Chapter 6
“This is ridiculous,” Kellen muttered as he crammed himself into the passenger side of the Prius.
Analia bit her lip to prevent a smile. At least he hadn’t insisted on driving, and he did have more room, relatively speaking, than the hound when he’d been crammed into the backseat.
“It’s not funny,” Kellen growled, sounding very much like said hound.
“I’ll drive fast so it’ll be over with quickly.”
“Fast and defensively. This is like being in a tin can.”
She started the car and pulled out of the parking place. He took her hand and put it on his thigh, the proximity to his erection bringing a rush of want.
His hand covered hers, trapping heat and the firm feel of honed muscle against her palm. Dropping his voice to a seductive rumble, he said, “How about this. First thing tomorrow we pay a visit to Maksim. You surrender your car keys, and we drive away from headquarters in my Hummer.”
“We’ll see.”
He slid her hand upward on his thigh and her sense of humor inserted itself. “Getting ready to convince me by pulling out the big gun?”
Kellen’s laughter freed the smile she’d held earlier.
“Don’t tempt me. But, yeah, I’m not above using the big gun to get you to agree to letting me take over the driving, in my vehicle.”
“I’ll think about it.”
He closed the distance between her hand and his cock. She flushed hot all over, her nipples tightening and need pooling between her thighs.
In self-defense she said, “We’re going to be at the police station in a few minutes. Are you sure you want to walk in there in that state?”
“I’d say it’s inevitable, given the company I’m keeping.”
That gave her a thrill of pleasure and pulled her eyes off the road long enough to read his expression. There was humor there, but also honest heat.
The last time they were in the car together, he’d claimed to be doing them both a favor when he walked away, leaving her on the dance floor. After the glimpse of his childhood, she believed that he believed walking away had been the best course of action.
She’d felt embarrassed, as well as hurt and demoralized, when she’d thought he’d been giving her a trial run and found her lacking. Now she didn’t doubt the attraction.
Her heart beat a little faster as she contemplated what would happen after the police station, after they got back to her apartment. Despite the promise she’d made to herself in Maksim’s office, she was as defenseless against the attraction to Kellen now as she’d been on the dance floor—maybe more so.
Nothing about his manner hinted that she’d be just another conquest. True, there were no guarantees he wouldn’t walk away when Maksim no longer required them to be together. But…could she deny herself the pleasure, when Kellen still felt right? When each kiss, each caress seemed to confirm what the tarot cards and the old man had said, about beginning a journey that would lead to her perfect match.
The police station came into sight. He asked, “Do you remember having seen your assailant before?”
She shook her head. “No. He definitely wasn’t in sight at the Artist’s Loft.”
“What about around your apartment?”
“I don’t think so.” But could she really be sure?
Picking up on her uncertainty, he said, “But you can’t be positive?”
“Until today I never felt watched. And I only felt watched when I left the Loft.”
“What were you doing at the Artist’s Loft?”
“Checking on a client.”
“You routinely go there?”
“I have other clients who work there, but my schedule isn’t predictable.”
He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles, and the light stroke was enough to send a flutter through her heart. “We’ve ruled out the tarot cards,” he said. “That leaves the fetish.”
She fought down a surge of panic and stirring of guilt. Hoped against hope the tiger carved from a piece of wood held enough magic to keep Kellen from discovering the charms.
Her gaze darted to the bracelet. Her growing feelings for him and her growing belief that he was the one only strengthened her conviction that she couldn’t tell him about the charms—not yet.
If she did, it’d be over before it’d really begun.
Reluctantly she pulled her hand from beneath his so she could maneuver the Prius into a parking spot. They got out of the car, and as he’d done at Stones, he placed his hand on her back and ushered her inside—only this time, she didn’t try to shield her heart by telling herself it was an act.
The front was being manned by a female officer with dark hair pulled back in a tight bun. She looked up from her computer screen and kept looking, eyes widening slightly and remaining on Kellen until he reached her workspace.
This is what being with him would be like, Analia thought, then pushed the twinge of insecurity away. One hint of that around Saffron, after giving her BFF a multitude of lectures encouraging her to risk her heart… Oh no, she was not going to be on the receiving end of lectures herself.
Kellen’s name and a show of credentials had the female police officer summoning someone to escort them to an interview room.
A thin, sandy-haired policeman whose face had been ravaged by acne arrived. As they traveled down a pristine hallway with a burnt coffee smell, he said, “Your boss arranged for the assailant to be put on ice.”
