A Stranger's Touch

A Stranger’s Touch Lacey Savage Shifter’s Touch, Book One

Roxana Leventis spends her evenings blindfolded and strapped into a harness. As living art, she’s appreciated with all the senses. That means being touched, fondled and caressed in the most intimate ways. Donovan Armstrong thinks his latest assignment is just another security gig, guarding priceless paintings. Boring stuff for a wolf shifter, but he plans to return home to Canada as soon as he finds a suitable mate, the kind of shifter female who’ll stun his pack with her perfection. After four years of searching, however, his temporary stay in New York is starting to look pretty damn permanent. Until one whiff of Roxi’s scent awakens his dormant inner wolf. Taking her as his mate is unthinkable. She’s not a shifter, and her delicate human body is much too fragile to withstand his animal urges. Still…neither man nor beast can ignore the way she stirs their blood. Donovan’s job is simple—protect Roxi from overzealous gallery visitors. But who’s going to protect her from him?

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A Stranger’s Touch ISBN 9781419938696 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED A Stranger’s Touch Copyright © 2012 Lacey Savage Edited by Kelli Collins Cover design by Syneca Photography: Serg Zastavkin Electronic book publication January 2012 The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502. Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. The publisher and author(s) acknowledge the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks and word marks mentioned in this book. The publisher does not have any control over, and does not assume any responsibility for, author or third-party Web sites or their content.

A STRANGER’S TOUCH Lacey Savage

A Stranger’s Touch

Chapter One He caught her scent the moment he walked through the door. Beneath the odors of oil-based paint, varnish and sawdust, the sweet aroma of aroused female walloped Donovan Armstrong like a punch to the jaw, bringing his head up and making his nostrils flare. He narrowed his eyes as he took in the entrance to the small art gallery. It opened onto a room roughly the same size as the bedroom in his apartment. Except unlike his bedroom, this space was entirely taken up by a flock of pigeons made out of what looked to be Styrofoam splattered in ketchup. He tilted his head, but it didn’t make any more sense from a different angle. “It’s a philosophical statement on the battle of the sexes. Quite striking, wouldn’t you agree?” Donovan tore his gaze from the bizarre display to face the man who’d spoken. A good five inches shorter than Donovan, he wore a gray suit with patches at the elbows, a white shirt and a bright red tie. His blond hair was slicked back from his face and gold-rimmed glasses sat on the bridge of a long nose. “Brad Pierson.” The man stuck out his hand. “You must be the new security guy.” Donovan clasped the outstretched hand and shook it. “Donovan Armstrong. United Security said you needed someone to fill a spot on short notice.” “Ah, yes.” Brad cleared his throat, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “The last security guard had trouble with… Well, with the job. How much did United Security tell you about what you’ll be guarding?” “Nothing.” The only information he’d been given was the name and address of the place, along with instructions to show up as soon as possible. When he realized the gig was at an art gallery, he assumed he’d been hired to protect priceless paintings. Now he wasn’t so sure. “I see.” Brad slid a finger beneath his collar, as though the shirt had suddenly tried to strangle him. “To be perfectly blunt, Mr. Armstrong—” “Donovan.” Brad nodded. “Right. As I was saying, this job is fairly unusual.” Donovan allowed his gaze to linger on the Styrofoam bird display. “I’m guessing that’s par for the course at Moderne.” Brad’s thin lips tilted into a small smile but his eyes narrowed, as if he wasn’t sure whether Donovan was mocking him. “I’m very proud of my gallery. It might be small, but I display some of the most unusual modern art in all of New York.”

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“Because that’s what New York needs.” Donovan raised an eyebrow, making his skepticism clear. “More art.” “No doubt you’ve been to the Metropolitan Museum. It’s old and outdated. What this city needs is an infusion of new ideas. New expressions of the application of human skill and creativity. New ways to think about the world.” Brad’s cheekbones took on a reddish hue as he talked, and his gestures grew animated. “Make no mistake, Donovan. Art is all around us. We just choose not to see it. Come, follow me.” Donovan dutifully fell into step behind his new boss, who led him through a narrow doorway at the far end of the pigeon room. The female aroma he’d scented earlier grew stronger, and the sweet smell flooded his veins with a surge of desire. Then his gaze fell on the next display of modern art, and the flood of lust evaporated like water in the desert. If he thought the Styrofoam pigeons were odd, this new exhibit was downright bizarre. A twelve-foot statue of a baby wearing a diaper would have been creepy even if the infant didn’t have vampire teeth. But most disturbing of all was the giant, disembodied tit he clutched to his mouth, baby-fangs sinking into the nipple as he balanced on stumpy little legs. Donovan shuddered and looked away. This was what he’d been hired to protect? “This way.” Brad paused in the next doorway and beckoned Donovan farther along. He ignored the giant baby and his feeding frenzy, as though the sculpture wasn’t looming over them like some demonic beast. Donovan braced himself then shuffled his feet as he made his way to Brad. God only knew what kind of horrific sight awaited him in the next room. “My masterpiece,” Brad said, rubbing his hands together as he stepped aside to give Donovan a perfect view of what lay beyond the doorway. “I call her Woman Unbound.” Donovan glanced past Brad to a harness of sorts, hanging from the ceiling—and his jaw dropped. He rubbed his eyes, thinking he had to be hallucinating. After the grotesque spectacles in the first two rooms, this was… “Incredible,” he murmured. Brad made a sound of approval low in his throat. “Isn’t she, though?” Here, the scent was intoxicating. It flooded his nostrils and filled him with instant lust. A growl built in his chest, and he forced himself to stifle it as he focused on the woman before him. She was strapped into the harness, lying suspended about three feet off the ground—absolutely, stunningly naked. A leather blindfold covered the upper part of her face, leaving plump red lips in full view. His pulse quickening, Donovan let his gaze wander the line of her throat, down to large breasts and cinnamon-tipped nipples. Her pale skin glistened in the harsh glow of

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the overhead neon lights. A riot of dark, wavy hair cascaded loosely, the tips almost touching the floor. The woman’s full curves rested on a satiny body pillow atop a dense slab of wood about four feet long and three feet across, supporting her back, neck and head. Four thick silver chains descended from the ceiling and looped through holes in each corner of the slab, holding it in place. The woman’s ass hung off the end of the pillow. Leather cuffs bound her wrists and ankles. Four more chains, thinner and made of shimmery braided strands, dangled from the ceiling and attached to the woman’s cuffs through metal loops, splaying her legs wide and holding her arms extended over her head. Two narrow poles jutted from the floor, completing the unique apparatus. Leather padding covered the tops of the poles, cradling the backs of the woman’s knees, probably as much for support as for comfort. Unlike the first two galleries, which had been empty, this small room was crowded. A dozen people clustered around the display. But they weren’t just watching. They were touching, fondling and groping, sliding fingers up her thighs and down her slit, tweaking her nipples and parting the fleshy cheeks of her ass to explore her opening. And they did it all in utter silence, as if they were in a library—or hell, a real museum. Donovan’s groin tightened and his inner wolf raged for control. “What is this?” Brad gestured toward the woman. “Art. Living, breathing, interactive art. Meant to be appreciated with all the senses, not just with the eyes. She’s to be touched, smelled, tasted and felt. A true pièce de résistance.” From where he stood, Donovan had a great view of her plump pussy. The pink folds glistened as a man pressed two fingers on either side of her sex, parting her slit so her channel gaped slightly. She didn’t wiggle. Didn’t even move as the guy thrust the tip of his thumb into her opening. Donovan’s chest expanded with the force of his inhalation. He fisted his hands at his sides as his inner wolf howled, demanding— What? For Donovan to join in? He wasn’t sure. He could barely communicate with his beast when he was fully shifted, and he’d long ago given up trying to guess what his wolf wanted. Forcing himself to focus on Brad, Donovan crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s the job?” “I thought that would be obvious by now. Guarding her, of course. We get all kinds of people walking through here. She’s to be admired and appreciated, but not harmed in any way. It’s your job to make sure everyone who plays with my masterpiece is as respectful and careful as if touching the Mona Lisa herself. Do you understand?” “I got it. Watch her, protect her, defend her. Sounds simple enough. When do I start?”

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Brad gestured toward the harness. “Immediately.”

***** Two weeks later “Oh my God! That woman…she’s…I mean, how can she… Did you know? Is that why you brought me here?” Roxana Leventis was glad she was blindfolded. If she hadn’t been, she’d have rolled her eyes, which was probably on Brad’s list of forbidden behavior. Right up there with talking, moaning and coming. After four months of working at Moderne, she should have been used to those types of comments. She heard them all the time, mostly from women, which she supposed wasn’t a complete surprise. “Mike told me about this place. He said he and his girlfriend came here a couple of weeks ago and had a great time.” The man sounded meek, cowered under his companion’s indignation. “I thought it might be fun for us too.” “Fun?” The woman’s shrill voice echoed off the walls. “You thought it would be fun to take me to a place that strings up women like slabs of meat?” “Honey, don’t be ridiculous.” The guy softened his tone, no doubt embarrassed to be yelled at in a public place. “It’s an art gallery, not a strip club.” Roxi bit her lower lip and tried to drift back into her happy place, where fantasies involving her and a certain security guard abounded. “Please be reasonable.” He was just one high-pitched whine away from begging now. “This is a modern art gallery for adults, which is what we are, right? We can handle a bit of nudity.” “T-this is obscene!” She sounded even more incensed, probably surprised the guy would put up a fight. “We’re leaving, right now.” “But…” Roxi didn’t catch the rest of his words. His voice dimmed as their footsteps faded out of hearing range. Well, good riddance. Maybe now she could get a bit of peace. Where had she been, before those two so rudely interrupted? Oh right. On a secluded beach with Donovan Armstrong. He was lying on a towel, buck-naked, his erection proudly jutting from the nest of curls at his groin and resting across his taut stomach. She licked her lips in anticipation of taking his rod into her mouth. There was nowhere else she’d rather be. Suddenly, the scene shifted. The beach vanished, and in its place a bedroom with satin sheets and cream-colored walls appeared. Music played softly in the background and rose petals had been scattered across the pillows. Donovan lay on the bed, a crimson sheet draped over his midsection, hiding his beautiful cock.

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Damn it. There went her brain again, hurling her toward romance. Just like in every other fantasy she’d had about Donovan, the moment she tried to focus on good old nostrings-attached sex, her mind veered somewhere totally different, presenting her with a scene that entailed much more than a quick, satisfying romp. Fingers crept up Roxi’s inner thigh. Male, she guessed, though the leather blindfold wrapped around her eyes made it impossible to know for sure. She pretended they were Donovan’s but knew that would never happen. One, he was much too professional to ever allow himself such liberties. And two, he’d barely said more than a dozen words to her since he’d started working here. Occasionally he growled. She didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. Either way, it didn’t matter. He kept her safe, which was exactly what he’d been hired to do. Brad hadn’t said anything about the two of them needing to get to know each other, no matter how often her addled brain conjured that scenario. “Is that her?” Roxi’s ears perked at the whispered question. The woman’s voice held none of the venom of the earlier visitor’s, and she relaxed a fraction. The newcomer must have arrived with a girlfriend, because another female voice murmured her assent. “But she’s…” The woman paused, apparently unsure how to phrase her confusion. “Fat,” she said at last. Roxi bit her lower lip again. This was another conversation she’d had the dubious pleasure of overhearing way too many times to count. Because she showed off her body to earn a paycheck, people automatically assumed she had to be six feet tall and weigh a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet. Well, she hadn’t been a hundred and ten pounds since sixth grade. A growl emanated from her left. It was subtle, more of a reverberation than an outright grunt, but it sent instant liquid heat to flood her pussy. Roxi gritted her teeth. Just how sex-starved was she that the simple rumble of Donovan’s voice made her wet? Her arousal was as much on display as the rest of her, and Roxi struggled to tame her reactions. She was usually pretty good at hiding her body’s impulses, even when strangers poked and prodded her in the most intimate places, but a mere sound from him caused her nipples to turn into stiff points. Damn the man. Ever since Donovan took over as her personal bodyguard for the last guy—who’d had a mini meltdown after coming in his pants—she’d been intimately attuned to his every move. He was a distraction she didn’t need. How the hell was she supposed to be art in every sense of the word—immobile, unaffected, cold—with him around? “You’re right. I mean, she must be a size fourteen at least. Just look at her thighs.” “Yeah, and that ass. It’s huge.” Donovan’s growl turned feral then exploded into a roared, “Quiet, please!” He didn’t seem to give a damn that his order wasn’t quiet—or pleasant.

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Roxi couldn’t hide her triumphant grin when one of the women let out a startled squeak. Donovan made a striking impression on anyone lucky enough to cross his path. He stood at least six-foot-five, and she figured God must have taken inspiration from a brick wall when building him. His broad shoulders stretched the material of the black suit serving as his uniform, until she sometimes thought it might rip at the seams. He looked to be built of solid muscle, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes…not that she’d ever seen his toes. But she’d imagined them, and in her fantasies they were massive…just like all his other luscious parts. Someone traced a path along Roxi’s left leg, fingers starting at her ankle and drifting upward, over her knee, pausing only when they reached the dip connecting her thigh to her groin. She heard a man’s swift intake of breath and schooled her features into their usual mask. She knew what came next. A gentle touch would be followed by— Ah yes, there it is… A more insistent squeeze, this one with an entire palm cupped over her mound. The heel of the man’s palm rubbed her clit but her reaction remained neutral, just as she’d been instructed. She knew the rules and found them simple to follow, especially since no one ever took the time to try to pleasure her. Strangers groped her like schoolboys under the bleachers, but very few appeared to even know her clit existed, much less showed any interest in it. A hand tickled her brow then dove into her hair. Someone else squeezed her right nipple. The touch on her breast was tentative at first, as though the person couldn’t believe this was allowed. But it didn’t take long before the hand grew bolder, tweaking the tiny bud and pulling on it until tears stung Roxi’s eyes. “That’s enough.” At another of Donovan’s trademark growls, the person backed off. He even murmured an apology, which Roxi was inclined to accept. The man who’d been cupping her sex now used two fingers on each side of her labia to part her nether lips. Her entrance spread, and he must have gotten right down there to take a good look, because she could feel his warm breath on her cunt. Something smooth and cold nudged her opening. She sucked in a breath, preparing herself for the inevitable intrusion. “You need lube if you’re going to use that.” Donovan again. Looking out for her, though he didn’t know the sound of his voice was the only lubricant she needed. Her pussy quivered, her folds growing slick even before the stranger brought the object to her entrance again. She recognized the glass tip of a dildo, one of the standard ones Brad provided for visitor use. It was now slick with lube. The guy grunted as he slid the device inside. Her inner walls stretched to accommodate it, and Roxi did her best to fight the urge to thrust forward and sink the toy deep herself. 10

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Someone grabbed her ass. Not the same guy…the fingers felt different. She thought perhaps this could be a woman. Not many female hands touched her, but she’d learned to appreciate the much gentler caresses when she could get them. A sudden prod against her anus had her gasping. She clenched her teeth as the sound echoed through the otherwise quiet gallery. Whatever the woman had tried to thrust into her ass was huge, and hadn’t been properly prepared. “No.” Luckily, Donovan noticed too. “One device at a time.” “What’s the use of providing toys if we can’t play with them?” The woman sounded haughty, downright offended at having been interrupted while fondling the display piece. “Use your common sense, woman.” The rumbling growl in Donovan’s voice turned deeper still. “Lacking that, there’s a brochure out front that lists the guidelines for what you may and may not do while you’re in here. It clearly states you may use only one toy at a time.” The visitor scoffed. “That’s not enough for me.” “Then the door’s right where you left it on your way in.” Roxi blew out a breath as the woman relinquished her hold on her buttocks. A clatter reached Roxi’s ears, no doubt from the woman tossing the toy none too gently into the disposal bin. A pair of large palms cupped her breasts. Two others slid along her rib cage. Yet Roxi relaxed, knowing that as long as Donovan was watching out for her, she was always in good hands.

***** Somehow, Donovan managed to last the entire day without blowing his load. It was a hell of an accomplishment, considering the way Roxi’s scent wrapped around his balls and squeezed every time he came within ten feet of her. When he’d learned the reason the last guard had quit, Donovan had laughed. He wasn’t laughing anymore. Spending six long hours watching Roxi’s voluptuous body being used in the kinkiest ways would test anyone’s self-control. He was surprised the former bodyguard made it as long as he did. Donovan had been here two weeks, and it already felt like he’d spent two years guarding this woman. When around her, his senses seemed to expand, functioning on constant overload. He’d become intimately attuned to her scent. One whiff the moment she walked into a room and his surroundings narrowed so she became the center of his world. Good thing for a bodyguard, he supposed, being so damn aware of his charge. Fucking awful thing for a wolf searching for a shifter mate. Roxi’s scent masked all other odors, making it impossible for him to casually continue his search for a suitable mate while at work. Dozens of women strolled by him while he was on duty, but with Roxi around, a stink bomb could detonate right in front 11

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of his wolfish nose and he’d have no clue. Just yesterday he’d been standing right beside a stag shifter and would have missed the scent of prey altogether if the guy hadn’t been in heat. That, he’d been able to scent…the musky aroma of need that mingled with Roxi’s sweet essence and drove Donovan’s inner wolf into a howling frenzy. He’d been able to stop the sudden urge to shift from overtaking him, but just barely. He’d thought this job would be easy. He’d been dead wrong. Gritting his teeth, Donovan slammed the gallery door closed behind the last visitor of the night. He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow and braced himself for his final duty. Releasing Roxi from her restraints. The task he most looked forward to and dreaded. Donovan pushed away from the door and took his time strolling through the front two rooms, giving wide berth to the pigeons and the monster baby. He made sure not to look at the giant tit at all. The thing freaked him out, and he was secure enough in his masculinity to admit it. “Are they gone?” God, he loved her heavy accent. European, with a sultry timbre that held a honeyed edge of pure sex. Too bad Brad had forbidden her from speaking while on duty. He could have charged double at the door for that voice alone. “Every last one,” Donovan said. Brad usually stayed behind in case someone wanted to purchase one of the art pieces that were for sale, but he’d left early tonight. That meant Donovan was in charge of closing up. And he and Roxi were completely alone in the gallery. “Thank God.” She wriggled her wrists in the leather restraints. “My arms are killing me today.” He circled her, assessing the harness for the millionth time, and shook his head. Getting strung up and played with at the whim of strangers was a hell of a way to make a living. Why did she do it? Why put herself on display like this for all of New York and its tourists to have a feel? None of my business, he reminded himself, just like he’d been doing since his first day on the job. He’d figured his curiosity would fade, and that the more time he spent around Roxi, the more his infatuation would dim. Just one more thing to add to the never-ending list of shit he’d been wrong about. Gritting his teeth, Donovan told himself he didn’t give a damn about this sexy little human or her kinky bent. He had only to do his job in her presence. The rest of the time, he needed to focus on his goal—find a wolf-shifter mate and return home to Thompson Falls with her in tow. It sounded so damn simple. So why was it taking so long? A growl slipped from his throat. “Donovan?” Roxi started. “Everything okay?”

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“Fine,” he snapped. She shrank away from him, and he instantly regretted his harsh tone. “Sorry. Long day.” “Tell me about it.” She sighed, wiggled her right foot. “Untie me?” His hand closed around her ankle. He meant to do as she asked, he really did. But her skin felt soft, like satin, and her scent intensified the moment his fingers made contact with her flesh. From where he stood, he could see all the way up between her legs, into the pink softness at the apex of her thighs. She was clean shaven, giving him a glimpse of the bounty that should have been hidden from everyone else, but wasn’t. Other men had gotten an eyeful of her intimate places. Other men had touched her there. His lip curled. The thought made his wolf’s blood boil. Donovan tried to ignore the beast. He didn’t care what the wolf felt. Not one damn bit. But instead of yanking his hand back to Roxi’s restraints, he slid both palms up the length of her calf. “What…” She sucked in a breath. “What are you doing?” “What everyone else does. Enjoying interactive art.” She shivered at his touch. “I am, as you Americans say, off the clock. Remember?” “Not until I say you are.” Her mouth parted in obvious surprise, revealing a bruise in the center of her lower lip. She must have bitten that spot often, perhaps while holding back her cries of pleasure as other men touched her. When jealousy slammed into Donovan this time, it wasn’t coming from his wolf alone. His muscles quivered with anticipation. Her scent clogged his senses until he could think of nothing but her. Claiming her. Having her. Marking her as his. Her face fell suddenly, and her lower lip trembled. “You think I am a whore.” The blunt statement, delivered in her sexy accent, yanked him out of the haze of lust. He eyed her carefully, taking in the story her body was so clearly telling. Goose bumps had broken out where he’d touched her, running up the length of her pale skin all the way to her areolas. Her small nipples were puckered into hard nubs. “So what, then? You just like your job?” “You know nothing about me.” Roxi released a deep breath and her chest heaved. God, but she was so damn beautiful. “You assume, like all men do, that because of what I do I am yours for the taking.” She tilted her chin up and somehow managed to look regal while doing it, even all tied and blindfolded. “I am not here for the sex.” She was lying. He could see it in the pucker of those perfect nipples, smell it in the way her scent wrapped around him, feel it in the goose bumps raised across her silky skin. The corner of Donovan’s lips twitched. He’d always loved a challenge, and it sure sounded to him like Roxi was issuing one. “No? So sex doesn’t interest you one bit?” “W-with you?”

