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Authors: Stacey Brutger
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to crawl under the covers with her and wrap her in
his arms. He wanted her to rest her head against him again, already missing her
soft breath on his neck.
Instead, he stripped, never once taking his eyes off her,
memorizing the image of her stretched out on his bed. Then he carefully reclined
on the couch…as much as his back would allow.
As he gathered up the sheet from the floor, he saw the strap
of her pack under the couch. He was so desperate for information on her, his
fingers curled with the need to pull it out and snoop. But he couldn’t risk
being caught.
He had a feeling that she knew every fingerprint on the bag.
He yanked up the sheet then inhaled when he caught her delicate scent mixed
with his soap.
It would take forever for him to fall asleep. His insomnia had
been growing worse with each passing week. A few hours’ rest was all he could
allow himself before he had to rise and prepare for the early morning meetings,
not to mention that the men obviously needed to be trained harder.
He shuddered to think what would’ve happened if she’d
wandered home by herself. Either she would’ve run, or they would’ve killed her.
Neither was acceptable.
Part of him feared she would disappear on him if he closed
his eyes. He stared at the bed, not even bothering to blink, half-expecting to
see her form slip out of the room if he didn’t stay alert.
Despite his best efforts, her scent and the sound of her steady
breathing had his eyes falling shut.
Chapter Ten
T rina
wasn’t aware what woke her, but she wanted to kill them when the warm, sensual
dream faded. She held still, half-able to feel those hands linger on her body,
but the outside world refused to bow to her wish.
Sounds seeped in first.
Or the absence of sounds.
No tweeting of birds. No people coming or going. She groped
for her weapon and sighed of relief when her fingers encountered cool steel.
The image of the sexy man, bound and determined to bring her
pleasure, vanished like a wisp of smoke, and she nearly whimpered.
Then she became aware of the soft surface beneath her and
not the hard lump of the makeshift bed she’d created in the shed. She cracked
open one eye, uncertain what to expect.
The Den.
Merrick.
He was the Leo. Of course he was. How could she not have
known? And how the heck did she get his attention or more importantly, how did
she escape it now that she was his concubine?
Memories of yesterday flittered through her head. One
thought rose to the forefront, like how she fell asleep on the couch and ended
up on the bed.
Half-afraid of what she’d find, she stretched out, shivering
at the feel of silk against her skin. She was spread-eagle on the bed, nowhere
near the sides, when she realized she was alone. Relief and disappointment
struck in equal measure, and she hated that she felt both.
The dream teased the back of her mind. She felt haunted by
her phantom lover’s touch, the aching need when he kissed her. She was
devastated by the loss, the realization he wasn’t real.
She befriended humans, but had never committed to a
relationship for the simple fact that any boyfriend she chose would always be
in danger.
She’d avoided the paranormal as well for fear of discovery.
But the man in her dream was different. He knew about her past and could
protect himself.
What hurt the most was it would only ever be a fantasy.
She rubbed her eyes, banishing the dream as best she could. She
had work to do. Sunlight streamed through the room, and she was surprised at
how deeply she’d slept. A few more nights rest like last night, a couple of
meals, and she’d be back to normal.
But first she had to do her job.
She scooted to the edge of the mattress and found that her
feet dangled nearly a foot from the floor. She dropped down, the plush rug warm
under her toes. She walked around the bed to grab her pack, probing her ribs,
taking measure of her injuries.
Or where her wounds should’ve
his arms. He wanted her to rest her head against him again, already missing her
soft breath on his neck.
Instead, he stripped, never once taking his eyes off her,
memorizing the image of her stretched out on his bed. Then he carefully reclined
on the couch…as much as his back would allow.
As he gathered up the sheet from the floor, he saw the strap
of her pack under the couch. He was so desperate for information on her, his
fingers curled with the need to pull it out and snoop. But he couldn’t risk
being caught.
He had a feeling that she knew every fingerprint on the bag.
He yanked up the sheet then inhaled when he caught her delicate scent mixed
with his soap.
It would take forever for him to fall asleep. His insomnia had
been growing worse with each passing week. A few hours’ rest was all he could
allow himself before he had to rise and prepare for the early morning meetings,
not to mention that the men obviously needed to be trained harder.
He shuddered to think what would’ve happened if she’d
wandered home by herself. Either she would’ve run, or they would’ve killed her.
Neither was acceptable.
Part of him feared she would disappear on him if he closed
his eyes. He stared at the bed, not even bothering to blink, half-expecting to
see her form slip out of the room if he didn’t stay alert.
Despite his best efforts, her scent and the sound of her steady
breathing had his eyes falling shut.
Chapter Ten
T rina
wasn’t aware what woke her, but she wanted to kill them when the warm, sensual
dream faded. She held still, half-able to feel those hands linger on her body,
but the outside world refused to bow to her wish.
Sounds seeped in first.
Or the absence of sounds.
No tweeting of birds. No people coming or going. She groped
for her weapon and sighed of relief when her fingers encountered cool steel.
The image of the sexy man, bound and determined to bring her
pleasure, vanished like a wisp of smoke, and she nearly whimpered.
Then she became aware of the soft surface beneath her and
not the hard lump of the makeshift bed she’d created in the shed. She cracked
open one eye, uncertain what to expect.
The Den.
Merrick.
He was the Leo. Of course he was. How could she not have
known? And how the heck did she get his attention or more importantly, how did
she escape it now that she was his concubine?
Memories of yesterday flittered through her head. One
thought rose to the forefront, like how she fell asleep on the couch and ended
up on the bed.
Half-afraid of what she’d find, she stretched out, shivering
at the feel of silk against her skin. She was spread-eagle on the bed, nowhere
near the sides, when she realized she was alone. Relief and disappointment
struck in equal measure, and she hated that she felt both.
The dream teased the back of her mind. She felt haunted by
her phantom lover’s touch, the aching need when he kissed her. She was
devastated by the loss, the realization he wasn’t real.
She befriended humans, but had never committed to a
relationship for the simple fact that any boyfriend she chose would always be
in danger.
She’d avoided the paranormal as well for fear of discovery.
But the man in her dream was different. He knew about her past and could
protect himself.
What hurt the most was it would only ever be a fantasy.
She rubbed her eyes, banishing the dream as best she could. She
had work to do. Sunlight streamed through the room, and she was surprised at
how deeply she’d slept. A few more nights rest like last night, a couple of
meals, and she’d be back to normal.
But first she had to do her job.
She scooted to the edge of the mattress and found that her
feet dangled nearly a foot from the floor. She dropped down, the plush rug warm
under her toes. She walked around the bed to grab her pack, probing her ribs,
taking measure of her injuries.
Or where her wounds should’ve
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