Layne

What. The hell. Just happened?

I slowly climb from the floor, my limbs shaking so badly I’m not sure they’ll hold.

Glass is everywhere around the window and I’m in my bare feet, so I back up until my butt hits the couch.

One minute Sam was pleasuring me, the next I was on my back on the floor.

No, wait. That wasn’t the upsetting part. That part was actually uber-hot.

But then his eyes turned yellow and he had fangs. He was making a terrible snarling sound. I thought I was in danger. He must’ve thought so, too, or he wouldn’t have jumped out the window like that.

I don’t know how long I sit on the couch. After a while, I shake myself and stand up.

Sam left. Maybe this is a sign. Not that I believe in signs—I’m a scientist. But still. I have a chance right now to grab my research and run. Sam promised me a compromise, but I need that research and I can’t depend on him to give it to me freely.

It may be too late to stop my own disease, but I know that research can save lives. I just need more time to work on it. Now that I know where the cells came from, I can figure out how to apply it to humans. It will work.

I jump up and run to the computer station where Sam had the data drive. Unbelievably, he left it right there. I pick it up and tiptoe through the glass. In the pocket of Sam’s shredded jeans I find the keys to the van. No time to get dressed, so I just stuff my feet in my ballet flats, grab my purse and go out as I am—in a see through t-shirt and a pair of men’s boxer briefs, ripped open at the crotch.

Desperate times.

I step outside and run to the van, fumbling with the keys. By the time I climb in and start the vehicle, something cold and hard has formed in my stomach. Something like dread, but fear isn’t beneath it. It’s guilt.

I sit behind the wheel not moving for several long seconds. Leaving seems wrong.

Leaving Sam seems wrong.

He needs me.

No, that doesn’t make sense. Why would I think Sam needs me? He’s the one who kidnapped me, who stole my research. He’s the one with the ability to regenerate from gunshot wounds in a matter of hours.

How could he need me?

And yet I know, with complete certainty that he does. And that leaving him is a betrayal of whatever tenuous trust starting to form between us.

But then I catch sight of the data drive I set on the dash.

Think of your research—it could save so many lives.

I put the van in gear and start to drive. I’m fifty feet down the dirt drive when a blur of black fur launches right for the van. I brake but not before one hundred eighty pounds of wolf slams into the windshield.

“Sam,” I scream. Oh God, oh God, oh God. Please don’t let him be hurt. I forget for a moment that’s unlikely. I grab the handle to the door.

Before I can push it open, it flies off its hinges. Sam stands there, in full naked glory, face stormy. “Where are you going, Layne?” He’s not even out of breath. He glances at the dash and sees the data drive.

We reach for it at the same time, but he’s so fast, his hand moves in a blur. He crushes it in his fist and the plastic parts drop to the ground in useless splinters.

“Sam—”

He pulls me out of the van, but my feet never hit the ground, instead I’m upended over his shoulder.

“Sam!” A giggle bubbles up in my throat but I’m wise enough to suppress it. I wrap my arms around his waist to steady myself. I have a front row seat to the magnificent show of his glutes flexing and extending as he walks. His scarred and muscled body moves with total grace. I’ve never been one to ogle men, but he could’ve stepped from the pages of a fireman’s calendar.

He carries me back into the mobile home and drops me near the sofa. A half-second later, my torso is folded over the arm of the sofa and my panties—I mean, his ripped boxer briefs—are down, tangled around my thighs.

Sam smacks my ass, hard.

“Ouch!”

His palm settles on the offended cheek and he gives a slow, deliberate squeeze.

Something in the air between us shifts, changes. His anger becomes something darker. Needier. My fluster settles. I know this game. He’s played it before and I loved the way it ended. Except what’s to prevent his wolf from coming out again and attacking me? Especially if he’s angry.

He slaps me again, not as hard as the first time. He lays down a half-dozen quick, firm slaps, alternating cheeks.

My pussy grows wet, the punishing contact stimulating everything below my waist.

Sam drags a long breath in through his nostrils and his hand comes around to cage my throat. He pulls my torso upward, dips the fingers of his other hand between my legs. “Someone liked her spanking.” His voice is rough and low. I’m lulled by the promise of sex. Of satisfaction. This man knows how to play my body like a maestro.

