Legacy Found: Legacy, Book 3 (12 page)

James was in hell. His skin ached and his wolf was demanding release. He leaned his hands against the tiled wall and let the water beat down on his head.

His balls were full and heavy and his cock was threatening to explode. Veins pulsed and throbbed up and down his shaft and liquid seeped from the bulbous red head.

He could still taste Shelley. He licked his lips and his cock jerked. Damn, she was like nothing he’d ever tasted in his life. Sweet and spicy. A mixture that seemed made for him.

Her smell mingled with his and he’d hated to take a shower, to wash it away. He frowned as he lifted his right hand from the wall and brought it to his nose. It was faint, but it was still there. Shelley.

He curled his fingers into a fist, wanting to smash it against the wall to relieve some of the tension thrumming through him. He’d only glimpsed parts of her body, but he’d seen several small scars near her waist. And there were very old scars circling her ankles, as though she’d been chained and her skin had been rubbed raw. Repeatedly.

He wanted to roar in anger. His teeth elongated and his fingernails morphed into claws. He took a deep breath, struggling for control. Werewolves were fast healers. To have such old scars, the torture would have to have been prolonged and often.

Shelley was obviously keeping secrets from him and that could be dangerous. He had to find out more about her past, how she’d ended up working at a roadside diner with hardly any clothing or money to her name.

Because sometime during the last half hour or so, he’d had to admit to himself that Shelley was his. His mate. He’d had one in his lifetime and never expected to find another. But fate worked in mysterious ways and sometimes it sucker-punched you.

He raised his head and let the water pour over his face.

He didn’t want a mate. Didn’t want to risk the heartache that came with such a connection. But he knew himself well and knew he couldn’t let Shelley go. She was a gift beyond price and it was his job to make her want to stay with him.

And that job had begun tonight.

He wasn’t done yet. If he hoped to sleep next to Shelley, he had to do something about his massive erection. Grabbing the tiny sliver of soap that passed for a bar, he rubbed it between his hands. When he’d worked up a thick lather, he tossed it back into the built-in dish and wrapped his fingers around his shaft.

The way he was feeling this wouldn’t take long.

He closed his eyes and pictured Shelley lying on the bed before him like a treat, her full breasts tipped with tight red nipples, begging to be tasted. Her legs spread wide, her pussy gleaming with her cream.

He pumped his hand up and down his cock, working it from base to tip. His balls pulled up tighter to his body. He increased the tempo as his fantasy expanded.

He might not have seen her totally naked, but his imagination could easily make up for that. Her skin gleamed as she touched her breasts, tugging at her swollen nipples with her thumbs and forefingers.

His hand worked faster.

She opened her legs wider and arched her hips in clear invitation.

James groaned and gripped his cock hard, pumping fast. He gritted his teeth to keep from yelling while he came. White fluid shot out of the tip of his shaft, coating his hand and spilling over into the tub.

His lungs were working like a bellows as he eased his hand away and grabbed the soap. Not giving himself any more time to think, he scrubbed his body, washing away all remnants of sweat and his orgasm.

When he was done, he turned off the water and stepped out onto the cool tile floor. There was only one clean towel left, but it did the job.

He picked up his jeans and tugged them on. He hated wearing them, but he didn’t have much choice. He couldn’t go back in the room naked, not without possibly making Shelley nervous, and he didn’t wear underwear.

The jeans felt heavy and confining. His only concession to comfort was leaving them unbuttoned.

He hung up the towel and left the bathroom, flicking off the light behind him. The room was quiet with only the light whoosh from the heating unit and the soft, even sound of Shelley’s breathing. She’d fallen asleep.

He crept over to the side of the bed and stood beside it, watching her. There was nothing remarkable about her features. Her chin was a little pointy and her nose turned up slightly. But to him she was the most beautiful creature in the world.

Her heart-shaped face and dark, luminous eyes, which were closed now, fascinated him. Her rosy lips begged him to taste them. And her inner strength shone like a beacon in the night.

