New Title 1 (25 page)

Chapter Nine

The rain blew across his face dampening his white fur, but the extra weight didn’t slow Rafe down. By Apa Dobrý, he had been running for a couple of hours already and his need for Yara still hadn’t dwindled. That witch had a fire inside her that was only matched by his own. Why was he surprised? The woman was a warrior who hung out with a demigoddess, for Hiad’s sake – but Yara was something more. He had smelled it in the Amazon and got a sniff of it at the masquerade party. Back then he had granted it to the environment they were in, not to her, but tonight it was there as clear as water, as distinct as her spiky black hair – a unique scent beyond the leaves after the rain. Rafe singled it out instantly – an animal. No, it was a beast. Not like his own, though. If she were a shifter by birth he would have spotted it from miles away. So, she wasn’t, and yet she did have a beast inside her and it might have something to do with her mind-boggling sexual hunger.

He snorted. What would Archie say if he learned of Rafe’s altar-boy manners? Truth be told, he hadn’t been lying when he told Yara that he didn’t do drunk girls. He didn’t. It was too hard to control the outcome, but on the other times it had been so much easier to walk away. Maybe it was the conundrum he got himself into, maybe not, all he knew was that it had taken him a herculean effort to leave her in that room. He first crouched on the other side of the door like a junkie, listening to her moans and pleas. He hadn’t wanted to leave the house before knowing she’d be safe by herself – how else would he know that what had gotten into her wasn’t going to get worse? It was only after her whimpers died down as she fell asleep that he allowed himself to leave her guard. Yes, it was a stupid gesture, and completely out of place for him – Archie would have a field day if he found out – but he couldn’t help it. He had never believed in the soul mate bullshit his grandparents told them about, but Mighty Soartas, it felt exactly like what they’d described. All wolves grew up hearing tales of lucky males who’d found their one true mate, and that they had known the minute they saw each other, because the pull was irresistible, the need to be together, undeniable. It was very curious, though, that whenever he asked the elders in the pack if they had ever met a lucky couple like the ones in the story, they changed the subject or disappeared. Because of that, Rafe knew his thing with Yara was probably the fruit of the situation, the danger, her strong will and his irresistible need to tame that shrew.

And tame her he would.

But first, he needed to find out what exactly she was hiding.

Rafe did a wide U-turn on the meadow and darted toward his home again. Suddenly, foreign noises reached his ears. They were high-pitched, in the distance. The more he got closer to his house, the clearer they became. They were female shouts, screams.

His heart raced. Yara.

Was she in trouble? How?

“I’m going to kill you!” he clearly heard her shout this time around.

Fuck! He put everything into his legs and picked up more speed. He only hoped he got to Yara before whoever was attacking her finished the job.

Chapter Ten

“I’m gonna roast you alive and leave you for the vultures!” Yara bellowed again.

She was absolutely fuming. She’d woken up to find herself chained to the bed, with only embarrassing memories to cool her down. Or should she say, to chill her up. Rafe had drugged her. That was the only explanation for her ridiculous behavior. There would be no way she’d have thrown herself at him like that – begging him to touch her. She didn’t beg! She demanded, never begged. And he had left her hanging. Literally. That bastard. For sure, he drugged her and then humiliated her. Her wounded pride pinched inside. Why hadn’t he made love to her? Her memory was a bit blurry but she remembered being ready and very willing … and he didn’t even get fazed. The only explanation was because he was a sick bastard who enjoyed degrading women. Yes, that was it, it had to be it. And now he was probably taking a nap feeling very pleased with himself.
Ai,
may the Soartas strike her twice if she didn’t wash that smirk off his face. And soon – as soon as she got her panther to break those handcuffs, which for some mysterious reason, seemed much stronger than she thought.

She thrust against the chains with all her might. They budged a bit but not even close to the level she needed. Next, she tried shifting. Her paws grew until they were so squashed that it hurt, and yet the damned metal didn’t crack. They seemed to have been bolted to the floor, which was quite a set up for a country boy like Rafe. The bastard probably jerked off watching his dates struggle in bed, alone.

“I swear you found your last meal, you rat bastard!”

The door suddenly swung open. Yara perched herself by the elbows to better see Rafe’s face.

A massive white wolf stared at her from the door sill.

Holy Apa Dobrý. Her jaw dropped, her pulse stopped. It was the same wolf from Brazil. What in Hiad was it doing in Rafe’s house?

The beast waited a moment, as if deciding what to do, then slowly crossed the threshold toward her.

Ai.

Yara’s panther went into overdrive. She hissed, snarled, thrust against the shackles. Yet her little show did nothing to stop the wolf from strolling around the bed and pausing just at her feet. Incredibly bright eyes pierced her as if it could see her inmã. Its long white coat shaped its features like a smooth mane. It was as beautiful as she remembered.