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A grin crossed his lips. He’d made her stammer. Twin red blossoms colored her cheekbones. Despite having seen her naked countless times, he’d never actually seen her blush before. He found he liked it. A lot. He’d been alone too long. Ever since Samantha left, he’d been determined to remain celibate until he found his shifter mate. He just hadn’t expected his search to take this long. His mouth watered. He imagined flicking one of her tempting nipples with the tip of his tongue, feeling the puckered edges, nibbling and sucking until he had her panting beneath him. But it wouldn’t be enough, for either of them. If he started down that path, he wouldn’t stop until she begged him to fuck her. And she would beg. He had no doubt he could drive her to the brink of insanity, until only his cock thrusting deep into her sweet pussy would bring her back from the edge of madness. Donovan slid his fingers up Roxi’s leg, loving the way her muscles tensed beneath his touch. She trembled slightly, and the tremor ran straight through his blood, fueling his predator instinct. All tied up like this, she was the perfect prey. A bead of moisture gathered at the edge of Roxi’s folds. It formed a tiny drop, and this time, he couldn’t resist the urge to taste. He quickly knelt between her parted thighs and gripped her hips with both hands, steadying her in the harness, making sure he had her exactly where he wanted her. Then he claimed her sex with his mouth. An explosion of sensation careened through Roxi’s body. A cry tore from her throat and echoed off the walls. The muscles in her legs and buttocks clenched as she struggled to make sense of what was happening. Donovan’s lips molded to her cunt. His tongue cleaved through her slit, homing in on her entrance and gently slipping inside. She fisted her hands, dug her fingernails into her palms. The harness swayed, rattling the chains. Her breathing became ragged and she struggled to form a single word. “Donovan!” He lifted his head. “Say my name again.” His voice was thick, rough, guttural. She almost didn’t recognize it. She gasped as his warm breath caressed her folds. Her pussy throbbed, the need he’d awakened demanding more of what he’d been offering. “D-Donovan.” She stumbled over the first syllable but managed to get his name out on a sigh. “What—” A gasp drowned out the rest of her words as he slipped a finger right where his tongue had been. Or a thumb, she guessed by the thickness of the single digit. He didn’t thrust it inside her but simply nudged her entrance with the pad, teasing so her inner walls clenched, seeking to be filled. Roxi’s head swam. She arched her back as far as the restraints would allow, seeking closer contact with his fingers, his mouth, his tongue—anything he was willing to give.

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God… She hadn’t realized he wanted her too. They’d spent all this time together, and yet he’d done little more than grunt her way on occasion, like when she asked about the weather or wondered if he’d had a good weekend. She’d given up trying to initiate casual chitchat, because judging by the way Donovan looked at her as he freed Roxi from her bonds each night, well…she’d assumed he disapproved of her work. Disapproved of her. But a man didn’t have to like a woman to want to fuck her, did he? No more than a woman had to love a man to bring him to her bed. As a newcomer to New York, Roxi had watched every episode of Sex and the City in an attempt to understand American relationships. And over the course of six seasons, she’d figured out that a modern woman could have everything she wanted. All she had to do was reach out and grab the prize with both hands. Not that she could grab Donovan at the present moment, restrained as she was, but the concept was sound. She’d been drooling over him since Brad had first removed her blindfold, allowing her to see the new bodyguard. This was her opportunity to have some fabulous, no-strings sex with the guy she’d been fantasizing about for weeks. Except…she hadn’t just been fantasizing about hot sex with a gorgeous man, had she? No, she’d been yearning for so much more. As crazy as it sounded—especially when she had his talented mouth on her pussy—she didn’t want a fling. Not with Donovan. She wanted him to cook her eggs and bacon after a night of passion, to bring her roses, to declare his undying love on bended knee. “Stop.” She gasped out the word, as rattled by the sudden romantic flight of fancy as she’d been by the first touch of his tongue to her sex. Donovan either hadn’t heard her or he didn’t give a damn. Because clearly, he had no intention of stopping. His finger slid deeper into her channel. His tongue circled her clit. Roxi whimpered, wishing he’d removed her blindfold. She wanted to see him there, between her legs, his chin glistening with her juices, his eyes dark with lust. “Donov—” She didn’t get to finish uttering his name. Just then, he closed his lips around her clit and sucked. The orgasm he’d been teasing from her body exploded in a rush, careening through her with the force of a tsunami. Her body quivered. Cream soaked her folds, and the scent of her pleasure flooded her nostrils. Through the fog of release, she heard a metallic rattle and recognized it as a belt buckle hitting the floor. She pictured Donovan standing naked between her spread legs, his large cock cradled in his right hand, the tip pointing straight at her opening. She wanted him. Oh God, how she wanted him. But not like this. “Enough! You have proven your point,” she panted, still fighting to catch her breath after the fabulous orgasm he’d given her. “I am a lustful whore who comes on demand. Is that what you want to hear?”

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He growled low under his breath. The sound was menacing, and it sent a shiver down her spine. “You think this is a game?” “Is it not?” A trickle of apprehension ran through her. Would he untie her now? Or would he take what he wanted anyway? “You win.” “Ah hell, woman.” The sound of a zipper being raised told her he’d tucked himself back in. A pang of disappointment struck her chest. So much for getting to see whether the rest of him was as beautiful as she’d imagined. “I don’t understand you.” “What is to understand?” She felt weird having a conversation with him like this, naked and bound, with the cream of her release running down her inner thighs. “I display my body. It is no different than a showgirl.” “I think you mean a stripper. Showgirls are in Vegas, not New York, and as far as I know, they don’t take off all their clothes.” Roxi blew out a breath. Was he always this infuriating? She liked him better when he didn’t speak. “Ask me, then. Ask me why I do this job.” “I thought I had.” He made quick work of the cuff binding her right wrist, then moved on to the left. “No.” Roxi rubbed her sore wrist. “You assumed. There is a difference.” “So tell me, then.” His voice softened. When he reached for her blindfold, his fingers slipped through her hair. “Why do you do this?” A shiver rattled Roxi. She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue then gathered up the courage to spill her dirty little secret. “Because…” He slid off the blindfold and her breath caught in her throat. The lean lines of his jaw, the stubble that made him look rough and dangerous, the gray eyes locked directly onto hers, all conspired to make logical thought flee her mind. “Yes?” he prompted. Damn. Confessing would have been much easier if she didn’t have to look at him while doing it. She took a deep breath then murmured, “Because I can.” “I don’t understand.” He wouldn’t, would he? Donovan had “rebel” written all over him. He’d probably always done exactly as he wanted. She sighed. “I was raised to be a good girl. To do what good girls do. Be chaste, remain a virgin until marriage, give birth to beautiful children. My lot in life has always been to be a good wife. It’s what my mother was, and my grandmother before her. Except…that’s not who I am. I didn’t want to get married. I wanted…” She pursed her lips, unsure how to share this part of herself without making his opinion of her drop even lower. At last, she shrugged. “I wanted to experience life.” He raised an eyebrow. “And by life, you mean sex?” She didn’t have it in her to be offended. Not when he looked so intrigued, and more than a little aroused. “Yes and no. I discovered I enjoyed taking off my clothes. Having many people see me. It was…exciting.” She’d stumbled upon her exhibitionist streak by 16

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accident one summer when her friends had proposed going skinny-dipping after the sun went down. While all the other girls had shed their swimsuits after they’d already slipped into the ocean, Roxi made a show of taking hers off on the shore and strutting around naked. She never even got wet that day. At least, not in the conventional sense. “Let me guess. Your parents weren’t as crazy about this discovery as you were.” She lowered her lashes, remembering her mother’s disappointment when she started rebelling. Sneaking out of the house, staying out late—and showing absolutely no interest in settling down with a suitable husband. “When I announced I was going to college in the U.S., my father was relieved, I think. My mother, not so much.” Donovan nodded, as if he actually understood. “So you’ve disappointed your family. Welcome to the club. What did your mother say when you told her you took this job?” She cringed. “I have not told her.” “Yeah.” His lips pressed together and he looked as grim as she’d ever seen him. “Can’t say I blame you. At least what they don’t know can’t hurt them.” Were they still talking about her? She wasn’t so sure. “This was not the job I thought I would have when I came to New York.” She didn’t know why she felt the need to explain that she hadn’t sought to take off her clothes for a steady paycheck, but she did. “I applied by mistake. I was sending out résumés to many, many places, temp jobs and retail jobs and waitressing jobs… After a while I received a call, and I was so happy to come to the interview. I met Brad, and when he told me what the job was, I laughed. It sounded exciting and wonderful, but I knew I would never get it.” The surprise on Donovan’s face couldn’t have been more complete if she’d just admitted to having come here from Mars on her personal spaceship. He ogled her, his gaze sliding down the length of her torso, all the way to her toes and back again. “Why not? You’re beautiful.” The growl in his voice had returned, as though he dared her to argue with him. Roxi grinned, loving the conviction she saw in his eyes. “I am not ashamed of who I am, Donovan, but I know how I look to others. I do not have the ideal female body, according to fashion magazines.” “You’ve been reading the wrong magazines.” His fingers twitched, as if he wanted to touch her, but he tightened his hands into fists instead. “I like it here. In New York and at Moderne. For the first time, I can do whatever I please. This job, this place…it is my way of proving that I can be someone other than the person my mother wants me to be. My life has not been decided for me. I can take control, live it the way I wish.” “And you wish to live it with your clothes off?” She laughed, the sound carrying through the empty room and echoing off the walls. “Before coming to New York, I never knew that was an option.” Even though her ankles were still bound, she lifted herself onto her elbows and fixed Donovan with a

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curious stare. “What if you’d spent your life hiding your true self? And what if you could suddenly be free to be who you really are, all the time? Wouldn’t you do it?” His eyes darkened, and he suddenly made quick work of untying the straps around her ankles. “It’s not that simple.” She slid off the body pillow. Her feet landed on the tiled floor with a thud, and she winced at the jab of pain that jolted her heel. “Why not?” Donovan grasped one of the chains dangling from the ceiling. “Because some of us have secrets that are much darker than the need to be naked around strangers.” Roxi’s heart skipped a beat. “What kinds of secrets?” “Dangerous ones.” He turned away from her then and headed for the door. “Good night, Roxi.” She sucked in a breath and held it, debating whether to call out to him. What would he do if she asked him not to leave? If she closed the distance between them and plastered her naked body against his perfectly pressed suit? If she demanded he finish what he’d started when she was still bound? Only the shimmer of unease trickling down her spine kept her from doing just that. He’d all but admitted he was dangerous. She wasn’t sure she had the courage to find out what that meant.

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Chapter Two The smell of too many bodies in close proximity mingled with the musky scent of sex and the pungent odor of spilled blood. The familiar aromas filling The Wolf’s Den flooded Donovan’s nostrils, and he inhaled deeply, knowing this was exactly where he belonged. Among his own kind, with shifters who recognized and accepted him for what he was. It wasn’t home, and this sure as hell wasn’t his pack, but for the time being it would have to do. It was here he’d find a mate. He was certain of it. On the dance floor that stretched out before him, or up in the balconies shrouded in shadows for private encounters, his perfect female waited. He just had to figure out who she was, a seemingly simple task that had proven to be a whole lot more difficult than he’d expected. Tonight, anticipation sang in his blood and filled him with hope. She was here somewhere. She had to be. The steady thump of techno music matched the beating of his heart. He made his way into the crowd, stopped in the center of the dance floor and waited. He didn’t have to wait long. A blonde with short, spiky hair and too much makeup rubbed up against him. She purred in his ear as her fingers climbed up his torso and her hips swayed back and forth to the beat of the music. “You’re not dancing.” He waited for his wolf to react to her presence but the beast remained dormant, offering none of the excitement he had displayed at a single whiff of Roxi’s scent. So this woman wasn’t the one, then. “I don’t dance.” She pouted, showing a small barcode tattoo on her inner lip. He instantly flashed to Roxi’s small bruise on her lower lip, and his cock jolted from semi-hard to fully erect. The blonde must have noticed. She grinned and slid her wandering hand between his legs. “How can I tell if you’re any good off the dance floor if you won’t let me see you shake those sexy buns?” She wasn’t bad looking, and after his earlier encounter with Roxi, he was horny as hell. Maybe he could rethink his determination to remain celibate until he found a mate. After all, he’d been more than willing to give Roxi the ride of her life. Fucking a shifter would be even better. He wrapped an arm around the blonde, splayed his palm at the base of her spine and pulled her close. “You want to know how I move?” He thrust his hips forward, slamming his hard cock against her groin. “Just like this. Over and over again.” Her eyes widened. She ground into him as he kept thrusting, still attempting to stick to the music’s tempo even though Donovan was now setting the pace. Grabbing 19

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his hips, she danced to the left and undulated against him, her pussy rubbing against the outside of his thigh. “Oh baby, yeah. Just like that,” she urged. Her nipples pebbled, tenting the tight white tank top she wore. Memories of another set of nipples, small and pebbled and mouthwatering, filtered through his thoughts. He could picture Roxi so clearly spread out before him, like an offering to his inner wolf. So perfect. So ripe for the taking. The animal inside him stirred. A delighted buzz started low in Donovan’s belly and spread outward. He glanced up, fully expecting to gaze into a pair of deep, dark eyes. Instead he met blue orbs that blinked at him through lowered lashes tinted with violet sparkles. Chagrin rolled through him and he pushed the woman away a little harder than necessary. “Not tonight.” The blonde looked stunned. Her lower lip jutted out again but she seemed confused, like she couldn’t decide whether to cry or slap him. He didn’t give her the chance to do either, instead pushing past her and off the dance floor. At the bar, he claimed one of the few empty stools and ordered a shot of vodka on the rocks. The noise was approaching ear-splitting levels. Between the music, the attempts at talking that resulted in screaming and the occasional howl, he could barely hear himself think. Which was probably a good thing, because every thought he had was of Roxi. Damn the woman for being so intriguing. He’d thought he had her figured out. She’d proven him wrong. And now, instead of scouring The Wolf’s Den hoping for the slightest bit of excitement for his wolf, he was drinking alone. A bright spotlight blazed to life to his right, illuminating a wooden stage sitting five feet off the ground. Situated just beside the bar at the far end of the room, it gave everyone in The Wolf’s Den a perfect view of what was about to take place. The crowd stopped dancing and gathered close. The scent of excitement filled the air. No wolf wanted to miss a ritual conducted on the Mating Stage. A man and a woman stumbled up the wooden steps and onto the stage. They clung to one another’s waists, their lips locked in a kiss even as they struggled to find their footing. Their clothes were already half off. A tattered shirt hung from the woman’s right arm but her breasts were bare. The man squeezed one in his hand as he cupped her ass with the other. Donovan’s cock hardened further. Lust streamed through his system, and the need to take the first available female and plunge his dick into her became a constant throbbing ache deep in his balls. He wanted to look away from the couple, but found he couldn’t turn his head. A few seconds later, they were both fully naked. The woman—a pretty enough redhead with a large mouth—dropped to her knees and wrapped her lips around the man’s stiff shaft. Donovan gritted his teeth and cupped his own aching cock in the palm

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of his hand. He noticed that some of the other spectators had their dicks out and were stroking in time with the techno music. The man on stage sank his fingers into the redhead’s hair. He cradled her head while she sucked him, his hips angling forward and back, rocking in time with the rhythm she set. Donovan squeezed his shaft through the fabric of his pants. A dart of jealousy surged through him. How much longer would he have to wait until it was his turn? Muscle and sinew rippled across the man’s chest and abdomen, making it clear his inner wolf wanted out—now. The guy managed to keep the shift at bay, but just barely. Claws extended from the tips of his fingers and his muzzle elongated. With an earsplitting howl, he grabbed a handful of the redhead’s hair and dragged her to her feet. She snarled at him but obeyed the unspoken command, turning around and then falling on all fours in front of him. He draped his body over hers, the time for seduction long gone. He shoved inside her in one primal, animalistic move. The wolves gathered around the stage echoed his satisfied growl. He pumped into his mate, claiming her with each thrust. Donovan’s vantage point gave him an unobstructed view of the man’s cock sliding out of the redhead’s pussy before pushing back in again. She writhed against him, rocking backward, meeting him thrust for thrust. Her shift came on swiftly. Her ears stretched and fur broke out over her arms. A moment later, her skin rippled, shimmering as her bones lengthened and her body changed. The man’s transformation from human to wolf was also nearly complete. He whimpered, and the sound carried above the music. The spectators gave wolfish whimpers of their own, urging him to finish what he’d started. Almost completely shifted but for his cock, most of his abdomen and upper thighs, the man arched his back as he pumped harder inside his mate. And then he lowered his head and sank his teeth into her shoulder, marking her as his for all to see. The she-wolf cried out, a raw mixture of scream and howl. The male gripped her harder, his haunches shuddering in the midst of orgasm. She joined him in a spectacular release that left her body quivering, and when the male withdrew, blood coursed in rivulets down her right shoulder, coating her arm. The spotlight turned off, plunging the Mating Stage into darkness. Only then did Donovan look away. His cock throbbed in agony. The need to come tightened his sac, until desperate desire drove him to his feet. He turned, a little shaky on his legs, and collided with a woman. “Hey, big boy.” She wiggled eyebrows that nearly blended into her chocolatecolored skin. “Wanna fuck?”

