Dark and Deadly: Eight Bad Boys of Paranormal Romance (13 page)

They were face to face. Ronan brushed his lips to the corner of her mouth, then licked there. “I’m not used to kissing humans,” he said. “Hell, I don’t kiss many Shifters. I don’t want to hurt you,” he finished, brow furrowing.

She nuzzled his cheek, liking the roughness of his whiskers. She kissed his nose where it had been broken. “I’m pretty resilient.”

He lost his smile. “No, you’re not. You’re so vulnerable. Elizabeth, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For not killing that idiot with the gun and then taking you back to Alaska with me. It’s beautiful there. I had a cabin in the woods, right next to this stream that roars all the time—even in the winter you can hear it gurgling under the ice. It’s an amazing place. You’d love it.”

“But they forced you out, didn’t they?” Elizabeth asked softly. “That’s why you’re here.”

“I got rounded up when Shifters were outed twenty years ago. A couple of people knew there was a Shifter living back in the woods, and one told the police.” He sighed. “I’d counted them as friends, but one sniff of a reward for Shifters . . .”

“I’m so sorry.” Elizabeth’s fury rose for whoever had betrayed him. She remembered the witch hunts for Shifters twenty years ago, though she’d been only a kid at the time, with too many problems of her own to pay much attention. When humans had realized that shapeshifters were real and living among them, they’d reacted with paranoia. Instead of trying to understand the Shifters, they’d rounded them up, killed some, done experiments on others, confined them, slapped Collars on them to control their violence, and heavily restricted them. Only because of the actions of some equal rights groups were Shifters allowed to live at all.

How anyone could have handed over this wonderful, warmhearted man to be locked away, far from his home, Elizabeth didn’t understand. Ronan craved solitude but gladly gave it up to help those in need, with no other incentive than he felt bad for them. She’d learned, the hard way, the difference between people who practiced charity to look good and the people who were truly caring.

“I told you, Ronan,” she said. “You’re one of the good ones.”

“Aw. Bet you say that to all the bears.”

“Just the big wrestler ones I want to kiss.”

“Shut up and kiss me, then.”

Ronan held her in arms that never moved as their mouths met, touched, explored. Elizabeth’s body heated, and her limbs relaxed with longing.

She wanted to be alone with him, and she wanted to make love to him.

The thought stunned her. Elizabeth broke the kiss, her face an inch from his, their breaths tangling. But then, maybe it wasn’t so astonishing. She wanted to be alone with him, so see his body bare for her, to feel his weight on her as he made love to her. Ronan made a noise like a growl, his eyes holding a hunger that matched her own.

They heard the kids playing, Olaf’s small roar as he ran with the other cubs, Rebecca admonishing, “Stay close to the porch, Olaf.”

Ronan touched his forehead to hers. “No one will be at the house,” he said.

Elizabeth nodded, her need for him overwhelming. Ronan unlocked her legs from around him and slid her to her feet. She felt the hardness of him on the way down, and her eyes widened. Ronan was a big guy, and she’d heard rumors about Shifters. Knowing she’d soon see whether they were true made her shiver in excitement.

They walked away from the crowd, hand in hand, Elizabeth’s heart beating in time with their swift pace. She liked this, the two of them wanting the same thing, united in their unspoken longing. They needed privacy for it, but they also knew that they could return to friends and family anytime they liked.

Ronan’s house was dark, but he didn’t take Elizabeth inside. Instead, he led her down the side path to the Den.

When he turned on the light, Elizabeth saw that this was a decidedly masculine hangout. The big room contained a television, kitchenette with a big refrigerator—probably well-stocked with beer—shelves stacked with games, a couple of card tables, and a gigantic bed covered with an equally gigantic quilt.

Ronan swept up Elizabeth and carried her, romance-style, to the bed. He followed her down to the mattress and lay on his side next to her, eyes dark. He ran his hand down her arm, ending by cradling her hip.

“I thought it was the mate-claim making me crazy,” he said. “Starting the mating frenzy. But it’s just you.” He released her hip and trailed his fingers up her torso, between her breasts. “You’re amazing. And I want to see that tattoo.”

He hooked his fingers on the neckline of her shirt, pulling it down a little to bare the butterfly that ran along her collarbone. Elizabeth stilled under Ronan’s touch, loving the warm need that filled her, a kind she’d never felt before. She wanted to wrap herself around him and pull him down to her, kiss him until her cravings were fulfilled. But she remained motionless, marveling in the light brush of his fingertips on her skin.

Ronan traced the butterfly once with his fingers, then leaned down and traced it with his tongue. Elizabeth closed her eyes, body loosening, surrendering.

