Heart of a Rocky (10 page)

What if they found her?

TYSON MADE AN EFFORT
to bump into one of the dining room chairs and make it scuff against the hardwood floor. He cursed as if he’d stubbed his toe and continued to the door. He frowned at the males who pretended have been waiting patiently for him to open the door.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

A bulky, panther-form Lycan stepped forward, pushing aside his mismatched group of Lycans. The Bao regarded him in silence for a moment then nodded.

“We’re looking for a female for a friend of ours. We were wondering if you’ve seen any Hafiz females in the area.”

“I haven’t. I work nights so I haven’t been outside since last night.”

One of the males at the back pushed his way forward. “You’re lying, leopard. We smell her on you.”

Tyson pulled his shirt up to his nose and sniffed. “Oh. That’s from a girl I hugged last night in town. She works with me.”

“Liar.” The Bao stepped further into Tyson’s personal space, but missed the venomous smile on his face. “Give us the girl or we will be forced to tear apart this hovel you call a house. A good lay isn’t worth that is it?”

Tyson smiled. “You’re right. It isn’t.”

He nodded at the males and grabbed the Bao, slicing his throat before tossing him aside. Two Shiriki rushed him, but they were nothing more than annoying coyote pests to him. He opened one up from groin to throat with his eight inch hunting knife, before grabbing the other and slicing the arteries in his neck and inner thigh. Blood spattered over his clothes as the Shiriki pitched forward. He pushed the male away and wiped his blade on his blood-drenched jeans.

The last two retreated into the woods, but he didn’t bother to chase them down. He’d find them soon enough. They weren’t worth the risk of leaving Harmony alone anyway.

Tyson pulled out his gun and shot the Bao in the head to finish him off before he managed to heal his slowly closing wounds. Both Shirikis had already bled out, but he still put a bullet in their heads.

“You were always one for overkill, Tyson.”

He smiled at Isis. The female Hafiz was one of the few in the local area that he could tolerate.

“They threatened to tear apart my hovel.”

She smiled and glanced at the cabin. “It could use a little… fire. Yeah. This is a complete gut.” She laughed and dodged his playful jab. “On a serious note. Do you want me to take care of them or see to the female?”

“Watch the house, but don’t bother her. I’ll be right back.”

He didn’t wait for her reply, choosing to tear through the forest after the retreating wolf-form males.

He made quick work of them, as neither of the Talas were worthy opponents and dragged their bodies back to his cabin where Isis was performing a quick Passing for the males.

Lelah, Goddess of Life and Death, appeared briefly and took care of the bodies. The increased fighting among the Hunters and Lycans made ceremonies much shorter than they had once been. Part of him missed the traditional rituals, but he understood the necessity of the change. Death had too many souls to collect to waste time with ceremonies of soldiers dying in battle.

Once the bodies were nothing more than ash fertilizing his grass, Tyson led Isis into the house and had her wait while he went to the bathroom to get Harmony.

“Harmony, you can come out.”

She opened the door and peeked out. Her eyes roamed over him, taking in his blood-spattered clothes. She tilted her head down, but not before he caught the fear in her eyes.

The scent of her Rut spiked, likely due to her fear of him and what he’d done to keep her safe from the males at the door.

Tyson had to brace himself against the door jamb. “Fuck.”

“I’m sorry, Asim.”

“Stop. Calling. Me. That.” He growled the words, but sighed as he took in the way she shied away from him. “I don’t like the title. I didn’t earn it. It was given to me by those too cowardly to lead. I am no more deserving of your reverence than the next Hafiz.”

Harmony stayed silent, watching him as if he were on the verge of doing something violent.

“I have someone here to help you. Go to my room. It’s the suite on the other end of the cabin. We’ll be there in a minute.”

He walked away to find Isis standing in the front doorway speaking on the phone. Her tone was hushed, but she sounded agitated.

“What’s wrong?” he asked when she hung up.

“I was talking to a friend of mine. The female he found in Georgia was in a similar situation. I wanted to talk to her, but he refuses.”

“Who is he?”

“Angel, Istato to Mikko Kyran.”

Tyson nodded. “I know of the pack.”