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She was cute, and the large tits that nearly spilled out of her tight, belly-baring top didn’t hurt one bit. When he finally forced his gaze up, he found she had dark eyes. He liked that. Maybe if he stared directly into them he could pretend it was Roxi writhing beneath him instead of a stranger he’d never see again. Once again, his wolf offered no opinion at all on this woman. “Well?” She scowled, clearly impatient. “You speak English, right?” “The important words.” He let his gaze rake over her. “Tits. Cunt. Fuck.” “Good.” She flashed him bright teeth that glowed in the black light of the club. “We’ll get along just fine, then.” The woman grabbed his hand and led him down a dark hallway toward the bathrooms. They passed two couples hidden by shadows, but he didn’t need to see them to know they were fucking. His companion pushed him against the wall about halfway down the length of the corridor. He knew this place well. Behind him was a storage room, and next to that, the owner’s office. And yet, he didn’t give a damn that they might get caught. If they didn’t claim this space, someone else would. “Fucking Mating Stage.” The woman panted in his ear as she tore at his belt. “I’m so horny after one of those displays, I could fuck the first available cock. Oh wait, I am.” “You’ve got no mate?” He knew the answer already but wanted to hear it from her. If she’d had a mate, he’d be laid out on the ground with a bloody nose by now. Still, no way would he mess with another wolf’s female, even unknowingly. She scoffed. “Get tied down to one wolf? Never.” His cock popped out of his jeans and the woman dropped to her knees before him. She fisted his erection, making appreciative noises in the back of her throat. The music wasn’t nearly as loud back here, so he could hear her guttural moan as her lips wrapped around his cock. Donovan leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. The suction around his dick felt damn good, and he knew he wouldn’t last long. Oh yeah. This was exactly what he needed. An image of Roxi popped into his mind. She was on her knees before him, flashing him a playful grin before opening her gorgeous mouth to take him inside. Her eyes stayed locked onto his, and he saw every one of his emotions mirrored in her gaze. Lust. Need. Disappointment. Shame. Guilt walloped him like a punch to the gut. He growled, the noise rising from his chest and exploding in a howl. Claws broke through his fingertips. His muzzle lengthened, bringing with it a wave of pain that crashed into his head and made him howl even louder. He pushed at the woman’s shoulders, needing to get away. Startled, she released his cock and leapt to her feet. He was damn lucky she hadn’t bitten down when he’d shoved her off him. As it was, she swiped at him defensively, 22

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her claws catching him on the shoulder and raking the side of his neck. She scampered backward, crouching against the opposite wall. The woman growled back at him, and in the dim light he could see her shoulders pop out of their sockets as the shift overtook her. Donovan’s neck burned where she’d scratched him. His muscles quivered and he struggled to hold himself in check. It didn’t matter if he shifted here but he’d be damned if he lost control, even amongst his own kind. His cock raged, the throbbing in his sac matching the pain pummeling his head. He used every ounce of restraint he possessed to halt the shift. His face rearranged itself and his claws retracted. Panting, he left the female where she was, yanked up his pants and stumbled down the corridor to the men’s bathroom. The door banged against the wall, startling two men fucking against the sink. They watched him warily, their eyes glowing yellow in the overhead neon light. Neither one had fully shifted but both were in various states of furry arousal. He ignored them and pushed inside the stall farthest from the door. He dropped his pants once more and pulled out his dick. The sensitive skin of his cock head had turned a deep shade of crimson. His boxers were wet with pre-cum and his balls felt tight enough to crack walnuts. Donovan tightened his grip on his shaft. He slid his fist up the length, shuddering at the sensation. He could have been buried inside a woman’s sweet cunt, not jerking off again. He needed a willing female writhing under him. He needed a shifter—a mate. He needed… Roxi. There she was again, taking over his thoughts, his fantasies, his fucking mind. Increasing his frantic pace, he yanked on the tender skin of his cock. The friction made him grit his teeth as pleasure accumulated low in his groin. Why was he so fixated on a human? That wasn’t his way. He’d never given human females a second glance. Their scents didn’t interest him and their fragile little bodies left him cold. He wanted a shifter, a mate who’d be his equal in every way. Someone like Samantha, who’d been promised to his wolf on the day of her birth. She’d endured the mating ceremony with exemplary poise and lasciviousness, something no human woman could ever hope to do. If she hadn’t run… He gritted his teeth hard enough to send a jolt of pain into his jaw. He’d be damned if he gave Samantha another thought. It was only a matter of time until he found a more suitable mate. A shifter he could present to his pack so they’d stop making him the butt of every joke, like they had when he’d made the mistake of returning home briefly— without a mate in tow. The next time he strolled into town, he’d make certain jaws dropped. Every member of his clan would admire his choice. The males would covet her. The females would envy her. And none of them would ever mock or ridicule him again. 23

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His cock twitched in his hand. He was close now. So close. Sliding his palm across the tip of his shaft, he gathered some pre-cum and used it to smooth his glides. From beyond the stall came the satisfied howl of a wolf in the midst of orgasm. The second man followed shortly, and Donovan’s nostrils filled with the scent of spilled cum. Donovan fucked his hand, driving himself harder into his closed fist. His cock swelled and the muscles of his stomach tightened as he bent over at the waist. And as the first strands of jizz splattered against the white porcelain bowl, Donovan closed his eyes. Roxi’s image burst to life before him. In his fantasy, it was her perfect body he painted with his cum.

***** Morning sunlight streamed through the window of the Mocha Time coffee shop, splashing its cheery yellow glow onto Roxi’s newspaper. On the other side of the glass pane, bitter, icy cold attacked New Yorkers without remorse. People walked even faster than usual, rushing as much to escape the winter chill as to get where they were going. But in the coffee shop, hot air blasted from the heater above Roxi’s head. Glancing outside, she could almost ignore the snow on the sidewalk and pretend, just for a moment, that it was as warm here as it would be in Greece. “Your father sends his love,” Roxi’s mother said, her soft voice carrying through the phone line and closing the distance between them. Roxi smiled. “Tell him I love him too.” She replied in fluent Greek, since neither of her parents spoke English. “He misses you.” “I know.” Guilt burrowed into Roxi’s stomach. Too much time had passed since she’d seen her parents. “Have you given any more thought to returning home?” She sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose, not wanting to rehash an argument she couldn’t possibly win. She’d come to New York to study psychology at Columbia University, but that had mostly been an excuse to get away from home. When she’d dropped out a few weeks into her second semester, she knew her parents had expected her to come running back to Chora. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t miss the tiny village situated at the edge of a cliff, or the brilliant ocean that spilled out below. But she’d dreamed of coming to America since she was a little girl, and she’d fallen in love with New York the moment her plane touched down at LaGuardia. She wasn’t ready to leave. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But convincing her mother she intended to make New York her permanent home would take more than a brief phone conversation. Gryta Leventis took worrying about her daughter to a whole new level. When she wasn’t busy calling Roxi to reassure herself she was okay, Gryta scoured online newspapers for articles about the horrible 24

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things that happened to single women in New York. Then she emailed those links to Roxi, so she could be fully aware of the robberies, rapes and murders that awaited her on foreign soil. “It’s only a matter of time until you get into trouble,” Gryta said. Roxi grimaced. She dreaded opening her email when she got home, fearing what new horror she’d find inside the latest message from her mother. Why couldn’t Gryta send chain letters or recipes like every other mother who’d just discovered email? “I’m fine, Mom. Really. Nothing bad is going to happen to me, all right?” “If you insist on staying where you are, at least tell me you have found yourself a man.” Roxi pursed her lips. She thought of Donovan’s stern demeanor, of the way he’d touched her. “No, there’s no one.” “Then it’s a good thing I’m looking out for you, since you won’t do it yourself.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “You remember my friend Aminta Michailidis, from Kozani?” “Barely. Is she the woman with seven husbands?” “Eight, and she wasn’t married to all of them at once.” Like that made much of a difference. Roxi rolled her eyes. “What about her?” “She has a son.” “Good for her.” “He’s in New York.” Uh oh. Not so good for Roxi. “Mom… What have you done?” “I solved your problem, that’s what I’ve done. And I’d expect you to be a little more grateful. Anyway, I told Aminta to tell Kastor all about you.” She jerked back in her chair. “How much does he know?” “Everything, of course. Aminta said he’s very interested.” “Everything?” she mumbled into the phone, trying to keep her voice down and not bother the other patrons sitting nearby. “Like what, my vital stats and phone number?” “Among other things. Oh Roxi, be reasonable. If you could reel in a man on your own, I wouldn’t have to go to all this trouble.” Oh, for the love of… Her mother actually expected her to be grateful. “I’m perfectly capable of finding my own dates, thanks.” “I don’t want you to find a date.” Gryta spat out the word as though it tasted bitter on her tongue. “You’re twenty-three years old, no longer a teenage schoolgirl. I want you to find a suitable husband. Someone who will take care of you, protect you.” Roxi flashed back to Donovan again. She already had a damn good protector. Too bad she couldn’t tell her mother that without needing to go into more detail than she ever wanted to give either of her parents about what she did for a living.

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She felt her scowl tighten her forehead and forced herself to relax her features. “Promise me you won’t do anything like that ever again.” “Come home and I won’t.” For a moment, Roxi nearly believed her. And then she remembered that Gryta had been trying to set Roxi up with various “suitable” men since she turned eighteen. “I don’t believe you.” “Fine then. Come home and I won’t do it as often.” Fat chance of that. But Gryta had a much harder time finding a man for Roxi in New York. In the year Roxi had been here, this was the first time her mother had managed a potential love connection. No wonder she sounded so damn cheerful this morning. “Give him a chance, Roxana. He may be just what you need.” Roxi sank her teeth into her lower lip and murmured something noncommittal. After they said their goodbyes, she stirred her cold coffee and stared out at the city she loved. She already knew what she needed, but it was more than Donovan was willing to give.

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Chapter Three Roxi tossed her purse onto the table beside the front door of the apartment she shared with her two roommates. Their voices reached her from the kitchen, where Gabriella Fraser was busy explaining the finer points of primal male behavior to Leann Rose. “It’s up to us to provide a calming effect on male aggression. I mean, think about it. When you get a bunch of men in a group, they inevitably start competing with one another. That competitiveness is inherent in them. It’s a drive, an urge, like… Having sex.” Leann scoffed. “You’re saying men can’t be civilized if there are no women around?” “That’s exactly what I’m saying. They’re beasts, through and through. Millions of years of evolution have ingrained that behavior into their genetic makeup.” As a graduate student currently earning her PhD in biological and physical anthropology at Columbia, Gabbi’s favorite topic was the Neanderthal man and his similarities to modern-day New Yorkers. Roxi grinned. Gabbi would have an absolute field day with Donovan. Her mirth vanished as soon as thoughts of Donovan returned. Damn the man anyway. Having his hands on her body, his tongue on her pussy, his finger in her channel, had felt much too good. And she hadn’t wanted him to stop. Not really. She’d just wanted…so much more. “Uh oh. I know that look.” Still lost in her memories, Roxi glanced up to find Gabbi standing only a few steps away. A cloth headband printed with brightly colored flowers tamed her wild mane of auburn curls. She fixed Roxi with a narrow glare. Dark lashes cast long shadows on her pale cheeks, and her green eyes sparkled with interest behind her thick glasses. She gestured toward Roxi with a wooden spoon that looked to be coated in tomato sauce. “Girl, you’ve got it bad.” “You are being silly.” Roxi pushed away from the door and pulled off her gloves. “I am cold and tired, no more. Are you cooking lunch?” Since they all had busy schedules and often missed each other coming and going at all hours, their Sunday afternoon lunches had become somewhat of a tradition over the past few months. “Pasta from a box, sauce from a can. And don’t change the subject.”

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Leann came up behind Gabbi. At only five foot two, she was nearly a foot shorter than Gabbi and had to peer around her roommate to see Roxi. Her eyebrows lifted and she pushed a wisp of blonde hair out of her eyes. “You’re blushing.” “I am cold,” Roxi repeated, slowly this time, as though speaking to two-year-olds. “My nose is running. Will you read something into that too?” “Have you been crying?” Gabbi frowned. “Because if a boy made you cry, I’m going to kick his ass.” At the mental image of Gabbi bearing down on Donovan with a wooden spoon, Roxi burst out laughing. She stepped forward and enveloped both her roommates in a hug. Though she sometimes resented having zero privacy when these two were around, she wouldn’t have traded her best friends or their tiny apartment for all the privacy in the world. “How was work last night?” Leann propped herself up on a leather barstool in front of the counter-style slab of wood that passed for their dining table. “Fine.” At Gabbi’s raised eyebrow, Roxi rambled on, “The usual. Clients came, clients went. Boss was happy. Boring day, really.” She tried to talk about work as little as possible, mostly because she hadn’t yet told her roommates exactly what she did at Moderne. They knew she worked at an exclusive art gallery, but they had no idea she was the art. Gabbi had assumed Roxi was an exhibition assistant, answering questions about individual pieces and bringing serious offers to her boss. Roxi had gone along with the charade, figuring she’d come up with a way to make her job seem…well, not quite so seedy. That hadn’t happened, and now she had no idea how to spill the truth after all this time. Seriously, what could she say? Well, you see, I am not really an exhibition assistant…I mean, exhibition assistants wear clothes, no? Yeah, that would so not go over well. “Is that so?” Gabbi drained the pasta in a colander balanced over the sink. A cloud of steam wafted up and coated her glasses. She took them off to wipe the lenses on her shirt. “What’s all this about a boy then?” The idea of anyone referring to Donovan as a “boy” was so ludicrous, it made Roxi grin. Leann caught the smile, and pumped her fist in the air victoriously. “Aha! So there is a boy.” “Well, there is a man…” Roxi sank her teeth into her lower lip. The sudden sting reminded her she did that much too often, and she made a mental note to stop before she drew blood. Again. “Uh huh…” Gabbi waved two fingers in the air, gesturing for Roxi to continue. “And?” “And nothing.” Roxi lowered her gaze and found herself suddenly occupied with tracing a small groove in the surface of the scarred table. “We work together.”

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Leann placed a hand over Roxi’s and squeezed. “Did something happen last night?” Roxi swallowed hard. How could she describe what went on between her and Donovan without worrying her friends? “Something did,” she admitted at last. “But I doubt it will happen again.” “Oh honey… Did you sleep with him?” Gabbi set a plate of pasta in front of her. The look of disapproval she tossed over her shoulder wasn’t lost on Roxi. She knew all about Gabbi’s theory that if a woman slept with a man before they started dating, any chance for a real, meaningful relationship was over. Though she didn’t necessarily subscribe to that theory, she had to admit there was probably something to it. “Not exactly.” She busied herself with chewing a mouthful of spaghetti. “But you wanted to,” Leann said. Oh God, how she’d wanted to. “But I did not.” She smiled up at Gabbi. “See? You taught me well.” Gabbi brought her own plate over to the table and beamed at Roxi. “Good. You seem to really like this guy, and I don’t want to see you waste an opportunity for something more than a wild fuck.” The blunt words coming out of Gabbi’s mouth stunned both Leann and Roxi into speechlessness. Leann recovered first. “Even if it’s a really good fuck?” “Especially if it’s a really good fuck.” Gabbi gestured with her fork. “I mean, you’d like to have it again, right? And again and again? And you want to be the only one he’s giving it to… So yeah, especially then.” Roxi couldn’t argue with that logic. Nor could she deny that the idea of having Donovan all to herself, night after night after night, sounded insanely appealing. She cleared her throat and chased down a bite of pasta with a gulp of water. “I think you may be getting ahead of reality. I barely know this man.” Realizing just how little she’d learned about Donovan in the couple of weeks they’d worked together depressed her. He’d told her he had some deep, dark, dangerous secret. That was reason enough to be concerned. And then, for all she knew, he could have a girlfriend. He could be married. Or gay. She scoffed inwardly at that. Okay, definitely not gay. But a partner still wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Roxi had to face facts. She didn’t know anything more about him than she did about every other stranger who played with her body. Except that none of the others had ever touched her quite so intimately. Oh sure, they stuck their fingers and toys in her pussy, but none of them had ever cared about her pleasure. None of them had touched her like… Like she mattered.

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For all of her experience at dealing with people’s hands on her body, she hadn’t been prepared for Donovan’s touch. He’d been tender and focused on her pleasure, and yet she’d sensed possessiveness and a raw intensity in his caress as well. As if he’d been holding himself back. She shivered, wondering what it would be like to experience the full force of his unleashed passion. A knock on the door startled Roxi out of her thoughts. Gabbi and Leann glanced at each other, then at her. Gabbi paused with a fork of spaghetti lifted halfway to her mouth. “Expecting someone?” “Not me,” Roxi said. Their Sunday afternoon lunches were designated bonding time, and none of them would have invited friends over just then. “It could be the landlord.” Leann wiped her mouth with a napkin then rose. “I’ll get it.” A minute later, she returned to the kitchen, a sly smile tilting the corners of her lips. “There’s a hot guy at the door—and he’s asking for Roxi.” Roxi’s heart leapt into overdrive. She shot up off the chair and careened around the corner toward the entrance to the apartment, all the while wandering how Donovan knew where she lived and why he’d come. The front door stood open, but the man waited outside. Roxi had to step around the door to catch sight of him. And when she did, she came to an abrupt halt. A stranger stood before her. He was handsome, just like Leann said, but he wasn’t Donovan. This guy sported a nearly shaved head, and his eyes were so dark as to be almost black. His high cheekbones, chiseled jaw and sculpted lips gave him a hard, badboy appearance that probably had women melting at his feet. A leather jacket, jeans that cupped his thighs like a second skin and the motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm completed the look. “You Roxana?” His accent wasn’t as pronounced as hers but she recognized the Greek undertones, and her heart sank. “You must be Kastor.” He nodded but made no move to extend a hand. “I am here to take you out. We go now.” Startled by the bold command, Roxi glanced over her shoulder. “My roommates—” “Will be fine without you, just this once.” Leann winked from the kitchen doorway and made a shooing motion with her hands. “Go. Have a good time.” “But—” “It is settled then.” The creases at the corners of Kastor’s eyes tightened. “Come.” She sighed and reached for the coat she’d draped on a hook by the door then gathered her purse. “Sure,” she murmured. “Why not?”

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***** It didn’t take Roxi long to realize this had been a very, very bad idea. Kastor took her to a Greek restaurant called Athena, a dark, cave-like place with paintings of Mykonos on the walls and Byzantine music playing at low volume. Everyone seemed to know Kastor, but not in a friendly, neighborhood-bar kind of way. Rather, the waitresses kept their eyes down when they talked to him and the hostess shooed a couple of existing customers to give Kastor his “usual” table. They’d arrived there on his motorcycle, and Roxi still hadn’t recovered from the bone-chilling cold that had numbed her extremities as Kastor weaved among yellow taxicabs like a speed demon. She hugged her arms around herself while he ordered for her, not surprised he hadn’t bothered to ask what she wanted. “Your mother tells mine you’re unable to find a husband,” Kastor said in fluent Greek. Roxi bristled. “My mother needs to learn to stay out of my business.” He picked up his wineglass and swirled the red contents. “But then, you wouldn’t have met me. That would have been a shame.” She fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Indeed. What brought you to New York, Kastor?” He ran a hand over his shorn head. “I’m a businessman.” “Yeah? What kind of business?” “Exports.” Well, that was vague enough to cover everything from clothes to cocaine. “You own your own business?” He dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. “It’s not important. I understand you work at an art gallery.” Her frowned again, disapproval clear on his hard features. And he didn’t even know half the story. “I do.” She picked up her wineglass and toyed with the stem, not wanting to go into detail about what she did for a living. Kastor wouldn’t understand, and God forbid word of her job got back to her mother. Gryta would probably be on the next plane to New York, ready to haul Roxi back home tied up and stuffed in the luggage compartment if necessary. Kastor peered at her across the table. His frown deepened and grooves formed over the bridge of his nose. “You should take your hair down. It makes your face look too round when you tie it up like that.” She touched the back of her head, where she’d pinned her long locks in place this morning. She started slipping out one of the pins before she caught herself and straightened her spine. “I like it this way. Less maintenance, and it didn’t fly every which way when we were on your motorcycle.”

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He scowled, apparently not used to being disobeyed. “You don’t need to be so plain, Roxana. A new hairstyle, an exercise regime, and you could be worthy of being on my arm.” The shock careening through her system jerked her to her feet just as the waitress came around the corner carrying a tray with two plates balanced precariously. One of the plates held a souvlaki dinner that could feed a family of four, while the other was about half the size and consisted of a pile of leaves with a sliced tomato on top. She could guess which was hers. She turned around and stormed to the exit without another word or a glance back. Kastor followed. She knew he would. Outside, winter submerged the city in a gray fog. The cold slapped Roxi’s cheeks and she burrowed into the collar of her coat as she took off at a light jog down West 44th Street. Tall buildings stretched up far into the sky, and her reflection shimmered back at her from myriad mirrored windows up and down the block. Kastor gripped her arm and brought her to a halt. “You do not walk away from me.” She shook off his grip and turned, glaring at him. “And you don’t get to be an asshole. Not with me. Touch me again and I’ll scream.” She looked pointedly at the people rushing by them. Even on a Sunday, she could count on New Yorkers to fill the streets. He fisted his hands at his sides, his eyes shooting daggers at her. “This is not over.” With a final glare, he turned and disappeared into the crowd. Roxi watched him leave. She held her breath until she was sure he’d vanished down the street, probably back into the restaurant so he could finish his meal. He’d been her ride home, but she wasn’t worried. There was a subway station just three blocks down. Huddling against the cold, Roxi quickened her steps. She wanted to get back to her warm, cozy apartment and spend the evening watching a girly movie with her roommates while she tried not to think about Donovan. You are beautiful. Donovan’s words rang in her head, so different from Kastor’s hurtful remarks. He’d called her plain and implied she was fat. There’d been disdain in his gaze when he looked at her, while in Donovan’s eyes she’d seen only desire and the kind of honesty that shook her to the core. Five minutes later, she turned from Lexington Avenue onto 41st Street. Lifting her gaze from the slush on the sidewalk, she pinpointed the neon sign lighting the subway station. And beyond it— “Donovan.” His name was a mere breath on her lips, and it misted in the frigid air. Her pulse picked up speed. She wasn’t even sure it was him. She saw his back, large and broad-shouldered, and she recognized the cut of his dark hair and the lines of

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his face when he turned his head. But a moment later, the man disappeared behind a set of massive steel doors. Roxi paused to catch her breath. The place he’d walked into looked like a dance club of some sort. It had no windows, and the dimly lit sign over the top of the doors read The Wolf’s Den. A smaller sign claimed it was “by invitation only”, which Roxi supposed meant it was an exclusive hotspot, open to celebrities and other important people. So the man she’d spotted couldn’t have been Donovan. He was a bodyguard, not a superstar. No way would he get his name on a list to party with New York’s elite. Obviously her disastrous date with Kastor was to blame for her mind summoning Donovan on a random street corner. And no wonder. She’d cast him in the role of protector, the kind of man who’d come to her rescue when she needed him. Except this was New York, and more than eight million people lived here. Donovan wasn’t her guardian angel, ready to sweep down and defend her from all manner of evil. She shook her head to clear it and promised herself that, for tonight at least, she was done with men.