A crazed roar had her nearly flying up out of the bed, her tension returning in a rush. Ronan swung his legs around and came to his feet faster than Elizabeth would have guessed such a big man could move.

The roar came again. Loud, deep, animal. Ronan tore open the door and ran into the yard, peeling off his T-shirt as he went. His jeans followed, boots flying. Elizabeth experienced one glorious instant seeing him tall and naked in the moonlight, before his limbs distorted, and the space between house and Den filled with Kodiak bear.

Ronan ran for the second bear who stood on his hind legs in the yard. The bear was snarling, all teeth bared, and as Ronan went at him, the other bear came down and charged.

The black bear was much smaller than the Kodiak, but the black bear didn’t care. Its Collar emitted dozens of sparks, which made it roar in pain, but the bear kept running for Ronan, its eyes red, foam dripping from its mouth.

Elizabeth watched, holding her breath, as Ronan ran straight into the black bear, tumbling to the ground with it. Dust exploded as both bears rolled over each other, the black bear snarling with insane intensity.

Ronan’s bear fought in deadly silence. The other bear clawed at him mindlessly, roars ringing into the night. Its Collar kept sparking, white hot in the darkness, but Ronan’s Collar remained, like him, quiet.

The fight drew attention. A big gray wolf bounded around the house and headed for Elizabeth. The wolf was huge, at least twice the size of an ordinary wolf, and its eyes were white, fur ice-gray in the moonlight. Elizabeth drew back, ready to run for the Den, and then the wolf’s limbs rippled and changed. In a few brief moments, she stood face to face with Ellison Rowe, who now wore not a stitch.

“You okay?” Ellison asked, breathing hard.

“Sure.” Elizabeth turned to the bears again. Blood showed on Ronan’s coat as he struggled to get the other bear under control.

“That’s Scott,” Ellison said. “The Transition’s rough.”

The black bear managed to squirm away from the big Kodiak and loped for Elizabeth.

“Shit,” Ellison said. His shifting process went in reverse, and the wolf returned, positioning himself in front of Elizabeth and snarling a warning.

Ronan was almost upon the black bear. As Ronan leapt for him, the black bear sidestepped, rolled, shifted in the middle of the roll, and came to his feet as Scott. Naked, muscles rippling, he was long and lean, body honed, but the look in his eyes as he ran at Elizabeth was raw and furious.

Ellison snarled a guttural snarl, all his wolf teeth bared, ears flat on his head. Ronan, behind Scott, shifted to his human self.

Scott kept coming. Ronan closed the distance between himself and the younger man, put his wrestler’s arms all the way around Scott, and lifted him off his feet.

Scott fought him. He ripped at Ronan’s hold, his Collar sparking like crazy. He butted his head back against Ronan, and blood dripped from Ronan’s mouth. Scott’s Collar crackled as loud as Ellison’s growls, and then Scott screamed.

It was a horrible sound. The scream went on and on, spilling out Scott’s anguish and pain, frustration and rage. Ronan held him fast, and Scott kept fighting. Ellison stayed in front of Elizabeth, his growls lessening but his teeth still bared.

Scott’s struggles slowed, though his Collar remained a white band around his neck in the dark. As he weakened, Ronan pulled him into his big arms.

“Let it go,” Ronan said. “Calm and quiet. Deep breaths, like I taught you.”

Scott was sobbing now. The Collar’s glow faded, gradually, as Scott continued to cry. Ronan held him close, pressing a kiss to Scott’s unruly black hair.

“Is he all right?” Elizabeth started forward, but Ellison, still the wolf, got in her way.

“Stay over there, Lizzie-girl,” Ronan said. “He’ll be okay.”

Scott didn’t look okay. He hung in Ronan’s arms, weak, his Collar still emitting sparks.

Ellison rose again to become Ellison. He put his hands on his trim hips. “Poor kid. When I went through the Transition, my grandmother would throw a bucket of ice water over me to calm me down. And I didn’t have to worry about the Collar back then—this was before Collars were invented.”

Across the yard, Ronan spoke to Scott in a low voice, and Scott nodded, head buried in Ronan’s shoulder.

“Why did he try to attack Ronan?” Elizabeth asked.

Ellison’s eyes glinted. In the moonlight, stark naked, his eyes still as gray as his wolf’s, he looked far more animal than human. “He wasn’t trying for Ronan, sweet thing. He was going for you, and Ronan was stopping him. I bet he smelled some pheromones running hot in the Den, and they ignited his hair-trigger mating frenzy.” Ellison grinned, and Elizabeth swore his teeth were still pointed. “So what were you and Ronan getting up to in there? Hunh, Lizzie-girl?”

