Chasing Payne (14 page)

“And you're mine.” Chase swallowed a harsh growl as Lora's hands moved over his chest and shoulders, his own desperate need to be close to her reciprocated in her movement.

His fingers tightened on her hips, the need to be inside of her overwhelming his senses. He pulled back slightly. Her eyes hooded with desire and her lips trembled with growing need. It wasn't the desperate lust of mating heat, but something just as powerful. Love. Fuck, he loved this woman more than he'd ever known possible.

“Chase.” His name on her lips a desperate little cry, begging for more.

“No more games. No more running.” He cupped her cheek, and his gaze locked with hers. “Promise me.”

“Don't.” She blinked back fresh tears. “Don't ask for more than I can give.”

“Like hell I won't.”

She closed her eyes, and a single tear slid down her cheek. He brushed it away with his thumb.

“You deny yourself as if it's your penance to pay for what happened with Jenna.”

Her eyes flew open and she pulled back. He held her tight, knowing she'd run if he gave her even the slightest chance.

“What happened was terrible,” he said. “And I know part of you blames me for it—”

“No.”

“Think about it. Something happened in the woods the day I rescued you. I don't know why or how, but it wasn't just your animal that awoke. I denied it for years, but looking back, I know the signs were there. If I hadn't been so self-absorbed, I would have seen your pain, and known its cause. Instead, I ignored it. What happened with Jenna is just as much my fault as yours.”

She shook her head adamantly. “You're wrong. It was
my
lack of control—”

“I did some research on early onset mating heat. It's rare, but when it happens, the Metamorph involved usually loses all ability to control their animal. It creates a type of psychosis, one that most don't survive.”

Her brows furrowed.

“The fact that you not only survived, but were able to get control over your primal instincts shows how strong you are.”

She chewed on her bottom lip and stared up at him, something akin to hope in her eyes. “You believe that?”

He could feel the walls she had built around her soul start to crumble. “I believe in you—
in us
.”

Her mouth curved into a gentle smile. It was enough. He lowered his lips and brushed them against hers.

“I promise.”

His brows turned down in confusion.

Her fingers trembled as she touched his face, acceptance brightening her amber eyes. “I won't run. I promise.”

His heart clenched with relief, and for the first time in two weeks, he felt like he could breathe.

A squeal escaped her lips as he scooped her up, one arm under her knees, and carried her to the bed. He undressed her slowly, taking time to kiss and suck the exposed flesh. She arched towards his mouth, as his tongue flicked over the sensitive bud of her nipple. She moaned beneath him, her fingers pulling at the hem of his shirt.

The scent of her desire flooded through his veins. He fought the overwhelming need to take her hard and fast. Never had he known a hunger as he had for Lora. Even without the mating hormones, he could barely control the need to be inside of her.

She was a drug, intoxicating, mind-altering. She left him vulnerable and exposed, stripping him to the core of who and what he was. A werelion, both man and animal, determined to possess the one and only woman he would ever desire.

She was everything to him. He had denied it for years. Easier to see her as a child, his best friend's sister, than to feel what he felt now. Without her, he was a shell of a man. She was his weakness, and yet his strength. The one woman he couldn't live without. Mating heat be damned.

He kicked off his shoes and allowed her to pull his shirt over his head. His engorged cock sprang free as she unzipped his pants. She wrapped her fingers around his hard length and licked her lips. He throbbed beneath her touch. When she started stroking him, a deep guttural groan echoed from his chest.

Guiding her head down, he watched as her swollen lips parted and stretched around his large cock. His fingers tightened in her hair, weaving through the dark strands as she took him deeper in her mouth.

Sucking, licking, and stroking, she stared up at him, her face flushed with desire. Her mouth was like liquid heat, shredding what was left of his self-control. Her tongue probed the sensitive nerve endings just beneath the head. She sucked with such pleasure he swore he was going to lose control and spill his release into her hot mouth.

She moaned in protest as he pulled himself free.

He gripped her shoulders and laid her back on the bed. He was so damn hard that his balls ached, but he would not deny her pleasure. The need to taste her had his mouth watering.

“Mine,” he growled, as his lips traced the gentle curve of her stomach, going lower until he reached the sensitive flesh between her thighs.

