Lycan Packs 1: Lycan Instinct (21 page)

I’m glad to see you had that wound looked at
.

“Don’t start. I’ve already got a pounding headache, all right?” She glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “And keep your head down until I’ve turned the corner.”

Where are we going
?

“My place, for now. I need a shower and sleep, but first, I want answers.”

He leaped into the front seat.
Answers to what questions
?

“For starters, I assume you and your brothers are the same?”

We are all Lycans, yes
.

“Okay. Tell me more about Lycans. If they aren’t werewolves, I guess silver doesn’t harm them?”

The wolf whined, but she heard his groan in her head.

“Hey, you said I didn’t know what I’m up against, so enlighten me.”

All right. No, silver doesn’t affect us anymore than it would you. Most of the superstitions and old wives’ tales are untrue. The full moon doesn’t force us to change. We can do so whenever we like, although our senses are heightened during the full moon phase. We don’t have a pact with the devil. We can attend church just like you or anyone else. We’re born Lycan, so humans cannot be bitten and turned into a Lycan. Either you are or you’re not. And although we typically enjoy longer than average life spans, we aren’t immortal
.

“Can you change now?”

Possibly, but I’d rather wait for a location where you won’t have to arrest me for indecent exposure
.

“Oh.” She felt her cheeks heating again.

After she pulled into the parking garage beneath her apartment building, she got out and held the door for Rafe.

“My landlord is going to have a fit over this if he sees you, and you’re footing the bill if he charges me a temporary pet deposit.”

Rafe growled.

Reluctantly, she took the stairs, not wanting to risk an encounter with someone in the elevator. He easily kept pace with her as she trudged up the flights, and soon they were both safely ensconced inside her place.

“Make yourself at home. I’ll be out in a minute.” She tossed the keys and cell phone on the table, his clothes on the couch, and by sheer will alone made it to the bathroom and into a revitalizing shower.

Rafe heard the water start as he familiarized himself with her domain. The living room was clean and furnished with the essentials. A couch, recliner, coffee table, and television. No photos of family or friends. No plants. A quick sniff assured him she had no pets either.

He paused when he heard a cell phone ring but let it go after he realized it was hers. He couldn’t answer it while in wolf form anyway.

The galley kitchen was small and tidy. A coffee cup sat upside down on the counter beside the sink. His strong jaws latched onto the refrigerator’s handle and tugged the door open. He checked inside and was amused to discover she hadn’t lied about its contents.

Making his way down the hall, he spotted a computer desk in the spare bedroom-turned-office. Framed certificates and a diploma hung on the wall along with a large map of the city. Beside it sat stacks of newspapers and books on topics ranging from a study of the criminal mind to capturing sexual predators. This is the room she lives in, he thought, surrounded by evidence of evil. How did one remain so strong and sane when dealing with such atrocities? Was it any wonder she hid behind mental and emotional defenses?

What he’d seen as a challenge was only her way of protecting herself against the harsh realities she dealt with daily. The strength he’d first admired in her now terrified him. Did she ever let down her guard and be herself? Or had she lost that self long ago?

He padded down the hallway and into her bedroom as he heard the shower cut off. He shook his head when he saw that she’d left a trail of clothes, holster, and firearm on the way to the bathroom. He was glad to see the bedroom wasn’t as sterile and lifeless as the rest of the apartment.

The scents he’d come to identify with her filled the room. Coconut and aloe tangled with the rough smell of leather from her bomber jacket on the floor.

The unmade bed was covered in pillows of blue and ivory. On the nightstand by an alarm clock sat two picture frames. One contained the photo of a happy child with golden pigtails on the shoulders of a man who draped his arm around a pretty, auburn-haired woman. The other showed the same woman, older now and grinning at the camera, standing beside a teenaged Mackenzie who wore a cap and gown.

Mackenzie opened the door and flinched when she saw the wolf seated on the floor beside her bed.

She tugged the belt of her bathrobe tighter and furiously towel-dried her hair. “I didn’t mean for you to make yourself at home in my bedroom. Scat, I need to get dressed.”

Your parents
?

