Secret Worlds (520 page)

Cradling his face in my hands, I lengthened the kiss, turning the hungry need of his lips into a slow exploration. He fought it at first, his teeth grating along the swell of my lower lip, but I ignored his insistent pull. Running my fingers through his thick hair, I rocked against him in a slow undulating movement, letting him know how much I wanted him, but that I wouldn’t rush the moment. Soon enough he gentled, letting me show him where and how I liked to be touched, how I liked to feel his teeth against my throat while his fingers danced between my thighs.

The minutes stretched out between us, peppered with gasping sighs and desperately questing fingers until I was fit to burst with the need to have him inside me.

“I need you now,” he growled, pulling at the elastic of my underwear.

“I know,” I whispered, sinking down into him.

***

We stretched out together beneath the blanket, my ear pressed against his chest listening to the steady thump of his heart, until the post-orgasmic rush of endorphins began to ebb and my body let me know that it had taken quite enough abuse from me in the last few hours. Cursing and swaying like a drunken sailor, I disentangled my limbs from Holbrook’s, pulling the blanket with me, wrapping it around my shoulders like a shawl.

“I’m starving. Come make me breakfast,” I commanded, sidestepping out of his reach when he made to pull me back down into his lap.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a chuckle, pushing himself up from the chair with far more grace than I had. Passing our now cold mugs to me he collected his holstered weapon and led the way back into the house.

After filling our mugs, I lounged against the counter and watched him gather eggs, bacon, and thick sliced bread, admiring the way his shirt draped over muscled shoulders and the “just fucked” state of his hair. I was sure that mine, on the other hand, looked like I’d spent the night sleeping in a ditch.

Chugging half of my coffee fast enough to give myself a wicked case of heartburn, I found my body buzzing with energy and the need to move even as my collection of aches and pains begged me not to. Maybe it was a side effect of trying to burn off the wolfsbane, or maybe it was the lingering endorphins inspired by Holbrook’s
very
knowledgeable hands and lips. All I knew was that I needed to move.

Taking Holbrook’s preoccupation as an opportunity to do some exploring, I set aside my coffee and meandered down into the living room. I hadn’t seen much of the house the night before, what with my drug-induced haze and all, and figured I might as well do a little nosing around.

Wan winter sunlight filtered in through the large picture window in the living room, filling the room with cold light that drained the color from the room but couldn’t erase the warmth of Holbrook’s personality that was as much a part of the room as its walls.

There wasn’t an overabundance of furniture, his design aesthetic leaning towards bachelor minimalism, but it still managed to feel homey and comfortable. In addition to the recliner that Loki had obviously claimed as his new perch, the furnishings consisted of a dark leather couch that sat facing a brick-faced fireplace which I was betting saw a hell of a lot less use than the enormous flat screen TV mounted above it, a low coffee table, a saddle draped over a wooden frame, and a large fish tank.

Ambling over to the fish tank, I bent over to look inside. Like many people, I’ve always found watching fish to be relaxing. At first I couldn’t see anything except sand and rock awash in bright, bluish light. I was about to ask Holbrook if he’d invested in stealth fish or just liked to keep an empty tank, when one of the strangest looking creatures I’d ever seen floated up from behind a rock formation.

“Whoa!” There was nothing even remotely relaxing about
that
thing.

With a large rounded body and a pair of tiny yellow fins that looked far too small to be useful, it looked like a deranged science experiment gone awry. Dark bulbous eyes stared at me from a face tipped with a long, dog-like snout that ended with an almost comically small mouth. I say almost, because the hard line of teeth in that tiny mouth looked as though they could easily remove a finger.

“This is one seriously weird looking fish you’ve got,” I called over my shoulder, tapping my finger on the glass.

“Oh, that’s Steve. He’s a Dog Faced Puffer,” Holbrook replied.

“Steve?” I said soundlessly, raising an eyebrow at the peculiar looking critter gazing back at me. I have to admit, tough werewolf badass that I am, it kind of creeped me out.

Deciding I’d had enough of Holbrook’s creepy-ass fish, I turned my attention to the saddle in the corner of the room. It was a thing of beauty, all glossy tan leather that looked like it had been hand-tooled and well used.