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Chapter Four Two nights in a row spent at The Wolf’s Den had left Donovan in a worse mood than he’d been when he left Moderne on Saturday. His search for a suitable mate had proven fruitless…again. Then he’d witnessed another triumphant display of mating prowess on the Mating Stage, which hadn’t helped improve his mood. A second solo session in the men’s bathroom sealed the deal, and Donovan left early, heading home with his proverbial tail tucked firmly between his legs. In a city of millions, he couldn’t find a single shifter to lure his inner wolf. And yet the moment he pushed through the door into Moderne on Monday, the beast reared. When the first whiff of Roxi’s sweet smell reached his senses, Donovan felt his cock harden. His chest swelled and his heartbeat hammered an insistent rhythm against his rib cage. His wolf howled—a low, grumbling, possessive sound only Donovan could hear. Damn the creature. If Donovan didn’t know better, he’d think the wolf was doing this to mock him. “You are scowling.” Roxi leaned against the far wall of the harness room. She wore a red silk robe that did little to hide her luscious curves. “Is something wrong?” “No.” She blanched at his bark and he cursed inwardly. He hadn’t meant to frighten her. “Didn’t sleep well last night, that’s all.” “Ah.” She gave him a small smile that made his heart melt and his dick turn to tempered steel. “All play and no sleep makes Donovan a grumpy man.” “I’m not grumpy.” She raised an eyebrow, and he realized he’d pretty much growled the words at her. “Ill-tempered, maybe,” he conceded with some difficulty. She took a few steps toward the harness and gestured to it. “The doors will open in a few minutes and Brad is not here yet. Care to strap me in?” Brad was particular about the way he wanted Roxi displayed, but Donovan had done the honors once before when the artist had been stuck in traffic. Today, the thought of having his hands on her caused his wolf to buck hard against his chest. The urge to shift rippled over his skin. He gritted his teeth and forced a smile to his face. “Of course.” Roxi’s hand went to the strip of silk belting her robe. “You were out last night?” She asked the question casually, but he saw the flicker in her gaze and suspected she wasn’t just making polite conversation. “For a while.” “Down on 41st Street?” He arched his brows. Had she followed him? “How did you know?” 34

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She looked just as surprised and shook her head. “I did not think— I mean, I thought I saw you, but I was not sure. You were entering an exclusive venue.” “The Wolf’s Den.” “What is it?” “A club.” He took a deep breath, released it slowly. He’d never had to explain a shifter gathering place to a human before, and he sure as hell didn’t want to start now. “Exclusive, just like you said. They turn almost everyone away at the door.” “But not you.” Her fingers trembled slightly as she tugged on her belt. She suddenly looked shy, lowering her lashes while she toyed with the strip of silk. A silvery laugh slipped from her throat and she gazed up at him, eyes sparkling. “I almost asked you to turn around while I do this. Silly of me. You have seen so much more.” A delicate blush crept up her throat. Donovan had to keep his hands at his sides to keep from sliding them into her hair, pulling her to him and devouring her mouth. He turned around anyway, as much to keep from starting something he wouldn’t be able to stop, as for her modesty. Frustration mingled with shame at the memory of the way he’d acted the last time he’d touched her. He’d made assumptions about her that hadn’t been fair. Pushed by his wolf’s excitement, he’d nearly forced himself on her. God, if she hadn’t stopped him— “Donovan.” He shivered at the sound his name on her lips. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of hearing it. She could utter it every which way she pleased…in anger, joy, in the midst of an explosive orgasm, and it would always be the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. He turned around—and forgot to breathe. She was ravishing, standing there naked like a Greek goddess from another century, a statue come to life. The pale skin covering her full, lush curves gleamed in the harsh overhead neon light. Her plump breasts lifted slightly with each breath and her firm nipples pebbled, daring him to suck them into his mouth. He told himself he wouldn’t glance down to stare at the fascinating hollow between her thighs. No way. He had enough control to keep his gaze where it belonged—fixed firmly on her beautiful face. So he did just that, only to have an image of Roxi on her knees, her cheeks and chin covered in his cum, flash before his eyes. Whatever restraint he thought he had fled as fantasy filled his vision. He didn’t have a chance in hell of muffling his groan. Roxi’s lip quirked in a half-smile she tried to hide. She darted a glance at the erection tenting his suit pants. The scent of her arousal wrapped around him like a foggy aphrodisiac, heady and compelling.

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He grabbed the harness, steadying it as Roxi climbed onto the satin body pillow. Not trusting himself to be anywhere near her legs, he started by positioning her right wrist in the leather cuff. She looked up at him and he couldn’t help but stare back. Her dark eyes shimmered with curiosity. “What happened to you?” “I don’t know what you mean.” She placed the fingers of her free hand on the side of her neck. “You have been scratched, right here.” He swallowed hard, weighing honesty against the slew of questions she was likely to ask. He settled for an explanation that was mostly truth. “Got in a fight. It happens.” “Sure.” She frowned, and he had to fight the urge to smooth his thumb over the lines etched just above her pert nose. “It happens.” He didn’t miss the sarcasm in her voice. She obviously wanted to say something else, but footsteps ringing out in the next room brought them back to the task at hand. They’d wasted too much time. The gallery doors were open and they had work to do. His inner wolf growled, sending another dart of need straight to his groin. Donovan gritted his teeth. It was going to be a hell of a long day.

***** Every part of Roxi ached. The muscles in her arms and legs had started cramping about an hour ago, and no matter how much she tried to wiggle in the harness, she couldn’t get comfortable again. Had Donovan latched the cuffs too tightly? She usually felt at ease all the way through her shift, but today was different. Her body was restless, taut with tension and eager to move. Normally she could relax even while people fondled her most intimate bits, knowing Donovan wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her. And yet all evening she’d stiffened the moment someone came near. The urge to tell whoever it was to back off lingered on her tongue, and she’d had to swallow it down repeatedly as the endless hours dragged on. She sighed, wondering if perhaps her date with Kastor hadn’t rattled her more than she’d realized. The sound of Donovan’s shoes rang out against the tile floor. She recognized his steps now, steady and sure, and when he stopped just beside her harness, she held her breath. Would he touch her again like he had last Saturday? Part of her wanted it. God, who was she kidding? All of her wanted it. Her pussy creamed at the thought and her skin broke out in goose bumps of anticipation. But Donovan went straight for the cuffs. He untied her in silence, his steady fingers never straying from their task. Disappointment lodged like a brick in her stomach. She stumbled out of the harness and yanked off her blindfold. Donovan held her robe out for her. 36

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She met his gaze. His gray eyes darkened with unmistakable lust. His lips parted slightly and he leaned in. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, Roxi thought he was going to kiss her. But then he simply placed the robe over her shoulders and stepped back. The thin layer of silk might as well have been a metal shield, creating a solid barrier between them. “Would you date me?” She blurted out the question before taking even a fraction of a second to think about what she was saying, and now the words hung between them and she couldn’t take them back. Donovan’s eyes widened. For a long moment he only stared at her, and the silence between them stretched into infinity, making Roxi’s skin itch. If he said no, she’d have to find a hole to crawl into and never come out, because she was sure she’d never be able to face him again. He closed the distance between them and reached out to trail the backs of his fingers across her cheek. “You’re not meant for me.” Regret lingered clearly in his tone, but the words broke her heart. “Why not?” He sighed, and his eyes softened as he looked at her. “It’s complicated.” “Explain, then. I am a good listener.” When he didn’t say anything, she stifled the urge to grab him by the lapels of his black suit jacket and shake him so he’d talk to her. “You want me, yes?” He stood close enough that when he expelled the breath he’d been holding, it warmed her lips. “God, yes.” “Then why not more?” Donovan opened his mouth to answer but she didn’t think she could take another excuse, another rejection. So instead, Roxi pressed a finger to his lips. She wound her other hand around his neck, careful to avoid the deep red gouges. His skin was impossibly warm. Aware that there was still too much space between them, she pressed her body against his. The length of his throbbing erection was unmistakable. Her pussy answered with a pulse of its own. The muscles of her belly tightened as arousal swirled in her sex. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. Just closed his eyes and gave a low, sultry growl, as though resigning himself to his fate. At that moment, he was the art. A marble sculpture from ancient times, strikingly beautiful, every line carved to perfection. She wanted nothing more than to strip that suit from him and simply stare at the wealth of masculinity. Maybe Brad should consider adding Donovan’s stunning male form to his interactive art display. She’d bet her last dime that women would line up around the block for a chance to fondle Donovan’s assets. The thought sent a surge of jealousy through her. All right, so she wouldn’t be dropping that particular idea into Brad’s suggestion box anytime soon. “Woman, you don’t understand what you’re playing with.” 37

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She hardly recognized Donovan’s voice. It came out guttural and hoarse, with a growling timbre beneath each word. The sound caused a shiver to run down her spine and burrow into her sex. Roxi tightened her grip on his nape. Her lips were a breath away from his mouth now. “I am asking you out on a date. That is what single people do, no?” A forgotten thought struck her, and she sucked in a breath. “Tell me you are single.” He cracked open an eyelid. On anyone else, it would have been comical. On Donovan, it looked both menacing and sexy as hell. “I have no mate,” he said, sounding sadder than she’d have expected. Her heart picked up speed. “Then you can give me a single, solitary date. Just one.” He didn’t protest, so she took that as a good sign and continued. “Coffee, tomorrow morning, 9:00 a.m. at Mocha Time, between Lexington and 3rd.” He still didn’t say a word, so Roxi lifted herself on her tiptoes and placed a quick kiss on his lips. The brief contact made her head reel and her pussy heat, but she forced herself to pull back. Donovan’s silence ended the moment their lips met. A grunt and a feral growl were her only warnings before he wrapped his arm around her waist, yanked her closer and claimed her lips in a punishing kiss. He kissed her fast and deep and hard, his tongue sliding against hers and filling her with the flavor of him. She tasted his heat, his need, and couldn’t get enough. Shivers shot across her nerve endings. Her body arched against Donovan’s, needing further contact with every part of him. She wanted to drown in him, to kiss him until she ran out of air, and then kiss him some more. She gripped a handful of his hair and held on while he ravaged her mouth. His hands slid down her back and cupped her ass, pulling her closer so her mound pressed against the hard length of his erection. The rough way he handled her only heightened her lust. When he finally tore his mouth away, she was panting. Her body had turned soft and pliant, quivering with need. “One date,” Donovan said, setting her away from him. Roxi was glad to hear his voice tremble just a touch. She nodded, because that’s all she was capable of. Donovan shook his head. “It’s a bad idea.”

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Chapter Five He wasn’t coming. Roxi sat at her usual table, a newspaper spread out before her, a milky latté in a yellow mug within easy reach. She took a sip of the frothy concoction and forced her attention to the paper, and not to the street where it had been glued for the last ten minutes. Her gaze strayed anyway, this time to the coffee counter. A barista moved quickly, expertly balancing the syrups and myriad flavor shots as she filled orders. The clock above her head read nearly a quarter past nine. Roxi tapped her nails against the table. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried to tell her he wouldn’t be showing up this morning. He’d said as much when he claimed dating her was a terrible idea. And yet here she was anyway, looking out the window like a lovesick puppy, hoping against all odds he’d change his mind. But he wouldn’t. After all, he’d made it perfectly clear he was only interested in sex. No doubt insanely mind-blowing, phenomenal sex, but still just sex. She was the one who’d pushed for more, and she’d obviously been an idiot to think he was interested in anything other than her body. Most size-fourteen women would have probably been thrilled to have a guy like Donovan admiring their curves. And she was…but was it so horrible to yearn for something more meaningful? The irony of her desires didn’t escape her. She put her body on full, interactive display for a living, and yet she wanted the man who spent all day looking at her naked to see beyond her tits and ass. But damn it, she didn’t have to be reasonable. Not when it came to relationships. And definitely not when it came to Donov— Donovan. He strolled into the coffee shop, setting off the tinny bell over the door that announced new customers. Everyone in the place turned to stare. A cute blonde a couple of tables down from Roxi straightened her spine and tossed her long hair over her shoulder. She propped her chin on her hand and fluttered her eyelashes. Donovan spotted the woman instantly, almost as if he had a sixth sense when it came to bimbos. His lip twitched in a semblance of a smile as he stared at her. Roxi’s stomach churned. The raisin scone she’d had for breakfast threatened to make its way up her esophagus. Donovan’s gaze slid to his left, connected with Roxi’s—and drove the air from her lungs. His dim smile vanished altogether, only to be replaced with another scowl. For a guy on a date, he didn’t seem very happy to see her. 39

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To give herself something to do, Roxi lifted the coffee cup to her lips as he neared the table but quickly set it back down when she realized her hands were shaking. “Hi.” What should have been a plucky, confident greeting came out as a squeak. Donovan yanked out the empty chair across from her, turned it around and dropped into it. He flattened his arms over the top of the backrest, once again effectively putting a barrier between them. The sight of him took her breath away. His body molded to the chair with the sensual grace of a predator, and the way he speared her with that gray gaze turned her into a quivering mess. She clamped her hands together on her lap and forced a smile. “I thought you would not come.” “I had to.” He didn’t look happy about that. Not one bit. She flicked her tongue between her dry lips. “Why?” His eyes narrowed, and that telltale twitch in his jaw began anew. “Because of that, right there.” She shook her head. “I do not understand.” “That.” He pointed at her lips. When he stretched his arm, his index finger nearly came into contact with her mouth. It hovered half an inch away, until she could feel the heat promised by his touch. “The way you lick your lips makes me crazy. So does the way you move, the way you sound, the way you smell. Oh God, the way you smell…” His face fell. He looked absolutely miserable. Roxi’s heartbeat kicked up a few notches. “Is it that awful, being attracted to me?” He let out a short laugh that didn’t hold a hint of humor. “Worse.” She bristled at that. Her spine jolted ramrod straight and some of her desire began to ebb. “I will have you know I am one great catch. I am smart, funny, charming and…” She hesitated only a second before blurting out, “And I can fill out a D-cup bra like a plus-size underwear model.” Ha. Take that! She felt downright triumphant when his nostrils flared. No doubt he was picturing her in some skimpy outfit or another…or maybe wearing nothing at all. He’d seen her naked enough times to have imprinted every part of her body on his memory for life. A blush seared its way up her throat. She lowered her gaze, suddenly finding the creamy sheen of the coffee utterly fascinating. “There’s so much you just don’t understand.” He laced his fingers together and let his arms drape over the edge of the backrest. Frustration warred with desire inside her. “You keep teasing me, hinting at some deep, dark secret. What is it? Are you an escaped convict? A murderer? Married? Bisexual? Transsexual?”

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Scowling as though she’d insulted him, Donovan lifted his chin. “None of those. I am…” He pressed his lips together, clearly not wanting to say more. Well, she’d had enough of that. “What? You’re what?” “Canadian,” he said at last, his admission guttural and raspy, as if he’d just confessed to the worst crime imaginable. She sank back in her chair. “You are an illegal alien?” “No. I’m here on a work visa.” Now she was genuinely confused. “So? I am from Greece. Why does our country of origin matter?” He blew out a breath, scraped a hand over his stubbled jaw. God, he looked amazing. He hadn’t zipped up his coat all the way, and she got a glimpse of worn cotton stretched tight over his muscled chest. Her fingers itched to touch him there…and everywhere. “We have traditions you wouldn’t understand.” “Canadian traditions? Like what? You celebrate Thanksgiving a month earlier?” He chuckled, the first genuinely amused sound she’d heard from him since she’d met him. She found she liked it. A lot. But then the laughter vanished as quickly as it appeared, and he stared at her intently. “I’m talking about mating traditions. Rituals, covenants unlike anything you’re used to.” She laughed, trying to keep the sound breezy and casual. “This is one date, Donovan. It hardly means we are mated.” A shadow fell over his face. “My pack—my family—chose a mate for me the day she was born. We were meant to be together forever. Divorce isn’t an option where I come from.” Roxi sucked in a breath. “So you are married.” “No. She left me a long time ago. She wanted to make a clean break from her past, which included me.” Roxi toyed with her coffee cup. She dropped her gaze, unable to meet his eyes. “Do you still love her?” “Love has nothing to do with pair bonding where I’m from.” The answer came easily, and Roxi was inclined to believe him. “But when we mate, we take each other for life. Losing a mate to anything but death is…” He blew out a breath. “Shameful.” “And that is why you choose not to be with me?” “That’s why I can’t be with you,” he clarified, as though the distinction mattered. “My people… They’re very different from yours. I’m different from you. We wouldn’t be compatible.” That brought her head up. “We seemed compatible enough last night, when we kissed. And before that, you clearly thought my body was compatible with yours when you would have fucked me in the harness at Moderne.”

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Roxi hadn’t bothered to keep her voice down and a number of heads turned their way. She didn’t give a damn. “Sex is simple.” Donovan narrowed his eyes at her. “Relationships are complicated.” “Spoken like a fortune cookie.” She grabbed her purse and rose from the table. “Roxi.” Donovan grabbed her wrist. The place where he touched her tingled, sending a hot ball of need low into her belly. “Let go of me.” “No. Not until—” Roxi’s cell phone rang, startling them both. She shook off Donovan’s grip and yanked it out of her purse. A quick glance at the screen revealed a long-distance call. Her mother, no doubt. She’d forgotten all about their daily gabfest. Pushing the button to send the call to voice mail, she turned her attention back to Donovan. “Sex only, then?” His eyes sparkled. Desire dilated his pupils and his upper lip curled. “Now who’s teasing?” “No teasing.” She took a deep breath, tilted her chin a fraction. Her heart raced at the look he gave her. Maybe he was right. Relationships were much too complicated, and this thing between them…well, it was straightforward. She recognized lust for what it was. She was an adult. Perhaps it was time to start acting like one. “Walk me home, Donovan. It is the least you can do.”

***** The cold February weather had Roxi huddling in her oversized coat. A chill wind crept up the back of her neck, making her burrow deeper into the high wool collar. Beside her, Donovan looked downright comfortable. A few snowflakes sparkled among the strands of his short brown hair. His leather jacket was unzipped and the breeze ruffled his shirt, plastering it closer to the well-defined muscles of his abdomen. “Are you not cold?” she asked when she couldn’t take it anymore. Just looking at him made the freezing temperature seep straight into her bones. He shrugged. “This feels like home.” Roxi slid her hands farther into her pockets. “Do you miss it?” “Every damn day.” There was something dark and menacing beneath the simple words, a hidden fury she hadn’t anticipated. She swallowed hard, wishing she understood more about where he came from. The way he talked about his family, it almost sounded like a cult of sorts. She knew arranged marriages were still practiced in many areas of the world, but she hadn’t realized Canadians still held on to such archaic traditions. “Why did you come to New York?”

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He watched her from the corner of his eye. Silence stretched on between them, making Roxi think he wouldn’t answer. But then he released a huffed breath that clouded the frosty air and said, “I followed Samantha. She fled our home in the middle of the night. I tracked her here.” “So why did you stay?” “Because returning home without a mate is not an option.” She heard the hurt in his voice as clearly as if he’d confessed to it, and knew there was more to his story than a simple lovers’ quarrel. When Samantha left him, she’d clearly taken something more important than companionship. She’d stolen his pride. They walked down Lexington through the usual throng of New Yorkers hurrying to and from somewhere vitally important. Someone slammed into Roxi’s shoulder and she took a step closer to Donovan. Not that she needed his protection. Since coming to New York, she’d learned to grip the strap of her purse tightly and watch where she was going. Still, she liked knowing he was right by her side, watching over her as he did at Moderne. “I live here.” She stepped out of the crowd to stand at the edge of the sidewalk, and pointed at the three-floor brownstone nestled behind a wrought-iron gate. Before he could say anything, she gathered her courage and blurted out, “You should come up.” Donovan’s gaze turned positively feral. He took a step closer. Roxi stumbled backward until she hit the gate. Her pulse ratcheted up a few notches. “Are you absolutely sure?” His voice was husky and low, and it sent a tremor through her that had nothing to do with the winter chill. Roxi tilted her head and met his gaze full on. “I am not afraid of you. Perhaps I should be… My mother would want me to be.” A dry chuckle escaped her throat. “But I am not.” He stroked her cheek with the backs of his knuckles. His fingers felt warm against her frozen skin. “You’re either very brave or very foolish.” “Some women enjoy playing with fire.” “Is that what you’re doing? Courting danger?” “You tell me.” She willed her voice not to shake. “Are you really so dangerous, Donovan Armstrong?” He lowered his head until his lips hovered a breath away. “You have no idea.” And then he slammed his mouth against hers, demanding, insisting, stealing the very essence of her soul. Her knees buckled. Roxi didn’t trust her body to keep her upright, so she grabbed his jacket, pulling herself tightly against him. He groaned into her mouth. She opened to him, met his tongue with hers. He wanted to take, and she wanted to be taken. Right here, up against this gate. Nothing else mattered but Donovan’s mouth, his tongue, the nip of his teeth against her lip.