“He’s been left alone?” Kellen asked.
The officer nodded. “Given something to eat and drink. That’s it. Name’s Don Jamison. He’s been Mirandized, but we didn’t risk asking him anything. Didn’t want to have him whine and demand a lawyer.”
“He’s got a record?”
“Oh yeah. Petty stuff.”
“Along the beach front?”
“Some of it. Mostly drug-related. Caught a few times in prostitution stings.” The young cop laughed and added, “Buying sex, not selling it.”
Kellen smiled and warmth swelled Analia’s chest. She liked that he treated the lower-ranking officer as an equal.
An older, compact officer stepped through a doorway and they stopped walking. He looked at her, raised an eyebrow then asked Kellen, “She going in with you?”
Her heart rabbited at the prospect of sitting across the table from her attacker. Her mouth went dry but she forced words out anyway. “I can handle it.”
Kellen suppressed a growl. His fingers closed on Analia’s back, tightening on her blouse.
Fuck! He didn’t want to allow her out of his sight, but he also didn’t want her in the same room as the man who’d assaulted her. Not that she couldn’t handle it, she could, but he wasn’t sure he could handle it—not without ripping out her assailant’s throat.
Hound instinct was too close to the surface. And though he was braced to find Analia’s scent on the other man, to also have that man’s gaze on her…
Kellen unclenched her blouse and stroked his hand from the middle of her back to the base of her spine. “You can watch from the bullpen.”
The growl in his voice had the cops looking away to hide their smiles. If they’d wondered why she was accompanying him, they now knew it was because she belonged—
He shut down the thought and said, “Better not to risk putting Jamison on the defensive.”
That got the cops giving her a second look and reassessing the situation. The compact one jerked his head toward the open doorway. “I’ll look after her. She can watch at my desk. Lewinski can take you to interview.”
“This won’t take long,” he told Analia.
She nodded slightly, then followed the older cop into the bullpen.
Kellen followed Lewinski to the interview room. Outside the door, the cop said, “I’m assuming you want to do this solo?”
There was a chance the policeman’s presence would prevent hound nature from getting the better of him. But the thought that he might lose control because of Analia had Kellen determined to prove that his attraction to her wasn’t a problem. “Solo works for me.”
Lewinski opened the door. “All yours then.”
Kellen stalked into the room, the hair on the back of his neck rising aggressively with his first inhalation. The man sitting at the table still carried Analia’s scent.
Even expecting it, the need to shift, lunge and tear the assailant apart surged into him with savage intensity. If they were truly alone…
An awareness of the camera trained on the interview table helped him gain control of the hound’s instinct. He pulled a chair out, spun then straddled it, unwilling to feel caged between chair back and table.
There was no whiff of magic in the room. And up close, Analia’s scent blended more strongly with her burly, tattooed attacker’s body odor and drug-soured skin.
Unlike some of the fey, hounds didn’t have the ability to bespell humans and gain their compliance. But hounds did have the ability to strike a chord of primordial terror.
Kellen let the willingness to hunt the human to the ends of the earth and tear him apart show in his eyes. And despite Jamison’s size and the danger projected by the tattoos covering forearms, neck and one cheek, he flinched backward.
“You might survive this if you cooperate,” Kellen said in a low, menace-filled voice. “Why’d you go after that particular woman?”
Jamison licked thick, ragged lips. “Paid to snatch her purse. That’s all. Would have grabbed and run if she hadn’t hung on. Didn’t rough her up none when she did. See for yourself. Shouldn’t have no bruises on her.”
Heat surged through Kellen’s dick with the image of Analia’s bared breasts cupped between his hands, the nipples wet from his mouth. Before the night was over, he’d inspect every inch of her for bruises.
“Who hired you?”
“Some dude. Couple of blocks away from where she was sitting on a bench, petting a big-ass dog. Said if the dog split, grab the purse.”
“Description,” Kellen growled.
“Of the dog?”
Kellen leaned forward and bared his teeth.
Analia’s assailant flinched and licked his lips again. “Yeah. Yeah. Got you. Description of the dude.”
He looked up at the ceiling, squinted as if it was taking great effort to remember details from several hours earlier. He tapped his fingers against the table and Kellen ground his teeth, the urge to bite strong.
Finally the table drumming ended and Jamison’s gaze descended from the ceiling. “Thin dude. Serious thin. Tall, like he’d been stretched. And his face was off. Like somebody’d pumped his cheeks into his nose.”
