His Stolen Luna

3. Never

~ LARK ~

Lark sat in the corner of a very comfortable leather loveseat glaring at the room. A very tasteful, clean and soothing room that she would have loved to examine more closely to see if she could replicate the feel of it in her own home—the simple gold and cream décor was a breath of fresh air after all her father and brother’s heavy dark woods and navy blues. But she wasn’t taking her eyes off the meathead enforcers that had brought her there. In her mind she’d named them Thing One and Thing Two, they were so nearly identical in their appearance—thick necks, slicked back hair, suit jackets with hoodies underneath, which was a look she used to like.

One of them caught her staring and grinned crookedly.

Lark stared him down until he rolled his eyes and looked away.

She blew the air from her nose in a derisive snort. But in truth, her confidence was wavering.

They’d taken her by surprise when they snatched her like a child off the street. It was embarrassing when she thought about it. She knew better than to take those short-cuts down the alleys of the city. But the truth was, it had been two years since anyone had tried to take her and her father had punished that pack so soundly that the ones that could still walk had tucked their tails around their balls and hadn’t made so much as a whine since.

It had seemed like her father and brothers had finally convinced the bloodlines that she wasn’t worth the effort. And she’d been so damn sick of looking over her shoulder. She’d been bending the rules for months with no issues. Even her father had had to admit things had been a lot more peaceful. She’d been convinced he was about to loosen his grip…

Lark swallowed a whine of her own. Her father was going to be impossible after this.

Shaking off the creeping despair that wanted to overwhelm her with how stifled her life already was, let alone what it would look like after this, she made herself turn to Thing One, the monster of a wolf standing next to the window that overlooked the sea.

If she hadn’t known better, when they’d walked her into this place she would have thought she was in some coastal penthouse—a simple, but spacious dwelling in the nice part of town. Not a tasteful bachelor’s apartment wedged into the top floor of a wharf warehouse.

No one was talking, which probably meant the meatheads in front of her were talking through the mindlink. About her.

F*ckers.

She was about to demand they tell her what they were saying when the door into the living area swung open quickly, the air from the hallway outside wafting in and bringing with it the most incredible scent of a pine forest in the autumn, damp earth, and the heady aroma of aged scotch.

Lark whipped her head around to see who had arrived—and her breath caught when John-Paul Baptiste prowled into the room, shoulders so broad they filled the doorway when he passed through. His nearly-black hair was neatly cut on the sides, but slicked back on top and long enough that strands of it fell in his eyes now, because he’d been running his hands through it.

That scent, coupled with the sheer presence of the powerful male, made her stomach dance, a thrilling and nauseating sensation that she did not welcome.

As he stalked towards her, John-Paul stared through those tines of hair, his eyes—were they gray? Green? She couldn’t tell, they seemed to change with the light—piercing and fixed on her.

Lark licked her lips, then caught herself and made herself still. But those eyes had caught the movement, and stayed on her mouth for a moment in a hot gaze that she felt as if he’d traced his thumb across her lower lip.

Frustratingly, while Lark found her cheeks suddenly heating, he stalked toward her, cold as ice that would soothe the furnace under her skin, his face a blank mask. When she pressed her lips together to keep herself from trying to swallow—the roof of her mouth was suddenly dry—he scanned her from her toes to her crown, then looked away as if he’d measured her and found her wanting.

Heart pounding, Lark drew herself up to her full height—which wasn’t really going to help in this room of massive Wolf-males. But she didn’t care.

No matter how good he smelled, he didn’t get to look at her like she was a steaming pile someone had impolitely left on the carpet.

“Mr. Baptiste,” she snapped, shoving out of the couch, ignoring how her shoulder screamed in protest when she pushed down on the arm of the seat, and stood, chin tilted, as if she’d summoned him.

There was a flash of something in those incredible eyes, but he just huffed a single breath and turned to Thing One and Thing Two, who were both grinning.

“Leave us. Now,” he snapped.

Lark’s breath stopped, but she did her best not to let it show as the two enforcers beamed.

“Whatever you say, JP!”

