Conner's Wolf (2 page)

The image of Conner Stern filled her mind, causing heat to roll through her. Under different circumstances she would have acted on the intense attraction between them. All she’d wanted to do when they first met was drag him behind the nearest wall of trees and get naked. He might be totally
human
, but he’d managed to make her nipples go tight and her pussy weep with need in a way no man ever had.

Blond, big—everywhere, as evidenced by the bulge at the front of his pants—he had alpha stamped all over him, even if he wasn’t Were. And the way he smelled… Hot, aroused male mixed with the scent of guns and coffee, determination and strength.

Breathing him in had nearly made her lightheaded. Seeing the desire in his eyes had nearly made her start panting like a bitch in heat,
literally
. The wolf would be satisfied with him, even without his having a furred shape.

She choked back a laugh that might just as easily have been a cry. Conner worked Homicide, making any hope for something with him a joke.

He was all cop, a straight-up guy who was well respected by his peers. She’d researched him before agreeing to meet and talk to him after the psychic, Patrick Dean, was murdered.

There were times when being a reporter and a werewolf was
not
a good combination. Specifically, when the supernatural intersected with the world the majority of the human population thought was the
real
world. In those times of intersection, the true supernaturals—the Were among them—all tried to keep a lower profile than usual, and that was saying a lot since
no one
wanted a coming-out.

The urge to explore the world around her, to discover interesting stories and share them with others, seemed to run as thickly in her blood as the call to turn into a wolf during the full moon. Having that desire had given her the motivation and sense of purpose necessary to override instinct and leave the pack, but it had also led to the situation she found herself in.

A man claimed the stool next to her. His smell had her lips pulling back in a get-lost snarl. Considering how on edge she felt, she was afraid she’d bite him if he dared lay his hand on her or uttered the pick-up line his scent told her was coming.

Hell, she might just bite him for being close enough that his body heat and smell invaded her personal space. Both rubbed against her like a scouring pad.

“Hey there, sweet thing, looks like you could use some company.”

Not his fault he was the last in a long line of guys who’d hit on her. Not his fault she was all out of polite. “Not interested. Get lost.”

He laughed, a good-old-boy, I-don’t-believe-you’re-serious-about-passing-me-up sound that had her biting off a growl the tiny lizard part of his brain would recognize as the real deal.

“Don’t be like that, brown sugar.”

Her nostrils flared, the wolf and human aspects of her personality wholly in agreement with Darwin’s theories and the need to cull the genetic pool, starting with this guy. She wasn’t sensitive when it came to her heritage, or the obvious mix of Caucasian, Mexican and black in her features. The right man could call her brown sugar while he had his mouth on her and she’d say, “Eat me right up, baby.”

What she
was
sensitive about was being in the presence of idiots who couldn’t take the hint. Strike that;
get lost
were two short, simple words and an easily grasped concept.
Not interested
was the same. Ergo, this old boy was beyond classification as an idiot.

Khemirra drank the last swallow of beer and set the mug on the bar, thinking he was lucky she didn’t club him with it. Time to go. And if this guy thought he was going to follow her down the road to her motel room, then she just might blow off a little steam by going furry.

She stifled a laugh. Yeah, big talk on her part. Turning wolf was the ultimate self-defense move in her arsenal. Pepper spray, making plenty of noise and avoiding dangerous situations were at the top of her list, though in between those and shifting she had some fight moves she wouldn’t mind dusting off.

She slid off the barstool, ignoring her unwanted suitor. A step. Two. Her survival instincts told her he’d swiveled to watch her walk away, but other than that, he apparently had some good sense after all.

At the door she felt his attention shift to someone or something else. Some of the tension washed out of her. Not all. That wasn’t likely to happen anytime soon.

She pushed through the door and stepped into moonlight. It was a struggle not to lift her face to the sky and howl, to fill the night air with a wolf song holding the longing to be somewhere safe, to be surrounded by the pack—or more accurately, given the primal nature of the wolf’s desire, to be covered by a strong alpha male. By Conner.