A sorcerer in disguise. Or a supernatural being taking a human form. Either way, it was unlikely surveillance recordings—if they existed at all—would be useful.
“What were you supposed to do when you got the purse?”
“Head back to where we first hooked up. Said he wouldn’t be far behind.”
“What was he after in the purse?”
“Didn’t say nothing. Said get the purse. It’d be worth two hundred bucks.”
Kellen allowed menace to fill his eyes again. “And the first time you saw the woman, she was sitting on the bench?”
Jamison nodded vigorously. “First time. Dude pointed her out to me.”
“You weren’t following her earlier in the day? Didn’t search her apartment?”
More vigorous head shaking, this time side to side, and Kellen believed him.
Jamison was a dead end.
His only usefulness to the investigation was in confirming that Analia had been targeted.
Kellen stood and leaned into Jamison’s space. “Go near her again and you won’t survive the encounter.”
He stalked out of the interview room, then down the hallway. He was somewhat calmed by the sight of Analia emerging from the bullpen. Then further calmed when his hand settled at the base of her spine in what he labeled as a protective, not possessive, gesture.
Flashing back to the beach, when he’d launched himself in hound form at Jamison, Kellen said, “I should have torn him apart when I had the chance.”
Analia shook her head. “Then I’d be driving away from here by myself and you’d be heading to jail.”
It snapped Kellen back to the present. The squat cop, who must have checked the crime report while staying with Analia said, “Too bad the dog didn’t get a couple of bites in to teach Jamison a lesson. The guy will probably bond out in a couple of hours.”
Analia shivered against Kellen’s palm, increasing his desire to bite, though shifting his focus to the woman at his side and changing the nature of just what kind of biting he wanted to do. Her scent filled his nostrils, intensifying the feelings of protectiveness and bringing with them erotic images of her on knees and elbows, his body covering hers, his cock deep inside her, his teeth on her neck, holding her in position.
He fisted the back of her blouse, then immediately released it at seeing the way the material tightened across her breasts, revealing the outline of her nipples and causing the cops’ gazes to dip.
“Let’s go,” he said, somehow managing a civil thank you to Lewinski and the other policeman.
At the car Kellen pinned Analia against the driver’s side door. He didn’t like it that the cops had seen even a hint of what he’d seen on the beach.
His mouth slammed down on hers. His tongue didn’t wait to be invited, it surged past her parted lips and delivered a message with each thrust.
Mine! Mine! Mine!
He recognized that he was out of control. That the combination of scenting her on her human assailant and then having her looked at with sexual interest by the cops was allowing hound instinct to dominate his behavior.
Better here and now, he told himself. He’d get it out of his system here, where there was no danger of mounting her. He’d get it out of his system now, so he wouldn’t lose control when he had her beneath him, when he stuffed his cock into her hot, wet channel.
Her moans only fueled the fire. And each foray of his tongue into her mouth seemed to deepen her lush scent.
Her hands had started out against his chest, perhaps in instinctual defense, but they’d swept upward almost immediately, and were now on his neck and hair, anchoring him to her.
His hands stroked her sides, cupped her breasts, rubbed over taut nipples. It was all he could do not to jerk her blouse open.
He managed to restrain himself—barely. Came up for breath to say, “Your place?”
She trembled against him, and it was pure want. Her scent didn’t lie.
“Yes,” she whispered against his lips, as if afraid speaking too loudly would break the spell.
It didn’t.
He took control of her keys, positive he could get them to her apartment more quickly, and that being required to keep one hand on the steering wheel would aid in maintaining control.
Both were true.
But barely.
He noted only the lingering scent of apples upon entering her apartment, and then he had her pinned against the back of the door in the same way he’d trapped her against the Prius. Only this time there was no reason for restraint, no fear someone else would view Analia’s nakedness, and lust.
He made short work of blouse and bra, baring her, sending the articles of clothing to the floor. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
He covered her mouth with his and her moan fueled the fire already raging in his cock. He’d known on the dance floor that foreplay wouldn’t be possible. Not the first time.
Maybe not even the second or third.
He ripped his shirt off while thrusting his tongue against hers. Undid his jeans and gave her a moan with the freeing of his cock.
He took it in hand, not daring to allow her to wrap her fingers around his shaft.
He applied pressure against the place near the head where hound physiology manifested in human form, threatening to swell in order to lock him inside Analia’s channel.
