The Shark Who Rode a Seahorse (2 page)

Skylar felt like he’d been slapped. “Oh… O–Okay,” he managed to stammer. “I’ll… I’ll just go.”

The bitter taste of humiliation in his mouth was only surpassed by the pain in his heart. He didn’t know why he even felt this. He’d never had any type of relationship with Byron, beyond that of distant acquaintance. The attraction he experienced was clearly one-sided.

Skylar should have given up on it by now.

It was just that, a few months back, when he’d met Byron, he’d actually thought the shark might be interested him. Their gazes had locked when Byron had intervened to save Skylar and his friends from Heathcliff Cunningham, Byron’s own brother. Then again, at the
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time, Skylar had been severely injured, so it must have just been his impression.

Murmuring a good-bye, he made a hasty retreat. For a few moments, he considered returning to Carson’s side, but the lamb was far too perceptive. He would realize something was wrong. Instead, he headed toward the first exit he could find and fled the room.

His vision blurred with tears as he ran, and he angrily struggled to push them back. Since he didn’t pay much attention to where he was going, only his smaller size kept him from running into the various people moving to and fro in every direction. Several seemed intent on addressing him, so Skylar sought solace at the upper level of the house. He found an empty balcony and closed the French doors behind him. Once alone, he plopped down on the cool floor and leaned against the wall.

It was quite cold outside, the winter chill already encroaching on the world. As a tropical seahorse, he didn’t care much for such weather, but he couldn’t be bothered to move. He just wanted to lay there and sleep until he forgot about Byron’s words. Maybe the chill would drive the hurt away.

Unfortunately, his solitude was interrupted when the French doors opened. A man walked in and peered around. He grinned when he saw Skylar. “Hello, gorgeous,” he said. “What are you doing here all by your lonesome?”

Skylar identified the guy as the wolf who’d caused the earlier conflict with the ram. Great, just great. This was the last thing he needed. He ignored the werewolf, hoping the other man would get the hint and just go. Distantly, he wondered where Garth had gone and why the lynx left this troublemaker on his own.

“Oh, now don’t be like that,” the werewolf said. “I’m Rick.

What’s your name?”

When Skylar didn’t answer, Rick came closer and peered at him.

“Wait, I know you. You’re the seahorse, the event organizer, right?

Skylar something.”

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Skylar wrinkled his nose as the smell of alcohol hit his nostrils.

Werewolves and all shifters in general needed to drink great quantities of alcohol to get intoxicated, but Rick seemed to have succeeded. “Leave me alone,” Skylar mumbled.

Rick plopped down next to him. “Come on. “ He pushed his body closer to Skylar’s. His warmth should have felt comforting in the night cold, but it didn’t. It just made Skylar sick to his stomach.

“Don’t play hard to get. We can have a little fun,” he whispered in Skylar’s ear.

Skylar shot up, resigned to the fact that he wouldn’t be able to stay here. Without a word, he headed back toward the doors, but he didn’t get the chance to leave the balcony. The werewolf grabbed his arm in an ironlike vise and pulled him close. “You’re not going anywhere.” Rick snarled. “I’ve heard all about seahorses. They spread their legs for whoever comes knocking. Tonight, you’ll do it for me.”

That might have been true for other types of seahorses, but not for Skylar’s. And even if Skylar had been inclined to take a new lover every night, he most definitely wouldn’t choose Rick.

Skylar struggled to release himself from Rick’s grip, but the wolf was shockingly strong. “Let me go,” he shouted. “I don’t want to sleep with you.”

“Of course you do,” Rick replied, unfazed. He pinned Skylar against the wall, holding his hands immobilized with one big fist. His other hand traveled beneath Skylar’s shirt in a lecherous, nauseating caress. “You just need a little convincing.”

Skylar had been convinced, more than convinced that he needed to get out of there. He lifted his knee and applied the hardest hit he could muster to Rick’s testicles. The wolf howled and released Skylar’s hands for the benefit of cupping his abused family jewels.

Skylar took advantage of the distraction to slip out of Rick’s grip.

But the werewolf recovered far easier than Skylar expected. “You little fuck.” Rick’s voice turned into an animalistic growl. “I’ll tear your ass apart.”