John-Paul’s eyes narrowed and the little muscles at the back of his jaw flexed. “I’m going to fix this sh*tshow that you all created, and you’re going to thank me later. But for now, get your asses in the hall and make sure we aren’t disturbed. You do not open that door unless I specifically give you permission, are we clear?”

They both rushed to assure him they understood, waggling eyebrows and grinning whenever their eyes fell on her.

Lark seethed but didn’t say anything as they both moved quickly for the door, John-Paul watching them like a hawk on rats until they opened the door and slipped out, Thing Two raising a small wave before closing it behind him.

For a moment there was no sound in the apartment except the rush of Lark’s breath and the pounding of her heart. But then John-Paul turned back to face her.

“Drink? I know I need one,” he asked, striding away to a sideboard on the edge of the room.

The light from the large windows overlooking the wharf and sea cast him in a warm glow as, without waiting for her answer, he uncorked a thick glass bottle, poured an inch of a clear, dark liquid into a tumbler, then threw half of it back in one gulp.

Well, that explained the smell of scotch.

He caught her watching him and hesitated. Then his lips slid up on one side in a lopsided smile that made him look five years younger and was as intoxicating as the liquor in his glass.

Lark’s heart began to knock on her ribs.

No, no, no. This was not good.

“It’s the matebond,” he said casually, as if that wasn’t a grenade he’d just thrown into the middle of the room.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her voice didn’t even shake. Lark wanted to fistpump.

John-Paul gave her a flat look. “I know you can feel it. I can too. But don’t worry, we’ll deny it. We’re all strong wolves here.”

Strong. Yes. Definitely strong. Lark tried to swallow as her eyes followed the lines of his bicep and shoulder, the muscles strained at his shirt when he took another swig from the drink.

When he turned to put the now empty glass down, his shoulder blade pressed out from under the thin cotton of his shirt.

Holy horndogs, she adored a good shoulder blade. For a moment she was lost in the mental image of standing close behind him, putting her hand to that hollow in his back and sliding it up his spine—

As if he’d heard her thoughts, John-Paul turned to look at her—really look at her. He held her gaze, and something deep within him called her. A primal howl shaped just like her heart.

Lark’s breath shuddered even as her lower jaw went slack. “What are—?”

He must have felt it too, because he muttered a curse and scrubbed a hand over his face. “This isn’t happening.”

She scoffed. “You don’t have to tell me that—”

“It can’t happen,” he snarled, stalking back toward her until he stood just an arm’s reach away, bringing those lovely smells with him.

He was even taller than she’d thought. Her head barely reached his collarbone.

They stared at each other and instinctively, Lark began to lean towards him. She caught herself, stunned. What the hell was wrong with her?

“Stop. Doing. That,” He seethed.

Lark blinked. “Doing what?”

“Inviting me with your eyes.”

Lark jerked her head back. “You arrogant, f*cking—”

Taking the final step that put them toe-to-toe, he took hold of her upper arms, leaned down in her face, washing her with that delicious scent, and snarled, “I reject you, Larkin Sather. I reject the bond that exists between us. This will not happen.”

Stunned, Lark just stared as he let her go like she burned, and straightened to his full height, folding his arms like he needed a shield from her.

She suddenly felt like crying, and that was ridiculous. Because… because they were just words. He was just an asshole making a point. A good point. The right point—she didn’t want to mate the Demon Alpha!

So why had her heart sunk in her chest.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he muttered, his eyes skittering away to the window behind her, as if he worried that someone might be looking through, even though they were three or four stories up. “We have a problem, and no one else here is going to help us overcome it because they want us stuck together. So we’ll have to figure a way out of this for ourselves.”

Lark was still swinging back and forth between indignation that he thought she’d invited him with her eyes—and uncomfortable grief at his words about the rejection.

Wait… she hadn’t even invited him! What the f*ck did he think he was doing, rejecting her?! The sheer arrogance of the male!

“I don’t know who you think you are,” she snapped. “But you don’t reject me, I reject you!”

His eyebrows rose as if she’d amused him. He folded his arms and his biceps strained at the sleeves again and she had to swallow.

D*mmit.