And there’s no denying his assertion. The evidence is there between my legs, slick and wet.

A low growl reverberates in his throat, only it has a satisfied tinge to it—more like a purr, if it’s possible for wolves to purr.

“You have the best ass for spanking, Layne.” He rubs my tingling cheeks, kneads my flesh with rough hands. “In a wolves’ world, disobedience is met with punishment.” Another slap.

“Well, what was I supposed to do?” I protest, without much heat. “You left.”

He slaps my butt three more times. “I was doing my best to keep you safe. And you bailed.”

I reach back to cover my ass. He pins my wrist behind my back and slaps again.

“I’m sorry, Sam.” I figure I’m in no position to keep pushing back. I go with the truth. “I was scared.”

He immediately pulls me up and turns me around. He cradles my face with both hands. “Layne. Sweetheart. I never want you to be afraid of me. Never.” The last word is a growl. “I’m sorry.” Misery bathes his face, his haunted blue eyes are ancient again. He leans his forehead against mine. I’m intensely aware of his naked body so close to mine, the head of his rigid cock brushing up against my bare pussy. I glance down and he hurriedly yanks my torn boxer briefs back in place.

“I’ll keep my cock away from you. I don’t know how that happened. Why were you on the couch with me to begin with? Didn’t I tell you to lock your door?”

“You were having a nightmare.”

He squeezes his eyes closed. “That’s every minute of every night.” There’s defeat in his voice. “And I’d be especially dangerous if you woke me then.”

I shake my head stubbornly. I calmed his nightmare. I know I did.

His forehead rests against mine again. “You were sweet to worry about me.” His lips are so close. I want him to kiss me again, the way he did last night. I’m mixed up and stressed and the only thing that seems to make sense is the way I feel under his touch. “Want me to finish your spanking?” he murmurs against my lips.

“But what if you lose control?” I have to ask it.

He slowly rotates me. “I won’t. I promise.”

“How can you be sure?” I whisper. There’s a stretch of silence and I’m sorry I asked. I want the spanking. Want what comes after.

“Losing control means losing you.” His voice is tight. “My wolf saw you driving away. He won’t risk it again.”

I’m not sure his hypothesis would withstand rigorous testing, but I’m willing to accept it for the moment.

He rubs my bum through the boxers. “Tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

I’m glad I’m facing away, because my cheeks burn. “You know,” I mumble.

“Do I?” The purr returns to his voice. “More spanking? You like being restrained, too, don’t you?” He pins both my wrists behind my back with one hand.

My pussy clenches. Yep. I definitely like being restrained.

He tugs down the briefs once more. “If you were my mate, I’d spank you every night.” He smacks my ass hard, then rubs away the sting.

“Why?” I protest. It’s ridiculous but I’m less offended by the physical punishment thing than I am by the assertion that I might require it. I’m a good girl, after all. I’ve played the good girl my whole life. I had a sick mother growing up, and I compensated by working hard, studying hard.

Then I got sick myself.

So no, I’ve never had time to be disobedient.

“Because your ass is so spankable.”

Ah. I like that idea far better than the one where it’s because I deserve it. He slaps me again and a puff of air comes from my lips—half giggle, half moan.

“If you were my mate, I’d tie you spread eagle to the bed and make you come over and over again until you begged me to stop.”

The shudder that runs through me is of tsunamic proportion. Is that even a word? My pussy clenches, butt cheeks squeeze.

Sam laughs and gives me two quick slaps. He pushes my torso lower, angling my hips up high and penetrates me with his fingers.

I kick my legs, instantly frantic for more.

He pumps his fingers in and out.

“Please,” I beg.

He twists his fingers, slopes them in and—oh lordy—makes contact with my G-spot again.

I squeal, electric current shooting through every vein. My legs shoot out behind me. Sam thrusts his fingers in and out, hitting the magic spot every. Single. Time.

All kinds of crazy sounds come from my mouth, like I’m the animal, not him.

“P-please. Please!”

His thumb wedges between my butt cheeks and I squirm, embarrassed, but he holds me fast. He finds the pucker of my anus and gently presses it while he angles his fingers in and out. “Come for me, Layne. Go ahead. Let go.”

I scream into the couch cushions and he pushes in until his knuckles grind against my clit. My muscles contract around his fingers, feet kick in the air as I come and come and come.