She froze, followed his gaze to the photos, and tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “Yeah.” She sat on the bed, tucked her feet under her, and rubbed her thigh. “I...uh...I know how you feel losing your sister. Both my parents were taken from me.”

You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to
.

“I know.” Maybe it was because he’d trusted her with so much tonight. Maybe because he’d risked his life for hers. Whatever the reason, something inside her wanted to share her secrets with him. She fisted her hand at her thigh. “I’m scared to death of cats.”

When he faced her, she chuckled. “It feels pretty weird saying that to a man who’s a wolf.”

We’re all afraid of something. Our strength is in not letting that fear prevent us from living
.

“My dad was killed by a mountain lion. That picture was taken on the trip the day before the attack.” She pointed to the frame. “It was my fault. We were hiking, and he told me to stay close, but when I saw the cubs I ran to them. Their mother didn’t like that. Dad died saving me. And I’ve been terrified of cats ever since.”

Does the thought of me...like this...frighten you
?

She gave him a sad smile and shook her head. “I was scared of dogs as a kid. After the attack, anything with teeth and fur sent me into hysterics. But my mother was determined to help me somehow, so she bought me this old Bassett hound. Ugliest thing you ever saw. I remember crying for days anytime it got near me.”

Rafe laid his head in her lap, and she stroked his fur absentmindedly.

“Then one day, I was playing hide-and-seek with some other kids in the back yard. I hid in a wood box and fell asleep waiting. When they couldn’t find me, they got bored and went home. That old hound found me though. His scratching woke me up, and I realized I was stuck. He stayed there and whined, which led Mom right to me.”

Thank you for sharing that with me
.

“Yeah, well, don’t tell Coop. He thinks I’m allergic to animal fur. I’d never hear the end of it if he learned his partner was afraid of cats, especially since my name’s Lyons.”

You have a point
.

“Your hair feels the same. Soft and thick. I hadn’t realized it before.” Oh, God. Why had she said that? She scrambled off of the bed and turned her back on him as she busied herself with digging through dresser drawers. “I don’t have any silk men’s shirts, but I’ll find you a big T-shirt or something to wear on the way home. I’ve got a long day tomorrow. You want me to call you a cab? You can be changed before it gets here, right?”

A yellow glow filled the room and froze Mackenzie in her place. Her gaze shot to the dresser mirror and locked on the wolf’s eyes reflected there. She stared as tiny lights danced around him like Fourth of July sparklers. They multiplied and swelled, making the wolf shimmer and fade until the animal’s shape was a mass of molten gold. When the light’s intensity grew even more, Mackenzie was forced to shield her eyes.

She blinked as the brilliance faded to reveal Rafael Stone, as naked as he was on the day of his birth, crouched beside her bed.

“Wow,” she said on a breath.

His head rose and his eyes met hers. A slow smile played with his lips, and then he stood up.

Mackenzie maintained a death grip on the top drawer of the short dresser and stared at his reflection.

The man was no newborn.

A six-foot-three-inch wall of sleek muscle approached her from behind, and she forgot how to breathe.

He looked over her shoulder and met her gaze in the mirror. The terrycloth robe offered little protection when warm hands slipped around her waist to splay across her abdomen and cup one breast through the material. Hot lips teased her exposed neck and jaw.

“How’s your headache?”

“What headache?”

He nipped her earlobe, and his husky chuckle awoke every goose bump on her body. “That’s what I’d hoped to hear.”

His talented fingers had the knot in her belt undone in an instant while Mackenzie hung on to the dresser drawer with white knuckles. Rafe ran his hands up to her collar, hooked a finger over each lapel, and slid the robe open. It slipped off her shoulders to fall down her arms where it bunched up around her wrists.

Rafe’s gaze drifted over her reflection, but she felt his regard as if he’d touched her instead.

Mackenzie looked at herself in the mirror. Her damp hair tumbled about her shoulders in tangled disarray. Her body was slim but pale, maybe too pale, despite the rainbow of bruises marring her flesh. And the ugly discoloration around the angry gash above her left eye wasn’t a pretty sight. Her arms shook from the tension of her grip. He hadn’t even seen the scars on her leg yet.

“I can’t do this.”

