Bound to Shadows (Riley Jenson Guardian #8)

"So, you're admitting you like sex, and yet you refuse to have it with me. I find that most disappointing."

"I'm working. And did I mention my hot date?"

He smiled. It was lazy, insolent and oh-so sexy. "I simply thought I could get you primed and ready."

I was primed and ready to go right now, and if I didn't do something to distract this man - or whatever the hell he actually was - I was going to be exactly where he wanted me to be. In his arms and naked.

But there was only one thing more I could think to question him about, and if he was our flesh shifter, it would warn him we were onto him.

And yet, better he be warned than me having sex with him. That was my only other option right now.

I exchanged my drink for my purse and pulled out the picture Kye had given me. "I don't suppose you know this man, then?"

He reached for the printout, his fingers briefly caressing my wrist before sliding down to grasp the piece of paper. A tremor ran through me and I took a large slug of champagne. If Kade didn't hurry his ass, I was never going to get through this.

Either I was getting depressingly staid in my old age, or he just felt too dangerous for my wolf to handle.

Or maybe I'd just finally realized that the real joy in sex was not just the motion and the pleasure, but the emotions that clicked in when you became involved with that one special person.

Of course, I had two special people to contend with, but that was just fate being a bitch.

"I think I have seen him around a couple of times," Starke mused, looking at the printout.

"And can you tell me anything about him?"

"Perhaps." Amusement twitched his lips. "But I can't possibly say anything without getting something in return."

"I am not going to get naked and sweaty with you." I took another drink, and realized I'd somehow finished the glass. "I already have a plan to do that with someone else."

A full blown grin erupted. It was stunning. "All I ask is for you to undo two buttons."

"Two buttons?"

"Yes." He picked up the champagne and refilled my glass, his knees pressing briefly and sensually against mine. "Just two little buttons."

I pretended to consider the request, then swiftly undid the buttons. The flimsy shirt fell further open, revealing the dark pink edges of areola.

"Lovely," he all but purred. "Simply lovely."

"The information, Starke," I said dryly.

"Of course." He filled his own glass then added, "He's not a regular here, but I have seen him on a few occasions."

I raised an eyebrow. "Why would you notice him when you didn't notice someone like Murphy?"

"Because this man didn't come here to feed or be fed on. He had several drinks at the bar and walked out again. That we notice."

"When was the last time he was here?" I took another sip of Bollinger and a nice little buzz began to fill my head. Champagne - and most other alcohol - didn't really affect wolves to the extent that it did humans, thanks to our higher metabolic rate, but it did provide a happy little high before said metabolism kicked in.

Starke said, "I believe it was last night. He stayed an hour, then left again."

I studied him, unable to tell whether he was speaking the truth or playing a dangerous game. Either one was a possibility, given the amusement in his eyes.

"Riley," Jack said into my ear, his voice fading in and out, as if there was some sort of interference. "We need you back at the office immediate - ."

The rest of his sentence was cut off, but it didn't matter because I got the gist of it. Relief slithered through me. Never before had I been so happy about being called back to the Directorate.

I finished my drink in several unladylike gulps, then grabbed my bag and rose. "I'm afraid I've just been called back to the office, so the rest of my questions will have to wait."

"What, so no hot date either?" He pushed gracefully to his feet, moving altogether too close. "It seems a shame to waste such a hot outfit."

"I've learned to live with disappointment." I gave him an insolent grin. "You should, too."

"Oh, I try not to." He caught my hand and raised it to his lips, kissing it gently. "And I don't believe you should, either."

And with that, he hit me.

Not physically, not mentally, but with the full force of his aura or mojo or whatever the hell it was.

My reaction was instinctual. I threw up my own aura, trying to use it as a shield as I had in the past. But I might as well have been using a tissue to block out the force of a gale.

And that gale was instant, burning need.

It was deep and violent and it ached. Literally ached.

He smiled and his grip on his hand tightened, forcing me backwards. Not to the chaise lounge but to the desk. I fought it, I really did, but the need was all-encompassing.

My body shook with futile anger and the ever-increasing tide of lust, but at least my thoughts - while a little scrambled - were my own. I mightn't be strong enough to fight him - and who would have thought a werewolf would ever be saying that? - but at least I wasn't a complete automaton.

Not that that made the situation any better.

My butt hit the table and his grip on my hand forced me to slide up on top of it. His free hand traced the line of my cheek, his fingers so heated against my skin it felt like a burn.

"So lovely," he murmured, his gaze following the journey of his fingers. Down my neck, past my shoulder blade, and onto the soft swell of breast. One fingertip gently grazed a nipple and I couldn't fight the arching my back - an age-old invitation for more. Part of me might be screaming in frustration and fury, but that part was a flea fighting against the might of a storm right now.

He chuckled softly and his touch moved down. One shirt button came undone, then another, until the front of the shirt was completely open.

His fingers continued their downward journey and my skin twitched and burned, pleasure and pain mingling into one. He ran his hands down my thighs, then grabbed the end of the skirt, ripping upwards, so that the split tore all the way to my crotch.

"Much better," he said, rubbing his thumbs down the inside of my thighs before gently pushing them apart. God, I was wet, so wet with the need for him that when he stepped in between my legs, I moaned. And hated the fact that I did.

"I have longed to do this in the flesh," he murmured, thereby confirming he had visited me in my dreams, and therefore was our wraith. His fingers slid back up my thighs. "Have longed wished to know what it is really like to be inside you, heated flesh in heated flesh."

I didn't say anything. Couldn't say anything, caught between expectation and ecstasy. He touched brushed lightly over the lace of my panties, then lifted my butt with one hand and pulled them down my legs. He tossed them aside then reached up and did the same to the shirt, so that I was all but naked.