Khemirra managed a small laugh at herself. Talk about Pavlov and his dogs.
Bow wow. Soon as the words alpha male pop up, there’s Conner front and center in my thoughts. Pretty soon I’m going to start salivating, not just wetting my panties with arousal.

She shook the hot need off and scanned the parking lot. There were plenty of cars mixed in with the trucks. Engines were still running in some of them, the glass steamed from activities she wouldn’t mind being engaged in herself with—

Save it ‘til you get to the motel room, then you can fantasize.

A few of the trucks had people hanging around, shooting the shit, or in more than one case, lifting Mason jars wrapped in paper sacks to their lips for long drinks of home brew. None of the people seemed to notice or care about her though she had the prickly sense of being watched, much, much dulled and now pretty much ever-present from being on the run.

She hated this part. The second-guessing herself, the wondering if it was really safe to stop long enough for a good night’s sleep and a morning of doing interviews or research or writing the articles that paid for gas and food.

Her Jeep was tucked in behind the motel, a relatively short, very dark walk and a curve away from the bar. She’d parked in the back, facing out, the plates conveniently muddied for a quick escape if necessary.

The room was paid for. Cash, no questions asked. Proximity to the bar and the freeway generated plenty of activity the owners apparently didn’t want to go on record as knowing about. It suited her just fine.

She turned to the right, toward the motel, alert to any movement, any threat either in front or behind her. A burst of laughter had her nearly jumping out of her skin. “Like a damn cat,” she muttered, only barely stopping herself from whirling around.

Doors slammed behind her, mixed in with plenty of talk and laughter from both male and female voices. She didn’t glance over her shoulder but kept going, moving out of the light illuminating the parking lot and into a darkness lifted only by the moon’s glow.

She picked up the sound of a car leaving the highway in front of her. Its choice of destination was limited. Motel. Bar. Possibly the stretch of land dotted with homes sporting plastic deer and rusted-out lawn mowers in their front yards, or the trailer park farther down the road.

A diesel engine started in the bar parking lot, its hard throb almost loud enough to drown out the sound of night insects. She kept moving, breathing in the scent of pine and honeysuckle as she walked, filling her lungs with it and holding it there, wishing she could use it as a buffer against the stink of cleaner and cigarette smoke and old carpet that would soon assail her despite the open window of the motel room.

She was tempted to shift and sleep in the woods. The wolf would like that.

A shiver of longing went through her at imagining the feel of dirt and leaves beneath her feet, the embrace of so many exquisite smells and textures and tastes.

She resisted temptation. It was too close to the full moon to risk it.

She was the wolf, and the wolf was her. But there were degrees of separation and sometimes those degrees created a nearly impenetrable barrier. Shifting back to human wasn’t often easy, especially when prey was abundant and survival easy, though transitioning between forms
became
easy with the taking of a mate.

As if on cue, the word
mate
summoned the image of Conner and thoughts of him brought the hard clenching of her channel and the tightening of her nipples. She shook the reaction off, her attention splitting between the sound of the diesel truck accelerating behind her and the gas-powered car closing in ahead of her.

Her heart rabbited in her chest, a physical reaction to the potential threat of being trapped. Her logical mind said the odds were against it and wrestled against the urge to run.

Wolves fought when cornered, but preferred to bolt. She was very afraid if she gave in to the urge to race for the nearby woods, she wouldn’t be able to prevent the shift.

The truck screeched to a halt behind her and she whirled to face it. Fear-based adrenaline morphed into a blowing-off-steam kind of rush at seeing the two guys who jumped out of it. Run-of-the-mill scumbags; she was fairly confident she could handle them.

“We’re going to have us some fun now,” the hefty one said, licking his lips as a prelude to charging.

She was ready for him, though he made it easy to deflect his attack.

A grab of his arm and she sent him sailing past to burn his exposed skin on asphalt when he couldn’t regain his balance and went down.

His scrawny companion was already in motion and unable to change his assault tactics. A duck and flip, and he went airborne, landing hard enough on his back to make him gasp and flail like a fish pulled out of the water.

