A Werewolf in Manhattan (30 page)

She settled back into the seat. “Is that a personal preference or a werewolf trait?”

“Both, but the need seems to be stronger in me than most Weres. Roarke, for instance, drives a sports car and loves the cockpit of this plane. I’d hate both things. His tolerance for small spaces is obviously greater than mine.”

“In other words, no two werewolves are created alike,” she said with a smile.

“No.” That smile of hers could be his undoing. Now that he’d kissed her so thoroughly and often, her smile made him want to do it again.

If he could kiss her now, he wouldn’t mind the dreaded takeoff so much. But they both needed to be belted in, and besides, kissing her would only begin a process he couldn’t finish, which might initiate a shift. He wasn’t about to give Roarke the satisfaction of witnessing an embarrassing episode like that.

So he’d white-knuckle the takeoff. As the plane taxied down the runway and the familiar panic clawed at his insides, he closed his eyes and gripped the armrests.

Then her scent enveloped him, and his eyes snapped open. She’d settled on his lap. “Emma, you should be—”

“Right here. You hate the takeoff, and I can help. There’s no bossy flight attendant to make me buckle up, so why not?”

He wrapped both arms around her because he couldn’t help himself. “I’ll tell you why not.” He gazed at her. “You sitting on my lap is a disaster waiting to happen.”

“I think we have more control than that.”

“I’m not sure. I’d no sooner demonstrated to you how the seats fold flat than I pictured you naked on one.”

Her lips curved in a saucy smile. “So, I have totally corrupted you.”

“’Fraid so.” He couldn’t resist that mouth, so he cupped her head and pulled her lips down to meet his.
Ah.
Kissing was one of the things he loved most about his human form. The missionary position was another. Call him sentimental, but he liked looking into his partner’s eyes during sex. He specifically liked looking into Emma’s eyes.

Kissing her sucked the panic right out of him and replaced it with good old-fashioned desire. His fear of flying had disappeared, but now he had another problem. The backs of his hands were starting to itch, and his tailbone ached. This was not good at thirty thousand feet.

He’d never shifted midair, and he wasn’t about to now. But how he’d avoid doing so was somewhat of a challenge. If Emma had worn a skirt instead of slacks, they might have quietly accomplished the deed, but he didn’t relish having either of them take off articles of clothing with Roarke and the pilot not far away.

Emma lifted her mouth from his. “I can feel your teeth growing.”

“That would be a sign that we have a slight problem.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Emma, I’m not sure—”

“Is anybody ever sure of anything?” Climbing out of his lap, she crawled under the Lucite table. “That’s the nature of life, isn’t it? Uncertainty.”

“I’m certain this is a really bad idea.” He knew exactly what she had in mind, and while he was wildly excited at the prospect, he could think of a thousand ways it could backfire.

“It’s a great idea. You’re facing the cockpit, so you can warn me if anyone shows up, but we’re still climbing, so there’s no chance either of those guys will wander back until we reach altitude.”

“You must have flown a lot if you know these things.”

“I have, but never in a Learjet. And never while giving someone a blowjob.” She unzipped his slacks.

His heart hammered against his ribs. “I should tell you to stop.”

“If I stop, you grow fur. Am I right?”

“Yes, damn it.”

“Then relax and leave the driving to me.” She freed his penis and drew it into her mouth.

His eyes rolled back in his head. The vibration of the plane combined with her attention to his cock produced a surreal buzz of excitement that traveled from his toes to the roots of his hair. On the plus side, the backs of his hands didn’t itch anymore. On the other plus side, he’d found a way to enjoy the experience of flight.

Contrary to her seductively lazy method the previous night, she got right down to business. He understood. She had limited time before the plane leveled off and someone, either the pilot or Roarke, might wander back to the cabin for a chat.

Between the novelty of the experience and Emma’s dedication to her task, Aidan knew he wouldn’t last long anyway. Then he realized that the Lucite table allowed him to view exactly what was going on, and the visual of Emma with her sweet mouth working his dick put him over the top. Somehow he clenched his jaw tight enough to muffle his groan of pleasure when he came.