And come some more.

It’s ridiculous how big a climax he wrings out of me using just his fingers. It doesn’t seem possible.

I collapse, shaking and weak. Utterly spent.

Sam eases his fingers out of me and kisses my backside. He tips me up and turns me around. I pull up the boxers before he lifts me to sit on the sofa’s arm. “Stay here,” he commands. “I’ll clean up the glass.”

I hop off the sofa. “I have to use the bathroom.”

His lips twitch and he scoops me up onto his hip, like a child, and walks across the broken glass. I start to protest until I remember how fast he regenerates.

He drops me off at the bathroom, the site of our first escapade.

My fingers tremble as I close the door.

I don’t know what in the hell is happening with me. I told myself it was just a little pleasure. Something I never normally allow myself. But I know that’s a lie. I’m falling for Sam. A werewolf. A shifter. Someone I can’t have.

Even if I weren’t dying.

Sam

I manage to stuff my aching cock into a pair of jeans and pull on a t-shirt. I need to get Layne some clothes to wear, too.

It’s true what I told her.

My wolf freaked over her driving away. And then he backed all the way down.

But still I grind my bare feet in the glass as I clean it up, wanting to feel the pain from the tiny cuts. Deserving it.

I can’t believe I almost marked Layne. Scared the crap out of her. She doesn’t deserve this. She definitely doesn’t deserve the heavy dose of crazy I carry just below the surface at all times. I can’t bring that into her life.

But I can’t say she would’ve been better off without me, either. If I hadn’t found Data-X, it only would’ve been a matter of time before they either experimented on her, or killed her.

I know how Smyth works.

My burner phone rings and I look at the screen. Kylie, Jackson’s mate.

I answer. “Yes, I’m still alive.”

“Well, you could’ve let me know sooner. Meme was worried and so was I. I’d go to California to find you if I didn’t have a newborn to worry about. WTF?”

I didn’t like it when Jackson took an interest in the human female. Not because it disrupted my cozy home life freeloading off Jackson, a multi-millionaire, my alpha, and my only friend. Only because I was afraid she was trouble and humans and shifters don’t mix.

But it turned out she had shifter blood and when she got pregnant with Jackson’s pup, the baby provided whatever her body needed to figure out how to shift.

Bet Smyth would love to study that.

Laurie, one of the other prisoners in the lab, had a theory about Smyth. That he was defective—a shifter who couldn’t shift—and that’s why he was so obsessed with shifter research.

“I found another lab. The data lab this time.” Kylie helped me get to the experiment facility a few months ago in Utah. One I blew up after I searched it.

“Is that why you’re there? Did you destroy it?”

“Not yet.” I already regret that bargain I made with Layne, but the problem could be rectified. “I stole the data and wiped their servers. Oh, and I took one of the scientists.” She probably would find out soon enough on her own. Kylie’s an info security maven and if her research efforts were focused on me, she’d find the connection between a missing scientist immediately.

“Sam.”

I shrug even though she can’t see it.

“Wait. let me guess. Is she female?”

“What makes you say that?”

“You wolves have a penchant for keeping your females prisoner before you mate them.”

“She’s not a wolf,” I mutter, the word mate knocking around in my head like a bowling ball tipping pins. But Kylie’s right. If Layne was a wolf, I’d have marked her as forever mine twelve hours ago. But that’s just a sign that my wolf is damaged. Why would he pick a human? And a human from Data-X, no less. Enduring torture during the puberty years probably imprinted the wrong thing on me.

“I’m not a wolf, either,” Kylie reminds me.

“I mean she’s not a shifter,” I say, but recall the Tucson pack leader, Garrett, kidnapped a human female and made her his mate. “Mating’s not a possibility.” That much is certain. I sound more curt than I mean to, but only because the idea that Layne can’t be my mate pisses me off. “Listen, I could use some help. I got some files of other shifters who have been experimented on. Can you help me locate them?”

“Sure. Send me the information.”

“I uploaded the data to the CG server. I’m trying to find anything that will lead me to Smyth. Oh, and Kylie? Two things. One—I think the government might somehow be involved. Smyth was a military doctor. I found pictures of him with the lion shifter Tank released from the facility in Utah in uniform. It would explain the funding and high-level security. And two—Santiago was there. Tell Garrett, he’ll want to know.”

