Beast Behaving Badly (20 page)

“Wouldn't think of it.”

She rested her head against his bicep, and Bo couldn't help but smile a little. She felt wonderful against him.

“Are you sure you're okay?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“You're not lying to me?”

“I'm not good at lying.”

“I know. That watch did not cost fifty bucks. More like a grand, right?”

“Uh—”

“It's okay. I'll let you off the hook because it saved our lives, right?”

“You have no idea.”

“I do.” She looked up at him. “Thank you.”

“Stop. You're going to make me all weepy-eyed.”

She laughed a little. “Yeah. Right.”

Blayne brought her right arm out from under the blanket, and Bo cringed when he saw that at least three of her fingers were badly broken. Her forefinger and ring finger twisted over the middle.

Bo reached for her hand, wondering why Dr. Luntz hadn't fixed this when Blayne was still unconscious, when Blayne grunted and the three fingers gave a loud triple
“Snap!”
And like that, Blayne's fingers were back in place. She made a fist, then stretched out her fingers, and sighed. “I thought those would never pop back.”

“Pop back?” Christ, was that what happened to all those broken bones he'd seen last night?

“Yeah. You know.”

Not really, but maybe it was best not to ask. As a fellow hybrid, he knew they each had all sorts of good and bad that came with their mixed bloodlines, and to be honest, he was grateful that whatever mix Blayne had, had managed to keep his little wolfdog alive.

“Do you mind if I lay down until she comes back?” she asked. “I'm still sleepy.”

“Yeah,” he admitted, “me, too.”

“Then lay down with me.” Blayne gave him a smile he was shockingly grateful to see. She quickly got under the covers of her bear-size hospital bed and pulled the other side back for Bo to get in there with her.

“Uh . . . Blayne, I'm sorta naked here.”

“So am I. I won't tell if you won't.” Her smile grew, and he knew she was easing out of her fever. “Come on.”

Not sure it was the right thing to do but wanting to do it so badly, Bo got under the covers. Blayne turned on her side away from him and then commanded, “Spoon me!”

“Woman, I'm naked!” he said desperately.

“Don't whine, don't call me ‘woman,' and just spoon.”

Positive this was not the right thing to do but with little choice, Bo moved in behind Blayne. He did, however, try to keep his lower half as far away as possible. Not very effective though when Blayne moved back until her ass pressed against his groin.

“Perfect,” she sighed. Then she laughed. “God, Bo. Your cock is huge.”

“You're trying to hurt me, aren't you?”

“Nah. I like you too much for that.”

Yeah, but did she like him enough? Of course, by the time he worked up the courage to ask she was asleep.

 

 

Marci looked up from her plate of honey buns. “What?”

Grigori sat down across from her at one of the cafeteria's booths. “I thought you were bringing them food.”

“By now they're out cold. I'll feed them when they wake up again.”

“She's a cute little thing, isn't she?”

“Uh-huh.” Marci knew where this was going.

“But a wolfdog?”

Typical. Wolfdogs had the worst reputation among the hybrids, but Marci had never thought that was fair. “Seems to me she has more to worry about. Did you see that mane on him when he was looking for her? It grew in sudden, ya know? It wasn't there when we brought him in.” She ate a bit of honey bun before asking, “How is Fabi, by the way?”

“I sent his dumb ass home.”

“That boy is dumb, Grigori.”

“Just like his father.”

“Speaking of which—”

“No. He's not coming to visit.”

“Dumb. All of 'em.”

“Thank you.”

“You and Bold don't count.”

Grigori stared at her plate. “You going to eat all those honey buns?”

“You don't even like honey.”

“We both know I'll eat anything if it's sweet and tasty.” Then he grinned, and Marci seriously considered throwing the whole plate at his face.

A barely audible chime had Grigori reaching for his cell. He pulled it off his jeans and answered. “Novikov.”

Marci went back to her honey buns, slapping at Grigori's hand as he reached for one. He said little more than “uh-huh” into the phone, but when he hung up, he looked positively bemused.

“What?”

“That was Kerry-Ann. Seems she got a call from Niles Van Holtz.”

Alpha Male of the Van Holtz Pack? Calling the superintendent of their town? “What did he want?”

“He's coming here.”

“Why?”

“To get the wolfdog.”

“You can't tell me that the Van Holtzes would have a hybrid in their Pack.” From what Marci knew the Van Holtzes were almost as bad as the Prides when it came to that sort of thing.

“He's on his way from Washington state to New York and then here. Even bringing a bear from Jersey with him. They'll be here tomorrow.”

“For protection?” she asked with a laugh.

“Somehow I'm doubting that.”

“You think Bold will go back with them?”

Grigori shrugged. “Probably. He's got the Llewellyn Cup finals coming up. He won't want to miss that.”

“You know, you could visit him sometime. Maybe watch him play.”

The polar grunted. “He could invite me.”

“Oh, my God! You two!”

“What are you yelling at me for?” He snatched the last honey bun off her plate. “And I'm taking this because you owe me.”

“I don't owe you anything but a swift kick to the ass. Both you and your nephew!”

