AlphaMountie (6 page)

“It’s my sister lying in that drawer in the morgue.”

“I know. And I’m sorry. But that’s why you can’t be a part of
this. You’re not trained for this, you’re emotionally involved. This isn’t the
place for this discussion. It’s the middle of the night, the last thing we need
is security called on us. Let’s go back to my room, get some sleep, you’ll see how
it makes sense in the morning.”

“I’m not leaving you. I’m finding my sister’s murderer.”

“I know you want to help. But this is what I’m trained for—both
as a cop and as a werewolf. My pack back home in Prince George will fly out at a
moment’s notice. I can call them right now, and they’ll be here.”

“Right. How often are direct flights from Prince George to Algonquin?”
Noire was proud of herself; she was arguing rationally now. She just had to keep
him distracted with intellectual arguments while she figured something out.

“They can fly down to Vancouver, and then across to Toronto and
up from there. It will only take a few days.”

“A few days we don’t have, Cam!” She was raising her voice
again. He was right, any minute now someone was going to hear them and report
them. She glanced around the hall, trying to orient herself. Everything looked
the same, a mix of maroon carpet and beige walls. “What room are we?”

“Fourteen-oh-six,” he said, pulling the room key from his
duffle bag.

Noire squinted at the doors nearby. Fourteen-thirty-seven,
fourteen-thirty-nine. They must have turned completely the wrong way. The next
door was a stairwell. “Fuck it,” she said. “We need to finish this now.” She
sprinted to the door, not giving him a chance to do anything but follow. When
they were both inside, she let the door close behind them. The loud
thunk
echoed on all sides.

Noire turned to face him. “Look, if this creature is a bear—it’s
November. I think I know why he’s going home. He’s getting ready to hibernate. If
Page has a den and holes up in it for the winter, his tracks will be completely
covered over the winter. We have no way of finding him again, unless he starts killing
again. And then we’ll be way behind.”

“Noire—”

“And just how are you supposed to find him without me? I know
the forests up there like the back of my hand. How much time have you spent in Ontario?”

“Not a lot,” he admitted.

“Exactly. What are you going to do, look it up on Google Maps?
Doesn’t work like that in the park.” She knew that he realized this, but she thrust
the phone at him on purpose, taking his duffle bag from the crook of his elbow as
he struggled to hold them both.

He staggered and caught himself on the stair railing, then
leaned back against it, taking a deep breath. “It’s too dangerous.”

“I can handle myself. I’m a crack shot, you know. I can trap.
I can track. I can run. I can fight.” As she spoke, she unzipped his duffle. Aha—there
they were! She pulled out the handcuffs, holding them behind her back. “I can do
anything you need.” She made her voice low and sultry. It wasn’t a tone she was
accustomed to using, so she hoped it worked. By the way his eyelids closed and he
tilted his mouth toward hers, she knew it had.

And with that, she slipped one cuff around his wrist and slid
the other around the stair railing and to his other arm, effectively trapping him.

“Shit,” he said. He looked so confused and flustered that Noire
laughed. He mock-struggled against the cuffs. “How did you do that?”

She leaned in, pressing into him with her breasts. “I don’t know,”
she said. “Maybe you were distracted.” She pushed her hips against his and felt
his erection through her jeans. Perfect. She leaned in for a long, chaste kiss,
no tongue, just pressing her lips against his. His mouth opened and he tried to
return the kiss.

Noire suddenly pulled away.

“You’ll need a guide,” she said, keeping her voice quiet and
seductive. She undid the top button on the sweater she wore, keeping her eyes on
his. His own eyes drifted south to her neckline. She undid another button. “Admit
it,” she said. “You can’t find the den on your own.” The sweater was nearly open
now. She pulled the rest over her head, sliding her hands down her own nearly naked
torso, across her flat stomach. His breathing was shallow and fast, and his eyes
flickered from one piece of skin to the next, taking her all in. Noire let her muscles
flex as she removed the sweater, showing him her strength. She was not a victim—she
was not Fawn. She would survive, and he needed her.

