Beast Within (5 page)

Dylan suckled one nipple deep into his mouth and enjoyed its
taut texture against his tongue. He found her clitoris and tickled its tight
knot with his fingers the way he tickled her nipple with his tongue.

She undulated against him. Her hands dug under his jeans to
grab his butt in both hands. Now she pressed him against her.

He rubbed her wet pussy again, then drove two fingers deep
inside her. Her inner walls clenched around his fingers and her entire body
shuddered. Her gasps grew sharper and higher in pitch.

Bless her, even while she shook with her own pleasure, she
unsnapped the jeans button and pulled down the zipper.

His engorged cock pushed its way through the opening in the
briefs. Her hands wrapped around it and tugged.

Dylan pulled his fingers from Hildy’s wet folds and tore her
thong on one side. He pressed her tighter against the wall while he lifted her
other leg around his waist. The remaining bit of the silk thong slithered
around her thigh and against his arm.

His fingernails dug into her round ass while he positioned
her to plunge into her welcoming wetness the way his tongue had been greeted by
her mouth.

Her slick passage enfolded him. The sheer pleasure held him
breathless for a moment. He also wanted to give her a little time to adjust to
his girth.

When she started moving on him, he pulled out to thrust in
deeper.

Her inner muscles clinched tighter around his cock while she
moved her body in sync with his pumping.

His balls constricted. Her body shimmied around him. Her
slick muscles pulsed and vibrated around his cock. He clamped his mouth on her
shoulder, determined not to bite her again. The taste of her skin, the texture
of her muscle in his mouth anchored his mate to him. He surged deeper into her
and exploded into her body as she shrieked with pleasure.

Even as his shaft finished its last pulses, Hildy pounded on
his back and shoulders.

“Ouch!” She screeched in his ear. This scream wasn’t
pleasure filled. This was mad. “You scratched me!”

“What? Huh?” Still holding her, still locked inside her, he
pulled his upper body back to look at her face.

“Get your fingernails out of my ass. You’re hurting me! Let
me down!” She pounded her fists against his chest and started squirming and
kicking.

“What the fuck?” Dylan slid out, let go of her butt and set
her legs on the floor before she wiggled loose and fell from his grasp.

Her pale blue eyes flashed angrily, then widened. “Oh, damn,
damn, damn. Dylan, you’re changing.”

Dylan stepped away from Haley and looked at his tingling
hands. Claws protruded from his fingertips.

Haley stroked across his face.

He jerked his head away when her fingertips touched his
sensitive whiskers.

Whiskers?

Dylan reached his hand to his face. Yes, he still had a
hand. The claws curved over the fingertips. He brushed the stiff whiskers with
the claws.

“Hildy?”

From someplace far away, he heard the command voice of his
Valkyrie of the First Amazon Unit. “Hang on, Dylan. Remember who you are.
Concentrate on being you. There has to be some way for you to stop this. Think.
Stay with me, Dylan.”

Dylan looked up at Hildy, not quite certain what she was
saying. He understood his name, but the rest was just garbled. The calmness in
her voice soothed him, even if he didn’t have a clue what she was babbling.

Her eyes worried him. She pressed against the wall as if she
were afraid of him. He never wanted to hurt her. He didn’t mean to stick her
with his claws.

“Speak English,” he tried to tell her, but his voice sounded
like a growl instead of the words he tried to say.

He shook himself and the clothes around his backside slid
off. He twitched his tail to and fro, enjoying the freedom. Now he needed take
off this shirt that clung to his neck. He got front paws freed from it easily,
but he had trouble getting it off his neck.

“Dylan?”

His name he understood. He cocked his head at his mate, his
Brunhilde, enjoying the cadence in her voice even if she did persist in talking
that weird foreign language. As a member of the First Amazons, she had probably
learned a number of languages. He learned several himself during his compulsory
military service. Unfortunately, none of the ones he had learned seemed even
distantly related to whatever language she was speaking. He wished she’d go
back to English or her bad Spanish or something he knew.

She moved closer to him and the scent of her sex nearly
overwhelmed him. Even though he’d just come, he wanted to mate with her again.
She smelled of ripe sexy woman cream, strawberry shampoo, lavender and oatmeal
body wash, laundry detergent, fabric softener, the potato she had baked for his
supper, that wonderful steak.

Out of politeness, he had eaten the potato and salad she
served with the steak. He wanted to devour the steak and maybe a second or a
third one. He still smelled its juices hanging in the air.

“Dylan?”

Brunhilde knelt in front of him. He smelled his own scent on
her. He licked across his teeth, remembering the taste of her tongue in his
mouth, the taste of her skin.

Every atom in his being wanted to take her and brand her his
mate. He wanted to bury his teeth in her shoulder while he again drove himself
into her, hard, fast and deep.

She slowly stretched one hand out as though she wanted to
touch him but was hesitating for some reason. Her scent had changed to the
sharper odor of fear.