She laughed, probably not the smartest thing to do when she’d just emasculated a couple of guys, but after the last few weeks, she couldn’t help it.

The slab of low-grade beef got to his feet, smiling though there was meanness in it now. “I’m glad you like it rough, ‘cause I do too.”

His companion was still down but rolling as if he intended to stand. Beefy charged again, this time low, anticipating she might duck or try to sidestep him.

She used a foot to the gut instead. Risky if he grabbed her ankle, but she didn’t think he’d be fast enough.

He hunched over at the contact. A strike of her clasped hands dropped him to the ground.

It nearly cost her.

Scrawny swung as she turned but her reflexes saved her from suffering more than a brush of knuckles against her face.

He danced backward, anticipating her foot. She was content to let him go rather than move forward and end up with one on either side of her.

If they’d been smarter, that’s what they would have done in the first place. But they’d seen only a woman alone in the dark.
Easy prey.

The thought made her smile.

Movement betrayed Beef Slab’s intention well before he could scramble to his feet and take her out. She put him down with a chop hard enough to break a board.

His companion launched himself in a tackle, managing to take her to the ground. But with her knees drawn and her feet planted against his chest, he couldn’t take advantage of the position. A shove upward and he was airborne again.

The screech of tires announced company. The shock of seeing Conner held her flat on her back for several seconds as he aimed a pistol at the two men, yelling, “Police! Stay on the ground!”

Working on the assumption she was exempt from the command, she got slowly to her feet and edged away so her assailants wouldn’t attempt to use her as a shield.

Damn, Conner was a fine sight standing there in a shooter’s stance, his attitude total
bad ass
and practically begging the two numbnuts who’d attacked her to make a move and make his day.

Her memory hadn’t done him justice. He was even more devastating to her senses than she’d remembered.

Chapter Two

“Are these the guys you’ve been running from?” Conner asked.

The fierce protectiveness in his voice was like the lap of a hot, hot tongue between Khemirra’s thighs and she savored the sensation, squeezing her legs together in awareness of just how swollen she’d become at his mere presence.

“I don’t know who they are.”

She ate him up with her eyes because making a carnal meal of him at this particular moment wouldn’t be a good move. She would have laughed at how much she was channeling the wolf, except she’d been thinking about Conner off and on all night, and now here he was, his scent obliterating the stink of beer and unwashed bodies wafting off the men lying on the asphalt between them.

“They’re opportunistic rapists, I’d say.” She glanced at the truck, its engine throbbing and the doors open for what was probably supposed to be a quick grab followed by a hasty exit onto the freeway. “Texas plates.”

“If you don’t have a cell phone, come over here and get mine. Call 9-1-1.”

Her amusement died. Calling the police would generate a report with her name on it, maybe even get trapped in an information filter and passed on, confirming time and whereabouts. Not something she was anxious to do. But freeing these guys and having another woman take her place for their idea of fun and games wasn’t an option either, which left her with only one obvious alternative.

She skirted around Beefy and Scrawny, going to Conner’s side. Keeping her voice low she said, “What about if you call it in? Say you were an eyewitness to an attack but while you were maintaining control of these assholes the woman fled the scene. It’d be my word against theirs anyway, with your testimony being the one to lock them up.”

She didn’t need the change in his scent to tell her how much he didn’t like the suggestion. He fairly bristled at hearing it. But he was also cop enough to understand her reasons without her having to argue them.

“Fuck! I’ll keep you out of this if I can, on one condition. You stick around and we talk.”

Talk wasn’t the four-letter word she was primarily interested in, but his showing up wasn’t an accident, and agreeing to stay didn’t necessarily mean revealing the worst of her secrets. Though, from his point of view, she wasn’t sure which he’d hate hearing more—that she’d killed a man, or that she was a werewolf.

“I’ll stick.”

“Good. There are some plasticuffs in the console between the seats. Grab a couple of them.”

