I let the long brush of my tails trail down his body until their feathered lengths were hovering just above the half-erect length of his cock. I had no idea what this fucker wanted from me, but I wasn't about to stick around and find out.
"Have you ever mated with a fox before?" I asked and the alpha tilted his head to one side. Like me, he had his ears out, swiveling like satellite dishes on the top of his head, listening for movement from his pack. If he'd wanted to, he could've called them over here and had them on me before I could come up with a move tricksy enough to weasel out of this mess.
That's what was so confusing to me; his intentions were all over the place.
"No." His smile widened a bit and I felt my heart start to pound in response. Half fear and half ... half excitement? Oh god, I was such an adrenaline junkie. It was one of the reasons I'd joined the Assassins Guild in the first place.
And it was also probably going to get me killed one day.
"You're hard," I told him, teasing the firm muscles of his lower belly with all nine of my tails. "There must be a reason for that?"
"Quite frankly," the wolf began, yanking me toward him. As far as physical strength went, we were not so evenly matched. I really was going to have to play up a trick to get myself out of here. "It never crossed my mind."
I raised a black brow as my body slammed into his chest, the wet smell of earth and the sweetness of pine wrapping around me. Underneath it all, I could smell his sweat, his arousal, that masculine edge that teased and titillated and made me want to punch myself in the tit.
I should not be turned-on right now.
I should be terrified.
Frankly, it was a pretty even fifty-fifty.
"Believe it or not, unwilling women aren't my thing." He quirked his mouth to the side.
"So why are you so damn excited?" I asked, leaning into him, feeling the hardness of his body press into my stomach.
"The thought of death and violence … that excites me," he whispered, his breath stirring some loose hair around my face.
Uh-oh.
Complete and total psycho.
My tails curled around my body, teasing their way down the hardened flesh of his abs as I tried to think up something nice and clever and foxy ...
Leaning in, I brushed my lips against the edge of the alpha's jaw, and enjoyed it far more than any sane kitsune should.
"Well, death and violence are all well and good, but mating with a fox?" I purred, running my palm down his chest and feeling his grip on my wrist relax. "That's a whole other level. We're dynamite in the sack."
And then, because I'm so goddamn fucking clever, I lifted my knee up and hit the alpha as hard as I could, right in the family jewels.
With a yowl, he released me and I stumbled over the edge of pack property and toward my car, standing on the opposite side and wondering if he had enough balls left in that sack of his to come after me.
Standing up straight, the alpha male rubbed his hand along the edge of his lightly stubbled jaw and flashed a wolfish grin at me that was half pain, half amusement.
"Next time I catch you on Vail Valley Pack land," he said, taking a few steps back from the property line. "I'm going to kill you."
And then he shifted into a large ebony wolf, as dark as the shadows around us, and slipped away into the night.
I didn't have time to sit and fret about death threats—I got them on a regular basis anyway.
"Fucker," I mumbled, ignoring the fact that I was wet between the thighs and turned-on as all hell. I hit the button on the edge of the door and my car beeped happily at me. She was a gunmetal gray Porsche Carrera GT with a V10 racing engine, manual transmission, and fuck-all stability control. Last of the world's wild supercars, baby. And because I'd fled this life, I could actually afford it.
I climbed in, started the car, and peeled out of the lot with the stench of burning rubber behind me.
The nightclub Fae-Bitch was performing in was a multi-level beast just outside the Denver city limits. It was a nearly two hour drive from Vail for most people … One for me and the Porsche.
"Hunty, you must have a serious death wish," Chris said as he kissed both my cheeks and left pink glittery smears on my face. "Because if you'd missed this set, I would've hunted your skinny little ass down and shoved my heel up it."
"Don't be such a diva," I said, and Chris, aka Little Miss Vixen—we both thought the name was hilarious—cast his shadowed lids back in my direction. He was still pissed about being eliminated during episode two of RuPaul's Drag Race and was determined to prove himself tonight.
"Honey, I get paid to be a diva," he said, flicking turquoise butterfly wings at me. Every person in that club was damn near positive that Chris fucked some Hollywood special effects guru to get them. In reality, those were his real wings. But everyone and their drag-mother was dressed up in here, so it was hard to tell the supes from the humans.
"I reserved you a table, but you're late as shit so they gave it away. You can either stand at the bar where you won't see jack—because you're short as fuck—or you can sass your way into a better seat. Either way, do it quick. I'm up in less than a minute." Chris smacked more kisses on my cheeks, then hustled his tight ass backstage to begin.
Using some of my natural foxlike stealth, I slipped through the crowds to the bar, and managed to have my fingers wrapped around a margarita on the rocks before the lights dimmed, indicating the show was about to start.
Turning to face the stage, I settled my back against the bar. Chris wasn't lying when he said I was short; I was part Japanese after all. But the bar was set back from the crowd just enough that I could see over them to the stage, so I didn't miss a thing when Little Miss Vixen made her dramatic appearance.
A proud grin spread across my face as she burst into her lip-sync with a flurry of glitter, sequins, and gossamer wings, and I placed my drink down to cheer loudly. If I’d been a real superfan, I’d be flashing my tits and yelling you better werk, bitch like some of the people around me. But eh, a few whistles and some claps should do it.
Reaching for my margarita once again, my fingers met with someone else's and I startled, looking over at the tall, black-haired man who held his palm over the rim of my glass.
"Do you quite mind?" I snapped, swatting his hand away and taking the drink from the bar.
"Thea, don't be stupid," Mikhail Ravena sighed, snatching the drink back out of my hand before it reached my lips, and dumping its contents on the floor. "Just because you're a kitsune does not mean you're immune to date rape. You should know better than to put your drink down in a crowded bar like this."
"Seriously, Mik?" I snarled. "I've had a long ass day, and I needed that drink. You better be buying me another one or there will be trouble."
"Hmm, so I see. You still have a little blood …" My boss lifted one elegant finger and trailed it down the side of my neck, so slowly it could’ve been seductive. If I didn't know better, that was. The way he was watching me, with burning desire in his sapphire blue eyes, was not because of my body … it was for my blood.
"Wolves," I said, by way of explanation, but made no attempt to wipe away the trace of blood that held his attention riveted to my throat. Call me insane, but the thrill I got from watching a hungry vampire eye-fuck my jugular made my nipples harden to the point of painful under my leather corset.