Hours later, they trudged across the Muteti compound. Ryenne was dead on her feet and discouraged. They hadn’t found Innocent. There had been no trace of him anywhere in the village or in the woods, even to Lucien’s supernatural shifter senses. He’d spent much of the time in his wolf form, having shifted behind a tree to save Ryenne from the sight of his naked body. She’d appreciated his thoughtfulness. Tonight hadn’t been the time to drool over him.

“I guess we should try to sleep for a few hours,” Lucien suggested.

Ryenne shook her head. “I need a drink.” Despite her exhaustion and the sun beginning to lighten the horizon, Ryenne was too keyed up to sleep. One alcoholic beverage would relax her enough to rest before giving the men the fighting lesson she’d planned on last night.

She pushed through the carved wooden front door and didn’t slow down until she reached the living room. Eleanor had left hours ago so there would be no more mojitos tonight, but there were bottles of wine and liquor.

“What would you like, Lucien? Wine, whiskey, beer...”

“I’ll take red wine. You?” He moved past her and opened a bottle of wine.

“Wish he had tequila.”

Lucien raised his thick, dark eyebrows and Ryenne tried to remember why she didn’t like him.

She nodded to the wine and he poured them each a glass, then she plopped down on one of the couches and took several sips.

He sat next to her, took a sip of wine, and placed the glass on the table in front of him. “So, you drink tequila, wield a dagger and a cattle prod like an expert fighter, and you’re gorgeous. My dear Mademoiselle Cavanagh, I think you may have appeared out of my dreams.” He retrieved his glass and raised it toward her in toast.

She considered acting modest and lowering her gaze, but modesty wasn’t really her thing. Neither was seeing shifters as real people. She stared at him, almost in defiance, but she couldn’t find a flaw. Nothing about him said aggressive and vicious predator.

Instead, he’d shown her loyalty and trustworthiness and the kind of skills she valued.

And he was sexy as hell.

Damn.

He was shaking up her entire worldview.

Her glass of wine joined his on the table and she launched herself at him, grabbing him by the back of his head and pulling him close for a kiss. Their lips met and heat scorched through her body. The tension of the night exploded between them and she couldn’t get close enough. She tore off her leather jacket, no longer feeling the chill of the coming dawn, and pressed herself against him.

He ran his hands down her sides and his tongue explored her mouth.

Her fingers enjoyed the feel of his thick hair while her mouth indulged in the softness of his.

The kiss stretched on and on, his hands found her bare skin, and she was on fire. She needed his skin, too. Pulling away from his mouth, she lifted the hem of her tank top, removed it, and tossed it on the floor. Then she scrabbled at the buttons of his shirt.

Lucien leaned against the back of the couch and unbuttoned his shirt, slipped his arms from the sleeves, and tossed it on the floor near hers. He pushed her onto the cushions and kissed along her jawline, down her neck, his hands caressing the sides of her breasts through her bra.

She gasped and arched her back, wanting more. Panting, she unclasped and removed her bra.

He was a solid weight on top of her, his hair brushing her skin, his hands warm and strong and gentle. His mouth, hot and wet, took her breast, licking her nipple, making her pant and gasp.

He lifted his head. Stared into her eyes.

She bit her lip, then pulled him back down. “More.”

Smiling, he obliged.

He started by undoing her pants but she grew impatient. She pushed his hands away. “I’ll do it. Take off yours.”

“Yes, sir.”

Once naked, they stood in front of each other and Ryenne drank in the sight of his magnificent, sculpted body. It was as she remembered from the night in the woods. Smooth, hard, muscled. Perfection.

But now the memory of the woods was in her mind. He had just shifted back to human...from his wolf form.

She took a step back. What was she doing?

But Lucien’s eyes were closed and his mouth beckoned. His arms wrapped around her and his lips found hers, and she melted into the embrace.

The reservations flew out of her mind and she gave herself to the sensations. Of the taste of wine on his lips, the scratchiness of the calluses on his hands, his silken skin, his hard body, his erection against her hip.

With a growl, she pushed him onto the couch and climbed on top. She ground her pelvis into him. He gasped and she smiled. Laying her body atop his, she bit his lower lip, then kissed him, her hands back in his lush hair.

Within seconds, her core was on fire and her juices were flowing. Since shifters didn’t transmit diseases and she was on the pill, she didn’t have to interrupt their fun to find a condom. Instead, she lifted up and positioned herself over his erection. He watched her, eyes flashing, and she only got warmer. Lowering herself onto him, she reveled in the feeling of him expanding within her, and leaned forward to find the perfect angle for the friction.

Mmm, there. Nothing had ever felt this good.

When the orgasm hit, she rode the wave with shallow breaths and holding a handful of his hair. He went rigid beneath her, his mouth dropping open, his shaft pulsing within her.

She collapsed onto his chest, their sweat mingling. “Wow.”

He smoothed the damp hair from her face and pulled her along his body with his strong arms. He kissed her, passion abated, only sweetness left behind. She kissed him back, savoring the taste of him, his breath meeting hers.

Her breathing and heart rate calmed. Reality seeped back into her thoughts.

Oh shit, she’d just screwed a shifter.