His tongue flicked and licked as his fingers slowly probed the damp, heated entrance. Her fingers knotted in his hair and he could taste the pleasure that lashed through her body. Her hips came off the bed and he gripped them, delving deeper into the sensitive folds.

She cried out in soft mewling moans as pleasure shuddered through her body.

He almost came from the taste of her sweet juices filling his mouth. “So fucking perfect.”

Her eyes, dark golden flames of desire, never left him as he rose between her thighs.

His mouth pressed against her, his tongue slipping past her swollen lips. He pushed her thighs apart with his knees and held himself above her, his cock nudging at her entrance.

The muscles of his hips bunched. She was tight. With each shallow thrust, he pushed himself deeper inside, feeling her hot folds parting and stretching to accommodate his width.

Her nails clawed at his hips, demanding more. He ran his tongue over the tender bud of her nipple, bringing a low moan from her throat.

“More,” she moaned. “I need more of you.”

His hips jerked, and he buried himself to the hilt.

Her eyes widened and a cry tore from her throat. His mouth caught hers as he pulled back, and then pushed inside again. Each hard thrust came with an increasing need for release.

She raked his neck with her teeth, sending a shiver down his spine. Pleasure arced between them like a live electrical current. He pumped deeper, harder, each deep thrust of his cock bringing her closer to orgasm. He could sense it, feel it as her body moved beneath him.

Sweat glistened on her skin, and her eyes locked on him as desperate moans fell from her lips. She wrapped her legs around his waist, gripping his hips. She shook beneath him, her hips pressing tighter to his as she cried out in ecstasy, and his own release swept through him in long powerful spurts.

His body sunk down heavily on top of her, but his strength was gone, and he could no longer hold his own weight. Her body continued to clench and spasm around his cock, as the last shockwaves rippled through him.

Her teeth raked his neck, and a soft hum of ecstasy escaped her lips. A familiar sweet scent hit his nostrils. He realized what it was the moment her canines sunk deep into his throat.

* * *

Lora pulled back, the metallic taste of Chase's blood still fresh on her tongue. Her hands flew to her mouth, and she ran her tongue over the elongated canines. “Oh, God, Chase. I'm so sorry.”

His fingers touched the mark on his neck as he rolled to his back. His eyes were dazed and the color had drained from his face.

What the hell had she done? She'd felt her animal stirring, but it wasn't until her teeth were fully embedded in his flesh that she realized what was happening.

She wrapped the sheet around herself and moved off the bed, the sudden movement making her head spin.

Chase caught her wrist, stopping her. “Wait.”

His grip was weak, and his fingers trembled. She'd done that to him. Again, she'd lost control of her animal.

Still holding her wrist, he fell back on the bed, closed his eyes, and started to laugh.

She pulled her arm free and glared at him. “It's not funny. I hurt you.”

He rolled over and propped himself up on his elbow. His mouth curved into a wicked smile and he patted the bed.

Come here, mate.
The thought pushed into her head.

Her mouth dropped open. “Did you just?”

He lunged forward, gripped her shoulders and pulled her against his chest, making them both fall on the bed.

“It's not possible,” she whispered, but even as she said the words, she could feel the hormones rushing through her system.

His hand lifted, brushed back the hair at her temple, and then cupped her cheek. “Close your eyes.” When her eyes were closed, he took her hand and placed it on his chest, above his heart. “Do you feel it?”

His presence filled her senses, expanding within her. As she touched the deepest spots of his heart and mind, she was overwhelmed by what she found. Any doubt she'd ever had about him fled as she sensed his love for her.

She nodded, emotion tightening her throat. Tilting her head back, she stared up at him, her eyes filling with tears. “We're mated.”

He ran his thumb over her lips and smiled. “We're mated,” he repeated, rolling her over so that his hard, knotted body was on top of her.

A fresh wave of arousal rushed through her body, every cell alive with heat.

In a move almost too quick to track, he pinned her arms above her head. “Mine,” he growled.

He kissed her fiercely.

“Yours.” The word came out as a sigh.

He ran his tongue over her throat, up to her ear, nipping at the lobe. “Say it again.”

She laughed, then nipped his chin. “Yours. Always and forever, yours.”

“Breaking news—the Siberian tiger seen roaming Central Park earlier this morning has been detained on Lexington Avenue. Central Park Zoo has denied accusations that the animal is theirs. Police are asking anyone with information—”

Turner blew out a frustrated breath and switched the car radio off.

