Authors: Billi Jean
There were many ways to defeat a person. Torture. Poison. Loss.
Who knew indifference could be one of them?
Indifference. Is that what drove Alex? A complete lack of feeling for anyone other than himself, and his pack?
She had no idea. All she knew in that instant, that startlingly crystal clear moment, was that the one being on earth that should break into a protective rage at her being touched—
let alone harmed and held by aroused demons threatening to rape her
—merely appeared annoyed. Irritated.
He stopped in front of them, glared at her demon captors, and said, “You’re late.”
His rough voice startled her. She’d never heard him speak before and now, at the sound, her heart stuttered sluggishly, burning a terrible path deep within her soul.
Had a day gone by that she’d not thought about hearing his voice? The sorrow—the ever-present pain—welled up and overshadowed the hurt she’d received from the demon. This man—this fierce, brave man—had the power to destroy her in a way that the demons never could, but he also had the power to save her.
“She was no’ easy to capture.”
Alex grunted and crossed his arms. He wore one of those leather trench coats many of the immortals wore when they were armed. No doubt, Alex was armed. Most likely with swords, knives and guns.
“That doesn’t explain why you’re late.”
Her stomach felt like she’d swallowed lead. He didn’t look like he was acting. His chiselled face with all its perfection looked tense and angry. He really wasn’t here to save her. He’d been the one to hire the demons.
Pain rushed her so unexpectedly her legs buckled and she would have fallen if not for the demon’s steel grip on her bound wrists.
She gasped painfully. She could
hear
her bones grinding against each other. She tossed her hair off her face and glared at the stupid demon.
In front of them, Alex lowered his arms and tensed as if he were going to launch himself. She noticed he fisted his hands, but he didn’t move.
“Ach, I said unharmed you daft bastard!”
The demon dragged her closer by his death grip. “She needed to be reminded who held her.”
At the demon’s words, Alex shot a deadly snarl at both demons. The one holding her dropped her arm as if she were suddenly poisonous.
Before she could recover her wits, Alex tugged her to him with a surprisingly gentle hand. He carefully examined her arm to her fingertips. He frowned, then tipped her head to the side, and wiped away the blood on her face, his eyes intent, but not one sign of his wolf flashed in his brown eyes. Instead, that irritated look deepened and he turned his attention back to the demons.
“I said
unharmed
,” he growled.
She forgot how to breathe. Literally, the need disappeared along with the knowledge. He smelt like the forests of her home—spicy with pine and something else—soap maybe, but under that his own warm aroma seeped into her even as she tried to barricade against it.
She wasn’t a wolf, she wouldn’t ache for her mate when the full moon rose, and she wasn’t a vampire, she wouldn’t need him close for his blood, but she was a
woman
and this was
her
man—or at least he should be. Her
mate
. Centuries before, she’d spotted him through a crowded market and had known he was her future. She’d nearly run right into him in her haste to reach him. Instead of sensing her as his mate, he’d stared down at her, then had turned and pushed his way through the villagers. She’d thought, for a second in time, that his wolf had flashed in his eyes, recognising her as his, but it had happened so quickly she’d often wondered if her girlish hopes and dreams had clouded her clear sight. The look of distaste before he’d turned arrogantly away hadn’t been mistaken though. She remembered that clearly, even now, hundreds of years later.
The pain from that long ago day still lingered, especially when to her, he was the most handsome man she’d ever encountered. His skin felt rough in that way men who use their hands became. He had just the right amount of toughness on his palms from his life as a warrior to make his tenderness all the sweeter. Was he a gentle lover? Or rough and careless?
With an uneasy look, Alex released her abruptly and stepped back. She saw no recognition in his dark brown eyes, merely wariness. He scanned her face once more, as if confused by her, then, dropping his gaze to her nightgown, his attention snagged on the breasts Mr Ugly had bruised. She watched, fascinated as he drew in a sharp breath, making his chest swell under his button down shirt. He didn’t turn his body, but he swung his head at the demons as if he could tell which one had touched her. Without looking away from them, he shifted her slightly behind him.
“Tell me why I should let you live.” While he had spoken, he’d shrugged his jacket off then still not looking at her draped it over her shoulders.
The growl in his tone shivered from the top of her head to her bare toes. Along the way, her traitorous breasts grew heavy and her nipples tightened until the silk of her nightgown felt painful against the sensitive tips. The battered right one ached for his touch, as if he could soothe the bruises.
