Sneek Peek: Book 6
Preview for Tempted by the Wolf
Book 6 of the True Mates Series
Meredith sighed for the 137th time that hour. She shifted her stance, finding a comfortable position to stand. Here she was, wasting her talents by playing babysitter to a warlock. This wasn’t what she signed up for. Of course, forced servitude to the New York Lycan clan wasn’t part of her life plans either, but she made her bed and now had to lie in it.
She thought she had it all figured out. Fenrir Corporation was a target that was ripe for the taking. The conglomerate was worth billions of dollars, and they wouldn’t miss a couple of million here and there, right? Meredith was trained by one of the world’s top cat burglars, and this is what she did. Steal things and sell them for money. Lots of it, as her secret bank account in the Cayman Islands could attest. Never mind that its CEO, Grant Anderson, was the Alpha of the East Coast’s most powerful Lycan clan. It should have had her own she-wolf running the other direction. Actually, the bitch did warn her, but she couldn’t help it.
Fenrir was the ultimate prize, and she spent six months of her life staking out the place, finding weak spots and then springing into action. Months spent planning the perfect heist, only to be ruined by a little witch and a brainy little scientist. She thought the 33rd floor research facility would be empty and she broke in one night after she was sure its two primary occupants were gone. How was she supposed to know that they’d come back—after office hours— to check on something. They caught Meredith in the act of stealing a few pieces of tech and had her detained. The nerve!
Of course, said witch, Lara Chatraine and Lycan scientist, Jade Cross, were now her best friends, but that wasn’t the point. Out of options, she struck a deal with the Alpha of New York—ten years of serving the clan. It was that or imprisonment in Siberia. Well, the choice should have been obvious, although, for a Lone Wolf like her who’d never been part of any clan, it was a tough decision. All her life, she’d been independent and never had to be under and Alpha’s thumb, and frankly, she preferred it that way. But then she also preferred not freezing her ass off, so she took the bargain.
Ten years of serving the clan. She’d already had a couple of months under her belt, but the rest of her time seemed to loom overhead. Her she-wolf was also dying to break out of her skin. The New York clan had outfitted her with a tracking device that could not only track her across the planet but would explode if she tried to remove it. Shifting into her wolf form would mean breaking the ankle monitor, and she wasn’t sure if Lycan healing could regrow a limb.
Patience, she told the wolf.
I didn’t get us into this mess. Why should I have to suffer?
Oh, shut up, bitch.
Stop calling me a bitch!
Well, technically, you are a one, so…
The she-wolf whined, then lay down and pouted.
Meredith knew her relationship with her she-wolf was…special. According to the only other Lycans she talked to, none of their wolves spoke in complete sentences, nor conversed with them. Lucky them. Some days, she couldn’t get the animal to shut the fuck up.
A low moan caught her attention, and her head snapped towards the figure in the bed. Daric, the prisoner she’d been guarding for the last two days. The warlock had been injured badly in their latest confrontation with the mages, the Lycans’ enemies. Daric couldn’t use any of his powers, so he had apparently tried to stab the mages’ leader, Stefan, with a knife. That didn’t go so well, and Daric ended getting hurt.
Meredith sighed again. Witches and warlocks were biologically human, and thus didn’t have the same speedy healing and metabolism Lycans did. She didn’t know how the hell they ended up being the dominant species on this planet, seeing as they were all practically walking bags of organs wrapped in skin.
Daric let out another moan and twisted his body, the white sheet covering him slipping lower. Meredith felt her mouth go dry at the sight of his chest—broad and muscled, covered in strange tattoos. His shoulders were wide, nearly taking up the entire width of the small, twin bed. His arms were thick and muscled, like tree trunks. His torso was covered in bandages, but she was pretty sure he’d have a rockin’ set of six-pack abs. Daric was about half a foot taller than her 5’10 frame, and probably outweighed her by over a hundred pounds. He could probably pick her up and slam her against the wall and—
The she-wolf growled in appreciation.
Oh, stop it.
