Collared for a Night (Crimson Romance) (3 page)

Her blood raced, sensing it was almost time. The waxing moon would be overhead, creating an apex in her intolerable craving. She hissed in anticipation. Finally, she’d make her own scratch marks on this well-worn floor and upon the body of the alpha who’d agreed to take her on. She rocked back and forth, recalling the long questionnaire she’d filled out for the Den’s intake counselor and then the photographs of countless men she’d been given to ponder. No one seemed better than the next, and she’d left the decision to the Den’s counselor.

In Denver, there were several places where unmated shifters could go, including online coupling services. Daring shifters braved the underground clubs to seek fulfillment using kink and elaborate bondage gear, making this mere collar and chain appear very simplistic.

The Downtown Den was a highly regarded establishment known for confidential penchants, proclaiming experience in handling first timers in search of stud, and she’d sought services after learning about them as one of Matrix’s clients. Here, the club provided a supervised face-to-face meeting where she could veto the chosen stud.

In truth, she needed a modicum of security, not for her but against her uncontrollable nature. In a BDSM club, she feared what would happen when her lustful nature let loose. She almost laughed at the thought of her needing assistance. What she required amounted to being leashed and unable to break free, but also protection against someone who’d take advantage of her. She wasn’t up for a roomful of alphas who might tag-team a female. Some shifters mounted a female in heat simultaneously. Her pussy clenched and spasmed uncontrollably at the image of her body filled to the brim.

Diana stretched, arching upward, releasing pent-up energy. She had no doubt her own primal nature would get her into trouble if left unbridled. So she willingly sat with the steel collar locked around her neck.

When she shifted, she’d be almost six feet long and weigh in at more than a couple hundred pounds. Nothing dainty or fragile about her leopard body, and she wouldn’t have to worry about splinters with a set of curved claws replacing her French manicure.

Chapter 2

Shawn dropped into his chair, prepared to give his attention to the roster for the evening. Being a part owner of the Downtown Den meant he kept an eye on the solo shifters booking rooms and services. Things could get hairy in a second, in more ways than one. Hence the club’s private menu of shifter services.

Not everyone had titanium control on his or her shifting urges. And the reason he continued to lose business to Howl, a BDSM club a few blocks away. Even his staff ventured over there to sample the menu of kink. Not him. He’d been doing this for so long, he’d adopted a Zen ability to fuck instead of mate when the urge arose.

That was one of the few points on which he and his partner agreed. They’d gone to school together and were hardcore bachelors on different paths.

For any alpha male, fucking and mating were two distinct activities, one being a primal act and the other being a near-spiritual ceremony. He doubted he’d ever find the right female shifter whom he’d be bound to care for and protect for a lifetime. Shawn wasn’t about to abandon bachelorhood anytime soon.

As he reviewed the bottom of the Excel spreadsheet, he did a double-take, staring at the neatly-typed name. “No fucking way.” Shawn ground his teeth. He double-clicked the mouse, opening the client directory. “Quinn, who booked room eleven?”

His partner glanced up from his cellphone with an arched brow. “I’ll ring you back, doll. In five.” Quinn tossed the phone on top of his desk.

Shawn studied the document displayed on the computer screen, searching for the intake counselor’s name.

“I’ve not heard that tone in your voice since … Hmmm, when was it last? That’s right — never. Who the hell is in eleven?”

“A straightforward question. Was it Bethany? Where’s the file?” Shawn tunneled his fingers through his dark hair.

Quinn stood and came around the desk. He bent close to the computer, his red wolf eyes tracking across the screen. “Diana Hambre. I don’t get it. She’s not infamous. An ordinary woman’s got your edge up. How’d that happen?”

“She’s not just any woman. Miss Hambre works for me at my day job.”

“Yes, I know she’s part of your wiz design team. I’m still lost. Dude, what’s the big deal?”

“She’s my
employee
. I, for one, don’t share what I do in my off time with those I file W-2s for while paying their health premiums. That’s asking for complications. Didn’t anyone remember to check her references and flag her for being a possible conflict of interest?”

“I guess not. What do you want to do?”