He ordered the men onto their stomachs as she retrieved the cuffs. “You know how to use a gun?”

“Range practice every week as part of my schooling. Hunting deer, rabbits and ducks for the family dinner table as quality bonding time.”

“Then keeping these two covered while I cuff them shouldn’t be a problem for you.”

She nearly purred at the approval coming off him, and that was a testament to his effect on her. A wolf
was not
a cat. “Nope, not a problem. This close, placing my shots isn’t much of a challenge.”

“Don’t get trigger-happy.”

Conner exchanged the gun in his hand for the plasticuffs in hers before making quick work of securing the men and pulling ID off them. Christ, he knew he was thinking with his dick, but right now its voice outshouted the one of reason.

He took the 9mm back, a flash of sexual heat shooting through him with the casual touch of her skin to his in the transfer. He couldn’t believe he’d given her his gun, could barely accept how much effort he was about to expend to keep her name out of this, but until he knew who she was running from and what kind of influence they had, he didn’t see a choice he liked better.

Instead of dialing 9-1-1, he called his CSI buddy. “You at work?”

“Yeah, so is my supervisor.”

“This is official business.”

“You abandon the search? Or catch up with her?”

“Caught up with her just as she was putting a couple would-be rapists down.”

“I’m beginning to see why you’re hot for her.”

“You don’t know the half of it. I need you to run the names for me. They’re driving a Ford-250 with Texas plates and I’m thinking chances are good there are some outstanding warrants on these two.”

He read off the information, hearing it being typed in. The wait for a hit took even less time.

“Good call. Jumped bail on charges of aggravated assault in the commission of a felony. The good State of Texas definitely wants them back.”

“That’s music to my ears. Thanks.”

He called 9-1-1, identifying himself and the situation before directing the local police to their location.

“If you want to stay uninvolved, you should get in the car.”

“I appreciate this, Conner.”

She walked away. And goddamn, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. It felt like there was a leash attached to his dick and she was holding the other end of it, pulling it tighter and tighter with each swing of her hips.

Talk. He’d be lucky if he managed more than two words with her.
Let’s fuck.

He remained hyperaware of Khemirra sitting in the dark interior of his car as the locals showed up. He half expected her to bolt as he did a song and dance with them, but luck was with him and they were content to pass the problem of the men onto Texas rather than tie up effort and generate paperwork for a case that didn’t need to go to trial to keep the bad guys off the street.

He joined her in the car, a jolt of pure need going through his cock. Only stubborn determination kept him from pulling her against him and slamming his mouth down on hers.

“Were you heading to the motel?”

“Yes.”

“What room?”

“Seventeen. Around back.”

He did a U-turn and drove the remaining distance, his temper heating up at the dark stretch of road caught in the rearview mirror, cut only by his headlights and the moon in front of him. Why the hell had she walked to the bar rather than driving the Jeep he’d spent most of his vacation chasing after? Did she
want
to get jumped?

He pulled around back and spotted her Wrangler facing out for a quick getaway. Parking next to it, he cut the engine.
Wait ‘til we get inside
, the rational part of his brain told him. It was outvoted by the one operating on hormones and raw emotion. “Who are you running from?”

Instead of answering, she countered, “You’re a long way from Florida, Conner. Why?”

“You know why; because of you. It was pretty damn obvious that day in the park that you were in trouble and needed help.”

“So you made yourself my knight in shining armor?”

Amusement sidetracked him. Jesus she had a smart mouth on her.

He glanced downward. A smart, kissable mouth.

“If you’re going to label me, then make me an old west sheriff riding to the rescue.”

Her laugh just about had him wrapping a fist around his dick.

“You make a habit of doing that? Riding to the rescue so far away from your jurisdiction?”

“Sometimes. When it’s personal.” He leaned forward, drawn by the slightly parted lips and the smell of honeysuckle-scented skin. “You promised answers, now tell me who you’re running from and why.”

She gave a little shake of her head. “Wrong. I promised to talk and that’s what we’re doing, talking.”

Humor deserted him. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“Do I?”