Meredith quickly looked away, trying to ignore the rush of heat and desire. She would not go there. Again. The first time she saw Daric, he had attacked Jade, and she pulled him off her. The shock of electricity that shot up her arms surprised her, she nearly let go of him. Even in his powerless state, he managed to pin her to the ground. The heat of his rock hard body was something she could never forget, and some nights she woke up wanting and horny, wishing that--
Fuck this shit; she needed to get laid. It had been too long. Almost two years. But, she didn’t exactly have the opportunity now. She didn’t shit where she ate, and she couldn’t go anywhere else except the Fenrir Corp building. Now that Jade had a motherfucking dragon for a mate, who also owned a security firm, the Lycan scientist didn’t need her as a full-time bodyguard, and thus, Meredith was trapped in the basement, guarding their warlock prisoner.
“Stefan. Mother!”
Daric’s scratchy groan had Meredith scrambling to the side of the bed. This was the first time in two days the warlock had been conscious enough to say anything. Dr. Faulkner, the Lycans’ resident physician, had been by regularly to check on him. Daric had suffered a few bruised ribs, but no internal injuries. Still, he needed time to recover and rest.
“Daric,” she called softly. “Do you need Dr. Faulkner?”
Turquoise eyes flew open and a large hand wrapped around her wrist. Meredith struggled to break free, but his grip was like steel, and his touch sent tingles across her arm.
“Let go, warlock!” she hissed.
He loosened his grip, a brief flash of surprise on his face. “Where am I?”
“You’re back in your cell in Fenrir,” Meredith sneered.
Daric struggled to sit up, his fingers massaging his temple. “Stefan…”
“He got away, unfortunately,” she explained.
“My mother?” His eyes zeroed in on her. “Where is she?”
“She’s safe, with the New York coven.”
He relaxed visibly, the tension leaving his shoulders. “I’ve been hurt.”
“Yes, well that’s what happens when you try to kill a master mage with a butter knife,” she said sarcastically. “What the hell were you thinking anyway? Going up against Stefan without your powers?”
“I had no choice,” Daric replied. “It was our only chance to kill Stefan.”
“Well, it was a stupid choice,” Meredith muttered. “You could have died.”
“It almost sounds like you care, Lycan,” Daric countered.
“I don’t, warlock,” she spat, hoping the nervousness in her voice didn’t come out. “I was just afraid I’d have to clean up the smear your pathetic little body would leave. I hate getting blood on me.”
Daric swung his long legs over the side of the bed and attempted to get up. He stumbled, and Meredith pushed him back down.
“What are you trying to do? You’ve been in bed for two days!”
“And thus, I’m in need of the facilities.” Daric looked meaningfully at the door leading to the small bathroom.
“Ah, well I guess you gotta drain the snake, right?” As soon as the words left her lips, she slapped her hand over her mouth. God, she even surprised herself sometimes. Don’t think about his snake. Don’t think about his snake. And there it was, a mental image of Daric’s penis stuck in her mind. Thick, veiny, erect and—Fuck, this would be a long day.
Daric struggled again but got to his feet. He towered over her, but he was still weak, so she could probably give him a gentle push, and he’d fall over.
“Do you need help?”
“Not to drain my snake,” he said with a small grin.
Meredith turned bright red. God, she was turning into Jade, who blushed at the mere hint of sex or penises.
“I could use some help with this,” he said, rubbing the thick, scraggly beard on his lower face. “Could I bother you for some razors?”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Meredith grumbled. As Daric disappeared into the bathroom, Meredith left the cell. She walked out of the main detention area and into the main hallway leading to the elevators.
“Hey Tank,” Meredith said to the burly Lycan guard standing outside.
“Hey, Meredith,” he greeted back. “How’s the prisoner?”
“Up and about. Say,” she began. “Any chance you can get me some razors?”
“You ready to slit his throat already?” Tank chuckled.
“Ha! Tempting, but no.” She shook her head. “He’s tired of rocking the hobo Jesus look, I guess.”
Tank shook his head. “I don’t think the Beta will allow that, but let me see what I can do.” The Lycan guard picked up the telephone next to him. He said a few words and then put the phone back into the receiver. “Sorry,” Tank said, shaking his head. “Mr. Vrost said he doesn’t want to leave the warlock alone with anything sharp. You can offer to shave him if you want. But the Beta was pretty clear about not leavin’ him alone with anything he could use a weapon.”