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Skylar couldn’t help a scream as Rick’s big body crashed against his back and sent him falling to the floor. He collapsed with the werewolf on top of him, dizzy and terrified. Before he knew it, Rick had torn off his pants and underwear. Oh, God, he was going to be raped. He would lose his virginity to an intoxicated werewolf who didn’t know the meaning of the word “no.”

As much as he struggled, he simply couldn’t release himself from the grip of a much stronger and bigger man. He would have tried to cry out for help again. However, Rick forced his mouth open with a roughness that drew blood and stuck a piece of cloth between his lips—most likely his own underwear.

“You dirty slut.” Rick chuckled in his ear. “I’ll pound you so hard you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

Tears now streamed liberally down Skylar’s cheeks.
Please, help!

Somebody help! Byron… Byron…

* * * *

Byron cursed himself as he downed another drink. He’d been far too brusque with Skylar, he knew that. But the seahorse’s words had awoken far too sinful visions in his mind. If Skylar hadn’t left, Byron would have dragged him off to the first available room and fucked him within an inch of his life.

Byron didn’t fool himself. He knew he was scary, and he used this attribute unashamedly within the course of his work. However, his size and bulk made it considerably difficult to find romantic partners.

Even shifters freaked out when they saw Byron’s genitals.

It was just the way things were, and Byron had stopped bothering with attempts to find longtime lovers. These days, he just paid for company, high prices that would ensure the people in question kept their mouths shut. They never returned, in spite of the more than generous pay, but there were plenty of fish in the sea to sate Byron’s occasional need for sex.

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However, all that changed when he’d met Skylar Pierce. The seahorse set every nerve in his body aflame. He wanted to claim Skylar as his own. He wanted to tie him down, spank his ass ruby-red, and then fuck his tight little hole. He might have done it, except in an unexpected development, he didn’t want to hurt Skylar. He didn’t want to see Skylar’s green eyes widen in terror. At least, this way, he could protect Skylar from afar.

But tonight, he’d fucked up. Abandoning his glass on the table, he left the ballroom. He would find the seahorse and apologize. Perhaps they couldn’t have any romantic relationship, but that didn’t mean they should be enemies. Byron hurt inside whenever he thought about the mere possibility. A part of him, something he’d never really acknowledged, hated the idea of Skylar despising him.

He didn’t have any trouble in following his mate’s trail. In general, sharks had a great sense of smell, and Byron more so than normal members of his species. He tracked Skylar to the upper level of the house, already thinking of scenarios as to how their conversation would go. Should he simply apologize and leave? No, that wouldn’t work. Should he find an excuse? How much should he tell Skylar?

This dilemma disappeared from his mind when the distinct smell of blood and terror hit his nostrils. It polluted Skylar’s delicious aroma. And there was someone else there, a wolf, trying to hurt the seahorse.

Cold anger and the desire to kill filled Byron. In instants, he reached the balcony he identified as the source of the scent. Indeed, inside he could see a big man on top of Skylar, pinning him to the floor and moments away from penetrating the seahorse’s ass.

Without even bothering to open the door, he burst through it, ignoring the sharp sting of the glass against his skin. Before the bastard could even figure out what was going on, Byron pulled him off Skylar and threw him against the wall.

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He was so furious he wanted to tear the wolf to pieces. He’d done so before, when his own people had endangered Skylar’s life. He wanted this man to suffer, to scream as Byron broke every bone in his body and tore each piece of skin off, cut his dick out, and made him eat it.

The wolf froze, obviously acknowledging his predicament. “I…”

That one word would have triggered an outburst of Byron’s temper had Skylar not released a small whimper-pop. The urgency to check on the seahorse took precedence over the desire for revenge.

Byron knelt next to Skylar, cursing himself when the sight of Skylar’s nude ass awoke the beast inside him. This was not the time for lusting. Skylar needed help.

The seahorse turned toward him and Byron removed the gag in Skylar’s mouth. Their eyes met briefly, and then Skylar lunged toward Byron and buried his face in Byron’s shirt. The seahorse’s body shook, not because of crying, but rather because of the fear still keeping hold of him.