Then his caress thrust deep inside of me, making me shiver and moan.

"So wet," he said, almost in awe. "I ache with anticipation."

He wasn't the only one. The brain might not want this, but the body was a slave to his mental juju and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

He stepped back and began to strip. His body was as glorious as I'd imagined, all sculptured golden flesh topped by a thick, engorged cock that seemed to grow even larger before my eyes.

And I both ached for and was repelled by it. Or maybe I was just repelled by the sheer fact that this was all being forced on me.

Then he stepped back between my legs, his hands grabbing my butt and holding me steady as that gloriously engorged piece of flesh slid deep inside of me.

A deep sound of pleasure rumbled from his throat, then he began to move, slowly at first but gradually getting faster, harder, until our coupling was a wild mesh of fury, lust and unbridled pleasure. Heated flesh slapped against heated flesh, bringing me to fulfillment, again and again, even though he himself never reached that peak.

The more it went on and on, the more I was being drained.

I had no doubt he'd suck me dry so completely he'd kill me if I didn't find a way to stop him. Because even if he didn't think we suspected him, he knew we were close to one of his identities, thanks to my line of questioning earlier.

Then I remembered the knife at my back.

It was still there, still pressing into my spine. Either Starke had forgotten about it, or he didn't believe it was a real threat.

Bad mistake.

But his aura was still surrounding me and I wasn't entirely sure I could summon the strength to fight it long enough to even move my hand...

Then, like sunshine breaking through a storm, the strength was there. It wasn't mine, but I grabbed it nonetheless, thrusting a hand backwards, wrapping my fingers around the hilt, drawing it free.

Starke didn't notice the movement. He was too busy sucking me dry.

I shifted slightly. Then, as the realization that I was no longer under the influence of his aura hit him, I plunged the knife into his back.

Blue fire exploded from the blade and spread out like little bolts of lightning across his skin. Starke screamed and arched backwards, his skin bubbling and boiling and shifting - becoming something less golden and a whole lot less real.

Then the office door crashed back on its hinges and Kye stood there, a wild mix of lust and anger in his eyes, and a large silver gun in his hands.

He fired before I could move, and Starke's head exploded into a rain of flesh and bone and god knows what else.

As Starke's body fell to the floor, Kye's gaze met mine. His breathing was harsh - as harsh as mine still was - and he smelled of sex and lust and hunger.

He'd been the source of that rush of strength, I realized. The link between us had grown strong enough that I'd been able to call on his reserves to bolster my own.

It had also been strong enough that he'd known exactly what was being done to me, and who was doing it.

Strong enough for him to feel every sensation and desire right along with me.

"Kye, now is not - " I said.

"There is no better time," he cut in ruthlessly. "No one takes what is mine. No one."

I'll never be yours, I wanted to say, but the words died in my throat as the force of his need hit.

That need was as much about control as it was desire.

He kicked the door shut and strode over to me. Then his fingers were tangling themselves in my hair and his lips crushed mine, kissing me savagely as my hands found their way to the waist of his jeans, undoing the button and zip before thrusting them down his hips.

Then he was in me, claiming me, and it felt glorious. Because this was real and solid, a meeting of flesh and soul - even if the man now claiming me was as unwanted as Starke had been.

He fucked me more fully and more savagely than Starke had, and it felt so damn right tears stung my eyes. I came seconds before him, my body shuddering and twisting as his body spasmed and the hot flush of his seed flooded into me.

Then there was nothing but utter exhaustion.

He rested his forehead against mine, his fingers still locked in my hair and his harsh breathing searing my lips. Slowly, surely, my breath and my thoughts steadied, and I found the strength to ask, "Why aren't Starke's men battering down the door after that gunshot?"

He finally released his grip on my hair, sliding them down to my hips instead, holding me firmly against him. The wolf wasn't finished with me yet, apparently. But then, I'd learned last night he had an amazing recovery rate and a huge sexual appetite. And while I might not want him in my life, he was still my soul mate, and I couldn't deny just how good it felt to be locked against him like this.

"Because I told them the Directorate was on the way, and if they valued their lives, they'd get the hell out of here."

I raised an eyebrow. "And they believed you?"

"Why wouldn't they?" He began to rock gently, his body continuing to harden inside of mine. Part of me wanted to slap him away, and part of me wanted to use every inch of him to erase every second of my time with Starke. "You were already here and, for all they knew, it could have been the first part of a plan."

It made sense, and yet...

I don't what it was, but something niggled. Intuition didn't believe him, and I couldn't ignore it.

"But that makes no sense." I paused, my breath catching in my throat, as his cock - once again hard - slid so very deep inside, sending a wave of pleasure rolling across my body. I licked my lips, and somehow said, "As far as they're concerned, you could be just another crackpot trying to cause mischief."

"They thought I was an angry husband." His words were distracted. "I had to use some excuse to get upstairs and plant the bugs."

Again, that was plausible, and yet my antenna twitched. "Why would Starke let you up there and yet meet me downstairs?"

"He didn't. I bribed the barman and several security guards to give me five minutes."

My mind was having a hard time concentrating against the delicious assault on my body. And yet I couldn't quite let the questions go. That would be giving in totally to the needs of my body and I'd done enough of that for one day.

"You shouldn't have killed Starke. We needed to question him about his partner - "

The words died as his lips crushed mine, ending all attempts on my part to continue the conversation.

I conceded defeat and closed my eyes, enjoying his caresses and kisses, until the slow burn of desire exploded and we came once again.

He kissed me a final time, soft and lingering, then said, "He needed to die for what he was doing."

"Kye, he was only fucking me. In the larger scheme of things, that really didn't matter."