He didn’t bother to elaborate, because he knew that Ronan, a fellow Rocky, would likely become involved if Tyson bothered to reach out to Kyran. Since he was still technically exiled from the Rockys, he was not guaranteed to receive their help even if he asked.

“We’ll handle that later. She needs meds now.”

Isis nodded and followed him to his bedroom. ‘Sheesh, it’s oppressing in here. I didn’t know how much I dislike black until now. You know they make many more colors, right?”

“Take care of the girl. My bedroom isn’t your problem.” He turned to Harmony and introduced the females. “She’s going to give you some medication to put you under. It should last a couple of hours at least.”

“I don’t want to be knocked out. Please, don’t put me under.”

The pleading in her voice should have given him some sort of pause, but he refused to be stuck answering the call of her hormonal song. It would only lead him to a life of misery in nine months’ time. The scent of a female had never caused him to break his word, and Harmony’s powerful fragrance would be no different.

“This is for your benefit not mine. I’d prefer not to hear you beg for mercy when the pain gets to be too great later on tonight or tomorrow.”

“Please—” She paused, her mouth drawing into a tempting ‘O’ when the t-shirt she was wearing grazed against the hardened tips of her nipples. “Tyson, I don’t want to be knocked out.”

“Why not?”

She bit her lip, a tell he’d quickly picked up on when she lied to him. “What if something happens? What if they come back? I don’t want to be unconscious and helpless.”

He narrowed his eyes at Isis when she nodded in agreement. Harmony was lying again. Something had happened when she was with the males who’d held her captive. He looked over at Isis, who shrugged as if her response to the situation was helping him.

“What? She has a point.”

“No, she doesn’t.” Tyson raked his gaze over Harmony, managing only to convey a mild interest—the kind a doctor gave to his patient—before he turned his attention back to Isis. “She isn’t a fighter; therefore, even if they managed to get past me, she wouldn’t be able to do much more than kick and scream.”

Harmony smothered an irritated growl. “You know nothing about what I had to endure, let alone what being helpless puts me at risk of. I do not want to be at anyone’s mercy. That’s all I’m asking. You aren’t a superhero. You can’t be everywhere and save everybody.”

“You’re right. I’m no one’s hero. This isn’t a comic. Nobody is a hero in this scenario. At the moment you’re stuck among a cast of villains, I’m one of the worst, so I wouldn’t make a habit of betting against me. Despite what you think about your abilities, you aren’t a fighter. You’re a hazard and distraction waiting to happen. Being unconscious is in your best interest, so be quiet, take the meds, and stop wasting my fucking time.”

“No.”

Tyson nodded in Isis’ direction. He was done asking. He’d been nice, and obviously she wanted to find out how bad he could be.

“I’m sorry, Tyson, but I can’t do that. She refused, and I’m not the shitty kind of doctor that would drug a perfectly sane female, especially when her reasons for remaining conscious are valid ones.” She turned a kind smile to Harmony. “Lucky for you, I thought to stop by the store on the way here, because I have another option that should keep both of you happy.”

She opened her green duffel bag and pulled out two black plastic bags.

He crossed his arms and eyed the two bags with a mixture of curiosity and disdain as Isis picked up the larger one and started dumping the contents on his bed.

Harmony turned bright pink when vibrators and dildos in varying shapes, sizes, and colors spilled all over his bed.

“No. Fuck no.”

“If you can’t do it, they will.”

Tyson growled. “I didn’t say I can’t do it. I said I won’t.” He pointed to the pile of toys. “She isn’t doing that in my bed.”

Harmony blushed again, her features turning red, but she still appeared more than interested in Isis’ offerings.

“Tyson, seriously? She doesn’t want to be drugged, and you refuse to have sex with her. You know how she will suffer if nothing happens. This is the way I made it through my first Rut. The last thing I needed at seventeen was a kid.”

He huffed. “You were alone and didn’t have a male available or I’m sure that would have made the choice easier. In your situation, being unconscious wasn’t safe. She isn’t alone. She has me here to ensure her safety. Drug her.”

“No, but if it makes you feel any better, they are all waterproof. She can use your shower or that amazing tub of yours. Does that work better for you?”