Byron had never been good at granting comfort, but with Skylar, it somehow came naturally. He held Skylar tight, murmuring slight noises of comfort. Slowly, Skylar began to calm down, as if Byron’s presence did indeed work.

“Thanks,” Skylar mumbled in a slightly hoarse voice. “Thank you, Byron.”

The sound of his name on Skylar’s lips made Byron want to drag Skylar away and claim him. He might have done so if the wolf hadn’t chosen that exact moment to try to make his escape. Byron’s gaze shot to Skylar’s attacker. “Don’t even think about it.”

He must not have been very convincing, or perhaps he was too convincing, because the wolf dashed toward the shattered doors. As gently as he could, Byron released Skylar and shot after the fleeing man. Even if terror gave the werewolf speed, it was nothing compared to Byron’s. In moments, he caught up to his nemesis and grabbed the other shifter’s shoulder, squeezing without remorse. He actually heard
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the bones break, and the wolf howled as he tried to scramble away from the certain death he’d encounter at Byron’s hands.

Byron pinned the man to the wall, wondering how long he should prolong the torture. He hadn’t yet taken a decision when he felt Skylar move behind him. Skylar’s hand gently touched his shoulder.

“Don’t,” Skylar whispered. “He’s just drunk. Let’s just go… Please.”

Still keeping hold of the wolf, Byron turned toward Skylar. “He tried to rape you,” he shouted with far more violence than he’d have liked. “He’d have succeeded if I’d arrived a moment later.”

Skylar winced, and Byron wanted to kick himself for his foolishness. “I know,” Skylar said, “and I’m very thankful. I just…

Let’s not ruin everything Elder Wade worked so hard for. Rick’s not worth it.”

Byron couldn’t care less about the elder wolf’s sensibilities, but he found himself unable to resist the seahorse’s plea. He’d killed in front of Skylar once, but this time, he needed to keep his beast in check, to respect the younger man’s wishes. The most important thing was Skylar.

But what to do with the wolf? Byron couldn’t allow Skylar’s attacker to go unpunished. A solution seemed to appear when the racket they’d made at last drew the attention of the guards on location.

Several soldiers appeared, taking in the scene with suspicious eyes.

“Rick, what’s going on?” one of them asked.

“Oh, thank God,” the wolf in Byron’s grip said. “You’ve gotta help me. This guy’s gone mad.”

To Byron’s anger and shock, the werewolves actually looked suspicious of him. He supposed he should have expected it, but in his state of mind, it was the last thing he needed.

He didn’t know what he’d have done had Soren not appeared, followed by Garth. Both Soren and Brody had taken great pains to ensure the security of their father’s party, and Garth also put a lot of effort into it, but apparently, nothing could be perfect.

“What’s going on here?” Soren asked.

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One of the werewolves began to speak. “Alpha, it seems that—”

Byron didn’t give him a chance to finish. “This piece of trash,” he said while shaking Rick, “attacked Skylar.”

He saw Garth and Soren’s expressions darken as they looked toward Skylar. The seahorse was still hiding behind Byron, obviously embarrassed and still very frightened.

Byron pushed Rick toward Soren before he could yield to his own impulses and break the wolf’s neck. He took off his jacket and wrapped it around Skylar’s shoulders. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “We can go now.”

Skylar gave him such a grateful, trusting look that Byron nearly keeled over right then and there. He took the beautiful seahorse in his arms and fought to keep his composure when Skylar cuddled closer to him.

As he turned toward the group of watching men, he told Soren,

“Keep him away from me if you want him alive.”

Wisely, no one commented and they moved aside to let him pass.

Ignoring them, Byron began walking and headed toward Skylar’s room. Of course, he very well knew where the seahorse was staying.

Hell, his need for Skylar had taken him to almost stalker-ish extremes.

He’d even moved his own home to be closer to Skylar, back in LA.

They reached Skylar’s appointed bedroom, and Byron was presented with a new problem. He wanted to stay with the seahorse and protect him, but he didn’t know if he could keep his need for Skylar in check. He couldn’t be sure what would happen if he entered that room. His beast was already anxious after not having been freed to swim for quite a while, and the restraint he’d needed to exhibit to keep himself from killing Rick already tested the boundaries of his control.