He held himself in tight control. He quit struggling to take
off the shirt and held himself still. He didn’t know why she was suddenly
frightened. This woman had done so much and been so kind to him, a stranger to
her. He didn’t ever want to betray the trust she had showed when she brought
him into her house, gave him clothes and fed him. He never wanted to scare her.

When she placed her palm against the side of his head, he
rubbed against her. If he didn’t mate with her right now, at least he made sure
to place his scent on her. Other males would give her wide berth when they
smelled him on Hildy’s skin.

Haley, you fool
.
Her name is Haley, not Hildy. To
hell with it.

For him, she was always going to be Hildy, his Brunhilde.
Throughout his work on his college degrees, he dreamed of meeting a perfect living
representative of the immortal Valkyries who determined which soldiers would be
honored after death by being taken to Valhalla and given the privilege of
serving the god Odin.

Now one knelt in front of him, rubbing his ears and around
his neck and chin. She kept saying his name and talking.

Dylan settled down into rest position with his legs and paws
tucked under him. Bread loaf, that’s what his mom used to call the cats when
they sat like that.

Hildy put both her hands on his neck and scratched his chin
and ears.

With her touch, Dylan felt contentment rising in him. His
purr rumbled from the soothed, calm place deep inside him. He felt peaceful for
the first time since he had been captured while trying to rescue people being
abused by the cartels that ran so many of the countries south of the United
States border. His capture took a decidedly worse turn when he was imprisoned
in the Hell Hospital for so many months. He’d never forget the battles he
fought to stay sane in that place. The smell of puke and crap overrode the
medicines and antiseptics. The cries and curses of other prisoners remained
engraved on his psyche. Disjointed, anesthetic-induced memories haunted his
dreams.

Yet now, with Hildy stroking his head and talking to him, he
finally felt part of the tight tension in him begin to unwind.

A jerk snapped Dylan from his peaceful respite. Startled, he
jumped to all fours, puffed his fur into attack mode and snarled at Hildy.
“What the fuck did you do?”

Hildy leapt onto the table

He glared up at her, gauging the distance. The table’s puny
height offered no protection if he chose to go after her. Then he saw the
t-shirt in her hand.

Oh,
he realized,
she took the shirt from my neck.
Okay, that was good.
He shook himself, glad to be relieved of all the
clothes.

“I’m sorry I yelled. You startled me. Warn a guy next time
you want to strip him,” Dylan told her.

How strange. Hildy didn’t act like she understood him. Okay,
then. If she wanted to play stranger in a strange land games, he was willing to
go along. If he managed to convince her to trust him, he might get lucky again.

Damnation. The more he smelled her scent, especially her
pussy’s natural perfume, the more he wanted her. Being horny hurt.

If playing her game got him laid again, he was all for it.
To play in her “I’m a scared stranger” scenario, he needed to gain her trust.
The first thing to do, he remembered from his training, when approaching
someone who doesn’t speak the language is remain calm and don’t make any sudden
moves.

Nonchalantly, he scratched behind one ear with a hind paw.
The healing bullet hole in his thigh ached at the movement. He reminded himself
it had only been three days since he’d been shot when he was trying to
reconnect with his contacts fighting the human-smuggling cartels. He was damn
lucky it had been a stray bullet and had gone cleanly through. Full use of his
muscles with no hindrances was going to happen eventually as long as it healed
properly, which it appeared to be doing.

He gave the sore spot a couple of licks but tasted the
artificial skin on the area instead of his own skin and fur. He groomed himself
a bit more, both to look better and to get the nasty taste of the artificial
skin from his tongue.

Dylan finally decided he was satisfied and settled back into
his rest position. He hoped Hildy would calm down enough to get off the table
and come back to petting him. She still looked at him with wide eyes while in
her hands she twisted the torn panties she’d taken off one ankle.

Dylan didn’t have anything else to do, so he waited.
Considering Hildy had the same tension as a cornered rat or rabbit, Dylan slid
easily into the wait that deluded prey into thinking he’d fallen asleep. He
just needed to be patient and wait.

Through half-closed eyes, Dylan watched Hildy climb down
from the table. She approached him quietly and cautiously, then knelt in front
of him.

Once again, her hand came in front of his nose. Her palm
smelled a bit like the temp skin he smelled on his thigh. Her own scent still
came through delightfully.

Hildy fondled his ears, head and neck for a while, then
stood. She picked up his unnecessary clothes and shoes, then looked at him.

“Com, Dylan.” With her hand, she gestured as though she
wanted him to follow her.

Com?
Hmmm, that sounded close to “come
”. He
stood up, stretched, then walked behind her from the kitchen. He took advantage
of their walk down the hallway to strut around her lovely legs and twist his
tail around them to further mark his scent on her. He wanted all males to smell
her and know she belonged to him.

“Dylan,” Hildy garbled a bunch of noises at him, dumped his
clothes on a chair, the shoes on the floor, turned on a small Tiffany-style
lamp on the nightstand, then sat on the bed and patted the area beside her.

Hot damn.
Dylan jumped on the bed, happy to have the
invitation. He walked all around Hildy, managing to rub his tail and scent on
her. She lightly swatted his tail out of her face. Her laughter started his
purr again and she began petting him.