Ronan got Scott to bed, cleaned himself up, and returned downstairs to see that Ellison was making Elizabeth coffee. Ellison at least had pulled on a pair of jeans. Ronan had as well, and here he’d been hoping he’d get
out
of his clothes for Elizabeth.

Ellison, once Ronan gave him a nod that everything was fine, enclosed Elizabeth in a swift good-bye hug then left through the back door. Ronan sat down at the big table and shoved the mug of coffee Ellison had prepared across to Elizabeth.

“He’ll be fine,” Ronan said. “Sleeping it off. The Collars hurt like a mo-fo, so Scott’s going to be down for a while. Sorry about that. I didn’t think he would react to us.”

“Ellison said he scented pheromones?” Elizabeth sipped her coffee, looking shaken but determined not to let the incident daunt her.

“He did. During Transition, Shifters walk around in a state of heightened sensitivity to . . . everything. Pheromones, fighting instincts, hunger pangs, you name it. Scott probably sensed us getting hot, and his bear brain suddenly decided I was his rival for the warm female in the Den. When he wakes up, he’s going to be embarrassed, so go easy on him.”

Elizabeth’s hands tightened around her mug. “But if he’s that easily triggered, is Mabel safe from him? What about Cherie? Even Rebecca? I can’t let Mabel stay here with him like that.”

“No, no. Mabel will be fine. And Cherie. Scott knows they’re cubs. Mabel might not be a kid anymore in human terms, but to Scott she is. Shifters are even more freaked out about touching cubs than humans are. That’s ingrained in us, even during the Transition. As for Rebecca . . .” Ronan had to shake his head. “She’s a big Kodiak, like me, and she doesn’t take shit from anyone. She’s already knocked Scott clear across the house a couple of times. He mostly leaves her alone. But you.” Ronan’s amusement faded. “I think you’d better stay with Sean and Andrea. I didn’t realize a human would trigger the frenzy. But then, I don’t know much about humans.”

“I trigger a frenzy? No one’s ever said that about me before.”

Ronan reached for Elizabeth’s hand and twined his fingers through hers. “That’s why I’m going crazy wanting to touch you.” He lifted her fingers to his lips.

“Careful,” Elizabeth said softly. “We don’t want to upset Scott.”

“He’s out. Completely out. But I take your point.” Ronan kissed each of her fingertips in turn. “I can’t seem to stop touching you, Lizzie-girl.”

“What are we going to do, then?”

Ronan loved her eyes, so different from a Shifter’s, the blue of them pure and dark. “You can accept my mate-claim. Then Scott will know, without doubt, that you belong to me. He won’t try to touch you then.”

She frowned, brown brows coming together. “How would that work?”

“Honestly?” Ronan shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s scent, instinct, maybe the pheromones again. We just
know
.”

Her fingers lay motionless against his. “What would it mean, exactly? Me accepting your mate-claim?”

He spoke carefully. “It means that you agree to be joined with me in two ceremonies—one under the sun, one under the full moon, in the sight of the Father God and Mother Goddess. But that’s only part of it.” Ronan leaned across the table to her, inhaling her goodness. “You accepting the mate-claim means that you are mine, and I am yours. We belong to each other. For always.” He squeezed her hand. “I’d like that.”

Ronan saw longing flare in Elizabeth’s eyes, and loneliness, a need to fill the empty spaces in her heart. He also saw fear.

“I’ve gone down this road before,” she said. “I decided then that I’d never let a man have power over me again. It’s dangerous. I won’t do it.”

Ronan felt her terror through their twined hands. He ran his thumb over her fingers, soothing. “This is why you changed your name and started over again, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Elizabeth’s throat moved. “I got involved with the wrong person, a dangerous one. I didn’t realize how dangerous until too late. I only saw a very rich man with a big house who could take care of me, and Mabel too, and he seemed to adore me. That’s before I figured out he was a dealer, and into all kinds of very bad things. Mabel was only fifteen, and he was already starting to want her to do favors for his high-flying clients, to sweeten them up. You know what I mean. When I objected, he showed his true colors. He turned into an abusive dickhead, threatening me with all kinds of things, including death, and I realized he’d carry out his threats in truth. The only way I could get away from him was to take Mabel and disappear one afternoon when he was out. I had a friend, from my days in foster care, who knew how to create identities. I gave him a wad of cash, he came up with Elizabeth and Mabel Chapman, and here we are.”