Her bra was purple, a touch of femininity that Fawn had talked
her into. Plain cotton, as she’d regretted earlier, but at least the panties
matched. She undid the top button of her jeans, moaning slightly in anticipation,
letting herself get into the act. She unzipped as slowly as she could, watching
his eyes follow her movements, and she let her own gaze drift down to his crotch.
His cock pressed against his black uniform pants, straining to escape. She felt
powerful and strong, knowing it was her body turning him on. She let the jeans drop
to the ground, then stood there for a moment in her bra and panties.

“Now,” Noire said, letting a hand rise to her breast, dipping
inside her bra cup and playing with her own nipple. It was hard; she was just as
turned on as he. Her other hand slid inside her lavender panties, slipping against
the soft fabric. She parted her legs and felt the wetness between them. “If you’d
like to see more of me, it’s very simple.”

“Is it?” he choked out. “I think I’d like that.”

“Sure,” she said. She slid her middle finger inside her cunt,
groaning with pleasure. From the way Cam was straining at the handcuffs, and the
way his glorious cock was straining at his pants, she thought they might be running
out of time. “Just agree to let me be your guide.”

“My guide to pleasure?”

“That too. But you know what I mean.” She removed her hand from
between her legs and walked forward. She held her fingers up to his mouth. He sucked
her middle finger between his lips, licking her pussy juices from her hand. His
tongue was warm and rough, like his voice. “All you have to do,” she said, “is tell
me I can go with you to find Steven Page.” She pulled her finger out of his mouth.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” he muttered. “This isn’t
going to be fun. We’re going up against a known killer who can possibly change into
any predator on Earth.”

“We?” Noire asked.

“I just think you’re letting your thirst for vengeance blind
you to your own safety.”

“I’m not.”

“Can you promise me that? You won’t go off half-cocked on some
revenge quest? You’ll help me find Page, but you’ll let me take him down?”

It was better than Noire had hoped for. “I promise,” she said.
Her own breaths were coming faster now. She wanted him more than she knew how to
handle.

“Then you can come with me.”

“So that’s settled. Let me uncuff you so we can finish our previous,
mmm, discussion.” She reached down to do just that, when suddenly the Earth spun
and she found herself with her back pressed flat against the wall. Campbell stood
in front of her, one hand free and holding her shoulder to the wall, the other still
cuffed to the stair railing. His free wrist had the remaining cuff wrapped around
it, with the chain in between broken. It had happened faster than her ears could
register the sound of metal snapping.

Noire knew she should be afraid, and her body did shiver—but
it was arousal more than fear. Men didn’t normally intimidate her. She could haul
a large buck back from a hunt as well as any man; she was not a small woman. But
it seemed Cam had a strength that completely outmatched hers.

Unfortunately he didn’t look as turned on as she felt. His nostrils
flared and his lips were drawn back. He spoke from between bared teeth, “This creature
is dangerous. He’s not human. Do you understand that?”

“I’m not an idiot. He killed my sister. Do
you
understand
that I saw her in the morgue, her body covered by a sheet? They didn’t show me her
toe-tag but I’m sure there was one. I get that he’s dangerous. I want to make sure
he doesn’t do this to another vulnerable young woman.”

“And I want to make sure he doesn’t do it to you.”

“Maybe I’m not a cop or a werewolf, but I’m not helpless, Cam.
I’ve taken down a black bear at full strength with a shotgun. I’ve rescued a six-year-old
boy from white water in the middle of a thunderstorm. I’ve given talks about conservation
to rooms full of hundreds of teenagers. I do not intimidate or impress easily, Constable
Dawson.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Would you like me to let you out of the second cuff now, or
do you have another demonstration you’d like to make?”

“So I did impress you?” he asked. His smile echoed that of a
young pup with a new bone.

“It will take more than a little bit of physical strength to
impress me. A quick snap of the cuffs is one thing, but do you have endurance?”
The double entendre was intentional. Noire realized she liked flirting with him
this way—with absolutely no subtlety. It was refreshing and, well, easy.