“You’re playing word games like a defense lawyer.”

She laughed again, sending a spike of heat straight through his cock.

“Now you’re being downright nasty, Conner, calling me names. What gives? Why have you been following me?”

To hell with talking. He tangled one hand in her hair and pulled her to him, too far gone to bother with lying. “Because I can’t fucking get you out of my mind.”

“More like, you can’t get fucking me out of your mind.”

She’d twisted his words again, but the tone of her voice and the look in her eyes were sultry seduction, come-hither promises of carnal sin he had no intention of resisting. He took her mouth, nearly reaching down to free his cock when her tongue rubbed against his in heated welcome.

He didn’t have to ask if she’d been thinking about him too. She met him thrust for thrust, tongues twining, tasting, rubbing against each other in a sensual prelude to the joining of bodies.

Her nipple stabbed his palm when he covered her breast with his hand. She pressed into him, moaned when he took the hardened point between thumb and forefinger, squeezing, tugging, their lips parting only long enough for quick inhalations.

He thought he was in control of the situation until she demonstrated just how thoroughly his own nipples had become tiny points of sensation. Her fingers zeroed in on them, sending a lightning strike of ecstasy through his chest and stomach and cock.

His hips bucked and he surrendered a sound of pleasure, then a second. The roar of lust drowning out all possible conversation except the one being conducted by their bodies, and that one was simple.

His abdomen went taut when her hands left his nipples. His balls pulled tight as she grabbed his shirt and jerked it upward, ripping it from his jeans as if nothing less than the feel of bare skin would satisfy her.

White heat filled his head when her fingers found his belt buckle. He nearly helped her free his cock. Might have if he hadn’t been afraid he’d come the instant her fist closed around him. She’d turned his dick into a battering ram against the front of his jeans.

Panting, he ended the kiss, satisfaction coming at seeing desire mirrored in her expression. “Let’s take this inside.”

The night air and hurried walk to her room cleared his head enough to remember the answers he’d been after. But the minute they were inside and he’d pinned her against the door, he knew he didn’t have the self-discipline to get all of them before fucking her.

He settled on getting the one answer that had a chance of dousing the lust like a drop into frigid waters. “Tell me you’re not involved in anything illegal,” he said. But even then he denied her the opportunity to do it by covering her mouth with his, the thrust and retreat of his tongue a prelude to ramming his cock into her slit.

“I’m not,” she told him when the need for breath forced him to relinquish her lips.

“Good.”

Her nipples were hard-tipped, touched to his chest in aggressive demand. He took her mouth again in a series of searing kisses, tugged her dark tank top from the waistband of jeans that looked poured on, emphasizing long legs and a great ass.

She ground her cunt against his erection as his hands slid underneath the tank and up her sides, then over to cover her breasts. “Is this the way you usually interrogate your female prisoners, Conner?”

Her voice was husky, breathless with desire. He laughed and it earned him a nip to his bottom lip, followed by the soothing lick of her tongue.

“Is that how you see yourself? Prisoners usually wear restraints.”

Lust shot downward at the image of her bound to the bed, a willing participant in a bondage game where he was the dominant and she was the submissive.

His cock jerked, wetting the tip with arousal, the foreskin retracting just enough to make him feel like an alpha dog about to mount a willing female. He panted, silently cursing the possibility he might actually start humping against her.

It didn’t stop him from turning her, forcing her hands up and against the wood of the door. “Prisoners get put in this stance,” he said, pushing his hands under her tank again, smoothing upward over a taut abdomen to cup her breasts, to brush his thumbs over rigid nipples.

He kissed her neck, bit, his cock spasming as she moaned and ground against him, sending a fresh wave of fantasy searing through him. Her scent making him think of a dappled forest and a vigorous, uninhibited mating, of her on her hands and knees, while he covered and thrust inside her.

She’d started this with her mention of interrogation. He decided to use it. “Give me something.”

Answers, he meant.

She said, “Let’s get naked and we can give each other something.”

“Fuck!”