Pain blended with pleasure. Bare chest to bare breasts, lips melded and tongues sliding, stroking, rubbing sensually against one another, he feared he was doing more harm than good in trying to suppress instinct with the hard fisting of his cock.
With his free hand he undid her jeans and pushed them downward, tormenting himself by not pushing her panties along with them.
His cock head brushed against silky material and equally smooth belly, leaving a trail of wet arousal against Analia’s abdomen and marking her with his scent.
Fuck, that was primitive. Deeply satisfying.
Need shuddered through him. He cupped her hip, trying to slow things down.
Failing.
He couldn’t resist the lure of her pussy.
His hand pushed beneath her panties. Swept downward, fingertips gliding unerringly to her clit.
It was swollen, throbbing just like his dick.
She moaned, hips bucking when he rubbed over the engorged nub.
“I’ve been imagining touching you this way for hours.”
She canted her pelvis, plunging his fingers to her opening. “I’ve been imagining the same.”
The feel of slick arousal had him pressing closer, his tongue thrusting against hers, his fingers slipping inside, only to be met by the hungry grip of her channel.
She was so wet. So hot. So tight.
Enough! His cock screamed. Enough! Enough! Enough!
She’d toed off her shoes. He lifted her, jerked panties and jeans all the way off and carried her toward one corner of the studio apartment, where large potted plants created a bedroom space.
The moonlight was bright enough to illuminate the bed and he tossed her onto it, smiled at her shout of laughter. Though that smile turned heated when he rid himself of his own clothing and got on the bed.
His eyes met hers, thoughts flashing back to the club, to what she’d told his hound self after she’d left Stones.
“Never doubt you’re beautiful.”
Never doubt that I fucking want you.
“You’re lucky I didn’t take you on the dance floor.”
“Then we’d both be in jail, taking the edge off.” Her hands briefly covered her breasts, glided over smooth belly, then creamy thighs as they opened wider in invitation.
He tightened his grip on his cock to counter the surge of demand that had the place beneath his palm swelling, threatening to lock his dick into her channel with the first stroke.
The honest desire in her eyes, the honest pleasure in her expression further ensnared him. His gaze moved over her and he memorized every curve and line, mentally ran his hands and tongue over every inch of her bare skin.
Her breasts were the perfect size, their nipples an intense lure. And her pussy…
A small triangle of hair pointed to a swollen clit and wet, parted lower lips. Lips that begged to be thrust between with tongue and cock.
Hot want shuddered through him. Later he’d press his face against her pussy. But right now…
He padded upward, hands and knees taking the place of hound feet. His cock bounced against his belly in light, wet taps and his testicles swayed.
He straddled her, inwardly preened when her gaze traveled the length of his body. She licked her lips, and the swipe of her tongue was a summons.
Kellen settled on top of her, moaned against her mouth at the feel of so much skin to skin. Getting inside her became an imperative.
He used his thighs to widen hers. Reached between them, grasping his cock and giving it a final, savage warning in the form of a hard squeeze.
He would not swell and lock.
Despite his admiration for Analia and the belief she was as honest as she appeared to be, he would not swell and lock and end up mated.
Another moan escaped with the press of his cock head to her wet opening. She answered with a moan and followed it with the upward movement of her pelvis then shivered, whispered, “Protection.”
“I’m safe.”
The thought of anything separating his cock from the snug, heated welcome of her channel had him thrusting before she could demand he stop.
Only she didn’t make that demand.
She moaned and murmured, “That feels so good.”
She wrapped her legs around his waist, sending his cock deeper into her channel.
Heat scorched through him and his gaze met hers, held for a heartbeat—a heartbeat was all he could manage before driving need had him plunging his tongue into her mouth.
She met him thrust for thrust. Tongue against tongue, pelvis against pelvis.
Thought became impossible. All that existed was sound and scent, the sensation of heated skin against heated skin, and the wet, hungry clasp of her silken slit.
And still he wanted more, more, more.
Kellen pinned her hands to the bed, locking her in place as he thrust harder, trying to go deeper, deeper, deeper.
Hound instinct wanted the spew of semen as close to her womb as possible. And that desire only grew with each of Analia’s cries of pleasure, with each clamp of her channel on his cock.
Beneath his cock head, his shaft began to swell.
Let it, instinct urged.
And he thrust.
Thrust.
Thrust.
His shaft swelling, swelling, swelling.