“If nothing else,” Grigori said around that honey bun, “if Van Holtz comes for the wolfdog at least we won't have to worry about protecting her.”

That was true. No one in Ursus County was a big fan of wolves, and any hybrid with more than one-eighth wolf blood was considered wolf. The poor child would be a walking target.

“Van Holtz coming here,” Marci said, looking out the window. “Won't we need a red carpet for his arrival?”

Grigori laughed and Marci joined him.

 

 

Blayne woke up. She immediately became aware that it was now dark out, meaning she'd slept the entire day away, and that her bones had completely healed—and were about ten times stronger than they were before they were damaged—and that she was snuggled in close to Bo Novikov. Her face pressed against his neck, his cock pressed against her inside thigh—and he was sweating.

This was how they'd woken up together the first time, wasn't it? Only there'd been no sweating because they'd both been fully dressed.

What could she say? She liked naked better.

Blayne dragged her hands up Bo's back, enjoying the feel of his skin under her fingers. Slid her leg up his thigh, causing friction against his cock.

She felt his jaw tense against the top of her head, and she knew the sound she'd been hearing was Bo's teeth grinding together. Smiling, she kissed his neck, remembering that interrupted kiss they'd had the night before.

When she made small swirls on his flesh with her tongue, Bo finally said, “Please tell me you're awake.”

“Uh-huh.” She dragged her tongue up his throat to his tense jaw.

“Okay, okay,” he said desperately, “that helps. Um, uh . . . Blayne”—he groaned, his hands caressing her—“maybe we should hold off on this until, uh, you're feeling better.”

“I feel great. Fever's gone, bones healed, and I have way more energy than I know what to do with.” She rose up enough to look down into his face. “I need you to kiss me again.”

He peered at her with those clear blue eyes. “Won't I be taking advantage of you?”

God, he was so cute! “Not even close. Now kiss me.”

He did, bringing his head up until their lips touched. Blayne let out a deep sigh, her tongue meeting his. Yeah, she remembered right—their first kiss
had been
that good. She'd worried that she'd blown it out of proportion because of what happened afterward. She hadn't.

Bo's hands slipped into her hair, his fingers digging into her scalp. His body came up off the bed, and Blayne was forced to sit up with him. She gripped his forearms with her hands, the fingers of her right hand taking hold of the plaster from his cast. Their kiss grew more intense, their tongues delving deeper as they fought for breath.

Blayne couldn't believe how amazing this was, and it was only a kiss.

They had to stop. He had to stop. But he couldn't. He couldn't stop. Not when she tasted so wonderful, felt so good against him. He'd been waiting ten years for this, and he didn't want to waste another second. But they weren't in his house or her itty-bitty Brooklyn apartment. They were in the Ursus County Memorial Hospital, with the risk of nurses and doctors—good God! Or his uncle or Dr. Luntz!—wandering in whenever they damn well felt like it.

He pulled out of their kiss, his eyes shut tight because he knew he couldn't look into those big brown eyes. “Blayne, we have to stop.”

Instead of stopping, she reached down and grabbed hold of his cock, her grip squeezing and stroking at the same time.

Vixen! Evil, cruel vixen!

“You need to”—he shuddered—“stop.”

She kissed his neck, jaw, mouth. “Don't want to.” She pressed her mouth to his ear. “I want to watch you come.”

His eyes crossed and Bo knew he was running out of willpower here. They both knew it. One more stroke from her hand and he was a goner, not stopping until she was pregnant and wearing a wedding ring.

Knowing full well this was not a good time to make life-altering decisions; Bo did the one thing he knew would stop Blayne. He said, “Blayne . . . I saw you.”

“Saw me where?” she asked, nipping at his shoulder.

“In the van. I saw what you did in the van.”

Her lips and hand stopped moving and, slowly, Blayne leaned back to look into his face.

“Oh,” she said. “Okay.” Then she bolted.

Bo caught her arm and hauled Blayne back on the bed. “Don't run on me,” he ordered.

Of course she was going to run. Did he really expect her to stay? But his grip was firm and he was one of the few who Blayne didn't think would be affected by her Windmill Claws of Mauling technique.

So she did the next best thing. She lied. “I don't remember anything,” she said. Her father, always a planner for the inevitable, had told her that could be her excuse in almost any awkward situation. And this was awkward.

“Are you worried I'll tell?” he asked, brushing the fingers of his free hand against her cheek.

“I won't tell what I saw, Blayne. I'll never tell. It's our secret.”

She wanted to believe him but—

“I promise.” He gripped her chin and forced her to look him in the eye. She'd had no idea she'd looked away. “I swear to you I'll never say a word.”

“It was Daddy,” she blurted. “After what happened to Mom . . . he wanted to make sure I could—”

“Defend yourself. I'm glad. I'm glad he did that.”

She gave a panic-tinged laugh. “It wasn't him, though. Who taught me, I mean. Daddy's not the best fighter as human. Except in a general brawling, biker gang sense. But he has a lot of friends. From the Unit, the Corps, the Navy . . . and a couple of wild dog friends of my mom's who were in the Israeli Army.” She chewed her lip, her body shaking. “Only Gwenie knows.”