Instinctive (3 page)

Her nails bit into Kane’s skin as a powerful orgasm swept through her. Her body exploded and dripped hot cream over Kane’s cock.

“That’s my girl,” Kane whispered, giving himself over to his own release. From behind, Brian joined in. He groaned out loud, plunged deeper, and came high up inside her.

“Oh, sweet Jesus . . . ,” were the only words she could manage to say.

Temporarily sated, she collapsed on top of Kane’s chest, and worked to recapture her breath. Goddamn, that felt good. These two men pleasured her so nicely, she was certain she’d died and gone to heaven. That last thought suddenly brought her passion-rattled brain back to the reason she’d needed a good hard fuck in the first place.

Because in three days, her true self would be dead.

And it wasn’t going to be from pleasure.

Even though the summer sun had already given its final farewell, nightfall did little to ease the sweltering heat hovering over the small rural town of Serene. With his jeans and T-shirt clinging to his body, Slyck left his post at the nightclub and quickly made his way down Main Street. His heavy footsteps sawed through the moisture-laden air and echoed in the eerie silence.

Long, predatory, catlike strides carried him past the grocery store, the fire station, and the candy shop, before he reached the front door of the old town hall. The fluorescent light pouring from the window and lighting a long pale column on the dark sidewalk let him know the others were already inside, waiting.

As his hackles rose in foreboding, his skin instinctively grew tight and itchy—the lure of the shift pulling at him hard. Fighting down the animal springing to life inside him and working diligently to cling to his human form, Slyck felt perspiration gathering in the center of his palms, forcing him to draw deep
breaths in a concentrated effort to shake off the alluring call of the wild.

Needing a distraction—something, anything, until the moment passed—he took a minute to examine the old wooden structure at the juncture of Main Street and Mulberry Lane. White chips of paint sailed to the ground and settled like dander on the overgrown mini rosebushes while ivy vines coiled around the two towering pillars flanking the solid front door. Even though the exterior of the nineteenth-century building needed a fresh coat of paint and a little tender loving care, the structure itself remained sound and would undoubtedly stand erect for years—Slyck should know, since he’d help raise it decades ago. He lightly tapped his knuckles on a cedar slat, reassuring himself that it’d be a long time coming before another reconstruction took place.

Outwardly, the aged landmark resembled an historical building that one would readily find in any small town. But Slyck knew firsthand that sometimes looks could be deceiving. Because Serene’s town hall was far from typical, and the council members who were about to deliberate around a circular table were unlike any other council members in any other community.

With the clock ticking, Slyck collected himself, pulled the door open, and hastily made his way inside, his brisk movements stirring dust in the still night air. Silence fell like a death sentence as he perused the room and quickly took stock of those already seated around the oaken table at the other end of the long hall.

Satisfied that all members were present and accounted for, he secured the door behind him and proceeded toward his assigned chair to assume his familiar role of alpha leader. The old planked
floorboards creaked and groaned like a wounded animal under his impressive size and alerted the others to his arrival. As he took his seat, his presence closed the powerful circle of five.

Even though the Overseers had been meeting here for centuries, it never failed to astound him to see such a diverse group of species—all of whom had once been mortal enemies—coming together for a greater good. A millennium ago it was unheard-of for any one of the five to be in the same territory, let alone the same room, but here they were: a panther guide, a demon guide, a vampire guide, a lycan guide, and a coven guide—five Overseers who were all working together to keep their brethren in line and maintain order amongst their kind, while keeping their existence a secret from the rest of the world.

Of course, to survive and walk undetected amongst humans, they’d had no choice but to join forces and form allegiances. Security and strength in numbers was a hell of a powerful thing.

After the Salem witch trials in 1692, humans had grown suspicious, even bloodthirsty, for anyone perceived as different. With their very existence at risk, each supernatural species had acknowledged the need to put aside their hatred and prejudice for one another and unite forces toward a common goal—survival. Shortly thereafter, secret communities were set up all over the world, with an even distribution of the five species in each district to prevent one brethren from growing too powerful and dominating the others. Natural-born leaders from the family bloodlines emerged, accords were made, and truces were forged, albeit uneasy truces at times. Especially between Slyck, the panther guide, and Vall, the lycan guide in the Eastern Chapter.