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Not the cold. Not the layers of clothing standing in their way. Not even the people strolling by. She wanted to wrap her legs around his waist and feel his cock driving into her body, again and again and— “Excuse me.” The gate at Roxi’s back rattled. “I said, excuuuuuse me!” Donovan broke the kiss. As Roxi struggled to force her thoughts back in order, he slid his arms around her and lifted her out of the way as if she weighed nothing at all. Roxi gaped at him. She was anything but featherlight, yet he’d just hoisted her up in the air and wasn’t even breathing hard. An elderly woman wearing a giant neon-green hat shaped like a flower made a sound of disapproval as she yanked open the gate, then walked past them. Donovan hadn’t released her. His breath fanned her cheek, warming her straight to her core. “Yes.” “Yes?” she echoed dumbly. “Yes…” The sultry look he gave her robbed Roxi of all reasonable thought. “I want to come up.” He had enough time to get a quick impression of feminine furniture, soft fabrics and lots of pastels. All of those whizzed right past him as Roxi grabbed a fistful of his jacket and tugged him through a narrow corridor, past an open archway he thought led to a kitchen—and into nirvana. The scent that had been driving him crazy for weeks now, pure Roxi, was intensified tenfold in her bedroom. It wrapped around him like a sensual blanket and tugged on his cock until he was so hard, he thought he’d burst from the mere smell of her. Donovan’s wolf trembled inside him, testing the boundaries of his control. He needed to get his hands on her. Needed to be inside her. Now. She must have known what he was thinking, because she slammed the door closed with her foot as she stripped. The large coat she’d nearly disappeared under out on the street was on the floor now, tossed in a careless heap. Roxi stood before him—still fully clothed, damn it—and stretched out an arm when he advanced. Her splayed hand caught him full in the chest. She didn’t have the strength to stop him, but he used the last ounce of self-control he could muster to keep from ripping off her clothes. “You have seen me naked many times.” A happy growl tumbled from his throat. Oh, and what a glorious sight it was, too. “Beautiful,” he said. She quirked an eyebrow. A hint of a smile played upon her full lips. “But I have never seen you.” His cock leapt against his fly, all too eager to show her what he had. His hands went to his belt and in seconds he’d tossed it on the floor, along with his shoes, jeans 44

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and shirt. He stood before her in nothing but his briefs. His shaft tented the fabric, forming a sizeable bulge. Her eyes widened, but whether in appreciation or apprehension, he couldn’t tell. Only one way to find out. He slipped his fingers beneath the waistband and pulled forward just enough to free his cock. The head slapped against his stomach. Watching Roxi’s reaction to seeing all of him was a headier aphrodisiac than her scent alone. He loved seeing her pupils darken, her tongue sweep out to moisten her lips, her nipples pebble against her shirt. Oh yeah, that was appreciation in her gaze, all right. His inner wolf stood up and howled, but the man in him refused to take the time to gloat. “Your turn.” He hardly recognized his own voice. The gruff undertones turned it gritty and thunderous. She shook her head slowly from side to side, her gaze never leaving his cock. “You are not fully naked yet.” It took him less than a heartbeat to toss the briefs aside. “Your turn,” he repeated, and this time his tone left no room for argument. Yet she dared to defy him anyway. Another slow shake of her head had his claws pressing against the tips of his fingers, eager to come out. It would be so easy to let his inner beast loose, just for a little while. He could tear the material off her luscious body before she could even contemplate shaking her pretty head again. He clenched his teeth, reminding himself he’d need to be gentle. He’d never made love to a human before. They were fragile creatures, vulnerable and delicate. The violence inherent in shifter coupling wouldn’t just terrify her, it would harm her as well. He’d be damned if he let that happen. If it meant he had to go slow, he’d go slow. And he’d keep his wolf in check, no matter what it took to calm the beast. “I have stripped for you many times.” Roxi lifted her arms high into the air. “This time, you undress me.” Before he could leap on her and start shredding fabric, she stopped him with another press of her hand to his chest, lifted an index finger and wiggled it from side to side. “Slowly.” She drew out the word, as though he couldn’t have understood it otherwise. Hell, she was probably right. He slipped both hands beneath her sweatshirt. The first feel of her silky skin against his palms nearly undid him. A bead of pre-cum formed at the tip of his cock and hovered there for a fraction of a second before sliding down his shaft. Donovan gritted his teeth. Roxi grinned. “Having trouble?” “You’re pushing your luck, pretty lady.”

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Her grin widened. She winked at him. “And enjoying every moment.” Her features turned pensive for a moment. “You were right. Sex is better when not burdened by expectations of more.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. No, he hadn’t been right. He’d been a hypocritical bastard. After all, he was the one who’d decided not to fuck the entire shifter population of New York because he was holding out for his true mate. He’d thought being bonded to a female meant only for him would turn sex from a merely physical encounter into something powerful and intoxicating. And yet here he was, giving in to the urges of his body with a woman he couldn’t mate with, even though he was beginning to think he’d never want to be with anyone as much as he wanted to be with Roxi. Fate was a cruel fucking mistress. If he had half a functioning brain cell left, he’d turn around and walk out the door. But his cock now ruled his world, and neither he nor his wolf were willing to give up the chase when they were so close to having what they craved. Roxi, naked and writhing beneath them. She didn’t fight him when he slid the sweatshirt up her torso, or when he peeled it off her body entirely. She wore a bra made of red lace, which cupped her beautiful mounds and lifted them up, causing a mouthwatering display of cleavage to meet his hungry gaze. He lowered his head and licked a path between her stunning breasts. She rewarded him with a low moan, and he did it again even as his fingers went to work on the fastenings of her jeans. He quested with his mouth until he found a nipple. Grabbing it between his teeth, along with a scrap of lacy fabric, he sucked deeply. Roxi gasped and threaded her fingers through his hair. He shoved her jeans down her hips and wasted no time with her underwear. He caught a glimpse of more red lace as he shoved them down her legs, but the fabric, sexy as it was, didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was Roxi’s body, finally bare and open, just for him. He unhooked the clasp of her bra and let that drop to the ground, too. Then he fell to his knees before her. His cock was rock hard, raging with pent-up lust. His wolf whimpered, demanding release. He could have it, too. Donovan had only to push Roxi down on the bed and slide inside her. In ten seconds flat, he could be pumping his seed deep into her body. Yet he refused to take the easy way out. His release, when it happened, would be glorious. But she came first. He glanced at Roxi and found her staring down at him. Her chest heaved with the force of her breathing. He ran a hand along the inside of her thigh. He’d touched her like this at the gallery. He’d been close to her; he’d feasted on her pussy. Yet it hadn’t been enough. A

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sudden burst of emotion in his chest told him it might never be enough. He struggled to push the thought aside, but it wouldn’t be denied. Sex. It’s just sex, Donovan told himself. Want. Need. Mine. Ours, the wolf inside him chanted. His heart did a somersault as he struggled to tame the wolf. No, the beast was wrong. Roxi wasn’t their mate. She wasn’t the one he’d been waiting for, searching for, all this time. She was just a fragile, tender little human. Sexy as hell, sure, but not a wolf’s mate. And yet… The way he reacted to her left him breathless and confused. He’d never had such a strong response to anyone. Samantha had barely stirred his blood. Mating with her had been a dull, mechanical affair meant to result in pups. It would have worked, too, if she hadn’t run away the day after the mating ritual. Roxi trembled beneath his touch. Instinctively, he seemed to know exactly what to do to bring her pleasure, as though he already knew her intimately. As though she was made for him. He skimmed his mouth along her inner folds. Her scent intensified, driving him to the brink of madness. The shift rippled beneath his skin and he fisted his hands, using the bite of his nails against his palms to keep himself in check. She was so soft, so sweet and so damn perfect it made his chest ache. When he touched her with his tongue, a bolt of electricity ran straight to his groin. She rocked forward, bringing more of her tender flesh in contact with his mouth. The sensation left Donovan reeling with desire. His tongue slid through her slit, parting her so he could glide in smooth, easy strokes from her opening to her clit. There, he paused just long enough to draw a circle with the tip of his tongue around her throbbing nub. She was hot and slick, and the way she moved her hips woke a hunger inside him that overwhelmed even the predator instincts of his beast. This need for her was something else. Raw and fierce and primal, it made him want to take her hard and fast. This was the feeling he’d been waiting for, hoping for. The desperate need that had never been answered by another shifter. Her juices flooded his mouth until he was drowning in the taste of her. He could smell nothing else, and he didn’t think he’d ever inhaled anything sweeter. His mouth worked her sex, drawing soft mewling sounds from her throat. He growled against her clit and the vibration traveled through her body, setting her off like a firecracker in his arms. She bucked against him, riding her orgasm as the muscles of her legs and belly clenched. He continued to lick her, cleaning up the cream that trickled from her channel, unable to help the low noise of pure pleasure that slipped from him as he tongued her again and again.

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“Fuck.” She dug her fingernails into his shoulders, as though uncertain her legs would support her if she let go. “Fuck me.” He thought she’d never ask. His hands slid up the back of her legs to cup her buttocks. He gripped her firmly then rose, taking her along with him. With more gentleness than he’d thought himself capable of, he placed her on the bed. She spread her thighs for him, giving him a perfect view of her pink slit and the wetness that lay within. His cock jerked with the need to bury himself inside her. The wolf inside him raged against his chest, insistent and demanding. It, too, wanted Roxi badly, but not like this. “On your knees.” The order came out gruff, only partly of his own volition. The wolf couldn’t communicate in words, but he made his needs known all the same. The tip of Roxi’s tongue swept between her full lips. She scrambled backward and did as he asked, lifting her sexy ass into the air as she positioned herself to face away from him. He gripped her waist in his hands and nestled his body behind hers. His groin pressed against the curve of her buttocks and she parted her legs farther, inviting him inside. It took every ounce of restraint he had, but he managed to grind out, “Are you sure? You have to be sure. Last time—” “Yes!” she gasped, rocking back against him. “Yes, this is what I want. What I have wanted all along. Just like this. I wanted to be a willing participant, Donovan, not blindfolded or tied up.” She glanced over her shoulder, and her eyes gleamed with certainty and unabashed desire. “Please do not make me beg.” As much as he’d have loved to hear her whimper and plead, the last remnant of his self-control had snapped the moment he met her gaze. He curled around her, his lips grazing her neck as he guided his cock to press against her channel. She turned her cheek toward him, offered her mouth. He took it, driving his tongue between her parted lips as he thrust forward just a fraction. His cock slid home, right where it belonged. Donovan’s body bucked under the sensation. His wolf roared to life, no longer content to be a passenger, but demanding to take control and fuck Roxi until she howled for him. But she was human. She wouldn’t howl. She couldn’t— All logical thought fled under the assault on his senses. His hands grasped Roxi’s waist, holding her tight against him as he began to move. She whimpered and pressed back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust, over and over again. Each glide of her tight pussy around his cock sent him into near-delirium. “Oh, honey.” His voice cracked and he swallowed hard. “Roxi, God, I—” “I know.” Her sigh was as broken as his. She tightened her inner walls around him and Donovan cried out as a deep shudder began low in his abdomen. He couldn’t hold back much longer. Reaching 48

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between Roxi’s legs, he flicked her clit with the tip of a finger. She bucked against him and let out a sharp cry of pleasure. The sound filled his ears, made him yearn to hear it again. He pinched her nub between thumb and forefinger, and she trembled. The pressure around his cock became a ripple of release. Roxi moaned as she came, her body quivering as pleasure whipped through her. Her release set off his orgasm. It flashed through him in an intoxicating, powerful wave, snapping the tight grip he had on his self-control. His seed burst from his cock, flooding Roxi’s channel, and the wolf howled his ecstasy as he broke through Donovan’s defenses. He couldn’t hold back the shift. It ripped through him, partly transforming his bones and flesh. His jaw turned into a muzzle and his teeth grew large and sharp. The man in him struggled for control. His body hadn’t yet shifted, but it was only a matter of time before the wolf took over completely. Even without the full shift, Donovan could only stare, horrified, through his own eyes as the wolf sank its teeth into Roxi’s shoulder. Claiming her as his mate.

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Chapter Six Pain burst in Roxi’s shoulder. She arched her back while waves of release crashed through her, mingling with the stabbing ache to form a miasma of sensation that set off a second orgasm. Her scream echoed through the room, filling her ears so she barely heard the door slam against the wall. “Oh my God! Get off her!” The answering snarl resonating in her ear was positively feral, and Roxi turned her head—only to get an eyeful of black fur and yellow eyes, along with sharp white teeth glistening with blood. Her blood. Oh fuck. The room spun around her. Instinctively, every muscle in her body clenched against the perceived threat. She clamped down on Donovan’s cock and fisted her fingers in the sheets as she struggled to remain upright. “I said, get off her!” The sound of glass breaking startled Roxi out of her panic-induced numbness. She managed to rock back just far enough to see Leann holding the neck of a vase that had once been a gift from Roxi’s mother. Now only the top third remained, its jagged edges indicating it had met a violent end. Donovan growled. He withdrew from her pussy and slid off her. Roxi scrambled forward, nearly toppling off the edge of the bed in her rush to figure out what just happened. She turned and lifted her head in time to see Donovan’s gorgeous face shimmer from within the furry muzzle of a…wolf? No. No fucking way. She shook her head but refused to close her eyes. Instead she watched, dumfounded, as Donovan’s broad chest once again became sleek and sprinkled with a light dusting of dark hair, instead of being covered in a pelt of fur. The transformation looked painful. Furrows formed on his forehead and around his eyes. He doubled over at the waist as his bones reshaped themselves into the firm, masculine body she’d been admiring only minutes earlier. “Fuck me,” Leann murmured. “I’m calling the cops.” Donovan touched the back of his head. His fingers came away slick with blood, and Roxi figured she knew what must have happened to the vase. But that was the only thing she understood. The rest of the questions spinning in her mind whizzed around like a tornado, and she couldn’t decide which to voice first. Her mouth moved but no words came out. 50

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Donovan shook himself, as though waking from a bad dream. Sweat matted his hair to his forehead and trickled down his temples. His chest was slick as well, and a rivulet of blood ran from the back of his head down to his neck and over one shoulder. Seeing the blood made her shoulder throb in remembered agony. She turned her head as far as she could to stare at the wound. Her stomach heaved at the sight of the deep bite mark and the blood that poured freely over her skin to seep into the white sheets on her bed. “The cops are on their way,” Leann announced from the doorway. She’d traded the broken bit of vase for a large butcher knife from the kitchen. “Don’t even think about trying anything, asshole! I’m not afraid to use this thing.” Donovan lifted his head but paid no attention to Leann. She might as well not even have spoken, since he didn’t seem to have heard her. Instead, he locked gazes with Roxi. Her heart skipped a beat and lodged in her throat, making it hard to breathe. “I’m so sorry.” Donovan’s hoarse voice boomed through the room. Roxi shrank back. “W-what are you?” Sirens echoed from the street below them. Donovan lifted his head and glanced at the window behind Roxi. He gritted his teeth. A muscle pulsed in his jaw. “I have to go. I’ll…” He took a deep breath, as though considering what he was about to say, then seemed to make a decision. “I’ll explain everything, but not now.” He grabbed his clothes, pulled them on in less than ten seconds flat. All the while Leann watched him warily from the door. She made no move to attack him with the knife, but she held the weapon in front of her, making it clear she had no qualms about defending both herself and Roxi if it came to that. The sirens grew louder. A screech of brakes told Roxi the cops had just pulled up in front of the building. It was only a matter of time before they made their way up here, and when they did… God, what would she tell them? That her lover had transformed into some sort of werebeast and attacked her while they were having sex? A sound slipped from her throat, half sob, half incredulous laugh. Roxi ran a trembling hand through her hair. She was losing her mind. That was the only possible explanation for what had just happened. Donovan took a step toward the hallway. Leann lifted the knife. “Don’t even think about running.” “I can’t stay.” He held up his hands and cast another look at Roxi. His eyes were filled with sorrow. “See to it that the wound is bandaged, but don’t clean it out. If you do, you’ll just remove the healing enzymes in my—the wolf’s—saliva.” Despite the fact that Leann was more than a foot shorter than Donovan, she stood toe-to-toe with him and waved the knife in his face. “If you think we’re going to listen to a thing you have to say, you’re delusional!” “Don’t listen, then.” He raised a shoulder in a shrug. “But take care of her.” With that, he pushed past Leann and vanished into the hallway.

