Otherworldly Bad Boys: Three Complete Novels (11 page)

“I don’t think you’re fucked in the head.”

“Yes, you do.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I just don’t get it.”

“Neither do I.” She shrugged. “I don’t want to feel this way. It’s like I can’t control it.”

He was quiet, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Okay. I guess I can see that.”

“Really?”

“Maybe it’s like how some people are turned on by feet or whatever.”

She pulled a pillow out from under the bland motel quilt and hurled it at him. “It’s not a fetish, Brooks.”

He caught the pillow. “So, what is it? I don’t understand.”

She wanted to tell him to forget about it, but when she looked into his eyes, he seemed so earnest and confused that she couldn’t. Avery was her partner. They’d been through a lot together. She trusted him, and he trusted her. Maybe she could open up a little bit. Maybe she owed him that much if she was going to ask him to have her back. “I guess it’s like any other attraction you’d feel for someone. Only I know it’s not... right. And I...” She took a deep breath. “I hate him.”

Avery set the pillow on the floor.

“But it’s not that simple. I hate him, but I think about him. I... want him. And then I hate myself for wanting him, and I hate him for being wantable, and I...” She closed her eyes. Rubbed her forehead with two fingers. “It’s confusing.”

“Okay,” said Avery. He got out of the chair and sat down next to her on the bed.

She looked up at him, biting her lip. “I know that doesn’t make any sense, but that’s why it’s so bad. Because it’s completely senseless.”

“Okay,” he said. “I get that it’s bad. I won’t...” He looked down at the bed. “I won’t give you any more shit about it.”

“You’ve been fine.”

“No, I think I’ve been making it worse.” He shook his head. “Look, I’m here for you, okay?”

She gave him a small smile. “Thanks.”

“You’re my best friend.”

She squeezed his hand. “Me too.”

He swallowed. “So, look, I have to ask you, and I promise I won’t ask again, but you have to be honest with me.”

“Um, that doesn’t sound like a good set up.”

His mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Maybe not, but I’m just going to say it.”

She steeled herself for it. Whatever it was, she didn’t think she was going to like it.

“Did he rape you?”

She pulled away.

“Dana?”

She got off the bed. She walked over and picked up the pillow she’d thrown at him. She hugged it.

“I need to know. Because it makes a difference.”

She put the pillow on the bed and covered it up, tucking the quilt back in place, making a crease under the pillow. “No.”

He was quiet.

She sat back down on the bed, but farther from him than before. Out of reach.

He looked at her.

Her gaze flicked away from his.

“So, if it’s no, then why is it so hard for you to say that?” he asked.

She shrugged. “It’s a personal question, Brooks. A really personal question.”

He sighed again. “Okay.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“I asked you to be honest, and I said I wouldn’t ask again. So, I won’t.” He got up. “I’m going to hit the snack machine. You want anything?”

“Listen, Brooks...”

“Yeah?”

“It wasn’t like that.”

His brows shot up. “You can’t seriously be saying that you consented to anything while you were chained up in a basement.”

“N-no. I don’t mean that we... It wasn’t...” She squeezed her eyes shut. “You know what, I can’t talk about it yet. Okay? Is that okay?”

He folded his arms over his chest. “Someone should put a bullet in that man’s head.”

“Probably,” said Dana.

“Definitely.”

She nodded. “Okay, definitely.” She bit her lip. “Maybe I’ll be able to talk about it at some point, but not yet. Can you wait?”

“Yeah,” he said. He turned and went to the door. “Would you hate me if I killed him?”

“Avery.”

“Would you?”

“You can’t kill him.”

He shook his head and opened the door. When it banged closed after him, she flinched.

CHAPTER SIX

Six months ago, Dana shivered under the thin blanket Cole had wrapped around her naked skin and wondered if he’d ever give her clothes. She tried to wriggle her fingers, but they’d been chained above her head for so long that they were completely numb. If she was moving them, she couldn’t tell.

Cole stood in front of her, another bowl of soup in his hands. She was getting sick of soup.

“You going to kill me or what?” she said. She was getting fed up with all of it. She wanted this over, one way or another. The thought of being stuck in this basement for much longer made her crazy.

Cole put a spoonful of soup in her mouth. “Funny you should ask that, because I’ve come to a conclusion.”

She swallowed the soup. It was a little cold. She thought about complaining, but that would only mean that he’d disappear to adjust the temperature. As pathetic as it was, she liked it better when he was here. Then she wasn’t alone. “Well, you’re still feeding me. Does that mean you want me to live, or are you just fattening me up?”

He laughed. “I’m not going to eat you, Dana. Did I eat any of the other victims?”

He was right, she supposed. That had been another thing that marked his kills as different from typical rogue attacks. Generally, when werewolves killed, they did it out of pure animal instinct. It wasn’t uncommon for parts of their victims to be... missing. But with Cole’s kills, everything had been left behind. The bodies were severely mauled and mangled, but not eaten. “How can you manage any kind of precision like that? You kill in wolf form, that much is obvious. There’s no way you can know whether you’ll eat someone or not.”

He fed her more soup, smiling. “I’ve gone beyond the tracker training I received at the Sullivan Foundation. I’ve found the next level. Precision is quite possible in full wolf form. You simply don’t know how to do it.”

She made a face at him.

He shoveled another spoonful of soup into her mouth. “That’s going to change, though. I’m going to teach you. That’s what I’ve decided. You’re special, Dana. And therefore, we should duel.”