Santiago is the shifter responsible for Garrett’s sister’s kidnapping. Our pack and his brother-in-law’s pack in Mexico have been hunting him.

“Okay. I’ll be in touch. Answer my messages next time, okay?”

“I’ll try,” I mumble and hang up the phone.

Although my senses already told me Layne entered the room, when I turn, I go still at her beauty. Raven black hair and smooth, pale skin. She’s more exquisite than any Snow White depiction I’ve ever seen. She’s back in her dress from yesterday. Remembering pulling it up over her breasts, my first discovery of her ripe flesh beneath it makes my already blue balls contract.

She clears her throat. “Who was that?”

I’m confused by the wary angle of her shoulders, the way she seems to be holding her breath. And then it hits me. She heard a female voice.

She’s jealous.

I shouldn’t be so overjoyed by that realization, but I am. I grow about ten feet tall, my chest expanding.

“My pack brother, Jackson’s mate.”

Her shoulders relax and her head falls to the side. “Doesn’t that make her your pack sister?”

I shrug. “I guess, except she’s not a wolf, she’s a panther.”

Layne absorbs that, her intelligent gaze seeing everything. “Where do they live?”

I only hesitate for a second. I have nothing to hide from Layne; she’s not the enemy. “Tucson.”

“Is that where you’re from?”

“I’m from a test tube in a lab.” I don’t keep the bitterness from my voice. “Jackson found me on a mountain after I escaped Smyth’s lab and took me in. When he moved to Tucson, I moved with him.” I was a dangerous, traumatized prick, but Jackson’s no buttercup himself. We formed a reluctant alliance. Basically, he left me alone, let me freeload off him and I promised to stay. When I got itchy and the beast took over, I’d run away. He’d track me down and force me back to my human form. Drag me back to his place. After a while, we grew to trust each other. Watch each other’s backs.

She nods. “Sam?”

Fuck, there’s a vulnerability to the way she gazes at me from under her lashes that charges my wolf up, ready to defend her to the death. “Yes, doctor?”

“I need to go to my apartment.”

I shake my head. “Not going to happen. They’ll be looking for you there.” I try to figure out what she needs. “We can stop somewhere and buy you clothes and a toothbrush. Whatever you need.”

She sucks on her lower lip, making me wish it was my teeth dragging over that plump flesh. “I need to go to my apartment,” she repeats.

I frown and advance on her, cupping her chin. “Tell me why.”

Her pulse flutters near my fingers, cleavage lifts and falls. “I, uh, need to pick up a prescription—my birth control.”

I tilt my head as I smell the untruth. Why is she lying? I don’t pretend to have much experience with females, but up to this point I thought I understood Layne. “I’m sorry, I don’t think it’s worth risking our lives for. Do you?”

She sags, but shakes her head. I almost ask her what the real reason is. After what we’ve been through, I’d hoped we were beyond mistrust.

But then, what do I know about relationships, anyway?

A big fat nothing.

And I’d better stop pretending that we can be together. It’s not going to happen. She’s got a bright future in front of her.

I’ve got nothing else left in me but revenge.

Layne

My hand trembles a little and I clench it. Sam is at the table, working on his computer, but I turn away so he won’t notice. Hiding my symptoms, just like my mom used to.

Barrington’s is slow advancing disease, and the first signs are easy to miss, unless you know what to look for. If, for example, you watched a loved one die slowly in front of your eyes. My mom didn’t know the signs until after she had a child. Otherwise, she might have done the research and chosen not to have me. To leave her daughter motherless.

I need my medication. Why didn’t I just tell Sam?

Because I don’t want this to end. This thing between Sam and I. I can’t be in a relationship. I’m not going to do to him what my mom did to my dad. But now that I’ve had a taste, I’m selfish enough to want to take it a little further.

It’s not too much to want to have good sex before I die, is it?

I head to the small kitchen, skirting the table. Sam doesn’t move a muscle, his perfect face illuminated by the screen. He really is beautiful, for a man. Almost perfect bone structure. And his muscular body—flawless. Except for the scars.

