Scared of Spiders (4 page)

H
e’s going
to kiss me.
And not a brief peck like he’d given her in the SUV, which, though short, had sizzled. Josie’s heart rate sped up, and she tilted her head to look up at him. His green eyes blazed, and he looked as if he would speak, but as if thinking better of it, he, instead, dipped his head to kiss her.

Forget the foolish fumbles of her teenage years and the inept gropings of her adult ones. In Clint’s arms, Josie discovered what the kiss of a man should feel like. Fire: unadulterated, skin-scorching, tummy-twisting, panty-wetting fire. He kissed her as if she were the most desirable woman in existence. He devoured her lips as if they were the most decadent treat imaginable. And when he pressed her against the hardness of his desire—
for me
—she mewled in want. Crazy, inexplicable, this insane attraction between them made no sense, but, oh, did she want more.

She clung to him, pressed herself against his solid body, hating all the clothes that stood between them.

A spitting hiss sounded, along with a yelp. Clint drew back from her to glare at his feet. Befuddled, Josie followed the direction of his look and saw her cat Snickers with her fur standing on end, growling and hissing at Clint.

“Snickers,” she admonished, extricating herself from his embrace to pick up her extremely unhappy cat. Snickers, however, wasn’t interested in cuddles. With a swipe of her paw at Josie’s hands, she bolted with a trailing
yeowl
into the apartment. “Sorry about that. I guess she doesn’t like wolves,” said Josie with a shrug, not able to completely stifle the smile that tilted her lips.

Clint’s lips quirked, and she shivered at the burning look in his eyes. “Don’t worry. By the morning, I’m sure we’ll have come to an agreement.”

Josie blushed at his unspoken words.
Let him stay the night?
She was tempted. Throw caution to the wind and indulge in what would surely be the most erotic experience of her life, but when reality finally intruded, where would she stand? Probably on the outskirts watching and, if she was still employed, crying as Clint ended up eventually turning to another woman. Another werewolf with courage like him. “I . . . I’m sorry. I like you, really I do, but so much has happened and so fast and . . .”

He swooped down and shut her up with a hard kiss. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to rush you. Go have a hot bath, relax, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

It wasn’t until she shut the door—after another befuddling kiss that turned her legs to wobbly noodles—that she processed his words.

But tomorrow is Sunday.
Was he coming back? Would he kiss her again?
I really shouldn’t let him because, honestly, I know there’s no way I can keep a man like him forever. I’m just not interesting or brave enough. How tempting, though, to indulge in the pleasure he offers, even knowing of the heartbreak and disappointment that will eventually follow.

Speaking of disappointment, what about Brandon? I guess by kissing Clint, and really, really liking it, I’ve made my choice.
She couldn’t deny the way Clint made her body sing. She also wasn’t a slut to toy with two men at once, even as she found herself attracted to them both. Honor and decency stated she not lead Brandon on, even if she hadn’t decided whether or not to take things further with Clint. She hoped only that Brandon wouldn’t take offense.

If I were a braver woman, more of a femme fatale, I wouldn’t bother deciding between two. I’d take them both to bed.

On that naughty, erotically pleasing thought, she went to sleep and had very pleasant dreams indeed for a change.

B
randon stood
with his arms crossed over chest in front of the rogue when Clint returned to the warehouse. “I see you left one alive,” Clint stated with flinty eyes.

“Not for long,” growled Brandon with clear menace. He’d found the unconscious rogue during cleanup and held off killing him in the hopes they could get some answers.

The rogue wolf stared at the ceiling with a half-smile and didn’t utter a sound. Brandon didn’t like it. A normal person—especially a shifter—would attempt to struggle, plead, or even try to strike a deal. The eerie stillness the pup displayed while Brandon manhandled and trussed his ass to a chair was unnatural.

“Has he said anything?” Clint asked.

“Actually, I was just about to start the questioning. I wanted to make sure the pack had the cleanup under control.” That and Brandon didn’t trust himself not to kill the rogue for daring to have threatened Josie. When it came to his little mouse, his protective side knew no bounds. With Clint here, he’d have someone to rein him in if the greasy pup said the wrong thing.

Clint gripped the pup’s chin and forced him to face him. “What’s your name?”

The rogue’s eyes came into focus, and the smile on his face deepened. “Lucky me, if it isn’t the alpha himself. The name is Joe.”

“Who do you answer to?”

Joe rolled his eyes and smirked. “Wrong question.”

A frown creased Clint’s face, a scowl that had made more than one shifter roll over and bare his belly, but Joe just laughed. The alpha wasn’t the only one who didn’t appreciate it. Brandon didn’t like the sound and showed his displeasure by swinging a fist and cracking it against Joe’s jaw.

“Answer him,” he growled.

But Joe, flexing his jaw, just laughed louder, a strident sound that irritated the ears like nails on a chalkboard.

