Desire Unchained

And wouldn’t that be interesting. They’d either tear each other apart or screw each other to death.

“Together?” The French fry in her hand began to tremble. “So we can touch?”

Touch, taste … Shade’s body hardened as his mind filled with images of what it would be like to spend a night with both of them in beast form and nothing but pure animal instinct to guide them. Even now, his instinct was to put her flat on her back and drill her into the mattress.

“I felt your desire from New York,” he gritted out. “I promise we won’t spend another night apart as long as we both live. Last night I was heavily sedated, but tonight I won’t be, and nothing will keep me from you.” He rolled over so he wouldn’t have to look at her and be tempted to take her again. “Finish eating and get some sleep. You’ll need your strength.”





Gem had just showered, stepped into a fresh pair of scrub pants, and fastened her bra when the unisex locker room door opened.

“Ah, sorry …”

“Kynan.” She’d been trying to get him alone all day, but the man was a master of evasion, so she wasn’t going to waste this opportunity. “Hey. Look, we need to talk about the other day …”

He held up his hands and made a point of not looking at her boobs. He looked everywhere but there. “It’s fine. We’re cool.”

He turned away, but she grabbed his wrist. “No. Wait. Please.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” His already low voice dropped even lower, scraping gravel. “Let go. I don’t like to be touched.”

“I don’t believe you,” she said softly. “Tay told me how you and Lori couldn’t keep your hands off each other.”

Kynan went taut, but the pulse in his wrist bounded against her fingers. “Don’t go there.”

“I can see your scars, Ky. It’s what I am. I can exploit them, reopen them, make them worse.” She bit her lip, wondering if she’d just done more damage. “Or I can help you heal them.”

“There’s nothing here to heal, doctor.”

“What happened to the Kynan I used to know? The one who laughed, the one who was gentle and caring and laid-back?”

He laughed then, but it was a bitter, cold sound. “He’s dead, Gem. He died right alongside Lori.”

His wife, whom he’d discovered in the arms of two different males in one night—one a trusted Guardian, and the other a demon with no moral compass.

Wraith. Who denied sleeping with Lori, but who had fed from her right in front of Kynan and who might have done far more had Eidolon not interrupted.

“He’s not dead. He’s just hiding—”

Suddenly, she found herself pinned against the lockers, one of the handles biting into her spine and Kynan’s big hands on her shoulders. “He’s gone,” he growled. “Does this feel like someone who is gentle and caring?” He shoved a little harder for emphasis and then released her. “You’re wasting your time with me, Gem. Find someone else to nurse back to health.”

He stalked away, leaving her, heart pounding and chest heaving, in the middle of the locker room.





Nine





The bed was comfortable, more so than Runa would have expected in a cave full of BDSM equipment. But Shade surprised her at every turn, and she wondered if she would ever truly know him. Then again, it appeared that they had a lifetime to get to know each other—not only as lovers, but as werewolves.

God, she hadn’t seen that coming.

She remembered how pissed she’d been when she learned about her own infection, how she’d been terrified, lost, and alone, even though Arik had been there to help her through it. She hadn’t understood the physical and behavioral changes that had taken place almost immediately. She’d been afraid for her future, for the innocent people she might hurt, and she’d been angry at how her life had been yanked out from under her so she no longer had any control over anything.

Shade had an advantage over her in that he’d been born in this strange world, was already familiar with werewolves. But, she thought, as she absently trailed a finger around a leather cuff dangling from the bedpost, this was a male used to being in control, both in and out of the bedroom. Having to give that up three nights a month couldn’t be sitting well with him.

Yawning, she glanced at the bedside clock. She and Shade and had been sleeping for six hours. Careful to not wake him, she rolled over. He was facing her, his expression one of peace. The strange ring around his neck flexed as he breathed, the design’s dark color the same as that of the dermoire running the length of his right arm.

She brushed his glossy hair away from his neck, where his personal symbol, the unseeing eye, seemed to, well, see her. With each breath, each swallow, it undulated, followed her no matter which way she moved.