But enough sanity remained for him to change the angle of penetration so each thrust struck Analia’s clit. Each thrust drove her closer and closer to orgasm.
She came with a savage clamp of her channel and it was enough. It saved him from ending up mated.
Semen erupted and icy hot sensation scorched up his spine, filling his head in a white-hot explosion of bliss.
Long moments passed but eventually he came back to himself—and knew an instant of fear at finding his cock still inside her, at finding himself lying more heavily on her, as if in a protective, possessive positioning.
His pulse sped as his heart pounded faster instead of slowing languidly in the aftermath of all-encompassing release. His hips jerked upward, and he calmed with the slide of his cock.
His heartbeat slowed at discovering he wasn’t bound. His hips changed direction with the realization he wasn’t ready to surrender the wet heat and snug clamp of her channel.
Analia’s legs tightened around his waist and blood surged into this cock, causing it to stiffen.
“Wow,” she murmured, the satisfaction in her voice giving him the strength to lift his head and open his eyes.
She looked adorably tousled and well pleasured. And seeing her that way swelled his chest with a warmth he refused to investigate.
“I think we can improve on wow,” he said, taking her lips again, taking her again—even knowing that the more he did it, the greater the risk of surrendering himself.
It won’t happen, he told himself, attempting to dredge up painful memories of Cosette’s betrayal. But lying on top of Analia, swallowing her cries of pleasure and feeling her channel clamp and release on his cock, he couldn’t bring up the image of the female whose lies had convinced him that he would never take a mate.
He thrust deeper, harder, shuddered at the feel of Analia’s nails across his back, but it wasn’t enough. He needed to touch more of her, needed—
Don’t.
But even as he thought it, he was doing it. Pulling out of her channel with a rough, urgent jerk of hips. Flipping her over.
A sliver of sanity had him stuffing a thick pillow beneath her stomach instead of lifting her onto elbows and knees.
And then he was covering her, entering her with a desperate thrust.
It was a poor substitute for the mating position, but the cant of her hips allowed him to go deeper, to thrust against silky buttocks, to kiss her neck, her shoulders. To rub his bearded cheek against her smooth skin, to stroke her breast and find her clit.
It was ecstasy beyond bearing. Ecstasy beyond anything he’d ever experienced.
He couldn’t get enough skin-to-skin contact, couldn’t get enough of the sounds of her pleasure and the way her body felt beneath his.
“Come for me,” he murmured, craving that extra surrender from Analia.
Her channel clenched on his cock with her release, a ruthless fisting that ripped away his ability to delay his own satisfaction. He thrust once, twice, a third time and was catapulted into rapture with the hot rush of semen.
He collapsed, sliding to the side but gathering her against him. It wasn’t his habit to hold a woman afterward, but he didn’t have the strength or will to roll onto his back or other side.
He inhaled deeply, and knew he was no less enthralled by Analia’s alluring scent. If anything, it was even more alluring now than it had been when he’d first encountered it at the supernatural fair.
“Better than wow,” Analia murmured and he smiled against her shoulder, feeling oddly content.
The existence of that feeling was enough to warn him that her hold on him was growing, but he was too lethargic to move away from her.
He brushed kisses against her shoulder. Wanting to hear her voice, wanting to know more about her, he asked, “Why a rehabilitation counselor?”
“I grew up in a neighborhood with a lot of military families. Some of my friends had parents and siblings who came home injured from fighting overseas. Even back then, when I was a kid, I wanted to help. To make things better.”
He pulled her more tightly against him, wished the magic that had healed him, could heal those she cared about. Felt the same certainty he’d felt at the beach, that she wouldn’t have shunned him because of his withered foreleg.
Sleep creeping up on her, Analia looked down at the masculine hand covering her breast. Warmth filled her chest, a happiness that felt deeper than anything she’d experienced with another man.
She wasn’t in the habit of going to bed with someone she’d just met. Had never been in a friends-with-benefits relationship.
Not that she hadn’t risked her heart before, she had. But this time felt different.
Her heart beat against his palm as if already belonging to him. It felt as if they were meant to be together, as if possession of the charms had done exactly what the old man had said it would do, lead to the mate meant for her—even if he was an IRE agent.
She covered Kellen’s hand with hers. Snuggled her buttocks against his cock and smiled at the way it stirred and he laughed softly.
Heat pooled between her thighs, swelling her lower lips. She rubbed against him, need flaring, and he moaned, filled her channel with his cock and in the process filled her with contentment.