“Fine,” Meredith shrugged. “Have someone send the stuff. I’ll take care of it.” She really shouldn’t, but she couldn’t help it. She had been held as a prisoner in this same facility, so she felt some sympathy for the Daric. God knows, she had needed some grooming herself by the time she had some contact with the outside world.
Tank nodded and picked up the phone again. A few minutes later, one of the Lycan security guys, Heath Pearson, came down with a small paper bag.
“You need help, Meredith?”
She shook her head. “I think I can handle one injured warlock with no powers. Thanks, Heath.”
Meredith strode back into the main detention. By the time she got to Daric’s cell, he was already sitting on the bed. He was wearing a fresh pair of loose pants, and from the dampness of his hair and the droplets of water on his skin, he probably took some time to freshen up. A small towel hung over his neck.
“Nick Vrost said not to give you anything sharp,” Meredith said, holding up the paper bag. “But I got the short end of the stick, so I’m volunteering myself as your personal barber today.”
Daric stood up and sat on one of the chairs in the middle of the room. “Then I leave myself in your capable hands.”
Meredith smiled wryly and walked over to him. She opened the bag and took out the razor, a can of shaving cream, and a pair of scissors. “I’ve never done this before, so you need to tell me what you want.”
A pregnant pause hung in the air. “What I want,” he began. “Is…Just take it all off, I suppose. Unless you have a preference?”
She shrugged. “I’m not Vidal Sassoon, here, mister.”
He looked at her like she was speaking another language.
“Right.” She picked up the shaving cream and squirted a dollop onto her palms. Working it onto his jaw, she ignored the warmth of his skin, and way his beard tickled her fingers. Satisfied with the amount of foam on his face, she wiped her hands on her pants and picked up the razor.
Daric leaned back on the chair to give Meredith a better angle. She leaned down close enough, placing the razor on his cheek. As she took a deep breath, his scent filled her nostrils. Chocolate. Rich and creamy chocolate. The smell was driving her she-wolf wild, and the little slut was rolling around, howling with delight.
Shut the fuck up, bitch!
“Are you going to start before my beard grows any longer?” Daric asked, his eyebrow raised.
Swallowing a gulp, she pushed the desire away, hoping he didn’t notice anything. “Um, yeah.” She thought she had some snappy comeback, but her brain somehow froze. With a deep breath, she began to shave his beard, working methodically and slowly, trying to calm her shaky hands. But she was so close to him she could feel the heat emanating from his body and his wonderful scent wrapping around her, making her panties flood with her wetness. Thank fuck he wasn’t a Lycan or he would have smelled how horny she was right now. She steadied herself by reaching for the back of the chair, but instead, grabbed his shoulder by accident. Fuck, it was like pure stone, hard and unyielding. Meredith had the urge to withdraw her hand. She wasn’t sure what possessed her, but she dug her fingers into his shoulder instead. She thought she felt his breath hitch. Maybe it was just her imagination.
With a last downward stroke of the razor, she finished with her task. She took the towel draped around his neck and used it to wipe away the remaining foam. Sweet baby Jesus, had he always been this handsome? She had glanced at him once before when they first caught him, but didn’t give it a single thought. A few weeks later, when he had the beard, he looked like that homeless guy who pushed his cart down 3rd Avenue. And now, clean-shaven and looking refreshed, Daric was heart-stopping, drop-dead gorgeous.
As her hands rubbed the fabric over his jaw, his fingers traced over her the back of her palms. They wrapped around her wrists gently, holding them still. Blue-green eyes looked up at her, not with hate or passion, but expectantly. Like he was waiting for something to happen.
“I don’t understand,” he whispered, shaking his head.
“Understand what?” she asked. His gaze was hypnotic, and she struggled to break free. But all she wanted was to get lost in them.
The sound of someone clearing his throat made Meredith jump away from Daric.
“Am I interrupting anything?” Grant Anderson, Alpha of New York, stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, a bemused look on his face.
Meredith shook her head and then grabbed the paper bag on the table, stuffing all the items back inside. “No, we’re done here,” she said, straightening her shoulders.
“I’ve come to discuss terms, Daric,” Grant said as he strode toward the warlock.
Meredith walked briskly towards the door. “I’ll be outside,” she muttered. She didn’t even spare a last backward glance before the door slid close behind her.