“Well, now that we got that out of the way, I guess we’re even then,” he said, the edge of his voice suddenly warmed with a stifled chuckle. Lark almost groaned. She wanted to hear that laugh. “But that still doesn’t solve our problem.”

“What problem?” she asked as smoothly as she could.

He gave her a flat look. “Well, let’s see… My family has kidn*pped you, presumably against your will—”

“You think I dove head-first into your cousin’s car and tied myself up?”

“—and that means your father now wants me and every male in my line, dead or neutered.”

“I’m still waiting to hear the problem?” She couldn’t resist it. She smiled.

He huffed a single, humorless laugh, but then the light in his eyes died. “Rejected or not, the matebond exists, Lark. Don’t believe that I’m killed it won’t cost you,” he muttered and the darkest of shadows flickered across his face. “Trust me. I know.”

Lark was reminded then that he’d mated before, had experienced a bond connection, and had lost his mate when she was still very young.

“I’m—” Lark caught herself. Then she laughed dryly. “Well, I was going to say I’m sorry for your loss. But if this is how you got your last mate—”

“Of course not!” he snarled.

She glared at him, and he glared back. But then he looked away, closing his eyes and muttering another curse, before he spoke again.

“I’m sorry that you were taken by my family,” he said through his teeth, his tone echoing with regret. “I didn’t ask them to do this. They’re… interfering on their own initiative.”

Lark frowned. She believed him. She didn’t want to, but she’d learned that her instincts were sharp. And her instincts said he was telling the truth.

D*mn.

*****

~ JOHN-PAUL ~

F*ck she was beautiful. Her hair caught the sunlight from the window and turned a thousand different shades. Her eyes, fierce and fixed on him, sparked so that he knew if he gave in he’d find a partner beyond willing… a wolf, passionate in her own right. He forced himself to keep his eyes on hers, but took in her soft curves and—

His belly clenched and he swallowed it down.

They couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do it to her. It would be the end of her.

But then it occurred to him that he if truly rejected her—sent her back to her father and turned his back—eventually she’d find another mate. Eventually she’d form a bond somewhere. She was the most highly prized and sought after female in the world right now. The prophesied mother of the White Wolf. She would not remain alone. The fact that she had made it this long—she had to be twenty-five, at least—was already a shock.

Suddenly his words, his insistence on separating them, seemed hasty as his mind filled with the vision of other male hands tracing her jaw, fisting in her hair, other lips on hers, other bodies—

He grunted and turned abruptly away from her.

Sh*t. Sh*t.

What had he been thinking?! But what was he thinking now—he couldn’t take her!

Sh*t.

“I’m glad to hear that you don’t make a habit of abducting females,” she said dryly. She’d folded her arms, which pressed her breasts up and together. JP clawed a hand through his hair and began to pace.

“You’re very uptight,” she observed, as if she found it funny.

He shot her a glare. “And you seem very relaxed for someone who’s unwillingly in the hands of a bloodline Alpha. Did you… invite this?”

Her mouth dropped open. “You think I need to ask packs to kidn*p me?”

JP shook his head and waved his hands. “Sorry, sorry. I know… I know my cousins… they thought they were helping. They all think they’re f*cking helping. I know it wasn’t you, I’m just… flustered.”

She seemed taken aback by his apology, going still, as if the words she’d planned were no longer appropriate. She closed her mouth, then swallowed, then frowned. “I… believe you.”

JP stopped pacing. “You do?”

“I might… understand what it’s like in a family where people are a little… domineering,” she said faintly.

He narrowed his eyes. “Your father?”

“My father. My brothers. The entire pack… honestly, you males have it easy. You challenge, you fight, you find your place, done. Meanwhile, we’re over here dancing between politics and pack expectations…” she trailed off, her cheeks coloring a little. “Nevermind,” she muttered.

“No, no. Go on,” he invited. “My mother died years ago and our pack is a little… different. So I’m not always aware of the dynamics. You said you understand a domineering family? Your father is powerful. Is he the one who puts these pressures on you?”

Lark sighed. “I don’t think he even sees a daughter in me anymore. I’m just this… thing that can bring people power. This pawn to be used or kept away from others. Honestly, I’ve begun to think he doesn’t want me to bond because when I do it will cut off the power he gets from controlling my life.”