With his jacket covering her from shoulders to toes, his scent and body heat surrounded her
. Goddess, please, let this not be happening
.
Tell me Alex isn’t here to buy me off two demons!
“She tried—” the taller demon began. Alex cut him off by jerking the demon by his shirt off the floor. She spotted a knife at the demon’s throat and heard him hiss as the blade drew dark, red blood in a line under his jaw.
“Don’t fuck with me. You knew my demands and agreed to them,” Alex said, sounding so pissed off she took a step back just in case all hell broke loose. “Don’t think to give me excuses now. You
touched
her, hurt her.”
The demon pushed at Alex’s fists but only managed to make Alex tighten his grip and back the man to the wall—hard. Alex’s big body hid him from her view, but she heard Mr Ugly gasping for breath.
The shorter demon tried to pacify Alex, but the one getting his oxygen cut off rasped, “Excuses? Listen, wolf, she nearly kicked me in the bollocks!”
“You nearly broke her arm!” Alex roared and shook him, then seemed to get his temper under control and dropped the demon. The guy fell against the wall panting while his partner frowned at Alex.
She couldn’t blame him. This wasn’t the cold, cool Alex she’d heard rumours of for years—this was a furious, ready to kick some ass Lykae. And an angry wolf was unpredictable. The other demon narrowed his eyes at her, then at Alex. If a Lykae called to his inner beast, he could kill several demons without breaking a sweat—two would be a piece of cake.
“She’s fine now. No harm, no foul. The potion, though, that should be your concern.”
The potion?
What potion?
she wanted to ask, but since Alex was still breathing hard and watching Mr Ugly as if he wanted to wring his neck. She stayed silent, knowing now was not the time to ask Alex questions. Instead, she soaked in every detail of him. His hair was shorter, the brown strands messy as if he’d run his hands through it too many times before coming here. His shoulders looked bigger in his neatly buttoned pale-blue shirt. He wore the twenty-first century well, but she could still see the cold-blooded killer—the Lykae she supposed—underneath it all. She could close her eyes and the vision of him six hundred years ago broke through her mind. Would she ever forget the way he’d dismissed her with disgust and left her standing in the crowded market more alone than she’d ever been in her life?
Obviously not, Sorcha. Focus on the here and now!
“Aye, hand it over,” Alex said, ripping her from the past more effectively than she’d been able to. She swallowed hard.
“We want paid first—”
“You get paid only when I have what we agreed on.”
The demon growled, wiping a hand over his neck, and looked indignant at the blood. He pointed at Alex with a shaky hand. “We want more. You never said she was the head of her coven, nor that she was—”
“You didn’t ask, you took the job, you deliver, you get paid what we agreed,” Alex interrupted in a low growl. “Be lucky I dinna send you back to hell missing your damn heads.”
She had an idea he didn’t mean the ones they were trying to think with either.
Alex advanced on both demons, clearly getting worked up again. “What the hell were you thinking bringing her here half-naked?” He moved closer and jerked the outraged assassin off his feet again as if he weighed nothing. “Answer me.”
The guy shook his head. “She was asleep. The fire breed never even knew we spiked the tea he brought her. We had to grab her when she was sleeping, that’s all, I swear.”
“Fire demon?” Alex didn’t relax his grip, but he swung an angry look at her. She frowned and backed up a step. “Dinna even think to escape.” With that snarl, he turned back to the assassin.
“Look, she had a man—a fire demon—at her place. We put the potion in the tea he brought her. She never knew she even took it, okay? Let up, would ya?”
Mr Ugly’s sidekick shifted his feet and drew a nasty, saw edged knife from his waist. “We want the rest of our promised fee, wolf.” He jerked his head at his partner. “Let him go.”
Alex grumbled something at them both. With a snarl, he released the demon hard enough to make the man stagger back several feet before he could stand upright again.
Alex nodded tightly and reached inside his coat.
Goddess, he
was
here to buy her!
He pulled something out she couldn’t see then handed it to the kidnapper she’d headbutted. In exchange, she watched as Alex took something from him.
“Twice a day, once at the midnight hour. Don’t be late or she won’t be anyone’s date,” the bigger demon joked.
A chill skittered down her spine.