She leaned down to uncuff Cam herself. Before she could, he broke
out of the final cuff himself. His strong arms picked her up and carried her from
the stairwell, down the hallway across thick carpet, moving confidently now.
Apparently he’d known their whereabouts all along. Noire hung in the air, blood
rushing to her head and making her giddy. Anyone could open their door at any
moment and catch them, Noire wearing only that matching set of lingerie. She
made a mental note to go back to the stairwell for her clothing later.

He balanced her on one shoulder as he slid a card into the door
lock, and when they entered the room, he placed her carefully on the bed, leaning
over her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and kissing her long, deep and hard.
Noire kissing him back, her lips bruising. Her tongue explored every part of his
mouth that she could find, wanting to possess all of him. Her fingers fumbled with
the buttons of his red uniform and he had to help her remove it. The skin beneath
was just as hot as the rest of him. His muscles rippled beneath her fingers, beneath
his mouth. All she could hear was their breathing as she removed his pants.

His body pressed down on her, heavy, hard and hot. Every inch
of her skin was afire with his heat. Strong hands combed through her hair, undoing
her braid, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He was solid and firm on top
of her. He barely fit on the bed, he was so long. His fingers slid across her
skin, skimming the surface, leaving her wanting more. She watched his gray eyes
drift downward, toward her bra again. The size and the strength of him was more
a turn-on than any man she’d met before. And the way he had looked at her in the
stairwell—she felt delicate and feminine for the first time since she’d grown a
foot during puberty.

When he tugged her panties off,
finally,
and pressed
his cock between her legs, she felt ready to come right then. The head of his
cock was velvet-soft against her, such a contrast to the strength in the rest
of him. It teased at the opening to her cunt and she grabbed at him, pulling him
inside her, fingernails digging into his ass. She shifted her hips, thrusting
forward, and yes, there it was—he hit the center of her just so. She kept her
hands on his ass, holding him tight for a moment, savoring the complete
fullness before they began to move together again.

Noire had never been one for the missionary position,
preferring the angle she could get from doggie style or the control she felt on
top. But there was something about the weight of him pressing her into the bed
that hit her in all the right places tonight. The tan skin of his biceps
glistened with sweat, and her own dark curls were plastered to her forehead.
She made a cavalier attempt to blow the hair out of her eyes flirtatiously and
failed. He chuckled and with a tenderness that shocked her, brushed the hair
from her face with his hand before leaning down to place a soft kiss on her
lips.

Moaning, she opened her mouth and sucked his tongue inside,
kissing him hard. He grunted and acquiesced, stroking her tongue with his own.
She wanted him inside her in all ways possible—his cock, his tongue, his
emotions. She met his eyes with hers and dared him to break contact. The air
was heavy with sweat and for a moment Noire could hear everything—her gasping
breath as they kissed, the syncopated
thumpa-thump
of his heartbeat, the
whirring of the hotel furnace, the distant late-night street traffic fourteen
stories below. She blinked first. He grinned.

He thrust into her again and again, moving agonizingly
slowly. She clenched at his cock from inside and watched his eyes, staring at
the black pools of his pupils surrounded by clouds before a storm. That’s what
his eyes were: tempestuous. Stormy. She knew she was affecting him, but nothing
changed in his pace, only his eyes. Stormy, with a kind of sunshine—she could
swear his eyes were laughing at her. He knew he was in charge now.

She raked her nails from his ass up his back, knowing he’d heal
by morning—shifters always healed quickly. He was gentler with her, catching her
mouth again in a kiss as he thrust into her one last time, moaning into her mouth
as he came.

When he pulled out of her, she was still hungry for more. He
laid a trail of kisses down her neck, across her breasts, stomach and farther down.
When he thrust his tongue deep inside her cunt, it felt warmer even than his cock,
and she came right then. He sucked hard between her legs, lapping up every last
drop of her pleasure. When her moans subsided, he kissed her once, then cradled
her against him.

As she drifted off to sleep, Noire began to dream of large men,
howling wolves and her sister’s wide eyes. She thought about the promise she’d made
to Cam, and then made a new one to herself:
If it comes down to my life or catching
Fawn’s murderer, I know which one I’m going to pick. I won’t let you down this time,
Fawn. Not this time.