Authors: Aline Hunter
“God…damn…it…D,” Trey choked as he struggled to break free.
“Listen…to…me…”
Diskant lifted his arm up for a second time, intending to
respond to the request with more of the same, when trembling fingers grasped
his wrist and a soft voice whispered, “Stop.”
Christ, her voice was powerful. His entire body quaked upon
that touch and command, tremors spanning from his neck to his toes.
In that moment, all of the anger evaporated. The rage
shifted, becoming something different. Pure sexual need slammed into him, so
powerful he felt like Trey managed to land a sucker punch of his own when he
wasn’t looking. While all of the animals within raged for a turn, the most
powerful drowned them out and made their demands first. The cat wanted to lap
at her pussy and devour her cream, the wolf wanted to mark her throat as it
fucked her from behind and the grizzly wanted to rip the sheets on either side
of her fragile body as he pounded into her hot cunt over and over again.
He released Trey in the same motion as he rose and snagged
her around the waist. She gasped and her blue eyes rose to his face, going wide
in fear. He bent at the waist and wrapped an arm under her knees.
“W-what are you d-doing?” she stammered when he lifted her
like a husband would, swinging her effortlessly into his arms as if to cross a
threshold.
He didn’t look away, wanting her to see his shifting irises,
allowing his beasts to see her just as she witnessed them. Twin pools of
midnight blue were eclipsed as the pupils enlarged, dilating until only a
sliver of color was present.
“What I should have done a month ago.” His voice was no
longer wholly man, syllables rumbly as his vocal cords shifted and rippled.
The muted whispers surrounding them didn’t matter. He jumped
from the stage and left Trey to recover. Too long he’d waited, but no more. He
would mate her and claim her. They had time to work out the kinks after. She
might not understand what was happening but given time she would yearn for him
in the same manner. Regardless of past entanglements or reservations—even if
she wasn’t shifter but human—a mated female always came to her intended.
“Hold it right there, Diskant.” Brett barred his path with a
small casting wand clutched in his hand. To the random observer it might look
like a miniature baseball bat but Diskant was smart enough to know one solid
tap to the head would knock him out for several hours. “Put the girl down.”
“Don’t try to stop me,
lokkur
.” He growled and
brought the small body in his arms closer to his chest. “She is my mate.
Nothing you do will stop what’s been set into motion.”
Pinkie’s strangled whimper as she began to struggle and
thrash touched something inside of him and, for the first time, he smelled more
than an understandable amount of anxiety.
Terror burned his nose like red pepper and traveled to the
back of his throat, nearly choking him. Something he said obviously frightened
her, but what?
Realization hit unexpectedly.
She was obviously human, but could she possibly know what
his declaration meant? Had working around preternatural creatures caused her to
come to an awareness of some kind?
Did she know what he was?
“Be still.” He lowered his voice and chastised into the
delicate shell of her ear, refusing to lessen his hold, testing his theory.
“You stopped me before I tore apart my friend on the stage and I’m willing to
guess it was to keep the police from being called in after the last time. Did
you know that outburst was over a petty squabble? One of the leopards padded across
a wolf’s foot, refused to apologize and it was on. But that was nothing
compared to what it could have been. Take fighting for our mates. It’s not
smart to have shifters fighting over their females. In fact, it gets downright
messy.”
She went silent and he listened to the muted whispers of air
she drew through her nose. She definitely knew what he was, what all of them
were. He wasn’t sure how or why, but he wasn’t going to waste time in the club
asking.
They had more important issues to discuss.
“Come with me willingly,” he commanded in a throaty timbre,
“or you can expect just that. Brett won’t let you leave with me unless you
indicate it’s what you want, and I’m ready to make a go of it with him if he
tries to intervene. Hell or high water, Pinkie, I’m not leaving without you.
And no, that’s not a threat. It’s a bloody fucking promise.”
“Ava? Do you mind explaining what the hell is going on?”
Brett glared at the bundle in his arms and Diskant fought the grin that
threatened to surface when he learned his mate’s chosen name. It was beautiful,
without question, but for weeks he’d thought of her as Pinkie, and he couldn’t
imagine referring to her as anything else.