“For starters, I’ll see if we have grounds to rescind the executed service contract.” After opening Diana’s digital file, Shawn clicked on the service agreement. He scrolled down to her place of employment. “Bingo. Diana entered freelance graphic artist for employment.”

He skipped to the end of the contract. “And she signed the contract agreeing to terms. Clearly, she didn’t read the fine print.”

“Don’t be a son of a bitch. I don’t even read the fine print, and I’m a fucking attorney. That’s bullshit, Shawn. Whoa.” Quinn pointed at the computer screen below where Diana’s photograph was displayed. “She’s a widow. Says she’s been going solo since her mate died last year. Are you going to do that to a woman in need?”

He glared at Quinn. “Now who’s full of it? You’re only taking up her cause because you’re interested. Don’t you get enough pussy already? Fuck you. Diana isn’t up for grabs. And besides, what she needs isn’t a scrappy wolf with too much testosterone.” Shawn’s chest expanded with the sensation of being filled with cement.

Why the hell did it bother him that Quinn wanted to service Diana? He drummed his fingers on the edge of his keyboard. Christ, he’d avoided thinking of her in terms being of a woman or a shifter. She was a graphic designer. Who was he joking?

For a year, he’d not let his imagination get the better of himself. He continually fought against thinking of her in terms of being a luscious shapeshifter needing a stud. Without warning, he envisioned her seductive pink mouth, invitingly open. He gritted his teeth, scrubbing his hand over his jaw.

Christ. No reason to continue this fantasy unless he wanted to sport a full-blown hard-on. Bad enough that Diana’s body had given him one for the first month that she’d worked for him.
Espiritu Santo.
He gazed up at the ceiling. Room eleven was on the next floor above his office.

Diana — his little enigma.
He’d never doubted her talent in graphic design. After all, it was her creativity and design sense that made him respect her more and more, thwarting his desire to bend her over his desk and fuck her at Matrix. He’d put aside what his dick had wanted because her talent wasn’t worth crossing boundaries. Not when Diana had the goods for being an up-and-coming graphic artist.

Last month she had been nominated for the prestigious
American Design Package Award
. His complete confidence in her was reflected in his reserving a table for his staff to attend the ceremony in Las Vegas. Diana and he had a standing breakfast meeting this Monday in which he planned on presenting her with a promotion, moving up from an associate into a partnership slot.

She’d pack up her desk if she found out he owned the Den — a stud club. She and her prim sensibilities. A year she’d gone without sex. How the hell was that even possible?

Quinn backed away from his desk. “I’m not interested. I can tell this woman is off-limits by the careening macho reaction you’ve got going on.” His partner chuckled in an irritating manner.

“Don’t be so damn dense. Do you screw your office staff?”

“Eleanor, my assistant, worked with my grandfather, just to remind you. I think of her like an aunt. Don’t go there. The day she retires, I’m toast. I understand the problem. I just believe you’ve got a screwed-up perspective on this one. Shit, Shawn, ever since you agreed to head the Southwest council, you’ve taken a holier-than-thou attitude. You’ve been asked to mete out justice, not act the part of a saint.”

“Aren’t you the one who constantly harps on my position in this community? That I’m supposed to be a role model for other shifters? Or was that all talk?”

Quinn cocked his head. “I see both sides in the justice system for shifters and what we’re trying to do with the Den. So what if you have an employee who wants a night of release? Isn’t that the point of this place? Isn’t that the point of you heading the council? Giving shifters options.”

“Sometimes I think it would have made more sense for you, as an attorney, to head the justice council,” Shawn muttered.

“Naw, you’re the one with family ties. This is more than knowing the law, it’s having clan standing. I could never fill your father’s shoes.”

“The hell if I know how my old man did it all. Managing shifters is far from easy.”

“It never is.” Quinn rapped his knuckles against the desk before he stepped away. “So what’s your game plan?”

Shawn frowned, picking up a paperclip and pulling it apart. Most tended to want fast action and quick results. Mercurial was part of the shifter charm. Shawn’s life was embroiled in solving shifter passions. He’d proven that forging a southwest control center over the once-independent packs meant violent crimes — or at least shifter-on-shifter crimes — had lowered remarkably. Forget the court system or police; shifters lived a different life and were largely ignored by humans.