“Get away!” she growled.

The wolf ignored her and resumed walking around the room, as if in search of something. It looked around, sniffed the air, then disappeared into the en-suite bathroom.

The penny finally dropped.

“You son of a bitch!” Yara bellowed when she realized Rafe was the white wolf. “It was you! You were in Brazil! I swear to you, these handcuffs won’t keep me long, they will break eventually, and when they do, you better run, you bastard, because I will eat you for dinner!”

The wolf walked out of the bathroom and humphed – it actually humphed! Then it disappeared inside again.

Yara went silent. What was he going to do next? Faint sounds of bones cracking reached her, then a light odor of burnt hair saturated the air. A moment later, Rafe walked out of the bathroom, in his human form, the way he came into this world, bare naked.

Ai, Mighty Soartas.

He was truly a sight to be admired. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, strong thighs, six-pack to die for, all covered by amazing tattoos. But Yara’s gaze couldn’t leave the immense rod between his legs, pointing proudly at her. Her mouth salivated, her panther squirmed inside.
Turncoat, bitch
.

“I thought you were in danger,” he finally said, as if she had had no reason for throwing a tantrum.

She forced herself to look away. “Can you at least put some clothes on?”

“Why? Is my body too distracting?”

Even facing the other way, Yara could clearly
see
the smirk on his face. That man was going to have some, and then some more. “Ha! You really think you’re a God, don’t you? Please, don’t make me laugh.”

Her poisonous, and utterly false, remark didn’t get him to cover himself but at least it washed the sneer off his face.

He leaned against the door sill and crossed his arms over his ridiculously well-defined chest. “I’m curious. Why are you so mad at me?”

“Why?” Yara yelled back. “Are you blind or insane? Which one is it?”

“Again, what have I done to deserve the attitude?” he asked again, this time a bit harsher. His grey eyes were on the verge of fury.

“You shackled me!” Yara retorted wiggling her wrists at him.

“Because you were out of control,” he replied between clenched teeth. “You were not yourself and I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Her jaw dropped. “Do you really believe I’ll fall for that bullshit?”
Was he for real?

“You don’t have to fall for anything, because it’s true and you know it.” He pushed off the door and walked to her side of the bed – bare naked, deliciously bare. “I think I’m not the one you’re furious at,” he carried on. The damned smirk was back on. “You’re mad at yourself for showing me all your cards last night.”

“What cards? You drugged me!” Yara replied through clenched teeth. “The only reason I was even remotely into doing
anything
with you was because you put something on my soup.”

He looked down – the universal sigh for “busted.” He sat down on the mattress by her side. She quickly scooted over, as far away from him as possible.

“What was it, Rafe? Some kind of roofie?”

“You tell me, princess, it’s
your
stuff.”

“What are you talking about?”

He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his unruly hair. Then he crossed his legs – finally! – and leaned his elbows on his thighs. Wow, it was the same thing Yara did every time Sam tried to corner her about her “parties.”

“I put a bit of the special shake you made for Zoricah in your soup,” he confessed.

Yara frowned. “How did you know I made a shake for Z? Better yet, how did you get hold of it?”

Rafe looked away, his jaw tight.

“Rafe, answer me,” Yara snarled. “Who gave it to you?”

“I have my informants, the same way you do,” he replied. “But that’s not important.”

“It’s not?” Yara snorted.

“No,” he replied bluntly. “The important thing is to find out
why
someone wanted to kill you for it.”

Yara stared at him, blinking. She’d been so caught up on her embarrassment that she forgot the grand scale of things. Yes, someone
had
tried to kill her, hadn’t they?

“You made this shake, this mixture, for the queen, why?”

It was Yara’s turn to fall silent. There was no way she’d share information with Prince Charming-f-of-bullshit.

“Someone planted a bomb and tried to kill you because of this shake, Yara,” Rafe added. “Why is this … potion so important to the queen? I mean, it can’t just be making her uncontrollably horny, right?”

Yara felt her cheeks burn. Ai, that was so humiliating! Nonetheless, she lifted herself up, as much as the freaking chains allowed, and leaned stiffly against the bed rest. “The over stimulation of sexual stamina is only a side effect of this potion,” she stated.

“So what’s its main effect?”

“Let me go.”

“Tell me why the queen needs this drug and I’ll let you go.”

Ha! Not a chance
. “Tell me why you were in Brazil and I’ll tell you what the potion is for.”

Rafe exhaled a sigh and cursed under his tone. “Fine,” he conceded. “I’ll tell you what I was doing in Brazil, if you promise you’ll spill the beans about this weird shit you made for the queen. Deal?”