“I told you a lap dance was a bad idea.” She glanced up at
Diskant briefly before returning her attention to the warlocke and muttering,
“I didn’t realize he’d be here tonight.”
“So you do know him?” Brett didn’t seem convinced. A sharp
nod was her answer and Brett’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not lying.” Her voice was steady now and the fear
Diskant had scented was replaced by anger. “I told you I didn’t need to get on
the stage tonight. You didn’t listen. If you had we could have avoided this
entire fiasco.”
“I wasn’t aware you are involved with someone.”
For a moment Diskant saw red. Was Brett interested in his
female? Was this more than the concern of an employer for his employee? Outrage
and fury coursed through him. He’d rip the magic man’s testicles off and feed
them to him.
One by goddamn one.
“Now you are,” Diskant responded sharply, before Ava could.
“I wasn’t talking to you—”
“Damn it!” Ava yelled. “I don’t broadcast the goings-on of
my personal life at the bar. I don’t owe you an explanation. Piss off!”
“Satisfied?” Diskant didn’t wait for a response, moved
around the warlocke and strode purposefully toward the hallway. Nathan was
exactly where he’d left him and moved cautiously aside and lowered his gaze to
stare at the floor.
Reminded of the friend left face-up on the stage, Diskant
made a mental note to call Trey in the morning to find out what the fuck was
what—but not tonight. Tonight he was going to inform the tiny female in his
arms that she would never touch another male because she was intended solely
for him. As generous as he was with the stares and sexual comments earlier, he
wasn’t one to share. That would only worsen once he was lodged deep within her
and came while cradled inside those snug inner walls that would clench and milk
his cock like a fisting second skin.
The wetness in his leathers told him the slit in the tip was
oozing, aching and heavy balls armed and ready to pump his seed into his mate’s
womb and seal the first mark between them. The other two marks would involve
her implicit trust and willingness, but they didn’t have to happen overnight.
Most shifters with human mates didn’t bloodbond for several months, taking time
to prepare for the multitude of changes that went along with bonding to a
shifter.
Chavez’s wrinkled face was waiting when he strolled into the
kitchen. The chef’s brown eyes widened slightly when they settled upon Pinkie
but otherwise he kept what he was thinking to himself.
“Is that for me?” Diskant lifted the hand under her knees
and pointed at a large paper bag that was overflowing with Styrofoam boxes.
“We had some of the chicken parmesan left from a party
upstairs. I figured it was better to give it to you instead of throwing it in
the trash.”
Yes sir, Chavez always delivered.
Snagging the dual reedlike handles with his hooked index
finger, he instructed, “Charge it to my account.”
“I already did.”
Diskant grinned and walked past the smaller man, nodding his
thanks to the gawking line cook who opened the door wide and stepped aside.
When they exited the building and the door closed with a loud report, Pinkie
came to life again, struggling wildly.
“Put me down, right now!” she screeched. “I mean it, I’ll
scream!”
Shifting her slightly, he growled, “If you don’t stop, I’m
going to put the bag down, bend you over my knee and turn that beautiful little
ass of yours a nice shade of red.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” She sounded skeptical but the thrashing
ceased.
“Don’t count on it. I’ve been in hell the last few weeks.
Delivering a small dose of what I’ve suffered to your derriere might be just
what the doctor ordered.”
“I can’t be your mate,” she argued hoarsely. “You know that,
right? It’s not possible.”
He stopped in front of his bike and climbed aboard, keeping
her weight balanced with the arm under her legs. “And why is that?”
“I’m human,” she answered as if it were the most logical
thing in the world.
“And?” He situated her across his lap and used his free arm
to retrieve the bag and place it in her lap.
“And nothing!”
“Doesn’t sound like nothing to me, baby.”
She started struggling again, nearly sending the bag to the
concrete in her efforts to gain freedom. “Damn it, it won’t work, there is no
way—”
He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and arms, forcing
her to go still. “Why won’t it work? Tell me.”
“You’ll…you’ll…” She shrugged after a moment, staring
straight ahead, refusing to look at him.
Lowering his voice an octave, he prodded, “I’ll what?”