He turned her face toward him, his thumb caressing her cheek. Seductive lips brushed hers. His palms warmed her face and neck. Expensive cologne teased her nostrils, a heady scent of sandalwood, almond, and male. “Unless you find my being Lycan disgusting, you can.”

She released the drawer. “No.”

He pulled back, lips turned down. She grabbed his arms, and his biceps flexed.

“No. I didn’t...It’s not you. Damn it. We don’t belong together. Don’t you see that? Look at you. Look at me.” Biting her lip, she spread the robe wide and let his gaze take in the scars, bruises, and reality of her job. His eyes heated, but his frown remained. Irritated at herself for hoping, she covered her body and walked across the room, away from the mirror. Away from him.

“Let’s face it. You’re caviar and I’m onion dip.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“After we met, I read all about you in the tabloids and magazines. You can have any woman you want. I know you think I’m some sort of challenge, that if it weren’t for this case... I don’t do one-night stands. When the case is over, you’ll go back to your world, and I’m not cut out for that life. I’m a cop. It’s all I know how to do.”

Rafe crossed the room in the blink of an eye, spun her around, and ignored her startled gasp. He held her arms in a firm but painless grip. Anger sparked in the golden depths of his eyes.

“Do you believe I’m shallow? That I give a damn about appearances?” He kissed her then in a furious tangle of lips and tongue. “Do you think I want my pick of beautiful women who approach me with nothing but dollar signs in their eyes?”

He stripped the robe from her grasp and threw it on the floor.

“Hey!”

“Am I supposed to be blinded by the bruises, unable to see past the scars and notice how gorgeous you are?” He cupped her face, a pained expression marring his own, and then bent to press his lips to her forehead. She stood stunned as he proceeded to kiss and lave every black-and-blue mark on her body. When his mouth touched the large bruise on her hip, her knees nearly gave out. She dug her fingers through his thick mass of black hair and hung on.

Tender touches traced the scars on her thigh. Her eyes closed against the tears that threatened, and she held her breath. His lips followed his fingertips, almost lovingly. She’d never felt so bare, stripped of everything she’d always needed to make it through each day.

“Stop, please.”

He lifted her and followed her down on the bed. “Stop what? Caring about you? Stop looking beyond the scars on your body to see those that are tearing you up on the inside?”

“I don’t want...I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” His hand cupped her mons, a finger slipping inside her moist depths, and she froze. “Tell me you don’t want me. That you don’t feel this urge as strongly as I do. Look me in the eye. Tell me, and I’ll stop.”

His arm cradled her head. His long, hard body pressed against her, revealing the urgent state of his own arousal. He pressed deeper, and her hips lifted to meet his hand. A moan escaped her throat. A plea to stop or continue, she didn’t know.

“No, don’t close your eyes.”

Her lids lifted. She stared in wonder at the passion darkening his eyes. He hid nothing from her. His need. His desire. His concern?

“I want you, Mackenzie. All of you. And I’m going to make love to every inch of you. But if you can honestly say you don’t want this, tell me to stop.”

She peered at him as he pulled free of her and laid his hand on her hip. The effects of his touch vibrated through her. Rampant need clawed at her insides and shredded the restraints that had proven so reliable in the past. She should stop him. Her hand against his chest curled into a fist. “I can’t...deny this.”

Rafe leaned over her, and her hands clutched his broad shoulders. Lips captured, conquered, tortured, as he positioned himself above her. She hadn’t realized until now how much she’d missed the hard weight of a man. She shouldn’t want to feel the sensual pressure of Rafe’s body now, but she did.

His mouth latched onto one breast, and her back arched. Her nails dug into his back. Urgency raced through her veins with each heartbeat. She spread her thighs, wanting him to hurry, but he kept his word. His hands and mouth focused on every inch of skin, until her sensitized nerves screamed in frenzied helplessness, and his touch penetrated to the bone.

“Rafe. I need...” Her orgasm struck with the speed of a lightning bolt. Waves of pleasure flooded her body, throbbed, and pounded with the long-lasting force of a hurricane.

“More,” he growled.

She shook her head weakly and cried out his name. Sliding up her body, he paused to look at her face, his own breaths ragged.