The Shapeshifter's Bride

Chapter Four

She beckoned to him, the look in her emerald eyes promising hedonistic pleasures beyond his imagination. She had risen from the water like Aphrodite, her long wavy hair draped over her breasts like black silk, and he was powerless against her beauty. Her hips swung gracefully as she sashayed toward him, wearing only a smirk that pursed her full lips. His own mouth became as dry and rough as sandpaper and he discovered that his body had lost the ability to move. Only a foot separated them now. She placed a cool hand on his chest and he was lost, spiraling in his own dark desires for her…

And then those soft, lush lips moved and formed the words, "f**k you."

Christian jerked awake in his bed and slapped the alarm clock blaring next to his head. The alarm was not soft and discreet unlike everything else in Alec's home, but rather like the mournful wail of a jalopy on its last pathetic mile. He could feel the damn thing inside his skull. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with his fist, he sat up and stretched one arm over his head. Then the other. Then he joined his palms together, flipped them over, and stretched both arms in front of him. Only then did he glance at the clock. Seven A.M. In an hour, he would have to take Daisy to the library. It was the first day of her community service.

He dragged a hand down his face. Christ, he had no idea how he was going to get through this. It was only his second day on the job and already he was in danger of losing his mind. He had not been able to stop thinking about Daisy since the brief moment that they touched yesterday. His skin would not let him forget how soft and… right she felt against his.

The sheets tangled around his waist felt suffocating, doing little to conceal the evidence of his dream. Cold sweat beaded along his spine, contrasting sharply with the heat pooling low in his abdomen. Christian swung his legs over the edge of the bed, the cool morning air a blessed relief against his overheated skin.

He saw her once five years ago at her father's funeral. She had been beautiful and aloof, standing apart from the rest of the pack, her arms folded across her chest like a shield. She had worn a loose black dress that fluttered in the wind and a black wide-rimmed hat that covered the upper part of her face, serving only to emphasize the plump, ruby-red lips that glistened under the sun's rays. They had reminded him of maraschino cherries. He had glanced at her and dismissed her, thinking she was just another pretty face.

But now… she haunted his every waking thought, invaded even his dreams. With his heightened senses, he could smell her even when she wasn't around―a citrus, minty smell―and hear her breathing even though her room was two doors away from his. His ears had memorized her voice, her mocking laughter, her soft snores, and yes, even her little sighs. Last night, he had almost jumped into the pool from the balcony of his room when heard one of those little sighs following a rhythmic, buzzing noise.

His body tightened at the memory, imagination painting vivid pictures of what she might have been doing. The way her head would fall back, exposing the elegant column of her throat. The flush that would spread from her cheeks down to her chest. The way her lips would part on breathless gasps. He gritted his teeth, willing away the images that threatened to consume him.

How could he guard her from those who threatened her when he mooned over her like a teenage boy with a crush? He would have to find a way to exorcise this particular demon from himself. He couldn't afford any distractions. Not when four female leopards had already been taken, three of them found ravaged and mutilated beyond recognition. All of them pregnant. There was still no word on the last one and he was the only one who knew the dark avenues Alec had explored in his efforts to find them. To no avail.

He had sworn to protect Daisy with his life and that was exactly what he was going to do. This obsession―hell, whatever it was―could be ignored until it went away on its own. If anything happened to Daisy… He banished the thought from his mind and swung his legs off the bed, sticking them into a pair of jeans he found on the floor.

It was time to get to work.

***

The scene he found as soon as he walked into Daisy's bedroom almost made him pull out the Glock-17 he had tucked into the waistband of his jeans. A giant of a man was standing next to Daisy's bed, attempting to yank off the covers from the tiny slip of a woman who was putting up quite a fight. With her teeth bared, her hair a mass of unruly waves, and growling noises emitting from her throat, Daisy valiantly waged a tug-of-war battle with the factotum, bracing her feet against the mattress for leverage. Christian lifted his hand from the Glock.

"Let go of my blanket, you stupid oaf, or I swear I will find your lair and kill you in your sleep!"

The giant was undeterred. "The Patron said you must get up now."

"Screw your Patron!" Daisy clamped her share of the blanket between her knees and used her free arm to pick up a pillow and chuck it at Alfred's head. "I said five minutes and I meant five minutes."

"The Patron said seven o'clock," the factotum stated baldly, jerking his head to the side to avoid a projectile yellow duck. "Five minutes past seven now."

The glare that Daisy leveled on the man should have incinerated him where he stood."The library is only three blocks away and I. Can. Get. Ready. In. Ten. Minutes. You can let me sleep till seven-thirty and I would still be on time."

Alfred released his death grip on the blanket causing Daisy to topple backward and almost fall out of bed. "The Patron is waiting downstairs with breakfast. He does not like to be kept waiting."

"I am his goddamn sister, not his prisoner!"

At this, Christian glanced at the iron bars that covered her windows. Though decorated with ornate roses, they were still nothing more than tools to make sure the occupant stayed in her room like she was supposed to.

"But obviously I spoke too soon," Daisy murmured, switching her laser death-glare to Christian. "For here is my prison guard now."

The factotum turned and nodded at him. "Sir."