Abruptly the mirth cut off, and the rogue’s face turned serious. More disturbing, though, was the way his eyes bled from brown to pure black. Joe spoke, but Brandon shivered at the words, for it became evident that Joe was no longer home.

“Stupid dogs. It’s not who I am that matters but what I want. Have you figured it out yet?”

Clint bent down until his face was inches from Joe’s. “Since we’re so dumb, why don’t you explain it to us?”

Laughter erupted again, a chilling sound that Brandon gritted his teeth against. “He’s fucking with us. Let’s just kill him.”

“Please do,” begged Joe. “I shan’t miss this one or his incompetent brothers. And besides, there’s plenty more dogs for the taking. Perhaps you’d like to offer yourselves up in their place.”

Clint growled. “Never. And I promise, whatever and whoever you are, I will kill you.”

“But first you have to find me.” Chilling laughter erupted, and Brandon wanted to clap his hands over his ears at the madness in the sound. Joe’s body trembled in its bonds, and his eyes rolled up in his head. Harder and harder he shook, the insane laughter bubbling forth, along with gouts of blood.

Brandon could only watch horrified as the rogue with blood pouring from his eyes, mouth, nose, and ears convulsed to death.

Clint looked at the corpse dispassionately. “Well, that was a waste of time.”

“What are we going to do?” asked Brandon, more shaken by the display than he would admit.

“Burn the body.”

“I meant about whoever was mind-controlling the rogues?”

Clint’s eyes glinted with steel, and his low answer echoed with menace. “Exactly what I said. Find him and kill him of course.”

B
ack in his subterranean dwelling
, the Master of the rogues snapped out of his trance. The loss of the dogs was regrettable but, in the long run, not important. He’d never truly expected them to beat the alpha, but he did enjoy the tendrils of wariness and fear the attack had spun. But forget the web of entrapment he wove. Of more interest and excitement was the discovery of the very thing he’d searched so long for.
I’ve found her.
The prize that had slipped his grasp so long ago but that, as the portents promised, had reappeared. Albeit in a different shape for him to claim.

She is here.
His eager side, the impatient part of himself, wanted to order his minions to snatch her up right now. However, that simple solution skipped the fun and havoc that could, instead, pave the way to his ultimate victory. He’d seen the reaction of the head mongrel and his sidekick.
She’s their mate. How much more entertaining it will be to tear her away from them, after waging a campaign of fear first of course.

He did so enjoy watching the chaos he caused, the tendrils of dread he spun, binding his victims up in a web of fear until they became ripe for him to pluck.

Yes, if I orchestrate the next steps correctly, not only will I acquire her but the head dogs will topple, giving me control of this city too.

And to think he owed it all to the magical tome he’d discovered so long ago. Years it had taken him to master the art of mind control painstakingly laid out step by step in the magical book. The power eventually became his, a fabulous ability that had evolved to the point that he could now force someone in his power to die, simply because he commanded it. His favorite pastime was the invasion of dreams, where he rooted out the sleeper’s fears and then exploded them into a nightmare of entertaining proportions—for him at least.

What a pity a strong mind like the alpha’s wouldn’t succumb to his will. Perhaps, in time, he’d cultivate his abilities to overcome even the mightiest, turning them into his puppets. But if they refused to serve, then they could just bleed.
I will own this city.

And with this as my base, I can spread the threads of my wicked web until none dare stand against me.

J
osie
, lounging in pajamas, for the hour was still early, jumped when a knock sounded at her door.
Clint’s here already?

She bit her lip as she debated telling him to wait so she could run for a brush. Her usually bun-wrangled hair lay in unruly waves around her shoulders and drifted down her back. Her flustered state decided for her.
If he can’t accept me with bed head, then I shouldn’t even think of dating him.
Her dreams of the previous night had left her flushed, and she’d woken wanting, aroused, and no longer as caring if her heart was broken. She needed to become more daring, and allowing herself to enjoy Clint’s attention was a good start.
I don’t want to regret later on what could have been.

Taking a deep breath, she flung open the door. A handful of flowers thrust at her was the first thing she saw, but she recognized the drawled good morning.

“Brandon?”

“Expecting someone else?” he joked, but the laughter in his eyes died a bit at her expression. “I see. Maybe I should leave.”

“No. Please come in. I didn’t properly thank you yesterday for making sure that wolf didn’t get me. I’ve got coffee?” she cajoled when he hesitated.

He followed her in, shutting the door behind him. Josie went to her tiny kitchen, which opened onto the living room. Brandon wandered around, peering with curiosity at the contents of her crammed bookshelves. Josie found a vase for the flowers and set them out before she poured them coffee, which she knew, from the office, he took sweet and creamed.