“You’ll hurt me,” she expelled in a rush. “I’ve heard rumors
of what it’s like, and in case you haven’t noticed I’m a third your size.”
For the first time in his life his heart actually felt laden
with an invisible weight. She might know about shifters but she didn’t
know
about shifters. A male would die before he ever harmed his mate. It was
ingrained from the moment of birth, buried deeply within, an instinct to
protect and defend, to nurture and cherish.
Grasping her chin, he forced her to meet his eyes. “I would
never hurt you. Believe what you will about me, my kind and our lifestyle. But
trust in this. To hurt you would be to hurt myself. We are connected, and
through that bond we will share both pain and pleasure.”
Arousal tinted the air and he struggled not to respond to
her need. He could sense her confusion and doubt, her uncertainty and fear.
First he had to take her home. There he would feed her, talk to her, soothe her
and, ultimately, claim her.
Caressing her cheek with his thumb, he whispered, “I’m going
to take you home with me. This thing between us isn’t going to go away. I
promise to be as patient as I can and to answer any questions you have. Just
don’t shut me out. That’s all I ask.”
For a moment he worried she might argue but then she nodded.
“As long as you promise not to do anything I don’t want you to do. We’re going
to talk, nothing else.”
He retrieved the key from his pocket and grinned. He’d have
her so needy and eager to come she wouldn’t know yes from no. Of course, he
wasn’t going to tell her that. The best way to learn sometimes was by jumping
in headfirst, and in this case, his head was making a beeline for the paradise
between her thighs.
He started the bike and growled in approval when she wrapped
her left arm beneath his jacket and clutched his ribs. “I won’t do anything
unless you beg me to, how’s that?”
“Dream on,” she muttered and he just knew she was rolling
her eyes.
Bending slightly at the waist, he revved up the bike and
purred, “Hang on, Ava mine. From here on in, it’s going to be one hell of a
ride.”
Chapter Five
They were just going to talk.
Yeah right.
Ava gulped and bit her lip when she felt Diskant’s
pronounced erection press into her back as he reached above her to retrieve
dishes from the overhead cabinet. The hard length prodded, pressed and rubbed
against her spine until it was difficult to remain still or keep quiet.
True to his word, he hadn’t done anything to garner her
anger or disapproval. However, those passing touches—his bristled chin against
her neck as he retrieved the key from the motorcycle, his large hands grasping
her waist to help her down from the bike, the heat of his breath caressing her
cheek as he bowed over her much smaller frame to open the door to the
firehouse—and the constant use of the nickname he obviously preferred, were
driving her mad.
His soft lips brushed against her ear as he whispered
huskily, “I’ll leave these here for you. I’m going to the basement to get a
bottle of wine and check on Oscar.”
An infinitesimal tendril of heat twined down her ear and
neck, traveling to her nape before prickling down her spine. Talking was out of
the question. Her tongue was too heavy, as were her breasts, which strained
each time they came within proximity of his body, the nipples going taut in
invitation.
Jesus, this is crazy
!
He was a shifter—an Omega! There was no logical explanation
for him to view her as a mate.
Granted, the reading material the Villati had shared was
limited. They only wanted to offer her a taste, attempting to bait her to join
their ranks with the promise of endless knowledge. There was nothing about
human mates inside those pages, not a single word. She’d learned a long time
ago while working the club that shifters didn’t date or become entangled with
humans. She assumed it was due to the fact that human women had to be too
fragile for what they wanted sexually. One wrong move and a night of consensual
sex could end in a homicide. Of that she was certain.
“Pinkie?” Diskant’s throaty murmur of concern snapped her
out of her dark musings.
Quickly clearing her throat, she managed to respond evenly,
“Wine sounds great.”
He shifted his hips as he passed, allowing her to feel the
firm ridge of his cock as it was pressed between his leather pants and her
cotton shirt. Her breath caught and a spasm at the apex of her thighs was
followed by a fiery flood of wetness as arousal rained from her sex and coated
her panties. Thighs quaking, she bit her lower lip again and forced herself to
remain still. She would not give in to the knee-jerk reaction to clench her
legs together. If she did he would notice, and she did have some pride left.