Take it? Take what?
“But her powers? They are bound?” Alex asked.
The smaller, uglier little jerk nodded almost gleefully. “Oh, yes, most assuredly.”
Alex didn’t budge. She’d heard of how suspicious he was of anyone not a pack member. It was amazing that he dealt with demons at all. Had he lowered his standards for kidnapping her?
“Even from a warlock? He won’t be able to sense her power?”
The assassins exchanged an uneasy glance.
From a warlock? What warlock?
The taller one said, “Her powers are as good as gone.”
Her powers were as good as gone.
Good as gone
.
Sweet Bridget, how can you let this happen? This has to be a dream.
You are simply telling me I am using too much power, right? Doing too much?
She swayed on her feet. Miserable, she watched Alex nod once. He must have seen her weakness because he pulled her to his chest, inspecting her face again as if he could read her thoughts.
Her heart felt like it turned to stone in her chest. He’d kidnapped her, taken away her powers and simply nodded as if the devastation—the loss—meant nothing to him.
Her pain
meant nothing to him.
She
meant nothing to him.
She watched in a daze as the demons turned and loped off, leaving her alone with one of the coldest, meanest wolves on the planet—who also happened to be her mate.
Or should have been her mate.
Chapter Two
As soon as the demons had left them, Alex had looked at Sorcha’s upturned face. Mistake. She looked like someone had just ripped her heart out. She smoothed her features but not nearly quickly enough for him to have missed the haunted expression. He almost thought she looked fearful.
“What is going on? Why are you doing this?” she asked in a whisper.
She hadn’t asked if he was here to aid her, the smart witch. Why did that bother him? He
was
here to use her. He’d paid those men to kidnap her, after all. Still, for a moment, when he’d first walked up and seen the blood on her face, he’d considered telling her the truth instead of the lies he’d thought up to cover his actions. But he didn’t know this witch and should be able to use her without hesitation to get what he wanted. He had to keep it that way—cold, remote—or, he suddenly realised, he damn well might not be able to take this chance at retribution.
“What I’m doing doesn’t concern you,” he told her firmly.
She will hate you now.
The whisper echoed through his mind, but he stood his ground. What she thought of him didn’t matter. Nothing did beyond the vengeance he would now deliver—with her as his bargaining chip.
“What? Are you seriously telling me you had me kidnapped?”
He didn’t respond. What did she want from him? She puffed her heavy red hair off her face with a look of sheer exasperation that managed to both captivate him and prime him for tasting those soft pink lips. After another moment of silence, she looked away from him.
Only then did he realise he’d been staring at the beauty of her face, merely holding her so he could feel her body heat. He stepped back and crossed his arms.
Sorcha pulled his jacket closer with her bound hands, looking so damn adorable he wanted to take the thing off, but he knew what was beneath—her nearly naked lush curves. He stood his ground.
“Look, this is ridiculous. We’re on the same side,” she managed to pull a pretty decent haughty stare before she continued in a tight voice, “Tell me what is going on and perhaps I will aid you.”
Right.
Just hearing that tone had him fisting his hands to show her who held the power. He couldn’t let her get the upper hand. That would lead into territory he didn’t think either of them would survive. He couldn’t do it. If he touched her, there was a chance he might not be able to stop. For centuries, he’d locked his wolf away, had refused to listen to even a murmur from the beast, but now, one look at her and he felt a stirring. Hell, a stirring? He’d felt on edge from the moment he’d exited his SUV, ready to jump into action and he had no idea what that action would end up being—her thighs open with him between them, or two demons dead at his feet.
“Hello? Did you hear me? Untie me.” She jerked her head to the side, dislodging a long chunk of bright red hair from her face and cast an irritated look at him.
“There will be no untying you,” he said clearly. His voice came out lower than usual, sounding more and more like a growl. Deep in his chest, he felt the warm stirring of his beast, stronger now, and clearly not willing to stay down.
She took a step away, casting a look towards the intersection. He closed the distance between them and gripped her arm, careful not to harm her. “Witch, I don’t want to harm you, but if you try to—”
“Witch?” She tugged at his hands, but when he didn’t let up, she stopped. “Are you saying you don’t know who I am, Alex? Well, listen, buster, I know who you are, so explain what is going on. What warlock? Explain.”