His acute hearing picked up the sound of her soft swallow. If he hadn’t pledged his honor and his life to her before, he would have done it then as she carefully adjusted his briefs and closed his zipper. As it was, he could pledge only his undying gratitude.

The woman had heart and spirit. His werewolf soul rejoiced in that. In the natural order of things, Emma would mate with her own kind and Aidan would do the same. But his entire being rebelled at the thought.

Easing out from under the table, she stood and balanced in the aisle as the plane swooped upward.

“Emma, that was ...”

“Yeah.” She grinned. “Wasn’t it?”

He took in her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. “Did you come?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact. One of those spontaneous things because I was so excited for you.” She stretched. “I’m not
nearly
as tense and worried about meeting your parents.” She returned to her seat and buckled herself in.

“Don’t worry about my parents.” He was worried enough for both of them.

“You could help by telling me something about them. I’ve heard a little about your dad, but I know nothing about your mom. What’s she like?”

“Fierce.” Her look of dismay had him scrambling to modify that word. “I mean fiercely protective.” No, that wasn’t any better. “She’s very loving,” he said at last, hoping that would help.

“I’m sure she is”—Emma looked pale, but she met his gaze—“to those she cares about.”

Aidan wanted his mother to care about Emma, but that might be a tall order. Emma held the key to their destruction, and in addition to that, she was a human. She’d also been the catalyst that had ended any hope that he’d marry Nadia. He wondered whether that news had filtered over to the Wallace camp yet.

“Let’s back up,” Emma said. “I’m a visual person, and I need a mental picture. Tell me your mom’s name and what she looks like.”

“Her name’s Fiona, and she has dark hair that’s short and curly. In human form she’s five-seven, and I think she looks fine, but she’s always complaining that she needs to lose ten pounds.”

“Do werewolves go gray?”

“Sometimes, when we’re very old. My mom’s forty-seven, and she doesn’t have a single gray hair.”

Emma sighed. “So much to learn. I had my werewolves going gray like people do, but that’s wrong.”

“Maybe it’s better if your books have a few mistakes in them.” Aidan’s mind leaped ahead. Limited freedom for Emma would mean she could keep publishing, but the Were community might think of her as a time bomb ready to go off at any moment. If her books were less accurate, that might help alleviate the concern.

“But if I know how the world actually functions, I’ll want to write it that way.”

Aidan blew out a breath. “One of your conditions was continuing with your writing career, right?”

“Absolutely. If the werewolf community wants to muzzle me, you might as well put a gun to my head and pull the trigger.”

“What’s your definition of muzzling?”

“Just what you’d think. Preventing me from writing, obviously, but censoring what I write would be almost as bad.”

Aidan’s head began to ache. If he could convince his parents to allow Emma to continue her career, he could almost guarantee that his father would demand to read every word she wrote before she sent it to her publisher.

“You think your parents are going to want censorship privileges, don’t you?”

Leaning both forearms on the table, he met her gaze. “Yes.”

“Haven’t they ever heard of the First Amendment?”

“They answer to a law older than the Bill of Rights, Emma. That document was created for humans. You’re not dealing with humans.”

“I understand that, but if you think I’m going to be intimidated into giving up my right to free expression, you’ve misjudged me, Aidan.”

He didn’t think for a minute he’d misjudged her. He’d always known she was an independent, headstrong woman. Despite being alone in the midst of an alien population, she planned to stick up for herself and her Constitutional rights, even if no one around her gave a flip for those things. He didn’t look forward to mediating the coming confrontation between Emma Gavin and his parents.

Chapter 24

Emma talked a good game, but maintaining a courageous front became increasingly difficult after the Learjet landed and an imposing black SUV picked them up for the trip to the Wallace estate.

She recognized Ralph, Aidan’s driver, who greeted her with a reserved smile. He must have known she was now considered a bona fide security risk, to be handled with care. Roarke took the front passenger seat while Aidan and Emma took the back.

Once Emma’s orange suitcase and laptop were stowed and they were on the highway headed north, she had the uneasy feeling this could be the road of no return. Aidan had promised her that wouldn’t be the case, but she still suffered an attack of nerves.