“Do you ride?” I asked, fingering the time worn leather on the pommel, breathing in the rich scent that was a mixture of horse sweat, leather conditioner, and the ever pervasive scent that was simply Holbrook.

As my fingers caressed the fine carvings on the skirt my mind raced with the mental image of him sitting on it, the leather snugged up against the curve of his ass, the sculpted muscles of his thighs gripping the powerful beast beneath him the way mine had gripped him. Warmth washed through me, coloring my cheeks and making a thin finger of sweat trickle down my spine. Sure, I hadn’t been getting any action on a regular basis until Holbrook swept into my life a few days ago, but my hormones were running even wilder than normal. What was it about this man that turned my hormones up to eleven?

Has it really been that
long since I got close to someone?
I thought, and then realized that I couldn’t remember the last time I had shared something with someone besides a quick romp that had left me feeling dirty. I knew I’d become a bit of an introvert but I was getting the sense that at some point I’d switched over to being a recluse.

At least I haven’t started hoarding cats. Yet.

Holbrook had been the first man in a long time that I’d been attracted to for more than just his cute ass.

Though his ass is
damn
fine.

“Not too often since I joined the agency, but I rode a lot as a kid. I grew up on a ranch, so I think I knew how to ride horse before I learned how to ride a bike,” he replied from the kitchen, oblivious to the thoughts running rampant in my mind. “How about you? Do you ride?”

“What? Oh…no, I’ve never really been comfortable around horses. They always seemed so big,” I answered, shaking off my lonely thoughts, deciding that they deserved closer examination at a later date.

Horses had intimidated me when I was growing up, their massive size and unknown strength terrifying to a kid that was always on the small side. There had been plenty of kids in the area whose families had horses, and I’d been invited several times to go riding, but the powerful animals had scared me in a truly visceral way, so I’d always come up with some lame excuse about why I couldn’t go. Eventually they’d stopped asking. I guess even then I’d had trouble being around people.

“Seems kinda silly now, seeing as I could probably take one down in a matter of seconds,” I added, the words slipping from my mouth without a thought.

It was the uncomfortable silence that followed that clued me in to the fact that I’d said something wrong. Looking up from where my fingers were stroking the saddle, I found Holbrook staring at me from the kitchen, his eyes wide while his mouth hung open in surprise. A spatula was hanging limp and forgotten in his hand as if he’d been frozen. Running back over my words in my mind I blushed again, this time in mortification.

“Fuck!” I hissed under my breath. “Sorry, sometimes I don’t think about the crap that comes out of my mouth. My Nana always said I had a chronic case of verbal diarrhea.”

“It’s alright, it just um…caught me off guard, you know?” he tried to reassure me, but I glimpsed the shadow of discomfort in his eyes before he turned his gaze back to the eggs in the pan.

Well done, jackass,
I scolded myself, grimacing at the expression on his face.
This is why you can’t have nice things.

“I’m…ah…gonna go take a shower,” I said as I beat a hasty retreat to his bedroom, wanting nothing more than to crawl under the covers and hide away until the whole mess had blown over. I figured that shouldn’t take more than a decade or two.

“You’re not hungry?” he called after me. Was that a hint of relief coloring his voice?

“Not really. I’ll grab something later,” I replied, unable to turn around and face him, afraid that I’d see disgust on his face again, or worse yet, that he’d see the hurt on mine.

Darting into the bedroom, I shut the door behind me and sagged back against the wood. Fighting the ache of frustration blooming in my chest, I felt like such an idiot for saying something so stupid, but even more for believing that something might finally be going my way.

I should have known it would only be a matter of time before I screwed things up.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I growled through gritted teeth, refusing to give in to tears again. I was tired of feeling weak and victimized, the lingering pain from Johnson’s attack fueling the anger burning hot in my gut.

“Fuck tears, I’m tired of being afraid.” I curled my hands into tight fists at my sides until my nails bit into the flesh of my palms. Focusing on the pain, I locked away my fear. I could fall apart once it was all over.