Yara nodded. 

“I was hired to follow you.”

Yara frowned. “Follow me? Why?”

“The dragons are on to you,” he replied. “Phillip, more precisely.”

Phillip. Of course, who else. Yara shook her head, scolding herself. “I should have killed that prick at the party.”

“Well, he left early,” Rafe replied. “He’s quite a sore loser.” His signature crooked smile lifted his deliciously rugged features, as he pierced Yara through his thick lashes.

Damn him! She knew exactly what he was referring to – the fact that he had got to her first, and that had led to the most intense five minutes of her life. Even utterly mad and disgusted by his latest actions, Yara couldn’t deny that Rafe knew how to make her burst into flames. Big time. How did that happen? She had no idea. She was a cat, he was dog. Cat and dogs don’t cross, right?

She bit the inside of her cheeks and forced her brain to take over. “Rafe, what you’re saying is extremely important and crucial for a mission I’m working on. Let me go, now.”

“What mission?” he asked back. “Tell me what this is all about and I’ll consider letting you go.”

“For Hiad’s sake!” Yara growled, letting her Latin blood boil away. “Let me go, Rafe.” She struggled against the chains, with even more power this time around. She kicked her legs up, pulled the shackles forward. It only made them tighter. Damn him!

Rafe just watched her, then he cocked his head sideways; his eyes roamed over her, up and down, then stopped on her uncovered legs. “You know that the more you move, the higher your shirt goes, right?” he drawled.

Yara stopped struggling at once, and looked down. The hem of her shirt hung dangerously high, almost revealing her intimate folds. One more inch and she’d also be bare, just like him.

Rafe let out a faint growl then leaned forward. “What are you, Yara?” he whispered.

“I’m a water witch, you know that.”

“No, you are so much more,” he drawled.

His hand left its resting place. Yara followed it. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you have a force inside you that is beyond any witchcraft I’ve ever seen.”

His hand hovered above her lower thigh, barely touching her skin. It was feather-like, but it was enough to send her pulse into high speed.

“What is it?” he whispered. “I sense a beast but you’re not a shifter by nature, are you?” Callused fingers slowly made their way along her inner thigh.

She closed her legs tight.

He paused. Holding her gaze on his, he wrapped his hands around her ankles and forced her legs open again. It was a blunt display of dominance and it should have repulsed Yara. It should have. Instead, she felt her insides quiver and moisture pool between her legs. But she wouldn’t give in to him that easy. Rafe
was
a sex god, and like every deity, he was extremely lethal.

“Rafe,” she muttered in warning.

“I asked you a question,” he replied simply. “What is it that roars inside you?”

Both his hands were now exploring her skin. He shifted on the bed to get better access. Yara took the opportunity to try and break her legs free, but his grip tightened around her ankles, and steadied her once again.

She swallowed dry.

He dipped his head and licked the sensitive curve of her inner knee.
Ai, Apa Dobrý!
Yara clutched her jaw tight to stop the moan from exploding out.

She took a few deep breaths and tried to ignore the wave of heat his tongue was sending up her legs. “Rafe, you don’t want to do this,” she croaked. Her voice was even huskier than usual.

He paused and looked up at her again.

“You don’t want to have this in your conscience.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you gonna tell me
you
don’t want this?”

Yara bit her lower lip but lifted her chin up. “No,” she lied.

“No, you’re not gonna tell me? Or no, you don’t want this?” he asked back. “Which one is it, kitten?” His hands were back on her thighs, but they were more daring this time around. He deliberately ran them slowly, oh so slowly, up and down, stopping inches from the dark curls underneath her shirt, then roaming back to her ankles.

Yara had no reply. All her concentration was being burnt with the effort to keep from begging him to touch her higher up.

He lifted an eyebrow at her, as if throwing down the gauntlet. His fingers drew wide circles higher, and higher, dangerously close to her junction.

Oh, by the Gods! It was too much for her to take, or to refuse! She bit her lower lip so tight, it almost drew blood.

“Give in, Yara,” Rafe whispered. “You want this, you want me inside you.”

She shook her head, stubbornly. “Never.”

“Never?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

She clenched her jaw even tighter and lifted her chin in defiance.

A small smile played on Rafe’s lips. “We’ll see about that.”

His fingers drew light trails on her inner thighs, slowly making their way up, higher, higher, driving Yara to insanity. He leaned down and blew between her legs. She felt her core flood in moisture, ache with need, but nothing prepared her for what came next. Rafe lowered his lips to her thigh and leisurely made his way up with his tongue, over and over again, taking his time. Yara’s hips rocked in response. She was panting now, completely ravenous. But she managed to hold her whimpers and moans in. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.