James reached out and clicked off the light between their beds. She was a werewolf and would be able to see perfectly in the dark if she awoke. Still, he went to the window and tugged open the drapes a bit to allow some moonlight to seep in.

Satisfied, he went back to her bed and crawled in beside her. She moved slightly but didn’t wake as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her into the curve of his body. She felt right there, as if she’d always been a part of him.

James closed his eyes and sighed. It was incredible to think when he’d rolled out of bed this morning he hadn’t even known she existed.

Chapter Eight

Shelley woke slowly, feeling sleepy and warm. The alarm clock hadn’t gone off so she hadn’t slept in. She still had plenty of time before she had to get up. Lying there, she enjoyed a rare moment of well-being.

She’d spent most of her life on edge, never knowing what she was going to face from Tom Macmillan each day. Just as it had for all those years in his presence, tension crept in, depriving her of her relaxed state.

It was then she felt the weight around her waist. Sleep fled when she realized the warmth she was feeling was coming from the large male body behind her. The weight she was feeling was his arm.

Memory came flooding back in a torrent. James. Yesterday she’d lost her job and fled with him. She’d bought new clothes. Well, new to her. And she’d seen Steve Macmillan, Tom’s son.

A shiver raced down her spine. Now there was a man who was even meaner than his father. And that was saying something.

“Cold?” James tugged the covers closer, tucking them around her body.

Her face flushed as another memory sprang forward. James touching her all over, his hands and fingers pleasuring her until she’d exploded in a blazing orgasm. This time when she shivered it wasn’t from cold or fear, but from desire.

“Shelley?” James turned her to face him, but not before she felt his erection pressing against her back. He was awake and aroused. And why not? It’s not like they’d had sex last night. He’d pleasured her and she’d fallen asleep before he’d finished his shower.

Her sex throbbed. She wanted James but, at the same time, was afraid. Too much of her life had been controlled by a man. She was finally tasting freedom and wasn’t about to give it up. Not for anyone. She’d die first.

His lips brushed her forehead in a gentle caress and she sighed. All her resolve, all her good intentions, flew out the window whenever he touched her.

“You okay?” He brushed a lock of hair out of her face. Dawn hadn’t quite arrived, but the room was light enough for her to make out his features. Not that she needed the light. She had exceptional vision.

“I’m fine.” She had to say something and her thoughts were too jumbled to come up with much in the way of intelligent conversation.

“Come here.” He gently pulled her into the curve of his body, urging her to rest her head on his shoulder. His skin was firm and warm and she couldn’t resist snuggling closer and inhaling his familiar woodsy scent. She rested her hand on his stomach and the muscles of his abs rippled beneath her touch.

He didn’t pounce on her. Didn’t demand sex. James was unlike any man she’d ever known. He confused her and drew her at the same time.

He was so strong. It would be so easy to let him take care of her. But that wouldn’t do. She had to learn to stand on her own two feet. The past seven months had been a steep learning curve for her. She’d heard about things like telephones and televisions, but she’d never used either of them until she’d escaped. She could cook and clean, but she’d never operated a computer. She’d seen Tom’s friends use cell phones and laptops, but she’d never been close enough to touch one.

She’d never been to a store, never gone shopping until recently. Or if she had, she hadn’t remembered it. Her life before Tom was a blank, filled with the occasional shadowy memory that only brought her pain when she tried to remember. After the first ten years of her captivity, she’d stopped trying to remember and concentrated all her efforts on staying alive and trying to escape.

As though James knew where her thoughts had gone, he rubbed his hand up and down her arm and asked, “What happened to you?”

She sighed. She didn’t owe him any explanation. Not really. But he was taking her into his home to work, letting her meet his daughter. And she wasn’t even going to think about what he’d done for her last night.

Her skin warmed and she suddenly felt overheated. Her flesh was tender to the touch. Her breasts ached and the area between her thighs was damp. She was aroused by his nearness, his scent.

He had to be able to smell her. If he was like her then his sense of smell was exceptional. But he said nothing. Made no motion to pressure her into sex.