Her commanding tone—coming from a woman that barely reached his chest—amused him. How had he never met her? The immortal world could be damn small at times, yet he’d not once met her. She stunned him, completely threw him, even the pictures he’d managed to gather of her had captivated him. Now, she stood in the flesh, more vibrant than anything he’d ever seen his life, and blew him away. How had he never sat at a council with this woman—the head of her coven?
The reminder of her position was timely. He needed to keep in mind that she was used to getting her way. The demons had stolen her from her home—he wanted to remind her—after she’d had a demon over. A
fire
demon. He’d bet his left nut she’d been all cosy with Agni. Why that made him bristle and feel like hunting the fire breed, he couldn’t say. What kind of man was Agni that he could claim her attention? A beautiful, passionate, strong woman?
He nearly shook his head at his thoughts, but pulled her closer by her tiny arms instead, forcing her to meet his gaze.
“You’ll do well to remember two things,
witch
.”
He’d stressed ‘witch’ to remind himself she wasn’t of his pack. He shouldn’t feel like mounting her until she screamed his name through orgasm after orgasm.
“You’ll stay with me, and you’ll remain quiet. Those two things will allow you to survive this.”
Untouched
, he wanted to add, but after the demons pawing her, he wasn’t going to threaten her in such a way. “What I do, and why, is my business not yours.”
“Like hell it is. You can’t just kidnap me!” She tried to break free, but she might as well have tried to move a mountain. He didn’t tighten his grip, he didn’t have to. Instead, he let her struggle so she could learn he was the one in control. She did, for far longer than he’d expected. Long enough that he worried she’d have bruises, but he still didn’t release her. Finally, she stopped her struggling and glared at him. Gone was her icy demeanour from seconds before, replaced with anger so bright he swore he could see fire in the depths of her eyes. What would her passion be like? Blazing, he guessed.
“Let go of me!”
She had spunk, but he didn’t show how her flare of temper pleased him. Instead he glowered at her as he would a youngling. She backed up a step, but he simply halted her with the grip he had on her upper arm.
His heart raced, pumping enough blood through his veins to make his cock rise, hard as steel and ready to find out just how fiery she could get. Deep in his mind, he felt his wolf rear its head, unwilling to stay silent. The urge to kiss her into submission roared through him so violently he had to clench his muscles not to move.
You will not kiss her.
He would not allow their lower bodies to touch either. He would
not
. Only when he’d corralled his lust and his wolf, did he attempt to speak and even then he had to swallow several times before he dared.
“Don’t test me, witch. It’s simple, remember these two things—stay with me, do what I say and when I say it, stay quiet—and you just might survive, witch” he muttered, pausing when his voice came out husky with need.
Without a hint of fear or hesitation, she rolled her eyes and said, “That’s three, moron. And do you think—I mean, seriously think—
you
can keep
me
? I’m a witch, as you so sweetly pointed out, and that means—”
He released her and stepped back to pull his knife from his boot. She froze in mid-sentence then stood as tall as she could, and still barely reached his chest.
“My coven will fry you—after they skin you,
Lykae
.”
Lykae.
Is that all she saw when she looked at him? “Not if you’re healthy and whole when I return you,
witch
.”
She paled and took a step away from him.
He followed her.
“I wouldn’t bet the dog house on that, buster.”
He kept the smile from his face by sheer stubbornness. She had spirit, this witch. He knew she had to be scared—hell a witch relied on her powers for protection—but she didn’t back down. He sliced through the tangled ropes still circling her wrists, being as careful as he could of her hurt arm.
She froze like a startled deer, which made him wonder what she’d thought he’d do with the knife. When she didn’t say another word, he watched her expressive face for a sign that she accepted that he wasn’t letting her go.
Her face fascinated him—and what he could see of her curvy body through her thin nightgown had him on fire. The shadow of her rounded nipples teased the silk, making his mouth flood with anticipation. The tantalising glimpse of a shadow between her thighs had his hands tensing to ease the sheer material up to discover if she was as fiery below as she was above.
“Put this on, arms through.” His voice had got harsher, but she smoothly obeyed, sliding her arms through his jacket, looking at him as if he were some kind of monster.
“Give me your wrists.”
She hesitated, and he rolled the leather out of his way then used the softer rope he’d brought to tie her again. Her breath caught, possibly from pain, but all he could think about was how her breasts rose, outlining her nipples clearly.