She choked on the soup. With effort, she managed to swallow it anyway. “Duel?”

“Perhaps it’s best if you don’t try to talk while you’re eating,” he said.

“Fuck you.”

He held up a spoonful. “Are you ready for more?”

She hated him. He had no right to do this to her. But she opened her mouth. She might be getting sick of soup, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t hungry.

He fed her the rest quickly, and she ate it, hating herself for how eagerly she opened her mouth for the next bite. When she was finished, he set the bowl down on the floor.

“What do you mean about a duel?” she asked.

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Dueling isn’t exactly the right word, I suppose. But it works. You and I will fight to the death. In wolf form. I think it’s the only fair way to settle this. It gives you a chance, after all. I can’t seem to bring myself to kill you in cold blood.”

Dana closed her eyes. She didn’t think he could have proposed something more horrible. She hadn’t shifted, fully shifted entirely into wolf form, since she was a teenager. The few times she’d done it, she’d positively hated it. It was painful and terrifying. And she woke up after it with no memory of the time in between, as if her body had simply been stolen from her. “I’d rather you just kill me.”

He sighed. “Yes. That would have made everything much easier, wouldn’t it?” He cocked his head, surveyed her. “I’m not sure what it is about you. I didn’t have any problem killing the others. Why do you think it is that I couldn’t kill you?”

“Maybe you think killing’s wrong?” She glared at him.

He threw back his head and laughed. “What a completely close-minded, human idea.”

“We
are
human.”

He came closer and touched her cheek. “No, Dana, we aren’t.”

She jerked away from his hand, and when she did, the blanket that was draped over her came free, tumbling down and exposing one of her breasts.

Cole looked away. “God damn it, Dana.” His voice was a growl.

She was healing, anyway. The places he’d clawed her had faded into pink scars. “It’s not my fault. It’s yours for not actually putting clothes on me.”

“I can’t do that without unchaining you.”

The cold air of the basement was giving her goose bumps. Her nipple tightened, standing erect.

Cole turned back to look at her, taking a deep breath. As quickly as possible, he readjusted the blanket, covering her. But as he brought his hand away, it brushed the tip of her nipple.

She gasped. She hadn’t meant to. It had just happened. She cringed.

“I’m sorry,” Cole said softly.

She looked at him. He was so close now, their faces inches apart. A horrible thought sprang to her mind, unbidden, unwanted. What would it be like to kiss him? She could do it right now. He was close enough. She’d barely have to move to press her lips against his. She thought of the prickle of his stubble against her skin.

Cole didn’t move. He was still looking at her. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

Her lips parted.

His face lurched closer to hers.

She slammed her eyes shut.

But instead of his mouth on her, she felt his forehead rest gently on hers. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispered.

She opened her eyes and found herself locked in his gaze. His eyes were so dark.

He shifted, his body pressed against the length of her. The blanket came free again. It fell to the ground, exposing her. All of her.

Cole’s hands danced over her ribs, her hips. He groaned.

Her heart began to pound. She wanted him to stop. Didn’t she? What if he... kept going? She wouldn’t like that. Would she?

His hands went lower, tracing the swell of her thigh.

Before she could stop herself, a breathy moan escaped her lips.

He closed his eyes, buried his face on her neck. His lips moved over her collarbone, feather light, light little bursts of pleasure. “Your skin,” he breathed.

She sighed.

His hands brushed her back, caressing the swells of her skin, sliding lower to cup the curve of her backside.

Her pulse sped up, her heart beating excitedly, even eagerly.

He pulled her tighter against him, his mouth on her jaw, just below her ear.

The fabric of his clothes rubbed against her sensitive, bare skin, and the sensation made her breath hitch. She found herself leaning into him, surrendering to his touch. She began to realize that she
didn’t
want him to stop, that she wanted to open to him.

He raised his head to face her. His eyes were half-lidded in need.

She could feel herself respond to him, warmth growing between her legs, her own desires rising to match his. Her breathing was growing labored, each breath coming out as a gasp.

“I want...” he murmured.

“Yes.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “Fuck.”

Then he grabbed the back of her neck, and his grip was anything but gentle. His fingers dug into her skin. The pain seemed to wake her up. He tightened his hand, and it drove away her arousal. He sneered at her.

She shrank from him. What was she doing? How could she have let herself enjoy his hands on her? He was a monster. He had hurt her. What was wrong with her? Was she losing her mind?

“This shouldn’t be a problem, Dana. This shouldn’t be happening.” He glared at her. “I’m trying to kill you here. I’ve done it before. It’s never been this hard.”

He was holding her head in place. She couldn’t look away.

“You deserve it,” he said. “You repress your wolf. You refuse to do what’s natural. And for some reason, I still can’t do it. I’m playing games with myself, telling myself maybe I can teach you, show you what the wolf is. Maybe you’d understand. And it’s all because...”

Then he did kiss her. His tongue invaded her mouth. He was thorough and urgent, but she was terrified, and she didn’t respond. She shut her eyes, very afraid.

He pulled away. He let go of her neck.

Slowly, she opened her eyes.

“I don’t want you like that. I don’t want you if you don’t want it.” He thrust his hands into his hair, clutching his head. “God damn it.”

Her fear was growing. He really was crazy. She’d known he was crazy, of course. He killed people, and he had her locked up down here. But he’d been so... subdued up until now. Now, it seemed like he was coming undone, losing control of himself. Her heart still thudded against her ribs, but in horror, not pleasure.