With anger fueling my movements, I stripped off my t-shirt and panties in stiff, jerking motions. Removing the bandages Alyssa had trussed me up in took a little more time, and a lot more grimacing and cursing. Finally naked, I stalked into the adjoining bathroom, vowing to wash away the last of my fear. I wasn’t going to let anyone make me feel helpless again.

I’m a werewolf, dammit, and the world had better watch out. This bitch bites.

***

I lingered beneath the hot spray long after I’d washed away the grime and blood from the last few days, wishing that it would somehow cleanse me of the memories that even now made me shudder. At one point it was impossible to tell if the moisture on my cheeks was from the shower or angry tears, and I was glad no one was there to witness my weakness. By the time I emerged and wrapped a large towel around my body, my skin was almost raw and I’d begun to resemble a giant prune.

The drugs Alyssa had supplied me with had taken the edge off the pain, but it was going to be a while before I was anywhere close to being back to normal. With the wolf’s healing abilities suppressed, it would be some time before the cuts and scrapes on my hands and knees began to fade to fine pink scars that would eventually disappear, and even longer for my more severe injuries to heal. I didn’t relish the thought of the days of pain that were ahead of me.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, I studied the woman in the glass through the haze of steam, seeing a steeliness in my reflection that hadn’t been there just days before. The collection of black and purple bruises littering my body were a testament to the beating Johnson had given me, while the livid bruise and swelling on my cheek made me look like a battered housewife. Fingering the dark splotch across my ribs and the bright blue stitches running the length of the slash in my side, I clenched my teeth against the pain. I’m no glutton for pain—I find it as unpleasant as the next girl—but in that moment, as I stared at my reflection, I reveled in the buzz of pain rushing through my veins, bolstering my spirits and giving my anger new purpose.

Wrinkling my nose in disgust at the variety of smells wafting up from the stained denim, I pulled on my jeans from the night before sans panties, wishing I had my things from the hotel.

I’d kill for a clean pair of underwear.

Attempting to put on my bra led to a string of curses that would have made a sailor blush before I tossed the offending garment aside and decided that anyone who didn’t like it could kiss my furry ass. Picking up the t-shirt I’d borrowed from Alyssa, I gave it a tentative sniff and frowned. Smelling of blood, sweat, and antiseptic it was a sharp reminder of the previous night. There was no way in hell I was doing anything with it besides throwing it in the trash, or maybe setting it on fire.

After slapping a fresh gauze pad over my pretty line of stitches, I attempted to wind the bandages around my ribs. Even using the mirror, the act proved to be as successful as putting on my bra had been, and ended with the bandages in a crumpled ball in the sink. All the while I kept my mind busy plotting how I was going to make Johnson suffer for what he’d done. I’d never had broken ribs before, and it’s not something I’d recommend.

Limiting myself to short breaths to ease the sensation that someone was trying to dislodge each of my ribs with a sledgehammer, I turned my attention to my topless conundrum. Glancing around the room, I spotted the door to Holbrook’s closet standing ajar on the opposite side of the room.

It’ll have to do.

Rifling through his shirts, feeling far too much like a creepy stalker for comfort, I snagged the first thing that didn’t look as though it would make me look like a little girl playing dress up in her daddy’s clothes. The lavender colored brushed cotton shirt was like silk as I slid it over my shoulders, and I wasn’t able to resist stroking the fabric covetously before buttoning it. Finishing off the look with a loose braid that I left to trail over one shoulder, I studied my reflection one last time and decided that I didn’t look half bad. Well, if you ignored the ugly bruise covering a good portion of my face and the swollen split in my lip.

Bah, who am I kidding? Miss America, I’m not.

“I hope you don’t mind,” I said, fingering the hem of the shirt when I ventured out into the living room. “I haven’t had a chance to visit the laundromat yet.”

Looking up from where he sat on the couch reading through what looked to be some kind of report, Holbrook let his eyes trail over me in a slow pass, lingering where the shirt gaped open to reveal the first hint of cleavage. The heat gathering in their forest depths made me think he might reply with a huskily spoken innuendo, but instead he just nodded and said, “Not at all.”