The demons had seen her this way. They’d harmed her, hurt her face and if he guessed right by the way she held herself too stiffly, her ribs or stomach were painful as well. The rough ropes had scraped her ankles and arms, but with fresh air, he knew they should heal quickly enough. He refused to ease her wrists.
He needed to keep her as far away—physically and mentally—from him as possible. He shouldn’t feel this for her. Shouldn’t want her this badly. The guilt he’d felt stroking off to the pictures he’d found of her had been minuscule in comparison to the mind-blowing orgasms he’d experienced. Now she was a breath away, tied and helpless.
He forced himself to ignore how damned primal that made him feel. And how her sexy comebacks stirred something in his chest. Humour, maybe.
She was a distraction and if he gave this witch an inch—any reaction other than business—she’d take him for miles.
Already he felt himself hardening further at the scent of her. Heather and fresh, warm sunshine mixed with hot, wet woman. That’s what she reminded him of—lazy days spent under the summer sun as a lad, relaxing in the barley—and hiding from his chores, no doubt—while he dreamt of a woman that wanted him like no other.
She stirred him in ways he hadn’t expected.
Why think of those long ago dreams now?
She’d not spoken again since he’d drawn his knife. No doubt, she feared him, but he guessed she was also indignant. Her eyes were icy now, lacking anything other than clear, stubborn pride. She likely believed he’d cave and release her. There wasn’t a chance of that. He needed her, and not for what his body demanded.
After years of seeking vengeance, he found the one way to reach the magic user, Zith, and when he did, the mage would die. Zith wanted Sorcha. He wanted her badly enough to trade her for a useless pendant he believed Alex would break his pack’s alliances to gain. The pendant meant nothing to him. The mage’s blood on his blade—his life spilling out on the dirt with Alex above him making certain the bastard knew who’d ended his life—meant everything. And now, thanks to one beautiful witch, he’d gain his vengeance.
“We leave. Now.”
“You have got to be insane. I am not—”
He cut her off simply by jerking her closer. Eventually, he knew, she’d piss him off. Already he was tense, fighting an erection that wasn’t listening to him. It had been far too long since he’d bedded a wench, but Sorcha wasn’t a wench. She was a beautiful, fiery witch. And worse, after experiencing what it felt like to
imagine
bedding her, they’d never survive if he finally
did
bed her. Her bravery—as foolish as it was—was turning him on even more.
He bent, tore off a piece of her silky nightgown—trying to hold in the jealous growl that the demons, and maybe even Agni, had seen her in it—and used it to try to gag her.
She bit him. Hard.
His shaft pressed against the zipper of his jeans sending a shot of painful arousal through him. Every muscle strained as he fought the desire to sink into her in hard, heavy thrusts of his hips to the sounds of her passionate cries of pleasure.
When he could touch her and not harm her, he brought her flush against him, only keeping her lower body clear of his. He got a full dose of her tantalising scent, but he also made sure she understood he was one hell of a lot more powerful than she was.
“Do you need a lesson in why you shouldno’ bite a man like—”
“I doubt I will ever want to bite anyone again you knuckle dragging Neanderthal, so go ahead. If you think you’re going to—ahhh!”
He tackled her against the car, jammed the cloth in her mouth then tied it off behind her head. Her crimson hair got in the way, and he fought to keep himself from testing the silken strands in his fingers. As soon as he’d got the knot tied off, he held her pinned so he could gain his balance before letting her up. Her hair was smooth and long. It brushed against his bare arms and neck, sending spikes of pleasure along his neglected body. When was the last time he’d bedded a woman? Felt soft flesh encase his cock? Held someone close as he spent himself? Held a woman while she slept?
Had he
ever
held a woman while she slept? If he had, the memory lay long forgotten and lost to him now.
Sorcha was stiff, her smaller, softer body unyielding and her breathless pants not from passion, but from rage. She practically shook with it. Her swift anger intrigued him, but the damn chit would hurt herself.
He tugged her hair gently out of the knot, swept more off her face, and pulled her up without meeting her eyes. He walked them to his parked truck, opened the side door, picked her up and dumped her inside on her butt. She hissed and winced when he did, but he’d not harmed her, the seats were comfortable. But the demons had. And with her mouth bound, he couldn’t ask her what pained her.