could belong to such a hard, rugged male.

“Last night, you said I wasn’t your type,” she reminded him, trying to sound unaffected. But she had a feeling he could see right through her. That he could sense the need and the lust roiling through her system, breaking her down.

There was no doubt that she wanted him—she just didn’t want to want him, damn it. Not when he made her feel so out of control. So desperate and needy.

“Yeah, I might have said that, but what the hell do I know?” he drawled with a crooked smile. “I’m just a stupid alpha jackass, right?”

“You said it, not me. But I’m certainly not going to argue the fact.”

She’d expected him to be insulted, but he threw back his head and laughed—another rich, husky, bone-melting rumble of sound—then looked back down at her with a devastating smile kicking up the corner of that beautiful mouth.

She swallowed, feeling as if the entire situation was slowly slipping out of her control.

But for the first time in her life, Chelsea just didn’t give a damn.

* * *

The memory of the time he’d spent with her in that cheap motel room had tortured Eric through the long hours of the night, but he’d been ready to put it in perspective. To put it in its place. Planned on staying rational, calm, distanced...

But it wasn’t happening.

She might drive him crazy, but she was more than just a pretty face—more than just a sexy, mouthwatering body. The force of Chelsea’s personality all but shimmered around her, glowing beneath her skin, smoldering in those big blue eyes that reminded him of the summer sky on a blistering hot day, when even the clouds had been burned away. He couldn’t get enough of the unique patterns of her speech or the warm sensuality of her voice, pathetically hanging on to her every word whenever she opened her mouth, as if he wasn’t coming apart at the seams—wasn’t unraveling like a code that’d suddenly been deciphered after thousands of tries. He even admired her devotion to her sister, though he didn’t approve of the risks she’d taken in trying to find her.

And she hadn’t run screaming when she’d learned the truth about him. Unbelievable.

That thick, carnal burn of desire was building in the air between them, vibrant and sharp, and he knew she felt it, too. Her eyes were going wide...her scent rising with the heat of her body. He knew, instinctively, that he could lower his head and kiss her. Knew that she wanted him to. But he wanted her to admit it, damn it. Needed to hear it from her lips.

“Yes or no, Chelsea.” His voice was raw...thick. “Make a decision. Don’t screw around with me.”

She blinked, suddenly looking a little pale beneath the rosy color in her cheeks. “A decision?”

“Do you want me?”

“I shouldn’t.” The pink tip of her tongue swept over her lower lip, and she took a quick breath, as if gathering her courage. “But I do. It’s...crazy.”

“What? Us?”

“The craving,” she whispered. “I feel like I’ve been drugged again. What the hell are you doing to me, Eric?”

She might not like him, but she wanted him. He could see it in her dilated eyes, read it in the flushed angles of her expression, feel it in the provocative heat pulsing from her soft, delicate skin. Physical hunger was all he’d ever expected from the women he slept with, but for some frustrating reason, it wasn’t enough now. Not with this one. He needed...damn it, he didn’t know what he needed from her. He just wanted to take...and take, until he’d figured it out.

“I know I should stay away from you,” he said with a soft growl. “I told myself I would. But I...can’t. I can’t do it. You’re gonna drive me outta my goddamn mind.”

His breathing turned ragged as he let go of her arm and lifted his hand to her face, rubbing the corner of her mouth with his thumb, stroking the pad across her lush lower lip. Unable to wait a second longer, Eric pressed down, opening her mouth, and sank his tongue inside, taking possession as if he owned it, owned her.

It was so strange, how after everything he’d done to her when she’d been under the influence of the drug, he hadn’t actually tasted her mouth until now. If he’d known what he was missing—how unbelievably sweet she was—he wouldn’t have been able to resist. And now he was done for. Her hands curled around his head, holding him to her, her grip as desperate as his own as he sank one hand into her hair, the other moving boldly over her hip and side. She was wild in her passion, her tongue rubbing against his, tasting with hungry, sexy licks that made him feel crazed. Made him feel like the top of his friggin’ head was about to blow off. The kiss was hard and raw, flavored with erotic violence and need. With cravings that were unwanted, but undeniable.

Desperate for the feel of her, Eric curved his hand around a firm breast, her nipple deliciously hard against his palm, thick with desire. Pulling his head back, breaths jerking roughly past his lips, he watched as he tore her shirt open and unhooked the front of her bra, revealing the pale, beautiful slopes of her breasts...the berry-red nipples, puckered tight and sweet. Before she could draw her next breath, he lowered his head over her, a deep, gravelly animal sound rumbling in his chest as he took her in his mouth, sucking and licking as if he’d go mad without the feel and the taste of her against his tongue.

Minutes later, he wasn’t quite sure how they’d ended up on the floor in the middle of the hallway, but they had. Her shirt and bra were lying open at her sides, jeans around her knees, his hand shoved inside her panties, as if that was where it belonged. He could remember having her sweet little nipple in his mouth, hearing those sexy moans slipping past her lips, and then everything had gone wild. He’d made her come with the thick thrusts of his fingers, her juices drenching his hand, and now he was lying on his side, facing her with his weight braced on his forearm as she lay on her back, her eyes closed, looking more beautiful than any other woman he’d ever known.

This was so wrong, but Christ, it felt so right.

“I thought I must have been imagining it,” she whispered, her voice a little breathless and low. “The way you’d made me feel at the motel. Thought it must be the drug. But it wasn’t. It was real.” Opening her eyes, she turned her head a little to look at him, her gaze full of wonder and a small part of fear. “How do you do that to me? Make me let go like that?”

“Why does it surprise you?” he asked, painfully aware of the fact that if he didn’t come soon, he’d probably end up doing some permanent damage to himself.

“It’s embarrassing to admit, but I’ve been called frigid more than once.”

His eyes narrowed. “By who?”

“Just a few of the men I’ve dated,” she told him, trying to shrug it off, as if their criticisms hadn’t hurt her. But he could tell that they had.

“Then they were all dickless little runts,” he muttered, outraged on her behalf, even though he couldn’t stand the thought of another man having his hands on her. “You’re not frigid, Chelsea.” His palm cupped her possessively. “Far from it. You melt me down just by looking at me. God only knows what sex will do. I might never recover.”

“Maybe we should stop, then,” she murmured, sounding completely serious. He wasn’t sure she was actually teasing him until she added, “In the name of good health and all that.”