She set the mugs on the breakfast bar and was about to call him when Snickers came flying out of nowhere and leapt onto Brandon’s leg.

“What the fuck?” he exclaimed as her no-longer-so-docile kitty climbed up his leg, hissing and spitting.

Josie put a hand over her mouth so he wouldn’t see the smile, for the scene was reminiscent of something off of
America’s Funniest Home Videos
. “Um, that’s my cat, Snickers. She, um, doesn’t seem to like werewolves.”
Now there’s an understatement.

Brandon, carefully unhooking the sharp claws, grimaced. “Gee, I’d have never guessed.”

Annoyed that he was so put off by her pet’s instinct, she muttered, “Like me, like my cat.”

She’d thought she’d spoken low, but he still heard and answered her. “Hey, I’m prepared to love this cat if it means I get to be with its owner.”

Josie blushed. “Your coffee’s ready,” she said, gesturing. He didn’t sit down. Instead, he roamed some more, inspecting her few scattered pictures and even crouching to read the titles on her DVDs and CDs. Josie had never thought her apartment small until now. Somehow having a larger-than-life male invading it, one who, to her embarrassment, made her wet her panties as often as she did, made the space seem cozy.

She turned away from him, unable to understand how, given her attraction to Clint, she could even think of betraying their kiss from the previous eve with none other than his best friend.
Talk about wrong.

Arms wrapped around her from behind, and Josie squeaked.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Brandon asked before nuzzling her nape through her thick mane of hair.

A shiver went through her body, the sensation of his lips lightly brushing her skin too erotic for her to handle. “You shouldn’t,” she whispered.

He turned her in his arms, and he stared into her eyes with his warm brown ones, which melted her. “Why not?”

Josie fought his allure. “I, um, kind of kissed Clint. He’s coming over later, so we really shouldn’t . . .” She never got to finish her sentence because, instead of backing off, Brandon claimed her mouth with his, and her good intentions fled out the window.

Desire coiled in her cleft while heat spread its sensual tendrils throughout her. She’d been mistaken thinking only Clint could arouse her. Brandon held the power, too, and beneath the onslaught of his mouth, she couldn’t think, but, oh, how she felt.

Big hands cupped her bottom, squeezing cheeks she’d always thought too plump, but he kneaded and weighed them with obvious enjoyment. She squealed when her feet left the ground. He set her on the counter and inserted his body between her legs.

“You are so damned hot,” he muttered, his eyes smoky. He kissed her again, and Josie melted, unable to resist his allure. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, and she panted into his mouth.

Knock
.
Knock
.
Knock
.

The brisk thumping at her door made Brandon pull away with a mischievous grin. “I’ll go see who’s there,” he said a little too gleefully, leaving Josie to recover her wits.

She slid off the counter on wobbly legs as the door opened on none other than Clint. If ever there was a moment she needed the ground to open up and swallow her, now was it.

I can’t believe, not even twenty-four hours after I let Clint kiss me, I was making out with his best friend in my kitchen. I am a slut apparently and will surely burn in hell.

Josie tried to stand straight, a hard thing to do since she feared Clint’s wrath. However, while Clint glared at Brandon’s smug countenance, he was all smiles when he turned to her.

“Hey, baby,” he said in greeting. “How’d you sleep?”

Incredulous that he wouldn’t acknowledge the obvious fact that she’d been kissing Brandon, she, for some insane reason, brought it up. “How can you be so nonchalant? I was just kissing Brandon.”

Clint shrugged. “But I kissed you first. Besides, it’s who gets to kiss you last that counts.”

Josie flushed, and anger slowly seeped into her. “So, let me get this straight. You’re both pursuing me?” At their nods, her lips tightened. “Well, it’s nice to know I’m nothing but a game between you guys.”

“It’s not like that,” said Clint, holding out his hands, trying to look conciliatory.

“I think you both need to leave,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“But—” Brandon tried to speak, but she glared at him, and to her amazement, he folded under her stare.

She fought not to give in to the two ravishing men with matching puppy dog faces, a battle because they were so damned cute. After they had left, the murmur of their arguing voices came through the closed door.

Josie sighed and flopped onto her couch. “Great. I went from two men to no men. Now what are we going to do today?” Snickers, who’d hopped up beside her, just meowed.

With nothing else to do, Josie did laundry.
What a letdown.
Her building thankfully had a washer and dryer in the basement area, so, armed with a book and quarters, she lost herself in the world of romance as her clothes tumbled around in the machines. It was midafternoon when she finally emerged with her last load. She lugged it up the stairs to her apartment and balanced it on her hip as she unclipped her keys from her belt loop. A piece of paper fluttered in the jamb, and she let it fall to the floor when she opened the door. Only after she’d set her laundry down and closed the door did she pick up the hand-scrawled missive. In seconds, she was on the phone calling Clint with hands that shook.