Gathering research was the only antidote she could think of, so she tapped the window next to her. “Is this bulletproof?”

Aidan’s eyebrows lifted. “Why? Are you worried about getting shot?”

“No. I’ve never been in a bulletproof car before, and if any vehicle ever looked like it should be bulletproof, this thing does. So I’m asking. For research.”

“Yes, it’s bulletproof,” Aidan said. “It’s a precaution many wealthy people take, not because we expect to be shot, but to foil kidnappers.”

“Oh.” Emma thought about that for a while. “I pity the unsuspecting kidnapper who snatched one of you guys. Panic City.”

“It’s really more for the kids.”

“Right. Because they can’t shift.” She leaned forward. “Ralph, are you trained in defensive driving?”

“Yes.” Ralph glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “All the drivers are.”

“Wow. I’d love to see you in action.”

“When we get on the two-lane, I could show you some moves.”

“Or not.” Roarke sent the driver a quelling glance.

Ralph shrugged. “Or not.”

Roarke turned in his seat and glanced back at Emma. “Here’s a tip for when you meet the ’rents, Emma. You might want to put a lid on the curious questions.”

“But—”

“Roarke has a point,” Aidan said. “The goal is to calm their fears that you’re going to run out and tell everything you know to the
Enquirer.
”

Along with her nerves, Emma’s patience was being stretched. “That would be the act of a terminally stupid person. The humans would accuse me of either being crazy or on drugs, and the Weres would be howling for my blood. Why would I want to risk bringing all that down on myself?”

“That sounds like a logical argument,” Roarke said, “but if you’d somehow collected evidence, you might convince somebody to listen, and the rodeo would begin. Which reminds me. Aidan, do you have her BlackBerry?”

Emma clutched her purse to her chest. “No, he doesn’t, and he’s not getting it.” That cell phone was her emergency weapon, a way to contact the outside world and arrange for her escape if the Wallaces tried to keep her at the estate.

Roarke glanced at his brother. “She’s gotta give it up.”

“I know.” Aidan sighed and turned to Emma. “I can’t let you onto the estate with your phone in your purse. You have to understand that no human has ever been there before, and—”

“
Never?
Cool beans! I’m like a pioneer! I’m like the first astronaut to set foot on the moon!” She gazed at Aidan. “But you can’t have my phone.”

Roarke cleared his throat. “Bro, you have to take the phone away from her. That’s the first thing Dad will ask about.”

“Yeah. Ralph, pull over.”

Emma gasped as Ralph hit the accelerator, cut across two lanes of traffic doing at least ninety, and swerved to a stop on the shoulder of the highway.
Defensive-driving demonstration: check.

Aidan unsnapped his seat belt. “We’re getting out, Emma.”

“Out? Why?” She had a sudden vision of being frog-marched through the snow into a stand of leafless trees and shot through the head. But Aidan wouldn’t do that. Surely not, and if he would, then she sincerely regretted giving him oral sex on the plane.

“We need to have a talk.”

“Is that code for using physical force to get my phone? Because that’s the only way you’ll get it, wolf boy.”

From the front seat, Roarke groaned. “Good luck, brother of mine.”

“Thanks.” Aidan glanced at Emma. “Are you coming?”

“What if I don’t want to?”

His hand closed over her arm and his golden eyes grew intense. “Get out of the car, Emma.” He paused, as if the next word cost him a great deal. “Please.”

He was scaring her a little. “Okay, but only because you used the P-word.” She unfastened her seat belt.

“I have a P-word for you, bro,” Roarke muttered. “Puss—”

“Zip it, Roarke.” Aidan kept his grip on Emma’s arm as she scooted across the seat. Before she could step out, he put both hands around her waist and lifted her over a drift left by a snowplow. She dangled in the air for a moment before he set her down on a small spot of dry asphalt. “Stay there.”

She had no inclination to move. Snow and ice surrounded her. Eighteen-wheelers roared past on the highway, and on her other side, the shoulder of the road sloped down to a gully of rocks and more snow. The trees beyond, where Aidan would have to take her if he intended to do away with her and leave her body, were a good twenty yards from where she stood.