He rubbed his temples and shook his head. “None of this works for me.” He looked down at Harmony’s horny but pained expression. “Fuck.”

“Maybe there’s someone else she could use if this makes you uncomfortable. I know a really great Hafiz who lives nearby.”

Violence, unmitigated violence drowned his every thought. He vaguely heard the shriek of wood—the edge of his dresser he’d been holding—and a feminine gasp, which pulled him from his angry haze.

“I take it you don’t like that suggestion,” Isis responded with a sarcastic snort.

He glared at her but conceded to the toys. He muttered a final curse before grabbing a change of clothes and exiting the room, closing the door with a definitive click.

He needed a shower, preferably a cold one to calm the raging hard-on and the desire to stomp back into his room and toss the sex toys in the trash before melding his body to Harmony’s.

* * *

Harmony stared at the door for a few silent moments while Isis immediately started rattling on about the different vibrators and the lubes she bought. Apparently the female had a thing for sex or sex toys at least.

“Have you ever used one before?”

“No.”

“Okay. Well, have you watched porn before?”

“No. I was a virgin when they took me.”

“
Was?
Oh gods, what happened? Who took you?”

“I don’t want to talk about them.”

Isis nodded and looked at one of the smaller toys. “I think we should try this one.”

“We?”

“Yes. You don’t know what you’re doing, and I want to help you. The better your orgasm the better chance you’ll have of navigating your Rut without the aid of some prickish male.”

Harmony laughed and nodded. “What do I need to do?”

“Start by picking one that you like. Nothing too intimidating. You’ll tighten up, and it’ll hurt.”

She nodded and selected a medium-sized onyx vibrator the color of Tyson’s shadowed soul.

“Of course you’d pick the best one. I have one like that in a tannish color. Anyway, take this and go wash it in warm water. That’s a toy cleaner.”

“You thought of everything.”

She laughed. “Just think of me as your sex ed teacher. Today’s lesson is masturbation.”

Harmony retreated to the bathroom and did as she was told, taking the expensive remote-controlled vibrator out of its cloth lined box. When she returned to the bedroom, Isis had turned out the lights and lit a few of Tyson’s black pillared candles.

The bed had been turned down and the pillows arranged in a way that showed she would be lying down at an angle.

“There are four types of lube on the bedside table; pick the one you think you’d like the most. None of them are flavored, but their textures are different. Two of them have different heat sensations—one hot, one cold. I like the cold one. There is an erotic beauty to the juxtaposition of your body’s heat and the coolness of the lube. You may not need any of it. I don’t know how… um… ready your body is.”

Harmony snickered and climbed onto the bed. “I think I am as ready as I can get.” She grabbed the vibrator and placed it between her legs, self-conscious of Isis’ position at the foot of the bed.

As if she anticipated the weirdness of the situation, she moved to stand at the side of the bed.

“I know this isn’t something you are used to but let me help you.” She sat down beside her. “You have to understand that in order to make this worth it, you have to have a certain type of orgasm. You have to trick your body into believing what you are doing is good enough to circumvent the act of procreation. If you don’t, this will only make the Rut worse. Okay?” Isis continued after she nodded. “I’m going to touch you, guide your hands. It would be nice if all you had to do was shove a perma-hard phallus into you and have your way with yourself. I learned the hard way. Trust me it wasn’t fun.”

Isis directed her to take off her shirt, which she did with mild reservation. After everything that happened with her captors, she really wasn’t comfortable with the sight of her naked body.

When Isis spotted the many gashes and healed scars on her body, her eyes darkened with a hint of violence. A blink and the look vanished, but she could see that the female understood—at least a little better than before—the amount of pain she’d went through.

“I’m going to touch you. Relax into my touch. Once I show you, you can mirror me. This is to put you in a certain mindset, okay?”

Yearning tweaked low in her stomach. She wanted—no needed—to be touched. She nodded and relaxed farther into the pile of pillows.

Isis’ hands were soft and warm as she gently traced her fingers up Harmony’s ribcage. She skipped her breasts entirely, though her breath hitched in anticipation of Isis’ soft touch. Instead, Isis traced her way to her neck and paused briefly before she traced along her clavicle.