Surely she owed him something for his kindness. Besides, he’d offered to help her uncover her past. If he was going to do that, he had to know what happened to her.

Opening her mouth, she uttered the four words that might unlock the key to her past. “I was a prisoner.”

James had been lying in bed enjoying the pre-dawn moments with Shelley tucked into his arms. He’d slept fairly well considering he’d had to deal with a raging hard-on all night long.

Shelley felt right in his embrace. Like something that had been missing from his life. She helped make him feel more complete.

He knew she was still nervous and uncertain around him. That would change only with time, when she finally understood he would do nothing to harm her.

She was aroused. He could smell her heat. It was sweet and spicy and musky. He wanted to go down on her, spread her legs wide and eat her for breakfast. He grinned and licked his lips. But he kept still because he sensed her unease with her physical response to him.

She wasn’t ready for a repeat of last night. Not yet. Hopefully later.

James didn’t want to do anything to disturb the quiet, intimate mood, but knew he needed answers. He was taking her home today. There would be questions and he needed a place to start searching for answers.

When he’d asked what had happened to her, he hadn’t quite expected the answer she offered.

I was a prisoner
.

Those words burned in his brain. His body tensed for action, muscles rippling, breathing increasing. His wolf howled inside him. James gritted his teeth and concentrated on keeping himself from changing. He didn’t know if Shelley had been around many of her kind and wasn’t certain how she’d react if he suddenly shifted.

Beads of perspiration broke out on his forehead. His nails lengthened into claws briefly before receding once again.

“What happened?” The words were little more than a guttural snarl.

Shelley’s entire being was thrumming with anxiety, but he couldn’t do anything to reassure her. Not yet. He was too busy trying to control his primal nature, which wanted to track down whoever had done this to her and rip them to shreds.

That would come later. For now, he had to keep Shelley talking. She was starting to open up to him. The last thing he wanted her to do was shut back down. He took a deep breath and began rubbing his hand up and down her arm again in a soothing manner. He needed her to relax.

James got control of himself. His wolf, lethal and wild, crouched within him, but neither by a twitch of his muscles nor by the tone of his voice, did he betray the violence swirling within him. “Who took you?”

Shelley didn’t look at him, keeping her face buried against his chest. Her voice was low, barely a whisper, but he heard every word.

“I was in a cabin in the woods somewhere in Tennessee. I’m not quite sure where.” James felt her tension as she spoke, heard the flatness of her words and knew she was lying. Not about being held prisoner, but not knowing where the cabin was. He’d bet every dollar he owned, which was a considerable amount, that she could easily lead him there. He didn’t call her on it. Not now. Once he’d gained her trust she would tell him.

“I was there for so long—” Shelley broke off, her fingers curling into a fist on his chest. He placed his hand over hers, feeling the tension vibrate through her fingers. “When I got a chance to get away, I took it. I ran and ran and ran.” She stopped abruptly. “Anyway, I got a job in the diner in Kentucky and that’s where you found me.”

“How did you get away?” It was hard, but he kept his voice even and unthreatening when all he wanted to do was find her captors and tear their limbs from their bodies.

She shook her head and folded her arms around herself.

His mind swirled with the possibilities. “How long?” His voice was gruff as he swallowed a surge of fury.

She shrugged. “I’m not quite sure. But I think it was somewhere between thirty and forty years.”

His mind went blank and a red haze seemed to fill him. “How old are you?” The words were all but growled. He could smell her fear but he was unable to contain his volatile emotions any longer.

She shrugged. “I’m not sure. Somewhere between forty-five and fifty-five, I guess.”

He tilted back his head and howled. The sound echoed in the small confines of the room, bouncing off the walls. James could feel the cords of his neck straining as he shook with the force of his anger. He hadn’t felt this kind of rage since Leda had died in his arms.

Shelley rolled away from him, slapped her hands over her ears and began to tremble. That knocked him back to reality in a hurry. He leaned against her and buried his face in her hair, inhaling her unique scent as he took a large breath to try and calm himself. “I’m sorry, Shelley. I’m so sorry.”