When she got off the bed, he moved to follow. She placed the
palm of her hand against his nose. “Say, Dylan.”

Say? Say?
With her hand in his face, it dawned on him
she meant “stay”. If that meant he didn’t have to leave her bed, it was okay
with him. Dylan settled into his rest position and watched her take some pink
flowered, flowing clothes from a drawer, then go into the toilet area off the
bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

Dylan looked at the moonlight spilling across the bedroom
floor from the window away from the dim lamplight. Dust motes danced in the
moon’s path like tiny silver fireflies. He heard an owl’s hunting call and her
mate’s answer. A mouse’s squeal died a sudden death. The owl fledglings’ supper
was ready.

Water ran in the bathroom.

Dylan stretched out in pure contentment. His muscles tingled
and ached. He told himself to be careful not to snag the soft, yellow comforter
with his claws. He watched his fingers as he forced his arms and legs out
further despite their pangs and discomfort.

What did his mom call this kind of material with the small
pattern cut out all over it? Oh, yeah. Eyelet. He stacked the frothy lace and
eyelet covered pillows and small round and oblong pillows onto the bench at the
foot of the bed. On top of the comforter remained two thick pillows, encased in
covers that matched the flowered sheets.

Dylan tossed the comforter to the end of the bed and lay on
his side with his full glory resting on the sheet.

“Oh, you’re back already.” Haley shut off the bathroom light
and marveled at the complacent, smiling man waiting in her bed with his head
propped on one hand and her yellow-flower-splattered sheets under him.

His naked shoulders glowed burnished bronzed in the
lamplight. The dim light and shadows delineated the dips and curves of his
biceps and abs. His dark hair gleamed blue-black, accenting his green-gold
eyes, chiseled cheeks and smiling mouth. She itched to run her fingers across
his short hair, down his face to follow the light hair dusting his chest, to
trace the thicker trail down his abdomen.

“I’ve never been anywhere.” His eyebrows lifted in
puzzlement. “And you’re speaking English again. I was getting tired of
pretending you’re a foreigner trying to confuse poor me whom you cast as the
stranger in a strange land. I’m all for playing sex games, but warn me first. I
like the pajamas, by the way. Quite fetching.”

Haley grinned at him and pirouetted so the wide pants legs
swirled like individual skirts. “I love being a girly girl. After years of
plain, practical clothes, uniforms in various shades of cam or wrapping up in
the depressing clothes of a suppressed Muslim, I love wearing laces and
flounces. My mother always insisted I was too big for girly girl clothes.”

“You are absolutely the perfect size.”

“Thank you,” Haley pulled out the sides of her pajama pants
and dropped a curtsy. “I’m happy with my size too. And since Mom doesn’t pay
for my clothes, I wear what I want. My only regret at joining Wildlife
Management is being stuck in a uniform again. But I make up for it by wearing
lace undies.”

Dylan gave her a sideways smile and an exaggerated leer.
“Yeah? What do these look like? You want to show me?”

“Not right now.” Haley sat on the bed tailor fashion, well
aware she didn’t have on any panties beneath her flowing pajamas. Sex energy
began to flow as soon as she caught a whiff of his male musk. Much as she
wanted to rub herself all over him, she forced herself to sound calm.

“And by the way, I’ve always been speaking English. You’ve
been a jaguarondi for the past half-hour.”

Dylan twisted his kissable lips into a grimace. “I have not.
I’ve been watching you in the kitchen and waiting for you to calm down. You
were scared after I accidentally clawed you when I was lifting you up against
the wall. I swear to God, I wish I knew how that was happening to me and why.”

“You remember being in the kitchen?”

“Of course. You jerked the t-shirt off my head and then
jumped on the table when I yelled at you.” He pinched a fold in her pajama leg.
He slid his thumb and index finger along the pleat he made up her shin, then
back down to her ankle.

Haley shivered with increased sex heat as though he were
stroking her skin instead of her pajamas. Her breathing hitched, but she
refocused on the situation about his changes.

It gave her hope that he had memories of being a jaguarondi,
even if he thought he was in human form at the time. Now she needed to make him
remember being in his jaguarondi form. For his own sake, he had to accept he
changed.

“Why don’t you describe what you were doing?”

“I told you, waiting for you to calm down.” Dylan’s smile
disappeared into an annoyed scowl.

Haley didn’t let his scowl bother her, but persisted, “No, I
meant tell me where you were sitting, how you were sitting.”

He rolled his eyes at her, blew out air, then said, “I was
on the floor in rest position. Waiting.”

“Where were your arms and legs?”

Dylan started to say something, then stopped. His face
twisted with puzzlement. “Why am I thinking I had them under my body like a cat
making a bread loaf?”

Haley nodded. “And your tail?”

“Wrapped around my body?”

The words hung in the air.

Dylan looked stunned as though he didn’t believe the words
had come from his mouth.

“Dylan, it’s going to be all right. We can work this out.”