The Therian Agency had been able to keep most of the recent cases out of the news, but when a six-hundred-pound predator strolls through the streets of New York City, it was going to get media coverage.

Loosening his tie, he glanced at the unopened manila envelope marked
CASE #238
on the passenger seat. It contained the file of the most recent incident of spontaneous shifting.

Thank God, the media hadn't gotten a hold of that story. He could see the headline now—

SUBURBAN HOUSEWIFE WAKES TO FIND CHEETAH IN BED. SAVES FAMILY WITH GLOCK 19 PISTOL. HUSBAND STILL MISSING.

Unfortunately, for the unlucky bastard, his wife kept a loaded pistol in the side drawer of her nightstand.

Not that Turner blamed the woman. The world remained blissfully unaware of the subspecies of Metamorphs living alongside them, and it was Turner's job to keep it that way. But between the random spontaneous shiftings and the rogue Metamorphs intent on exposing their kind to the world, it was becoming increasingly difficult to do his job.

He caught his reflection in the rear-view mirror and cursed. Dark circles rimmed grey eyes, and his normally coiffed black hair was disheveled. He'd been awake for thirty-six hours straight and every muscle in his body ached. He rolled his neck, shifted into third gear, and sped through the deserted streets of Bellefonte, Pennsylvania.

Someone was messing with the natural order of things.

Big time.

Over a hundred new cases in the last three months alone, and those were only the ones the agency knew about. Of the two hundred and thirty seven other cases Turner had examined, not one of the victims had shifted back into human form.

Some members of the Therian Council were calling it the
Great Shift
.

A day of reckoning for the abuse humans had inflicted on the world.

Turner didn't buy it.

He'd seen the lab reports. He was no molecular biologist, but he could read a basic DNA sequence. The chromosomal mutations that caused the victims to shift were fundamentally different from the mutations that classified H. sap. Metamorphs as a subspecies.

This wasn't nature's attempt at retribution. If it was, Mother Nature had one warped sense of humor.

No, someone or something was genetically modifying the victim's DNA, causing them to shift permanently into an altered animal state, and Turner had a bad feeling he knew exactly who was responsible.

Professor Richard
Fucking
Boyd. The bastard was supposed to be dead, along with his research, but this shit had his stench all over it.

He turned the corner and had to slam on his brakes to avoid missing the long-legged redhead who stood stone still a mere two inches from the hood of his SUV.

Turner's heart beat wildly, and a trickle of sweat rolled down the side of his face as he stared at the woman's profile. She didn't move or react to the fact that he'd almost tracked black tire prints over her sexy baby blue pajama shorts.

He slammed the car door. “What the hell are you doing? I could have killed you.”

Her shoulders flinched, but she didn't turn around.

“Did you hear me? I almost killed you. What the hell are you doing standing in the middle of the road?”

Her dark green eyes barely wavered over him as he came to stand in front of her.

He stopped short as recognition swept over him. Bloody hell, of all the people to almost run over, it had to be Richard Boyd's oldest daughter, Riley.

If the agency found out he'd rented an apartment two blocks from her house, he would be in deep shit. He was already on probation after what happened with Boyd. One more strike and he would get more than a slap on the wrist. He was breaking protocol just talking to her, but it wasn't his fault that she had a death wish.

Her chin trembled and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. God, she was gorgeous. His gaze lingered on the full curves of her breasts before travelling to the full bottom lip that begged to be nipped and sucked.

His cock twitched at the thought.

Yeah, that's what he needed, a hard-on for the daughter of his mortal enemy. A man whose death he was somewhat responsible for.

Fucking perfect.

Her breathing was rapid and shallow. She was in shock. Either that or she'd inherited her father's unhinged mind. The latter thought sent a chill down Turner's spine.

“You want to tell me why you're standing out in the middle of the road in your pajamas?”

She blinked slowly, then turned her attention back to the red brick bungalow. “My-my sis-sister.”

He laid a calloused hand on her bare shoulder. She was ice cold. “What about your sister?”

She placed her palms over her eyes and shook her head. “Oh God, I'm losing my mind.”

Was crazy genetic?
It wouldn't help to agree with her, but knowing who her father was, her words held a high probability. Still, he couldn't leave her like this.