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A few seconds later, the front door slammed closed and Roxi could breathe again. The air in her lungs must have been holding her upright, because she suddenly sagged against the mattress. Leann wrapped her in a gentle hug, careful to avoid her wounded shoulder. “Shh… It’s over now. He’s gone. He can’t hurt you anymore.” Roxi moaned. Already the stinging ache in her shoulder was fading, becoming more irritation than pain. Every time she blinked, the look in Donovan’s eyes and the sheer misery on his features replayed over and over in her mind. He hadn’t meant to harm her. She was sure of it. A loud knock on the front door made her jump in Leann’s arms. “Open up! Police!” The knock repeated, louder this time. If someone didn’t let them in, Roxi had no doubt NYPD’s finest would break the door down. “You better get that,” she whispered to her friend. Leann’s brow furrowed. She was obviously reluctant to leave Roxi’s side. “Go,” Roxi urged. Leann finally did as she was told and Roxi breathed a sigh of relief. Her mind spun, forming a plan. She didn’t understand what happened, but she knew Donovan would never hurt her. Not intentionally, anyway. She needed to get to the bottom of this, and she had to do it on her own. Roxi pushed to her feet, not relishing the idea of meeting a squadron of police officers in the nude. By the time Leann returned, Roxi was dressed in a fluffy pink robe. She’d tossed the bloody sheets from the bed into the hamper in the closet, and she had a magazine spread out on her lap. “I saw him attack her!” Leann walked into Roxi’s room. Three uniformed officers barged in right behind. “Tell them, Rox. Show them what he did to you.” Roxi forced a smile, hoping her lip didn’t quiver and give away the nervousness that fluttered in her stomach. “I am sorry, gentlemen. My friend likes those old horror movies a little too much. I am afraid she was imagining things.” “So you weren’t attacked, ma’am?” One of the officers, the youngest looking of the bunch, squinted in her direction. The others eyed the bedroom with obvious caution, as though expecting a criminal to leap out from beneath her bed. “Attacked?” She laughed, and the hollow sound bounced off the walls. “No. What Leann heard was some very enthusiastic sex.” Heat crept up her cheeks. She hoped that would lend her story a bit more credibility. “We were just role playing.” “Role playing?” Leann’s indignant screech made Roxi wince. “You can’t be serious! What exactly where you acting out?” “The story of Little Red Riding Hood.” She smiled again, and this time the mirth was almost entirely genuine. “You walked in right at the good part.” The young officer cleared his throat. “The good part, ma’am?” Roxi nodded. “Yes. Just when the big bad wolf was eating me.” 52

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***** Four hours later, Roxi stripped and carefully placed her clothes inside the small locker Brad had provided for her use. The gallery didn’t have a locker room, per se, but Brad had converted an old storage closet into her personal space. She had complete privacy here, which was rather ironic considering she’d spend the rest of the evening on full display. She turned to look at herself in the small magnetic mirror she’d hung on the inside of the locker door. The wound on her shoulder was covered with a white bandage, but she’d seen it an hour ago. Just like Donovan had promised, it was healing nicely. She’d been able to make out the shape, too—a perfect bite, like a brand on her skin. It would certainly leave a scar. Roxi shuddered. Donovan had marked her. For as long as she lived, she’d carry the reminder of him with her everywhere she went. The thought should have frightened her. Angered her, at the very least. Instead, there was something comforting about knowing Donovan would always be more to her than a passing one-night stand. She smiled at that. She’d wanted something meaningful from her time with him. Something permanent. This wasn’t exactly what she’d had in mind. A tingle ran through Roxi’s body at the memory of Donovan’s hands and mouth on her. She hadn’t been lying to the cops—not entirely, anyway. Leann had interrupted the most incredible sex of Roxi’s life. Not that she had a whole lot of experience in that department. Before Donovan, she’d only been with one other man. Well, more of a boy, really. They’d both been nineteen the year she graduated high school. She’d lost her virginity to Stavros that summer, and afterward they’d spent nearly two weeks exploring each other’s bodies. Under his unskilled hands, she’d learned what made her hot, what drove her crazy, which moves made her cry out in pure, intoxicating bliss. But she hadn’t taken another lover since. Not because she was shy, or because she didn’t like sex. Quite the contrary, or else she wouldn’t have been working at Moderne. But showing her body to strangers and letting them touch her was one thing. Being close with a man, giving him not just her body, but her heart and soul, took a lot more courage. Well, she’d done it. She’d opened herself up to Donovan in every way, and he’d…bitten her. Her breath caught as a flash of memory danced across her senses. She vividly recalled the feel of Donovan’s cock moving inside her, his howl of pleasure as he came, the way his orgasm set off hers. She remembered, too, the exact moment his teeth sank into her flesh. There’d been something so primal and animalistic about that bite. Yes, there’d been violence in the act, but she didn’t feel attacked. She felt…protected. Cherished. Wanted. Roxi shook her head and slammed the locker door closed. “Roxana, you are being an idiot.” She knew it, too. Her mother would have a fit if she knew Roxi had barely 53

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escaped her most recent romantic encounter and now sported something akin to an animal bite. She frowned as she walked out of the changing room. Was that what Donovan was? Some sort of animal? She’d seen him transform from a wolf into a man, but she couldn’t trust her senses to relay what really happened. Maybe she’d been in shock after he bit her, and her addled mind had conjured something for her to focus on. Or maybe— “There you are!” Brad clapped his hands together. He stood on the other side of the harness and beckoned to her. “Come on up. We don’t have much time before the doors open.” Roxi scanned the room, but she and Brad were alone. Her pulse picked up speed. “Where is Donovan?” Brad pushed his glasses up his nose and sighed. “I don’t know. He didn’t show up for his shift and he’s not answering his phone.” Disappointment settled like a ball of lead in her stomach. Her hands went to the belt of her robe but her gaze dropped to the floor. Donovan had never missed a day of work. Was he avoiding her? Would he come back? Would she ever get an explanation for what happened that afternoon? Leann had been furious that Roxi had chosen to cover for Donovan with the cops. After the officers left, Leann had let Roxi know exactly what she thought about her decision, and her tirade wasn’t gentle in the least. Roxi sank her teeth into her bruised lower lip. Had she done the right thing? It seemed she never knew where Donovan was concerned. She could only follow her gut and hope it didn’t lead her astray. “Up you go, Roxi.” Brad beamed a smile at her. He was cute, in a misunderstood-artist kind of way. Tonight he wore a black turtleneck over plaid pants. His fashion sense left a lot to be desired, but she trusted him. The first few weeks she’d been at Moderne, he’d checked in on her hourly just to make sure she was comfortable. If she wasn’t, he’d adjust the straps, loosen the restraints—whatever it took for her to remain up there for the rest of her shift. If Donovan wasn’t here to protect her from overzealous groping hands, Brad would make a suitable replacement. She didn’t know him well, but she knew he cared about her. He wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her while he was here. “All right,” she agreed, climbing into the harness. “Let us do this thing.” Brad’s hands didn’t linger on her skin. He was quick and proficient in his movements. She appreciated his speed and professionalism, but she missed Donovan’s tender touch, his smooth caresses and the heat in his gaze as he looked at her. Brad was just about to cover her eyes with the blindfold when voices carried from the next room, drifting through the open archway to reach her. “What the hell?” Brad frowned and moved toward the doorway. “We’re not open yet.”

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“You are now. Both open and closed for the evening.” The familiar voice sent a chill down Roxi’s spine. She lifted her head and groaned when she caught sight of Kastor standing in the archway. He had his hands on his hips, his leather jacket parted to reveal the gun holster at his waist. Behind Kastor stood two men, mirror images of one another. Both were bald and both sported tattoos of skulls on their clean-shaven heads. Their eyes were cold and empty, just like Kastor’s, except his held the unmistakable glint of cruel intelligence when he looked at her. “What are you doing here?” Roxi’s voice came out thin and frightened, and she hated herself for that show of weakness. “So this is where you work. It is shameful. Your mother would be humiliated if she knew of your filthy acts.” Roxi narrowed her eyes. “You leave my mother out of this.” “As you wish.” He dipped his head in mock acknowledgement of her words. “It is you I want.” Her blood turned to ice. “I thought I made it perfectly clear the other night. I am not interested.” “Yet here you are, naked for all the world to see.” Kastor sneered. “They can have you, but not me?” Fear traveled through Roxi, cleaving a wide path in its wake. Her belly clenched and the bite mark on her shoulder throbbed and heated. “You misunderstand what I do.” “You are a whore.” “Gentlemen…” Brad held up his hands. “The gallery isn’t open yet. If you’ll take a brochure from the front hall, you’ll see that Roxi is here to be appreciated and respected. I’ll not have you talk to her like that in my place of business.” “Did no one ever tell this man it is impolite to interrupt when others are speaking?” The sign Kastor gave one of the goons behind him was so subtle, Roxi nearly missed it. But the man didn’t. He pulled his gun out of its holster and before Brad could take a single step back, the goon pistol-whipped him across the face. Brad grunted and collapsed in a heap on the floor.

***** Donovan had been wandering the cold streets for hours, still reeling from the afternoon’s events. He clenched his fists at his sides and kept his gaze down as he walked, nearly bowling over anyone unlucky enough to get in his way. His wolf had gotten away from him today. For all his control, he hadn’t been able to restrain the beast. It had leapt through his skin and into the world, as hungry for Roxi

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as Donovan had been. He couldn’t blame the wolf—not entirely—but the creature’s actions had repercussions for them both. Donovan had been cultivating the willpower to shift on demand since he’d turned fourteen and had first become aware of the beast lying dormant inside him. Until then, it had been quiet, content to wait for Donovan to approach manhood. The transformation from man to wolf had been painful and confusing, like human puberty, only a hundred times worse. It had taken Donovan years to feel confident he wouldn’t suddenly sprout fur in weird places just from talking to a pretty girl. Not that it mattered much as long as he was among his pack, where those types of reactions were expected from teenage boys. And in the small village of Thompson Falls, Alberta, everyone was pack. The clan had deep roots in the area, having been around for hundreds of years. They guarded their privacy fiercely, and came together to ensure outsiders—human and shifter alike—never settled among them. He’d have been happy to live out the rest of his life right there in Thompson Falls, the way his father and brothers still did. But Samantha had felt trapped in their small village, stifled by ancient customs and traditions she abhorred. So when she ran away, taking his pride with her, Donovan had no choice but to follow. He’d thought he could bring her home. He’d been so damn naïve. It never occurred to him that she wouldn’t want to return. Not that day. Not ever. She never even considered how her actions would affect him. A wolf shifter without a mate was incomplete. And one who’d lost his female because he wasn’t strong enough to keep her by his side, well…he became the laughingstock of the pack. Scowling, Donovan climbed the stairs from the Central Park North subway station two at a time and emerged onto 110th Street. Weaving his way through a couple of tourists snapping pictures of each other among drifting snowflakes, he entered the park and found himself in a place that was as close as he could get to home. The northern-central part of the park wasn’t popular with tourists, who gravitated toward the west side or the various attractions like Belvedere Fountain or the John Lennon Memorial. Out here he most often ran into locals, and on days like these, even folks who normally made this route a part of their jogging or biking circuit stayed indoors. He needed to be close to nature in a way New York’s concrete buildings didn’t often allow. Out here, he could at least imagine running free. He wouldn’t, of course. He wasn’t foolish enough to give his beast free rein. He’d scare tourists and locals alike, and the last thing he wanted was animal control on his ass. The wolf had quieted since tasting Roxi. When Donovan turned his attention inward to check on the beast, he found him curled up and content, finally at peace with the world in a way he hadn’t been since Samantha left. Donovan frowned. No, that wasn’t true. He’d never known his wolf to be happy. Resigned, sure. Often moody and restless. But content? Never.

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“Fuck,” he murmured under his breath. Even now, the bond the wolf had created between Donovan and Roxi was growing stronger. His bite would leave a scar on her skin, but wouldn’t change her in any other way. She could have a normal life without him, never knowing he’d claimed her at all. Things would never be that simple for him. He could still taste her blood on his tongue, and the heady flavor made it hard to think about anything but being with her again. Remembering the way she’d writhed, her seductive body undulating with her movements, caused need to ricochet through him. Unfortunately, that wasn’t all he remembered. He could still see her eyes, wide with fear and shock, as she stared at him while he shifted from wolf to human. And the horror written all over her face when she realized he’d bitten her. He had so much to explain and no idea where to start. He slowed as he neared a bench, his mind still whirling. A thin layer of snow had accumulated on the wooden surface. He brushed it off with his palm then sat on a corner and pulled out his cell phone. This was one phone call he’d never planned to make. But he’d initiated the mating ritual with a human female, and she wasn’t the only one to whom he needed to come clean. “Hello?” The sound of his father’s voice, gruff like his own but crackled with age, made his chest tighten. “Dad.” A sharp, indrawn breath reached his ears. “Donovan.” Homesickness turned the ache in Donovan’s chest to lava. He’d stayed away too long, but the last time he’d been home the pack had treated him like an outsider. They’d made it clear he wasn’t welcome among them until he returned with a suitable mate who could take Samantha’s place. The pack had lost a female. They blamed Donovan. He owed them, as much to rebuild their numbers as to redeem himself. “You’ve found a mate, eh? It’s about bloody time, son.” Donovan’s mouth twisted in a grimace. “There’s something you should know. My mate… She’s not… Well, she’s…” He took a deep breath, realizing he had no idea how to break the news to his father. As the Alpha of the Thompson Falls pack, Doug Armstrong’s word was law. Rigid pack rules and traditions had been drilled into Donovan’s head since he was a small pup, and he knew better than anyone what Doug expected of him. Of them all. “She’s what?” The impatience in his father’s tone was unmistakable. “Spit it out already.” Donovan sighed. He’d always envisioned strolling into Thompson Falls with a beautiful shifter at his side, a female his pack would accept unconditionally. In his fantasies, she was a remarkable specimen of a wolf shifter. Now he pictured Roxi, stunningly beautiful, sure, but vulnerable and delicate. The wolves would descend on her like starving jackals on a wounded deer. They’d mock, taunt and test her until they stripped her of every shred of confidence she 57

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possessed. She’d never be one of them, no matter how hard she tried. Without the shifter gene running through her blood, Roxi had no chance of being accepted by his pack. They’d make her miserable until they chased her out of town. Was that really the kind of life Donovan wanted to subject her to? He’d been able to protect her from the overly bold patrons at Moderne. But could he protect her from his own kind? “She’s human,” Donovan blurted out. He braced himself for the tirade sure to follow. “Donovan.” The old man uttered his name on a sigh, like he’d just breathed his last. “What am I going to do with you?” The emotion in his father’s voice sent a wave of uncertainty crashing into Donovan’s soul. He thought he knew all of Doug’s different guises. The strong, authoritative pack Alpha. The disciplinarian father intent on shaping his sons into outstanding wolf shifters. The sweet-talking diplomat who negotiated treaties with other packs and human settlements. But the vulnerability in his voice now was completely foreign. “The wolf chose her.” Donovan scrubbed a hand over his face. His fingers had long ago gone numb from the cold, and he could barely feel his jaw when he touched it. He sighed. If he was going to come clean, he needed to tell the whole truth. “We both chose her. She’s…” His mind drifted to her flawless skin, her beaming smile, the way his name sounded on her lips. “Perfect.” “Not for the pack, she isn’t.” As much as Donovan hated to admit it, his father was right. “I won’t be returning home then.” His stomach bottomed out as he uttered the words. It made the most sense that he should stay here, in New York, where wolf shifters were so much more civilized. They followed their animalistic impulses behind closed doors at places like The Wolf’s Den. Roxi would never have to be exposed to his pack’s behavior. Doug swore, loudly and creatively. “No. That’s unacceptable. You’ve already been gone too long. You have to come home. Now.” Indecision tore through Donovan. He yearned to go home. Until a few days ago, returning to Thompson Falls was all he wanted. But things had changed. Roxi had thrown his world upside down and now he craved her with every cell in his body. “I can’t.” “Bring the human, if you must. We need you. The pack…” Doug sighed. It was clear he wanted to say more, but held back. “Just come home.” Loyalties warred within him, so strong that even his wolf raised its head. Things were off at home. He could hear the exhaustion in his father’s voice and it worried him. But being with Roxi was paramount now that he’d marked her. And her safety came first. “I’m sorry.” Donovan set his jaw. “I just needed you to know what’s happened.”

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The silence stretched on until Donovan thought his father might have hung up. But then Doug said, “I’m glad you called,” and the tension drained from Donovan’s shoulders. “Does your human know what you are?” Doug asked. “She knows. She just doesn’t understand.” “Then you’ve got to explain it to her.” Sunlight burst through a dark cloud above Donovan’s head, making him squint as he stared at the bright snow blanketing the ground. His pulse quickened, and he gave voice to the uncertainty rolling through him. “What if she doesn’t accept me?” “You’ve marked her?” He remembered the way his teeth felt sinking into her flesh. The taste of her still hovered on his lips, as heady as the moment he’d bitten her. “I have.” “Then she’s yours. She might struggle with what you are, but she won’t turn away.” Donovan gripped the phone tighter, realizing this was the reason he’d called. He’d wanted reassurance from his father. Reassurance, if not outright acceptance. “Thank you,” he murmured as he rose from the bench. His soul felt lighter than it had in years. His beast was joyful inside him. He still had to find a way to make things right with his pack, but that would come. He needed to take things one at a time, and the first order of business was seeing his mate. Doug grunted. “Your brothers will want to know you called. They’ll ask about your mate. What should I tell them?” Donovan drew in a deep breath. A smile broke out on his face and he quickened his steps. “Tell them her name is Roxi.”

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Chapter Seven Brad wasn’t moving. Raw terror filled Roxi’s veins. Tears stung her eyes. She jerked in the harness but the bonds were too tight. She was utterly helpless, strung up like a side of beef and fully at Kastor’s cruel mercy. Kastor stood at her side. He’d been watching her for the past few minutes, his icy gaze raking her body like groping fingers. She shuddered under the scrutiny and clenched her jaw to keep from saying something that might enrage him further. As it was, he looked absolutely furious. His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared as he gawked at her. She didn’t want to imagine what he concocted in that evil head of his. So she kept glancing at Brad, hoping he’d stir. He didn’t. She had no way of knowing whether he was unconscious, or worse. “He needs a doctor,” Roxi blurted out. “Help him!” Kastor didn’t even glance in Brad’s direction, but he lifted a hand toward Roxi’s chest. She braced herself for the inevitable tweak of the nipple. Every man went for her nipples first. She guessed it had something to do with the little buds being tight in the cold gallery, but it could have just been due to some hardwired male impulse to play with them. When the sharp, open-palmed smack landed on the side of Roxi’s breast, she didn’t even try to stifle the scream that fled from her lips. “You order me to do things?” Kastor slapped her a second time, hard enough to bring a sheen of tears to her eyes. “You are delusional of your place in this world, whore.” Roxi cried out, louder this time, when he hit her again. Maybe her wails would alert someone walking by. “P-please, I—” “Gag her,” Kastor commanded. To Roxi’s horror, one of the goons stepped forward to do as he was told. He grabbed the blindfold from Brad’s unmoving hand then walked over to Roxi. He pried her jaw open, slid the strip of silk between her lips and tied the makeshift gag behind her head. “I won’t be humiliated.” He reverted to speaking Greek, which didn’t hold a trace of foreign accent. His rage was even clearer in his native tongue. “My mother wants me to marry you. Marry. You.” He repeated the words, stressing each one. “She has no idea you’re a dirty slut. But I know, and I won’t be played for a fool.” When Kastor slapped both of her breasts at once, Roxi’s scream turned into a muffled groan through the silk gag. He lifted an eyebrow and gave her a feral smile as 60

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he shoved two fingers in her pussy. “This is what you wanted, no? This is what you’re here for.” She yelped and arched her back, biting down on the gag. The sting of pain traveled through her inner muscles into her stomach. Whimpering, Roxi narrowed her eyes as she glared at Kastor. She was used to strangers exploring her body, but she’d been blindfolded every time. Under Donovan’s watchful eye, their caresses were usually careful, their touches light. Being handled like this by Kastor wasn’t just terrifying, it was obscene. He twisted three fingers inside her sex. She closed her eyes, but found being in the dark was even worse. She hated not knowing what was coming, or how far Kastor would go. Brad could well be dead. The gallery was closed. And Donovan wasn’t coming to work. “You belong to me now. I say what you can and can’t do.” He beckoned to his goons with a flick of his fingers and the men stepped closer. “Your body is mine to give to whoever I want. I can order them to fuck you, whore, and you’ll thank me for it.” Tears leaked from the corners of Roxi’s eyes. God, how she wished she’d told Leann and Gabbi exactly where she worked, and what she did for a living. Maybe then there’d be a chance someone would come looking for her. But Leann had still been angry when Roxi left for work, and no one but her mother, half a world away, would even think to worry. Her mother, who’d set her up with Kastor in the first place because she feared what a stranger might do to her darling daughter. A sob caught behind the gag. Kastor’s hand went to his belt. Terror settled like a swirling cyclone in Roxi’s belly. Nausea rose into her throat. Tied up, she had no way to fight back. No chance at all to defend herself. Donovan had promised to watch over her and keep her safe. So where was he when she needed him most?

***** Moderne was tightly locked when Donovan got there. Unease ran down his spine. The gallery should have opened to the public fifteen minutes ago. The snow that had started as a light sprinkle earlier that afternoon had given way to a blizzard in the past hour, so Donovan wasn’t surprised at the lack of people beating down the door. He supposed Brad could have closed up shop on account of the weather, but that didn’t sound like something the gallery owner would do. From what Donovan knew about the financial state of the place, Brad needed the money. He wouldn’t miss an opportunity to sell a piece just because of a little snow.