Cats and dogs just don’t mix, but it went even deeper than that. Decades ago Vall had tried to sway Slyck’s first-in-command—his enforcer of security—to overlook his pack’s unscheduled nighttime runs. In turn Slyck’s security officer turned Vall in to the community leaders, only to end up dead a few months later. He’d left town to commute to the Western Chapter for a security meeting, and they’d later found his car wrapped around a guardrail, his head torn clear off his shoulders, ending any of the other nine lives he had left.

Although Slyck couldn’t prove it, he had always felt Vall had had some sort of involvement in the gruesome incident, which left him with a deep-seated belief that Vall had ulterior motives and always acted with his own best interests at heart, not the community’s.

Slyck had insisted Vall’s position be challenged, but the ruling didn’t go in his favor. The other Overseers sympathized with Vall and his pack, and their continual need to leash their wolf. In the end only a small reprimand had been handed down to the mongrel.

With that last thought in mind, Slyck avoided Vall’s silvery glare, stretched his long legs out in front of himself, and turned his attention to Harmony, the coven guide, who was in charge of chairing this Sunday night’s meeting, as per their assigned schedule.

Harmony was dressed in a floor-length black silk robe, with her long, thick, dark hair pulled back in a severe bun. Her violet eyes panned each council member for the briefest of seconds before she initiated the meeting. Then, for the next hour and a
half, they discussed council policy, funding, agendas, policing, bylaws, and the threat of exposure from rogue members living outside their gates. Naturally, not every member of every species saw the beauty and benefits of their secret society, hence the need for the Western Chapter to set up a task force to track down and eliminate all rebels. Before the meeting came to a close, Harmony opened the floor to discuss any new business. With that opening, Slyck spoke up.

He hardened his expression and prepared for an impending confrontation with the canine. “It has been brought to my attention that a few of Vall’s pack have been running in the woods, near the perimeter.” He resisted the urge to add “again.”

A moment of silence passed as Harmony absorbed that bit of information; then, “Vall, is this correct?” she asked in her usual, patient voice.

Vall smirked at Slyck, his ruthless pewter eyes narrowing to mere slits. His stony silence spoke volumes as he threaded his beefy hands—large paws that would look at home on a Kodiak—through his long golden mane. He groomed himself with a casual nonchalance that belied his primitive temperament.

In an attempt to lighten the situation,Vall rolled one broad shoulder, gave a humorless laugh, and said easily, “It was a little harmless run. A few of the teenagers enjoying the wind in their faces.”

Slyck felt his temper flare from simmer to inferno. But since he was not a man who let emotions rule his actions, he worked to control his anger and fisted his hands beneath the table. His crescentlike claws bit into his flesh as his predatory instincts exploded like gunfire.

Slyck drilled his gaze into Vall and held his ground as he leaned forward—a battle of wills. Since Slyck wouldn’t tolerate stupidity or insubordination, he continued with his litany. “As you know, a rule is a rule, Vall. No matter how big or how small. And these rules are in place for the
community’s
best interest.” He shot Vall a distrustful look, the underlying message clear in his tone. It didn’t take a genius to translate the meaning of his words, only a lycan. “We all have responsibilities that we must uphold. If we don’t, our community will collapse around us,” he added. “You know it, and I know it.”

“No harm was done, Slyck,” he barked out, undaunted. “If your little kitties hadn’t—”

Slyck unfurled his fingers and cut him off, refusing to tolerate his juvenile conduct. “Since I’m chief of security, it’s their job to report to me.” Slyck turned the conversation back onto Vall and his irreverent behavior, refusing to let him sidetrack the council, a technique the mongrel had skillfully mastered over the years. “The full moon was three days ago. They should have gotten their run out of their system then. We all know shifting at any other time during the month is purely for pleasure, an aphrodisiac, or to procreate, and such behavior is not tolerated, never has been, especially during our temporary halt in population.” Even though he had no solid proof, deep down Slyck believed Vall was trying to grow his pack, to build his army and shift the town’s power to his advantage. “If you don’t discipline them, then this matter will have to be handed over to Devon—”

At the sound of his name, Devon, the demon guide, who had seemed rather quiet during tonight’s meeting, perked up. Christ
knows, if there was one thing the town needed to worry about, it was a quiet demon.