He gripped her elbow. “Let's get you back inside.”

She jerked her arm away, eyes rounding in fear and took an unsteady step backwards. “I can't go back in there.”

He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Is there someone you want me to call?”

A hysterical laugh escaped her lips. “Yeah, Animal Control.”

He looked back at the house and inhaled deeply through his nose.
Fuck, and double shit
. It was faint, but even from thirty feet away he could smell its scent. Why hadn't he noticed it before? Probably because he was having a hard time keeping his eyes diverted from the taut nipples that pressed against the thin fabric of her tank top.

The day was just getting better and better.

He put his hands up, hoping to look unthreatening, but with his height and build, that was no easy feat. He took a tentative step towards her. “Can you tell me what happened?”

With shaky fingers, she tucked her tussled red hair behind her ears. “You wo-won't be-believe me. I don't know if I believe it myself.”

“Try me.”

“I heard Kiera's alarm going off.” She closed her eyes, and her lips quivered as she spoke. “She never sleeps in. I don't even know why she sets it; she's up at the same time every day.”

Turner clenched his teeth and fought for patience. “And then what happened?”

She hugged herself, her eyes dazed as she tried to articulate what she'd seen. “I went to Kiera's room to check on her.”

“But she wasn't there?” he asked, already knowing the answer. His questions were only putting off the inevitable, but he needed confirmation. “Was the room empty?”

She flinched at his question.

In that single gesture, his suspicions were confirmed. Shit, he had to call the agency, but how was he going to explain why he was near her house in the first place?

He cursed Richard Boyd under his breath. Figured the asshole would find a way to screw with his life, even beyond the grave.

A little too roughly, he grabbed her upper arm and pulled her towards the SUV. “Get in the car.”

“What?” She stared at him, wide-eyed, and tried unsuccessfully to pull free of his grip.

“Get in the car, Riley. I'll deal with it.”

She gave him an odd look. “Deal with what? You don't even know what's in there.”

He moved quickly, leaning down so he was nose to nose with her. “Then tell me.” He kept his voice deliberately low, but she didn't shrink in fear as he expected her to.

“A lion.” She pushed at his chest, and he released her. Bordering on hysterical, she threw her hands in the air. “There was a freaking lion on my sister's bed.”

That did surprise him.

Of all the victims Turner had analyzed, not one had been of the species
panthera leo
.

He opened the passenger door and motioned for her to get in. “I'll deal with it.”

Blinking at him, she gave her head a small shake. “Did you hear me? There's a lion—”

He held out a hand to stop her. An older couple stared at them curiously as they walked by. The last thing he needed was to draw more attention. What he needed to do was get the lion contained. Wipe Riley's memory, and somehow get the animal to the agency's underground research lab without being detected—
So much for his morning nap.

“You need to trust me.”

“Trust you?” Her eyes instantly narrowed and filled with suspicion. “I don't even know you.”

His phone vibrated in his back pocket.

Incoming Call, Chase Payne
flashed on the screen. If there was anyone in the world he could rely on to help him with this mess, it was his older brother.

He pressed
Talk
, and brought the phone to his ear. “I need your help.”

There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. “What did you do now?”

Riley's gaze darted between him and the house. He wasn't sure which she looked more scared of.

He turned his back to her and lowered his voice. “I'm at the Boyd's house. I need you to get your ass over here ASAP.”

“Dammit Turner. If anyone finds out your anywhere near that man's family—”

“Lay off the lecture. Just get over here. We have a—
situation
.”

He ended the call before his brother could argue.

Riley chewed on her bottom lip and took a step back when he approached her. “How do you know my name?”

“Let's go inside and I'll explain.” He held out his hand and gave her a half-smile.

She shook her head and took another step backwards.

He shrugged and turned.

“Wait,” she called out as he stalked towards the house.

The front door was slightly open. The moment he stepped inside, the animal's scent slammed into him.

“You can't just barge into someone's—”

“Sit.” He motioned to the sofa in the living room just off the front entrance.

“Look.” She crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes. “I don't need you here. I was probably just sleepwalking. I do that sometimes when I'm really stressed, or overheated—”

She didn't finish the sentence. Her jaw went slack as her gaze focused on something behind him.

He didn't need to turn to know what caused her reaction. “You've got to be fucking kidding me. You didn't think to shut the bedroom door?”