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Donovan rang the bell then pounded the thick wooden door with the side of his fist. No one answered. He couldn’t even be sure anyone was inside, except that the fresh snow swirling around him hadn’t completely obscured the footprints that had been there when he arrived. He could make out five individual sets of prints, one of which was smaller than the others, with a dainty toe and a pointy heel. A woman’s boot. Roxi’s, most likely. She always showed up at least twenty minutes early for her shift, which gave her time to undress and get strapped into the harness before the gallery opened. “Roxi!” He pounded on the door again, harder this time, and for a lot longer. “Brad!” No one came to the door. He’d have peered into the windows but Moderne didn’t have any. The frames were still in place, but the former owner had shuttered them years ago to protect against vandalism. Donovan scanned his surroundings for anything unusual. Moderne was tucked away on 80th Street, a quiet, tree-lined street just off 5th Avenue. After the bustle of 5th Avenue, this little corner of New York, taken up by brownstones, a Laundromat and a couple of coffee shops, felt out of place. Still, the tucked-away impression worked in Moderne’s favor. This wasn’t the kind of art gallery tourists randomly wandered into during a sightseeing excursion, though many came anyway, enticed by word of mouth or the occasional blog post. About twenty feet from where Donovan stood, a woman climbed into a cab. Exhaust billowed into the frosty air, condensing in the winter breeze. Further still, two teenagers threw snowballs at one another. Their hooting laughter carried past the howl of the wind, but did little to ease the apprehension that had seeped into Donovan’s bones. Frustrated, Donovan tried Roxi’s cell again. The call went straight to voice mail. He might have taken his chances with her roommates if he knew the number to her apartment, but he didn’t. Next he called Brad, and when he didn’t answer, Donovan tried the gallery directly. He pressed his ear to the door to hear the phone ring once, twice, three times. And over the shrill sound of the ringing telephone, his sensitive ears picked up something else. A muffled scream. Donovan’s wolf bucked against his chest. Roxi. The sound hadn’t been clear, but it was all he needed. He didn’t stop to think. Backing up a few steps to gather speed, he threw himself at the locked door, shoulder first. The wood creaked slightly but didn’t give way. So he did it a second time, and a third. At the fourth relentless shove of his upper body, the frame splintered and the door crashed sideways, nearly coming off its hinges. The small entryway was brightly lit, and it took Donovan a few seconds to adjust after the dim evening shadows outside. 62

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A harsh bark in a foreign language brought his head up. He snarled as two men rushed into the front gallery. They both held pistols pointed at his head. “Fool,” one of them spat in heavily accented English. “You are dead.” He couldn’t see Roxi, but he could hear her. Each smothered cry, every indistinct sob, fueled his body with adrenaline and rage. Fury clouded his vision in a sea of red. His wolf howled, demanding to be let loose. For once, Donovan didn’t fight the beast. The shift happened smoothly, if not painlessly. His clothes tore and fell to the ground. He allowed the tenderness that came with elongating bones, shifting tendons and the formation of new ligaments to temper some of the rage swarming inside him so he could formulate a plan of attack. A shot rang out. It whizzed past Donovan’s ear, missing him by a mere inch. The two men looked similar, but Donovan focused on the guy to the right, the one with the itchy trigger finger. The man fired again but his hand shook violently with the apparent shock that made his muscular body quiver, and he missed by a mile. Years of hunting feral wildlife had honed Donovan’s instincts to a razor’s edge. He joined forces with his wolf, the beast no longer a separate part of him but an equal partner. Together, they recalled each finely tuned attack they’d ever executed, and all that experience now coalesced into a single lunge. Donovan flew through the air, paws flung outward, and landed with a heavy thump against the man’s chest. He went down hard, slamming the back of his bald head on the tiled floor. The gun slipped out of his hand. Donovan went for the jugular. He would have torn it out, too, if Roxi’s stifled scream didn’t reach him just in time. Controlling his animal instincts wasn’t easy, but Donovan managed to hold his beast back long enough to readjust his aim. He took a large chunk out of the guy’s shoulder, and the man’s agonized howl sent a surge of icy satisfaction into Donovan’s blood. Certain the first man no longer posed a threat, Donovan whirled on the second. The guy was holding his hands up, pistol uselessly aimed at the ceiling, as he made pathetic mewling sounds while backing out of the gallery. Donovan was faster. He cut off the guy’s avenue of escape before he could take another step and growled, baring bloodstained fangs. The man pissed himself, dropped to his knees and made the sign of the cross. Behind him, the first guy scrambled out of there, his footsteps ringing out on the tile. Donovan had to make a decision, fast. He could go after the fleeing asshole, but that meant leaving Roxi alone with whoever was still in there. No way would he let that happen. He didn’t give a damn if these guys got away. He had their scent, and he could use it to track them to the ends of the earth if he had to. Right now, though, he had a much more important job.

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He leapt over the man cowering on the floor and raced through the next room. The displays were nothing more than blurs. He crashed into the final room and halted in the archway, taking in the scene spread out before him in sharp, vivid flashes of information. Brad on the floor, unconscious. Roxi naked in her harness, with half a dozen bruises marring her flawless skin. And a man he didn’t recognize standing over her, pointing a gun at her temple. “An animal? What sort of joke is this?” From the corner of her eye, Roxi saw Kastor tighten his grip on his gun. He thumbed off the safety and her blood ran cold. “Where is the intruder? Enrikos! Plauto!” Kastor hollered for his men, but no one answered. A flicker of hope danced in Roxi’s veins as she eyed the wolf standing in the doorway. She knew this was no ordinary animal. Though Donovan looked different than he had in her bedroom—fully wolf now, without a shred of human remaining— the sheen of the dark fur was the same. His yellow eyes were fixed on the gun at her temple, and she could see the effort rippling beneath his skin as he struggled to hold himself back. She was certain he wanted nothing more than to tear Kastor’s throat out, but while the man held a gun to her head, he wouldn’t dare. “Enrikos! Answer me!” Kastor yelled out in Greek. “He is dead.” She wanted to shake Kastor’s confidence, but the gag pressed against her tongue made the words come out garbled. Kastor snarled at her but kept a keen eye on the wolf. “I heard gunshots.” She had, too. Her heart leapt into her throat as she looked at the wolf, searching for signs of blood. Plenty dripped from the animal’s muzzle, but she couldn’t make out any bullet wounds and he didn’t seem to be in obvious pain. “Show yourself, coward!” Kastor switched over to English as he peered toward the doorway. “Do not hide behind your mangy dog.” The wolf snarled, showing bloodstained teeth. Kastor gasped, his calm façade slipping with each passing moment. Roxi sucked in a breath and worked her right wrist against the leather strap. She’d nearly managed to loosen the restraint enough to slip her hand through. Nearly. She just needed a few more seconds, and she prayed Kastor wouldn’t notice her efforts. With his free hand, Kastor grabbed Roxi’s breast and squeezed. “You are mine, bitch. No one is coming to save you.” Donovan growled. His lean body tensed as if preparing to attack, ears twitching and nostrils flaring. “I would not do what you are thinking of doing. You see, stupid dog, I have a weapon. This bullet will tear right through you before you can get close to me. And 64

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your master…” Kastor cocked his head, no doubt listening for any sign of another person beyond the next room. Satisfied when he didn’t hear anything, he nodded. “Is not coming to help you.” Roxi struggled with the cuff. Her hand slipped another inch, finally gliding out of the restraint completely. The wolf’s growl turned into a high-pitched howl. Roxi’s heart thudded hard against her rib cage and she fisted her hand, still holding it up by the cuff, waiting for an opening to use her only advantage. Kastor lifted the gun away from Roxi’s head and pointed it at the wolf. “Bang,” he said—and fired. That was the moment Donovan had been waiting for. He flew through the air but Kastor’s aim was true. The wolf’s howl of rage turned into one of pain as he fell back to the floor, paws scrambling for purchase on the blood-slicked tile. Roxi screamed. She acted on instinct alone, bringing her fisted hand up and slamming it against Kastor’s neck in a move so swift it caught him by complete surprise. In the split second it took Kastor to get his bearings, Donovan lunged and sank his teeth into Kastor’s gun arm. The man yelped and dropped the gun, which the wolf kicked away with a back paw. Kastor flailed in his terror-filled fury. Donovan avoided contact with Kastor’s feet, loosened his grip on the man’s arm and aimed lower, right for the groin. Kastor buckled and crumpled to the floor, screaming in agony. Twitching and convulsing, he tried to push the wolf away as he reached down to protect his family jewels. Roxi yanked the gag away from her mouth. “Donovan, stop! Stop!” She wasn’t sure if she could get through to him. He seemed caught in a bloodthirsty craze. No doubt his adrenaline was pumping as hard as hers, but she couldn’t let him kill the man. Justice would be done, but on human terms. “It is over.” She tried again, begging him to understand. “Please. I—I need you.” The growls subsided and Donovan brought his head up. She could almost see the moment reason returned to those beautiful yellow eyes, driving away Donovan’s animal impulses. His body jerked, realigning itself as his bones and muscles lengthened and reshaped, becoming human once more. Kastor croaked something unintelligible—then fainted. Whether from blood loss or fright, Roxi didn’t care. Donovan was at her side in less than a second. He searched her face with his gaze and ran his hands over her body, reassuring himself she was still in one piece. The terror she saw in his eyes broke her heart. “Oh God.” He cupped her face, brought his lips down on hers. “Please tell me you’re okay.”

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She nodded, wishing she could hug him back. The best she could do was circle his shoulders with one arm and pull him to her. She winced when her hand came away wet with blood. “You have been shot.” “It’s just a graze.” Relief rushed through her, making her dizzy. “Brad needs help.” Donovan swore as he looked at the fallen man. “I’ll call an ambulance. But not until I get you out of these restraints.” He unbuckled the cuffs wrapped around her ankles and wrist, then gathered her close. She fell into his arms as if she belonged there, nestled against his chest for all eternity. But the illusion was over much too quickly as he pulled away to call 9-1-1. When he returned and knelt at Brad’s side to check for a pulse, Roxi walked up behind him. She shuddered at the memory of watching Donovan shift from wolf to human twice in one day. Slipping her fingers through his hair, she said, “I think it is time we have that talk.”

***** “Tell me what happened again, from the top. You broke down the door…and then?” Donovan closed his eyes and sucked in a breath, fighting for patience. He’d told his story half a dozen times, first to the officers who’d arrived on the scene and later to Simon Walker, the detective assigned to this case. Now the two of them sat in Brad’s small office, where Donovan was recounting events yet again. “Two men attacked me. They had guns. I fought them and they ran.” “Right.” Walker scribbled something in his notepad. He looked competent, and was probably damn good at his job. The authority in his demeanor hinted he might have law enforcement running through his veins. “What about this wolf?” Donovan blinked at the detective. “I told you, it came in from the street. Must have smelled the blood.” The incredulous look Walker gave him didn’t come as a surprise. “A wolf. In New York.” Donovan shrugged. “There’ve been reports of coyotes in Vegas, so yeah, a wolf. In New York.” “And this wolf assaulted the two men who jumped you.” “No.” Donovan shook his head. “I told you before, the men fled. The wolf ran through the gallery into the next room and attacked the guy in there.” “And where were you during this epic battle?” Donovan ignored the sneer in the detective’s voice. “Calling you guys. By the time I got to the back room, the man was unconscious, the girl was safe and the wolf was gone.”

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“That’s mighty convenient for everyone involved.” “It’s the truth.” Kind of. With a heavy dash of make-believe. “Ms. Leventis backs up your story, though Kastor Michailidis has an entirely different account of the evening’s events.” “Oh?” Donovan lifted an eyebrow, feigning interest. “It’s the damndest thing. The guy claims you were the wolf.” He tapped his pen against his lower lip as he peered at Donovan. “Crazy, right?” “Certifiable,” Donovan agreed. “He must have knocked his head pretty hard when he fell.” “Yeah, that must be it.” The detective tucked his notebook into the front pocket of his blazer and sighed. “Turns out this mystery wolf did us all a favor. Interpol has been tracking Kastor for over a year. He’s wanted on charges of drug, weapons and human trafficking. Nasty piece of work.” Donovan gasped. Thinking of Roxi tied up as that animal’s plaything made his chest tighten until he couldn’t draw breath. His wolf raged inside, as angry and terrified as Donovan. Walker handed Donovan a card. “If you think of anything else, let me know.” They both rose and shook hands across the table. “Am I free to go?” “Of course. Ms. Leventis is waiting for you. She refused our offer to provide an escort home.” When Donovan walked out of the office, Roxi was leaning against the wall. She was dressed in jeans and a thick woolen sweater, which she must have worn on her way to work that afternoon. Donovan had changed into the black suit that served as his uniform. Since his clothes had been shredded when he shifted, he’d been grateful not to have to sit through the interview with the NYPD in the buff. He gathered her in his arms and pulled her close, inhaling her sweet scent. The wolf howled his pleasure at being reunited with his mate, while Donovan’s heart shattered. He knew what he had to do, yet the beast wouldn’t understand. His eyes burned but he had to be the strong one, the logical one, the human one. He pulled Roxi into the small storage area that served as her locker room then closed the door behind them. His ears picked up the muffled voices of the officers and crime scene investigators through the walls, but he knew they wouldn’t be able to hear the conversation between him and Roxi. “I almost lost you today. It was my fault. I didn’t protect you.” He thought perhaps that single bit of knowledge would haunt him for the rest of his life. She drew away from him and lifted her gaze to search his face. “What happened here was not your fault. You rescued me.” He shook his head, needing to make her understand. “If I’d been here, if I’d just shown up for work like I was supposed to, I could have kept you safe. It’s my duty.”

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Frown lines formed above her beautiful dark eyes. “You speak as though I am a child in need of safekeeping.” Donovan snarled. He grabbed her arms and held on tight as his gaze locked to hers. “You are my mate. Protecting you is the most important role I have in this world, and I failed.” She reeled back, her brows lifting in surprise and confusion. “Your mate?” “Yes.” He sought the right words to explain, and when he couldn’t find them, he settled on the truth. “The wolf inside me recognized you when I couldn’t. Four years I spent searching for a mate. I thought I needed…” He turned his head, unable to meet her eyes. “A shifter. Someone whose animal appetites matched my own. Someone who understood the ways of my pack and accepted them. Someone used to violence, who’d fit in among my people.” She lifted her head, tilting her chin a fraction. Satisfaction gleamed in her gaze. “But you were wrong.” “No.” He slid his hands along her cheeks and sank his fingers into her hair. Her wavy mane felt like spun silk against his skin, and it sent a shiver through him. “Don’t you understand? I was right.” She squinted at him. “I thought you said I was your mate.” Frustration warred with desire. “You are, but it’s a mistake.” When she opened her mouth to protest, Donovan silenced her with a kiss. By the time he pulled away, they were both panting hard. “When I walked into that room and saw you hurt, my heart stopped. You’re so beautiful, Roxi. And yet, so damn human. Fragile and vulnerable and soft. I can’t take you to my pack. I won’t expose you to our world, or our ways. The mating ritual alone would be too much for you to handle.” The color drained from her face. “You bit me earlier and I survived that just fine. You mean there’s more to it?” “The bite is only part of the wolf’s need to mate. There’s also the public sex, and the violent nature of our ways in general.” His heart pounded so loudly, he heard its echo in his head. “This afternoon, I thought I could make things work. For a while I let myself imagine what it would be like to bring you home. I convinced myself all I’d have to do is protect you, keep you out of harm’s way. I even thought maybe I could train you to withstand our mating ritual.” He swallowed hard and forced himself to hold her gaze. He needed to make sure she understood. “And then I saw you with Kastor, and I knew I never wanted you to feel pain again. Not at anyone’s hands. Not even my own… God, especially not my own.” “So you are protecting me, even now, by denying us both the chance to be together.” Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, slipped silently down her cheeks. He wiped them away with the pads of his fingers. “I’d hoped you’d understand.” Her lower lip quivered and she shook her head. “Not at all. You think I am not strong enough to handle your ways, but I am. I would have fought Kastor with

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everything I had.” She fisted her hands in the lapels of his blazer. “I am not afraid of you, or your pack.” Pride swelled inside Donovan. His mate was feisty and brave, but she was wrong. His pack would ridicule Roxi like they’d taunted him. They’d hurt her, and he’d have no one but himself to blame. His wolf howled and bayed inside him. The skin over Donovan’s fingers rippled as the beast threatened to break free. The wolf wanted his mate. Needed his mate. But to keep her safe, they both had to let her go.

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Chapter Eight Roxi took a sip of her hot chocolate as Gabbi droned on about a recent anthropological breakthrough proving that Neanderthal DNA didn’t die out, but continued to live on in modern men. Her green eyes sparkled as she spoke, and when she got really animated about a point she wanted to make, she tugged on the end of her braid. A few weeks ago, Roxi might have gotten involved in the discussion. These days, the subject of men—modern or extinct—barely aroused her interest. There was only one man who consumed her thoughts, and he wasn’t even completely human. In the two weeks since she’d last seen Donovan, Roxi had undertaken an extensive anthropological research project of her own, learning everything she could about shapeshifters. Most of what she’d found was based on myth and legend, but she’d also stumbled upon some recent blogs that claimed to share insights into contemporary shifters and their lifestyles. She had no way to know how much of it was true, but she’d filled six binders with information, cultural details and population statistics she’d hoped would help her understand Donovan and his kind. “Earth to Roxi. Come in, Roxi.” Gabbi’s silky voice cut into her thoughts. “You’ve been doing that a lot lately.” Startled her friend had noticed, Roxi set down her mug. “What?” “Tuning out, going off into your own little world.” Gabbi frowned. “You’re thinking about him again, aren’t you?” From the couch cushion next to Roxi, Leann scoffed. “If that’s true, she’s a bigger idiot than I thought.” Roxi gave her roommate a quick shove to the shoulder that wasn’t entirely playful. They still hadn’t completely gotten over the incident with the cops, but they were working on repairing the rift between them. Most days, Roxi thought their relationship might even recover. But every time she brought up Donovan, Leann rolled her eyes or shut down completely, making it clear what she thought of Roxi pining after him. “Well, the man did save her,” Gabbi pointed out. “It’s natural to feel grateful.” Leann gave Roxi a long look. “He’s dangerous. I can’t pretend to understand what I walked in on, but I know he hurt you.” “Not intentionally.” “You’re so quick to defend him!” Leann leapt to her feet. “Why can’t you understand I’m only looking out for you? Kastor could have done much more damage than he did. And now you want to go back to a man who could finish what the other guy started?”

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“Donovan would not harm me.” Roxi rose to stand mere inches away from Leann. She fisted her hands at her sides. “That is why he left. Because he did not think I was tough enough to handle a man like him. He was wrong.” She lifted her chin a notch, daring Leann to disagree. “And so are you.” “I’m not saying you’re not strong, Rox. I just—” “I intend to prove it.” Leann groaned. “You’re going to do something stupid, aren’t you?” The ache in Roxi’s chest intensified. She’d had time to think about what had happened that night, and about the revelations Donovan had made. With each passing day, she grew more convinced that they belonged together. And each time she thought about it, the scar on her shoulder throbbed a little. She understood his desire to keep her safe and appreciated it on a deep, emotional level. What she didn’t like was not having a say in the matter. He’d made Roxi’s decision for her, and no matter how well intentioned, that kind of antiquated behavior wouldn’t fly in the twenty-first century. “Rox?” Gabbi came up beside her and laid a hand on her arm. “We love you. Whatever you’re thinking of doing, at least let one of us come along.” Roxi cast a quick glance at Gabbi then lowered her gaze. “This is something I must do on my own.” “Fine,” Leann snapped. “At least tell us where you’re going this time, so we know what to tell the cops when we have to file a missing person’s report.” “Do you think so little of my judgment?” Roxi sighed. She backed up a few steps so she could look both her friends in the eyes. “Trust me when I say I know what I am doing. Donovan is mine. He was meant for me.” She shook her head, knowing her roommates couldn’t possibly understand but desperately wanting them to. “He is being noble and unselfish by staying away from me, so it is up to me to show him he is wrong about it all.” Gabbi’s soft smile surprised Roxi. She’d expected her to cling to the feminist beliefs she often used in her anthropological arguments. “Then go. Just…be careful, all right?” Roxi gave Gabbi a grateful grin. “I promise.” She started to head for her room but Leann placed her fingers on Roxi’s arm, stopping her. “And if you’re wrong about him?” A flicker of tension sparked between them. Roxi knew her friend meant well, but she was sure about this. “Then you can say I told you so.” She placed her hand on top of Leann’s and squeezed. “But if I am right, then I would ask you to trust me from now on. And to accept Donovan as a part of my life. Can you do that?” Leann held her gaze. For a long time, neither of them spoke. At last, Leann nodded. “I just want you to be happy.” Relief flashed through Roxi. She leaned in and gave her friend the first hug they’d exchanged in weeks. “I know, and I love you for it. But I love him, too.” 71

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Leann’s smile was shaky but Roxi was glad to see it just the same. “So why are you standing here talking to me? Go get him already.”