John-Paul frowned sharply. “No wolf—male or female—should be on a leash to another,” he growled.

*****

~ LARK ~

Lark tilted her head, startled, but also pleasantly surprised by his reaction of protectiveness towards her. That urge within her to be closer to him, throbbed. It made her want to squirm.

Off-balance and confused, she tried to return his generosity. “No wolf, male or female, should be under threat of castration for the actions of their family. And yet, here we are.” She tried to smile, tried to make light of it. But the weight of the whole picture—her entire life, and the bars on every door within it—threatened to crush her.

John-Paul stared at her oddly. Like he could see her. Truly see her. As if he heard her thoughts. Lark, suddenly uncomfortable, flapped a hand at him.

“So, I guess we’ve both been taken hostage then?” she asked quietly.

He shook his head and blew out a breath. “Look, Lark, this bond between us, we can deny it. We have to deny it. For your safety as much as mine.”

“My safety how? You’re the kidn*pper here,” she pointed out.

He ignored the jibe, his face going thoughtful and his eyes distant, as if he didn’t really see her.

“I have a suggestion,” he said suddenly, low and hard. “I think we’re—”

“Look, John-Paul, I believe you that you didn’t plan this. But the fact is, you’re Alpha of your bloodline. No one’s going to believe that you didn’t want to try and see if I’d invite you. So my advice, if you want to reject this… thing we’ve got going here, is that you take me back to my dad—”

“Do you?” he asked suddenly.

Lark blinked. “Do I what?”

“Do you want to reject the bond?”

She opened her mouth to say, of course! But the words stuck in her throat.

His eyes went from curious to heated in a blink.

“That’s what I thought,” he muttered, then turned away from her. “F*ck. F*ck.”

“No, thank you,” she quipped, trying to keep her balance, because every time he moved it was like his body called to hers. She wanted to follow, to press herself against him. She’d never felt this kind of attraction to a male before, this pull. What the hell was happening to her? Was this what the bond did? It turned a female from an intelligent, capable wolf, into a horny creeper?

Then suddenly he was there—right there. Right in front of her. Leaning down until they were almost nose-to-nose, pinning her with his incredible eyes—this close she could see that those eyes were a rich jade green on the outside, with glowing golden flecks around his pupils.

Lark went very still, a mouse under the eyes of that hawk, but it did no good. He saw her. He really saw her.

“Listen to me, Lark. We can’t accept the bond,” he said quietly. Firmly. “If we do, you’ll die.”

She blinked. “What—”

“At the same time, I don’t know about you, but the idea of rejecting this bond and sending you to find another male suddenly seems… laughable,” he said through his teeth.

Heart pattering, Lark nodded reluctantly. They stared at each other and Lark didn’t even realize she was moving. But her hand—trembling—was somehow up and on his chest, just under his open collar. She swallowed, trying desperately to wet the roof of her mouth. But when she touched him, his eyes closed and a low, pleading groan broke in his throat.

Slowly, carefully, as if her arm were an adder that would strike at one wrong move, he took her wrist in his large hand, engulfing it, and pulling it down.

But he didn’t let it go.

His palm burned on her bare wrist.

And she liked it.

They stared at each other and it was Lark who found her voice first. “So… if we aren’t accepting the bond… and we aren’t rejecting it…?”

His eyes still on the place where their skins touched, he cleared his throat. “I propose that… since you’re sick of your controlling father and I’m sick of my meddling family, and we have this bond… I suggest that we take each other as mates—”

Lark’s heart slammed to a halt.

“—in name only. I suggest we claim the bond and take control of our lives back.”

Then it plummeted to her toes.

She gaped at him. His eyes didn’t waver.

“You’re serious.”

He nodded, straightening finally—slowly—he looked down finally to watch himself let go of her wrist, his brow furrowing as if he was in pain. Then his Adam’s apple bobbed. “But I have to warn you… I’m suggesting that we take our lives back, individually.”

His beautiful eyes rose again to lock with hers.

“Lark, I want you to understand that whether you invite me or not, I will never share your bed.”