When Vall lifted his brow in a challenge, Harmony broke in. Her ancient, knowledgeable eyes silenced Slyck with a glance. She angled her chin and spoke in a placating manner. “Vall, please see to it that it doesn’t happen again.”

Slyck bit back a response and pinched the bridge of his nose in disbelief. Was it his imagination, or lately was Harmony always siding with Vall? Everyone knew there were no second chances in this town, except, it seemed, where Vall was concerned. Devon was chief of discipline, and the matter should now be in his hands, his to deal with. Slyck shook his head, unable to believe that Harmony was letting Vall off the hook so easily. Yet despite his incredulity with the coven guide’s ruling, since she was chairing tonight’s meeting, council directive stated the others must abide by her dictum. And since he
always
abided by the rules, he swallowed a protest and sat back in his chair, suddenly feeling much older than his nine hundred years. And maybe even a little burned out.

Slyck panned the table, and then focused on Quinn, the vampire guide, who seemed rather peaceful tonight. His eyes flashed a contented black as he sipped on a fresh bag of blood to sate his hunger upon his recent awakening.

Vall let off a little of his puppy charm and smiled at Harmony. “Of course, Harmony,” he said, his voice as smooth as aged scotch—and just as intoxicating. “I’ll see to it that it doesn’t happen again,” he amended, then brandished his familiar, insidious smirk when he glanced Slyck’s way.

“Thank you, Vall.” Her tone softened, and dark lashes blinked over violet eyes. “Of course we all understand the desire to be in primal form, but you know it’s forbidden for a lycan or even a panther to change at will outside the privacy of your home. With the exception of your full-moon runs, we must always hide our identities. Exposure to the real world is a never-ending threat, especially now with an outsider about to set up residence. That”—she paused to tap her finger in the air—“and you can’t always be accountable for your actions in your natural state.”

Devon’s raspy voice sounded from across the table, and his gaze flashed gold. Effortlessly redirecting the conversation, he asked, “Speaking of the newcomer, what do we know of her? Will she be making her stay permanent? Or, rather, will
we
be making her stay permanent?”

Ah, so at least Slyck now knew what was wrong with Devon. Boredom. Demons were only happy when they were wreaking havoc on others and it had been a hell of a long time since he’d slain anyone, taken them “home,” and returned to Serene with a new plaything.

“As far as I can tell, her stay is temporary.” Harmony pulled a file from her briefcase and placed it on the table. “Meet Jaclyn Vasenty, heir to Vasenty Cosmetics, her daddy’s multimillion-dollar company.”

All sets of eyes were trained on the striking young woman in the photo. Slyck spent an extra-long minute taking in her expensive business suit, and the sexy way it clung to her curves like a second skin. So prim. So proper. So human.

So not his type.

His gaze lingered on her pretty face, and he noted the way long lashes shadowed dark, tortured eyes, and he wondered what had made her so sad. Chestnut hair tumbled in waves over her slender shoulders, and her full pouty mouth was slightly turned down at the corners.

His focus shifted and fixed on her luscious, kissable lips. He aimed a longing glance and afforded himself a moment to devour the plush smoothness. He moved restlessly in his old wooden seat, suddenly uncomfortable.
Goddamn.
Lips like those belonged to a wild, uninhibited woman, a woman far different from the one portrayed in the picture. Full, sensuous, erotic—everything a young panther’s wet dreams were made of. He wondered if that sweet, lush mouth of hers ever got her into trouble.

He felt a curious clench in his gut as lust jumped up to kick him in the groin. Okay, so if she wasn’t his type, then why the fuck was he wondering how that pretty pink mouth of hers would feel wrapped around his ever-expanding cock?