For once in my life, I have something other than my research to live for. I’m not a virgin—I didn’t really date in high school and college, but I did enough to check sex off my very short bucket list. But I’ve never felt anything like what I have with Sam. Maybe I shouldn’t feel this way about someone I just met, but I want to see where this goes. Just a little further, and then I’ll pull back. I’ll tell him about Barrington’s. He’s already made it plain he can’t be in a relationship, either, so no harm, no foul.

Images flicker across Sam’s computer screen.

“What are you watching?” I ask before I can stop myself.

He pauses the video but doesn’t look at me. “Footage from Data-X experiments. The Alpha Project.” I’ve never heard someone’s voice so empty, yet so filled with pain.

I swallow. “May I see?”

He rises and waits until I take his seat. The still shot shows a camera’s eye view of a room, with a blurred figure inside. I grip the edge of the seat, bracing myself as he pushes play.

A man stands rigid in a small space, bare-chested and barefoot. The way the camera’s angled, the frame catches three corners of the room. There’s a cot and bare concrete walls and floor.

It’s a cell, and the man inside is a prisoner. The way he holds himself still and straight—he looks like a soldier about to snap to attention.

“Who is this?” I ask.

“Brian Nash Armstrong. Goes by Nash. Lion shifter,” Sam murmurs.

The door opens, the man’s shoulders tighten but he doesn’t move. Three men in black enter the small room, weapons trained on the half-naked man. Two more appear, holding a woman wearing a white sort of garment between them.

I suck in a breath as the two guards push the woman forward, yanking her garment—no more than a sheet—off at the same time. Naked, she stumbles into the man, who snaps his arms around her, steadying her as she huddles against him. Her thick, tawny hair hides her face as she presses it against Nash’s bare chest. He angles his body, hiding her from the men in black. His mouth moves, saying something just before the men in black retreat, shutting the door and leaving the woman alone with him.

Sam reaches around me to stop the clip.

“What was that?” My voice wobbles.

“That was one of the branches of the Alpha project. The breeding program.” He taps at the computer and pulls up another video. The same man, Nash, strapped to a table with wires patched to different parts of his body. The man looks thinner, his face pale and gaunt. “Here’s the other branch.”

The words “Endurance Test 173” appear on screen and disappear a second before Nash’s body tenses, tremors running through his legs as whoever’s off screen pumps some sort of current through him. Claws tear from Nash’s knuckles, convulsions wracking his body as his lips curl back in a silent scream.

“Oh my God,” I turn away. Instantly, Sam shuts off the clip, leaning down to lift me into his lap. I huddle against him, much like that poor woman clung to Nash in the cell of a Data-X lab.

The cells from the Alpha project. The people tortured and forced to breed. What have I done?

“It wasn’t you, Layne,” Sam says, and I realize I’ve spoken aloud. “You didn’t know. It wasn’t your fault.”

I push my hands under his shirt, seeking the warm comfort of his flesh. I trace the scars under my fingertips. He holds still, letting me touch him.

“They hurt you,” I whimper.

“Shhh,” he soothes. “It’s all right. It was a long time ago.” He slips an arm around my waist. “You’re shaking.” Sam’s voice carries shock.

Shit. It’s not just from seeing the torture clip. It’s the Barrington’s.

“I’m just... hungry. Is there anything around here for breakfast?”

Sam lets out a low curse and releases me, striding to the cabinets. He swears again as he surveys the canned goods.

“It’s okay.” I don’t know why I need to soothe him, but he seems upset about not having breakfast food for me. “I don’t usually eat much for breakfast anyway. Just a granola bar or piece of fruit.”

He whirls, expression incredulous. “You’ve been killing yourself for that research.”

I draw back, stung by the accusation.

Pain shadows his eyes before he curses again and slams his fist down on the countertop. “Come on,” he clips and strides toward me, grabbing my hand.

I shake it off. “No, I’m fine. I don’t know why you’re getting so uptight.”

He stops and turns. Regret etches over the lines in his youthful face. “I’m just mad at myself for forgetting your needs. And I’m mad at Data-X for sucking the life out of you. Please. Let me take you to breakfast. I owe you that much, at the very least.”

Damn him for turning tortured into charming. I shake my head, but a smile tugs at my lips. “You’re crazy.”

He flicks his eyebrows up. “No question about that, sweetheart.” He extends his hand, not presuming to pick mine up this time, just offering his.

I take it. “Fine.”

His smile is a stunning reward. He grabs his phone and the keys to the van and leads me outside.