***** Donovan stared into his glass of whisky, resolutely avoiding looking at the Mating Stage where a couple of young wolf shifters were going at it with desperate gusto, as though neither of them had ever rutted before or would again. The smell of sex clogged his nostrils, and his cock throbbed in time with the techno music booming through The Wolf’s Den. He was fucking miserable. His wolf wasn’t faring any better. The beast snarled pitifully and scraped at Donovan’s restraint, begging to be released. His skin itched with the need to shift. He hadn’t given in to the urge in two weeks, not since the last time he’d seen Roxi, and the wolf was going stir-crazy. But Donovan didn’t trust himself to be able to control the beast once he was loose. At least not as long as he still craved Roxi with every part of his being. So Donovan returned here night after night, still hoping a shifter would attract his attention and distract his wolf from thoughts of a sexy little human they couldn’t have. He knew it was useless, but what choice was there? The alternative—claiming Roxi for good—was unthinkable. A figure stepped up beside him. Donovan didn’t lift his head, refusing to indulge another conversation with a female shifter who wanted something he couldn’t give. Random, meaningless sex didn’t work for him, even when it was with females of his own kind. He needed a mate, and when his wolf didn’t stir, neither did he. A large hand clapped him on the back. “You Donovan?” The gruff, masculine voice made him look up at last. He peered into the close-set eyes of the bouncer who manned the front door and nodded. “Who wants to know?” “You’ve got a visitor.” The man’s smile was downright predatory, and it made Donovan’s hackles rise. “She’s waiting for you in the boss’s office.” His wolf perked up. Excitement fluttered in Donovan’s chest. Beyond the odor of spilled seed and sweat, Donovan thought he caught Roxi’s scent. He shook his head to banish the absurd thought. It was impossible. A human wouldn’t be allowed inside. “There must be some mistake.” “No mistake.” The bouncer gestured for Donovan to follow. “Come.” Donovan debated the decision for a moment but curiosity got the better of him, so he rushed to catch up to the bouncer. The man led him down the narrow corridor where shifters rutted in the darkness, pausing in front of the door leading to the owner’s office. He pushed it open and stepped aside. Roxi’s scent smacked him like an open palm the moment he stepped over the threshold. When he saw her leaning against the metal desk with her arms crossed over 72

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her chest in just that perfect way to show off her bountiful cleavage, he damn near stopped breathing. “You,” he managed to growl out while the wolf howled, kicked and stormed inside him. “How did you get in here?” She lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug and tugged down the neckline of her sweater. Just as Donovan’s pulse notched up so high he thought he might never recover, she turned around and flashed him a look at her shoulder. “It was easy. I showed him this. Told him I was your mate.” “Him?” Another growl, this one even more guttural than the last. “Who?” “The bouncer,” she said patiently, turning around to face him once more. “He took me inside to meet the owner, and we had a long chat.” She gestured at the office around her but Donovan didn’t give a damn about the room. “He is very kind. He offered to leave us alone to talk for a few minutes, but he will return, so we should make this quick.” Quick. Oh yeah, he could do that. He’d just bend her over that desk, lift up her skirt and bury himself inside her sweet heat. It would take no time at all. His wolf bellowed, heartily approving the idea. Donovan gritted his teeth and forced himself to think of something other than sex. He needed to be the reasonable one here, but damn, it was getting harder and harder to fight his nature. Roxi seemed to know it, too, because she smiled at him then, and all his good intentions flew out the window. He closed the distance between them in two seconds flat and gathered her in his arms. He kissed her like his life depended on it. She moaned into his mouth and opened to him, her tongue sweeping along his and driving him crazy with the taste of hot chocolate and mate. His heart pounded hard against his rib cage and the wolf howled, filling his ears with the sound of ecstasy. But it was Roxi’s sounds he wanted. Her moans, whimpers and soft intakes of breath. He ached to hear his name on her lips, her declaration of love, whispered confessions of her need for him. He stole each groan she gave him, tasting it, inhaling it, needing more. Her mouth was soft and pliant beneath his and he plundered it shamelessly, devouring her with the kind of fierce passion that should have terrified her. Yet instead of crying out, she clung to him tighter and gave back as well as she took. She nipped at his tongue and sank her teeth into his lower lip, then sucked it into her mouth. His head reeled from the sensation and his cock throbbed. Her kisses wreaked havoc on his self-control. “Damn it, woman.” He pulled away roughly then rested his forehead against hers. He couldn’t stop kissing her, so he placed swift, quick pecks on her mouth, her chin, down the delicate curve of her throat. “Why are you doing this to me?”

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“Because I am yours.” She ran her hands down his back, caressing him with delicate flutters of her fingertips. “And I want you to be mine.” He shook his head, wondering whether he could find the strength to push her away a second time. “I’ve already told you—” She silenced him with another kiss. “You have told me your side, but now you will let me speak. I refuse to have this decision made for me. In the time you have been gone, I discovered much about you and your people.” Donovan snorted, but she continued. “I know about the mating ritual conducted in front of your pack. I learned what is required of me, and I choose to do it.” She lifted her head and stared at him with so much bravery and determination, it knocked the air from his lungs. “But you don’t understand—” “I know females have died during the mating ritual. I understand the risks, the danger and the aftereffects. And still I choose to do this, with you.” Donovan sank his fingers into her hair and groaned. Myriad conflicting emotions rioted inside his chest. They tumbled over one another, overwhelming him. “You’re serious.” “Yes.” She ran her hands over his arms and up to his face. “And I want to prove it. I know it is not the same ritual, but I want you to take me here, on the Mating Stage.” Donovan gaped at her. His mouth moved but he couldn’t find the words to form. Did she have any idea what she was asking? Seeing his dumbfounded look, she gave him a small, amused smile. But then it was gone, and she was serious once more. “I want you to take me,” she said slowly, making sure he understood. “In the way of wolves.”

***** The crowd fell silent as Donovan led Roxi up to the stage. The music still blared, but she could barely hear its throbbing rhythm over the pounding of her heart in her ears. Donovan’s hand at her back steadied her just enough to make sure she didn’t trip over her own feet. She wanted this, Roxi reminded herself. Had wanted it, in her own way, ever since she’d stripped off her bathing suit on the beach back home all those years ago. Back then, she hadn’t known where her exhibitionist streak would lead her. She sure did now. She’d asked Donovan for this—would have begged him if he hadn’t given in. And now here she was, about to get her wish. A small shiver of apprehension ran along her skin. She climbed up the steps, concentrating on placing one foot in front of the other until they reached the top. There, she hesitated. Donovan leaned in. His breath slid along her cheek, making her tremble. “Are you sure about this?” 74

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“Yes.” She didn’t have to think about it. She didn’t regret her decision; she just had no idea what to expect. Sure, she’d read about mating rituals. According to her research, they’d developed differently throughout the world. Mating rituals in New York were different than those in L.A., which were both very far removed from those conducted in Canada. But the process wasn’t nearly as important as what each mating ritual represented—the binding of two shifters together into one. Forever. “I will keep you safe,” he promised for the hundredth time. “Pretend we’re the only ones here.” Just as he said that, she glanced out over the assembled shifters. Seeing all those pairs of yellow eyes staring at her caused her muscles to tense and her pulse to quicken in anticipation. When she looked at Donovan, pride glowed in his eyes. She straightened her spine and smiled at him, pouring all her excitement into that act. She could tell he needed reassurance. He still wasn’t sure about this, but she wouldn’t give him a chance to change his mind. The song ended, and in the moments of silence that followed, she could hear the whispered speculation passing through the crowd. A human? What’s he doing with her? Has he lost his mind? As soon as the music started up again, Roxi reached for Donovan. His body trembled beneath her touch. He gritted his teeth and a muscle pulsed in his jaw. She could see how much it cost him to hold back, when all he wanted to do was ravage her, right there in front of everyone. The feral look in his eyes made her belly clench. Moisture pooled between her thighs, and she pressed her legs together to stem the need pulsing in her sex. It barely helped. She knew only one thing would. Without speaking, she slid her fingers beneath Donovan’s shirt and pulled it up over his head. Then she dropped to her knees and rid him of his shoes, jeans and boxers, until he stood gloriously naked before her. The ripples beneath his skin intensified and her heartbeat quickened in response. He’d shift again soon. She should have been afraid, but excitement and anticipation filled her instead. Donovan grabbed her arms and lifted her to her feet. In a few swift moves, he’d stripped her of her clothes and tossed them into a pile along with his own. She heard the indrawn breaths from the shifters who watched, but refused to look their way this time. “It is just us,” she whispered to Donovan. He stepped close to her and slid his hand down the curve of her back. “Just us,” he echoed. “And your wolf.” She felt Donovan’s harsh intake of breath all the way to her bones. “I’ll keep you—” She pressed a finger to his lips, not wanting to hear any more about how she needed protecting. “I do not fear any part of you.” Wanting to prove it, she kissed a

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path down Donovan’s chest and chiseled abdomen before dropping to her knees once more. Roxi could hear the crowd grow restless. No doubt they were used to less foreplay, more frantic rutting. She smiled, content to let them wait, and sank her mouth over Donovan’s hard cock. The taste of him filled her, exquisitely musky. She ran her tongue along the underside, reveling in the feel of each vein, loving the dichotomy of his soft skin stretched over so much hard steel. Donovan splayed a large palm at the back of her head and guided her movements, his hips thrusting forward as she welcomed him as deeply as she could. His cock was huge and she could barely fit half of it into her mouth, but that didn’t seem to matter to him. She swallowed around his cock head, relishing the salty taste of his pre-cum. When she dipped her fingertips down below to toy with his sac, Donovan growled and yanked her away. “Enough!” His abrupt cry stirred the shifters. They hooted and howled, their excitement palpable in the stuffy club air. She lifted her head and licked her lips, slightly swollen from his cock. His eyes flashed yellow, causing every muscle in her body to tighten in anticipation. Donovan crouched in a move so swift and fluid, she barely saw it happen. One moment he was looming over her and the next he was at eye level, pushing her down, turning her body so her ass pressed against his aroused cock. He fisted his hand in her hair and yanked her head back as he knelt behind her. She eagerly met the hungry eyes of the crowd. Donovan had positioned her so she was perfectly placed to look out over the audience. She could close her eyes, but she didn’t want to miss a second of what was to come. When this night was over, she wanted to remember every moment so she could recall it again and again. Donovan gripped her hip. She felt the tension in his muscles, the quivering in his lower belly, the pinch of fingers that elongated into claws. And she lost her breath when he drove into her in one hard thrust, filling her completely. Roxi cried out. Her inner walls stretched to accommodate the intrusion and she pushed back against him, grinding, needing more. His right hand remained fisted in her hair, but the fingers of his left danced over her back in smooth, possessive motions, claws raking over her spine in featherlight caresses that caused goose bumps to break out over her skin. She braced her weight on her outstretched hands and lifted her chin as she looked out over the crowd. The shifters’ feral, hungry gazes only added to her need. The way they responded—a flash of bare cock here, a stroke there—left her trembling. Donovan kissed the back of her neck. The first contact of his mouth against her skin made her stiffen. Would he follow up a sweet kiss with another bite? She didn’t know, but he left her no time to speculate. Rather, he kept kissing her, along her shoulders, 76

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down her back, before returning up to the curve of her throat. He took one of her earlobes between his lips and sucked as he twisted his hips. His cock nudged a spot inside her that made her arch her back. He did it again, and again, this time bringing his hand down to tweak her clit at the same time. The swift pummel of sensations overwhelmed her. She came hard, bucking against him as her body quivered and shook. He showed no mercy, pounding into her repeatedly, his thrusts harder now, faster. His moans echoed in her ears, but it wasn’t long before they turned from sounds of pure pleasure into something unmistakably wild. His gruff growl caught her by surprise. When she turned her head, she found herself staring at a muzzle and sharp white teeth. Roxi’s heart soared. Until that moment, she’d thought perhaps he’d choose to hold back. But he hadn’t. She wanted this, wanted all of him, and he was going to give himself to her. “Take me,” she whispered, knowing he’d hear her even over the music and the excitement of the crowd. And he did. His cock swelled, growing larger still. Roxi panted, struggling to take all of him in his half-shifted state. Her heart thumped painfully as she realized just how much bigger he was in this form, in every way. He towered over her, his body heavy and strong, rippled with muscle. The fur gliding along her back felt both smooth and slightly damp with sweat. Donovan twisted his hips, angling again for that spot that made her wild with need. He yanked on her hair, bringing her head up yet again. With that one move, he was making it clear she was his. Showing her off to the crowd as her breasts bounced with the force of his thrusts and her body quivered beneath him. If she’d been one of his kind, she’d shift at this point. But she wasn’t, and all she could do was snarl at the audience, baring very human teeth in what she hoped was a fierce growl. To her surprise, they didn’t laugh at her. Some raised their eyebrows. Others simply pumped their cocks harder, as though her feeble attempt to show her savage side didn’t go unnoticed. Donovan’s movements grew frenzied. His cock slammed home, driving Roxi’s body forward with each frantic thrust. Only his harsh grip on her hair and his claws digging into the skin of her hip held her anchored, kept her from tumbling headfirst off the stage as he pounded into her. And still, she couldn’t get enough. She shoved back against him, impaling herself on his cock every time he plunged inside her. Sweat trickled down her temple and stung her eyes, yet she kept them open and gazed out over the audience, owning this moment, making it her own.

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The first sharp sting of Donovan’s teeth sinking into her shoulder undid her. She struggled to hold on, but the delicious ache mingled with the throbbing in her cunt and she came again, her body shuddering at the intensity of sensations. Donovan’s teeth scraped over her skin, marking her like he had before, yet even she could tell this was different. Under the watchful eyes of a hundred wolves, the bite was more than a mark. It was a symbol, a declaration and a promise, all rolled into one. He threw his head back and howled, the sound echoing through the room and drowning out the music. The other shifters joined him, and the noise sank into her soul, flooding her from the inside. A moment later, Donovan’s cum did the same. He shuddered as he spilled himself, filling her channel with his hot seed. Blood ran down her arm to drip onto the wooden stage, but she didn’t care. The pain was already fading, leaving behind a soul-deep elation. She watched the blood seep into the existing stains, which she hadn’t noticed until now. The stage was filled with tokens of other matings that had taken place here, and now her blood would be imprinted along with theirs. A permanent reminder that a wolf shifter had chosen her, a mere human, for his mate. Donovan’s cock slid out of her channel but she wasn’t done with him yet. With a fierce growl of her own, Roxi turned around and tackled him to the floor. He fell onto his back and she straddled him, rubbing her pussy against his still-hard cock. She wanted him to know she was a match for him in every way. She’d braved this mating ritual and she’d survive the next, in front of his pack. She had no doubt it would be a whole lot more demanding than this showing had been, but she also knew she could handle it. Donovan arched his back. With a shudder, he transformed back into his human shape and gripped her hips, letting her slide his cock between the folds of her sex. The tip nudged her clit and she tensed, on the edge of another explosive orgasm. “Come for me, mate,” Donovan demanded, pinching the tender nub between his thumb and forefinger. “Come hard.” She stilled. The waves of release undulated inside her like a tumultuous storm she couldn’t hold back. Then they exploded, shattering her from the inside. Roxi grabbed Donovan’s shoulders and screamed as her body spasmed and her cunt wept, drenching his shaft in a mixture of their juices. When it was all over, she collapsed against him. He caught her in his arms and held her tight. The audience went wild, howling their pleasure as the scent of spilled seed and raw sex clogged Roxi’s nostrils. It took a monumental effort for Roxi to lift her head, but she managed. “Did I make you proud?” She wanted to know. Needed to know. “You…” Donovan brushed his lips against her throat in a kiss so tender, it tore something inside her. “Were spectacular.”

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“I know.” She grinned, loving the way he looked at her now, with so much admiration and love. The spotlight over the stage turned off, bathing them in darkness. She nudged his hip with hers. “Again?” His hoarse chuckle sent a delicious shiver down her spine. “I love you, mate.” She kissed him then, slowly, savoring the taste of him on her tongue. “And I love you,” she said when they finally parted. “But do not think to change the subject. Have I worn out the big, bad wolf shifter?” He made a noise of indignation low in his throat and grabbed her waist, then tumbled her over to pin her to the floor. His cock pressed against her still-quivering sex. “Never,” he promised, and proceeded to show her he meant it.

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Chapter Nine “Where do you think you’re going?” Startled, Roxi pressed a hand to her heart to prevent it from breaking out of her chest. She turned around slowly and narrowed her eyes at her roommate. “Leann, you scared the life out of me.” “And just how scared do you think I’d be if I woke up to find you gone and all your stuff missing?” Roxi cast a guilty glance at the suitcases resting against the wall in the front hallway. “I left a note.” “A note? After a year of living together, that’s all you think we’re worth?” Shame crept up the back of Roxi’s neck and she lowered her gaze to the floor. “I am sorry, I really am. I just thought…” She took a deep breath, releasing it on a sigh. “I wanted to avoid an argument.” “You didn’t think we’d be happy for you?” Gabbi stepped out of her bedroom. Even though it was just a little past 5:00 a.m., she was fully dressed, with her red hair tied up in a neat braid and a touch of gloss on her lips. “Honestly, I was not sure.” Roxi shrugged. She met Leann’s gaze and wrestled with the regret and confusion welling inside her. “I would have called.” “I know you think you’re doing the right thing by leaving with him.” Leann held up a hand to stifle Roxi’s protest before she even opened her mouth. “And we’re not going to stop you.” Roxi’s brow furrowed. “No?” “Nope.” Gabbi grinned as she reached for her coat. “We’re coming with you.” A stab of apprehension settled in Roxi’s stomach. “Oh no. No, no, no. You are not serious.” Leann nodded, her expression as solemn as Roxi had ever seen. “We heard you call Brad and quit your job. And then we also heard you call your mom and tell her all about your crazy plan to travel with Donovan to Canada.” She shook her head. “I still can’t believe the woman agreed to let you go.” “She had no choice,” Roxi pointed out. Gryta hadn’t even tried to talk her out of it. Roxi thought at least part of the reason was her mother’s guilt over having set Roxi up with an international criminal. Whatever the cause, she was grateful to avoid another argument about coming home. “After you went to bed, we spent most of the night talking about what we wanted to do.” Leann’s lips tightened. “It was a no-brainer, really.”

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“You do not trust me.” Roxi tried to stifle the pang of hurt. “I knew it.” “We trust you plenty.” Gabbi hauled out a suitcase from her bedroom. “But we also care about you. If you’re going to Canada with a man you’ve only known for a month, a man who’s admitted to you that he’ll be putting you in danger, well…” She wrinkled her nose. “Then we’re coming along.” Roxi leaned against the wall. “Can I talk you out of this?” “No way.” Leann grabbed a stylish hat from the rack in the corner of the hallway and thrust it on her head. “I don’t have another modeling gig lined up for a month, and Gabbi’s told her prof she has a family matter to attend to.” “I’ll continue writing my paper while I’m away,” Gabbi said. “I’ve never been to Canada. Should be interesting, anthropologically speaking.” Roxi groaned, already imagining the cultural clash that would ensue the moment Gabbi realized the truth about Donovan’s clan. There would be no end of research material for Gabbi to explore, which could prove a complete disaster for everyone involved. A gentle knock on the door startled Roxi. Oh God. That had to be Donovan. How was she going to tell him her headstrong roommates were coming with them to meet his pack? She pulled the door open slowly, and her heart caught at the sight of him. He looked stunning, dressed in black jeans and a gray sweater. His jacket was open, as usual, and a few fresh flakes of snow clung to his hair. He brushed his lips over hers and then froze as his gaze landed on the women standing behind her. “What’s going on?” “They are—” “We’re coming with you.” Leann stepped up beside Roxi, daring Donovan to disagree. His eyes widened and he shook his head. “You can’t be serious.” “That is what I told them. They assured me they are.” Roxi grimaced and braced herself for Donovan’s explosive refusal. He stared from one woman to the other then his gaze landed on Roxi. His expression softened, and he stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “It would help you if they came. You’ll be among strangers, and you’ll need your friends.” “Great. It’s settled then.” Leann clapped her hands together and wheeled out her suitcase. “Let’s go.” Roxi fell into Donovan’s arms and held him tight while her roommates walked on ahead, chattering in hushed but excited voices about the trip. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Don’t thank me yet.” He placed a soft kiss to the top of her head. “You have no idea what you’re walking into.”

81

Lacey Savage

She’d strolled into The Wolf’s Den unattended. She’d managed to make it through a wolf-mating ritual in front of a wild crowd. And she’d shown Donovan she was worthy of being his mate. How much more did she have to prove? A shiver of apprehension ran down her spine. Despite everything she’d gone through to be with Donovan, she knew her trials were far from over. But she also knew that as long as he watched over her, she was always in good hands.

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About the Author Award-winning author Lacey Savage loves to write about her dreams—or more specifically, she loves to breathe life into her steamy fantasies (and she’s got plenty!). She pens erotic tales of true love and mythical destiny, peopled with strong alpha heroes and feisty heroines. A hopeless romantic, Lacey loves writing about the intimate, sensual side of relationships. She currently resides in Ottawa, Canada, with her loving husband and a mischievous cat.

Lacey welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

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Also by Lacey Savage All the King’s Men Diva in Denial Fighting Chance I, Nefertiti Wed and Wanton Voices in the Dark

Print books by Lacey Savage All the King’s Men Fighting Chance Naughtiest Nuptials anthology Tantalizing Treats anthology

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