Shifters melded and fit into society by being invisible. When disputes occurred, they were settled in shifter form. Wolves and panthers, coyotes, and leopards didn’t require attorneys or bail bondsmen. And the justice doled out was harsh, bloody, and wrenching. Whole families and clans were once targeted. That, too, had changed, now that he’d created the means to allow shifters an opportunity to articulate and seek justice on issues only shifters could appreciate and understand; well beyond the human justice system and what was permitted.

“Obviously, times are changing. And just because they are, I don’t agree that Diana should be here … seeking this type of release from a club banger. Christ, this isn’t the type of conversation I’d want to hear over the water cooler on Monday.”

“Seriously, you sweat too much over the details.”

Shawn stared at the photograph taken for the Downtown Den’s file. Diana looked uneasy with her amazing eyes. In the photograph they were a bit too wide-open and her pupils were fully dilated, a sign of an impending shift. His gaze moved to her mouth. He could feel his pulse begin to race and he scrolled down the document. He rapidly reviewed the notes from the counselor’s records, then almost slammed his mouse on the desk.

“I’m less than impressed given those are words coming from a man who does everything that crosses his sex-saturated brain. For a moment, can you see your way clear to understanding this issue? Intake has paired her with a regular player. The man is a running back on Denver’s professional ball team. A regular Johnny Rocket of the Den’s alpha males.”

“Well, she’ll leave a happy woman. Refresh me. What is she?
Felidae
or
Canis
?”

Shawn grunted, “What the hell do you think? Christ, you’re such of lying sack of … .”

“Your tone says one hundred percent feline. By chance, is she leopard?” Quinn’s mockery rose.

Shawn spoke through clenched teeth. “Full-blood leopard. For five generations, at least.”

“No stuff? Amazing coincidence, considering your lineage. How rare is that, do you think? And in Denver?”

At first Shawn didn’t respond, preferring to rub his hand over his jaw. That same thought had twisted his gut for the last year. He looked away from his computer screen. “I’ll send Sonya up to the room since the intake counselor has already gone for the day. She can talk with Diana; explain to her that the club alpha she’d been paired with didn’t show. If Diana tries to place some demands on us, Sonya can show her the contract and terms. Sonya can always say we ran a background check and discovered Diana was linked to Matrix. Jesus, a simple online search of Diana links her to my company. I don’t know why she chose the Den. She’s more than aware that Matrix Design does the advertising, retail design, and branding for the club. I’m sure she won’t stand her ground. Hell, Diana’s not an attorney. I doubt she’d be one to put up an argument. She’s nothing but a kitten at heart.”

Shawn almost snorted at the idea of Diana naked and in the depth of heat. He halted his imaginings that were about to go on a rampage, envisioning Diana, a full-blood leopardess, naked and splayed open. His cock did more than twitch. He steadied his breathing, forcing the image of a hardworking designer back in place. His reverie was broken by Quinn’s odd cellphone ringtone.

“What do you want me to do?” Quinn asked, glancing down at his cell screen. He silenced the phone.

“Go talk to the jock and find him another woman. I’m certain you’ve got several on call tonight for your own needs. Take him along and make a party out of it.”

Quinn smirked. “Don’t knock a ménage if you haven’t tried it. When it comes to naked, shifting women — the more the merrier. I intend to take my fill before I settle down. It’s now or never, buddy.”

He wasn’t going to waste his breath with Quinn. Women were best kept at a distance. And joining with a mate was a road he’d almost traveled down until he’d plummeted off a cliff at the last moment when his fiancée had run off with his ex-partner. It had taken a healer’s powers to break that bond and it hadn’t been easy or short, and he still had the scars. Shawn had decided long ago that a tender heart was a weak organ. He’d rather have no heart than one that could be broken, and refused to let anyone get that close again.

He pulled out his cellphone, tapping the screen to bring up his contact list, and pressed the icon for the club manager’s number.

“Yes, Shawn. What’s up?” Sonya answered. He bet she was in the storeroom moving boxes of liquor from the muffled sound of her voice.

“I thought I told you to get the bartenders to stock the bar?”