I breathe in the scent of pine and cool mountain air while he locks up the mobile home. It’s delicious—so fresh and invigorating. When was the last time I even paid attention to my natural surroundings? I can’t remember a time. Maybe before my mom died.

We get in the van and Sam drives down the mountain, into San Diego. We end up downtown, where he parallel parks and we get out. He tugs me into a drugstore and buys me a toothbrush, t-shirt, underwear and leggings. He insists on stuffing my dress and lab coat in a dumpster. Something about scent trails.

We sit down in a hipster diner. Suddenly starving, I order huevos rancheros with avocado and a cup of coffee.

Sam appears pleased. He orders enough food for three more people.

Tremors at the base of my skull have my head shaking, but it’s not noticeable enough for Sam to see.

“My apartment isn’t far from here,” I try again. “Maybe we could just swing by to see if the coast is clear.”

Sam narrows his eyes. “Tell me what you need there, Layne.”

I suck my lower lip into my mouth, wishing he wasn’t so damn perceptive. “Nothing. Nevermind. You’re right—it’s not worth it.”

He watches me for a long moment. “Are you from San Diego?”

A prickle of unease shudders through me. There’s mistrust behind the seemingly casual question. Probably because he knows I’m keeping something from him. Maybe that’s why I tell him more than I mean to.

“I grew up in San Francisco. Chinatown.” I head off the annoying question everyone wants to ask when they hear where I’m from. “My mom died when I was eight. My father never recovered. He’s a biology professor. He took a position in London after I went to college, so I don’t really have a home anymore.”

Sam’s gone still, like I’m sharing the secrets of the universe. “Do you visit him in London?”

I don’t know why I blush. I guess because I’m a bad daughter who has no desire to see the hollow man my father’s become. “No.” I take a sip of the coffee. It will make my tremors worse, but the familiar bitter taste grounds me.

“What about you? You weren’t born and raised in that lab, were you?” My stomach knots thinking about his traumatic past.

“Almost. I was an in vitro experiment. I’m not sure how I was actually born. My birth certificate lists a human female as my mother, but it’s doubtful I’m a half-breed. I grew up in foster care until I hit puberty, which is when we first shift. Then, one day I was picked up from school and taken to the lab where I spent the next four years in testing.”

I fight back the tears welling in my eyes, crowding my throat. “And then what?” I force the words past my lips.

Sam’s eyes glow yellow, gaze unfocused. His fingers curl into fists.

Without thinking, I reach across the table and touch his arm. He’s shaking worse than I do without meds.

“Sam?” I stroke and squeeze his balled fingers. I’m calling him back to the present from wherever he’s disappeared to. “Sam.”

He blinks rapidly, focus returning to my face. After a moment, his grip softens and he lets me pry his fist open. His eyes change back to pale blue.

“What happens when you look like that, Sam? Are you having a flashback?”

Sam pulls his hand away as if I bit him. He rubs his forehead. “It’s… I don’t know. Not a flashback. My control slips.”

“The control that keeps you human?”

He nods once. “Yes.”

I want to walk around the table and wrap my arms around him. Sit in his lap and kiss his neck and make him stay with me. The urge to care for him is so strong it stuns me.

I haven’t made emotional connections to anyone since my mom died and my dad withdrew into himself. But things have been different with Sam from the beginning.

Sam

Layne picks up my hand and holds it to her face.

The metallic cacophony in my ears immediately recedes. My pounding heart slows. I draw in a deep breath. Then a shudder runs through me, as if touching Layne made my body reset.

“You make it better and worse at the same time,” I confess.

She arches a brow. “I do?”

“Yeah.” I give her a rueful smile. “Somehow you calm the beast inside me—except when I get turned on. Then all bets are off.”

“Tell me what happened. How did it end—the testing?”

The sound of grinding gears starts up again. I shake my head. “Not now.”

She looks like she’s going to argue, but the waitress shows up with our food. I wait to make sure she’s really going to eat before I shovel mine into my mouth. Shit. She’s so damn fragile—it kills me to think of her stressing her body through long years of study and research. She deserves to live—really live. A part of me wants to show her how—starting right now.

But hell, what do I know? My whole life has been focused on survival or revenge. I wouldn’t even know how to begin living or showing Layne anything more.