Christian returned the greeting and the giant stalked out of the room, pulling the door close behind him. Christian stood frozen in the doorway, his mouth suddenly dry as the Sahara.

Daisy was sprawled in the middle of the bed dressed only in white cotton panties and a thin blue tank top that did not cover her middle. Her long olive legs were folded under her and one of the straps of her top had slid off her shoulder, revealing the gentle slope that led to the swell of her breast. Golden morning light streamed through the window, caressing her skin with an almost reverent touch, highlighting the delicate dip of her collarbone and the gentle rise and fall of her chest with each breath.

For one breathless moment, Christian forgot how to think, how to breathe. There was only Daisy, sleep-rumpled and gloriously disheveled, her scent filling his nostrils—warm skin and faint traces of yesterday's perfume mingled with something uniquely her. Something that called to him on a primal level he hadn't experienced in centuries.

She frowned at him and grabbed a pillow so she could cover her front, breaking the spell. "Good morning, dungeon master."

His traitorous mind showed him flashes of Daisy shackled in chains. Naked. Issuing an invitation for ravishment with her eyes alone. He ignored the uncomfortable tightening of his jeans, grateful for the length of his shirt. "Good morning, Ms. Sawyer. Ready for your big day?"

She raised one eyebrow, a slow, deliberate movement that somehow managed to be both mocking and enticing. "Are you?" Her voice dropped to a husky murmur that danced along his spine like skilled fingertips.

She grabbed a mug from her bedside table, a caffeinated bribe most likely brought up by Alfred, and looked him over as she softly blew on the surface of the steaming liquid. The innocent action made his heart stutter, his gaze drawn to the perfect bow of her lips. Those same lips that had taunted him in his dream.

"What is Alec paying you for this job, Mister… Eastwick, is it?" She took a slow sip, her eyes never leaving his over the rim of the mug. "I can double it, whatever it is, if you'll pack your bags and get far, far away from me."

The heat in her gaze belied her dismissive words. There was something else there, something that mirrored the hunger he was trying desperately to suppress. A recognition, perhaps, of the tension that seemed to crackle in the air between them like static electricity.

"You can't afford me," he pronounced with certainty, his voice rougher than he intended. Unbeknown to her, Alec had frozen her credit cards and she only had forty-three dollars and fifty-eight cents in her checking account. The money their mother had left her was locked in stocks and various investments.

Not that he'd take the money even if she had it. What he owed her family was a lot more than a few thousand dollars in the bank. He wondered how she would react once she found out she was broke.

"All right, then." She unfolded her legs and stretched them in front of her, a languid, catlike movement that made his mouth water. The pillow she had covering her chest was lowered a fraction of an inch, revealing the slightest hint of cleavage. "What do you want, Mr. Eastwick? I'm quite flexible. Try me."

The invitation in her voice was unmistakable, vibrating with a sensuality that made his blood run hot. Christian watched as she arched her back slightly, stretching her arms above her head like a cat in the sun. The movement caused her tank top to ride up further, exposing the smooth plane of her stomach, the delicate dip of her navel. He swallowed hard, his throat working against the sudden dryness.

Christian sighed, the sound strained even to his own ears. Was she going to go down that route already? He had hoped she would keep bargaining. He was curious to know what else she would offer him to make him go away. Besides, he was just starting to enjoy himself. "Trust me, Ms. Sawyer, there is nothing you have that I want."

The blatant lie hung between them, almost tangible in its falsity. Every cell in his body screamed otherwise, ached with the need to cross the room and show her exactly how much he wanted her.

Her eyes narrowed. One corner of her mouth went up a millimeter, a knowing smirk that saw right through his facade. "You're so not gay, shut up."

The blunt assessment startled a chuckle from him, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. She was sharper than he'd given her credit for, this wild, untamed creature who set his blood on fire with just a look.

He grabbed her bathrobe from the foot of her bed and tossed it at her, needing her to cover up before he did something they might both regret. "Or you're not my type. I like tall, leggy blonds from Sweden."

Another lie. His type was apparently sitting right in front of him—petite, fierce, with a mane of midnight waves and eyes that sparked with defiance and something darker, something that mirrored his own hunger.

She stared at him for a moment as though she was trying to get a bead on him, her gaze traveling slowly from his face down the length of his body, lingering at his hips before sliding back up to meet his eyes. The deliberate perusal sent heat coursing through him, settling low in his belly. Christian shifted his weight from one foot to the other and stared right back, refusing to be the first to look away.

Behind Daisy, the light bulb of the lamp flickered before fizzing out entirely. Christian frowned. He had all of the bulbs replaced just a few days ago.

"Liar," she murmured, the single word a velvet caress that raised goosebumps along his arms. "Oh, well, I have plenty of time to get to know your likes and dislikes in the coming months. Or at least until I can figure out how to get Alec to kick me out of this house."

The promise in her voice made his pulse quicken. The thought of her uncovering his desires, of learning what made him tick, what made him burn, was both terrifying and thrilling. He didn't want to be the one to tell her that Alec wasn't just playing big brother this time. The man had plans for his sister, ones that were more connected to his duties as Alpha than that of a concerned sibling. Christian didn't necessarily agree with those plans, but it was not his place to have an opinion about it.

"But I'll play along for now." She rose out of the bed like an empress rising from her throne and flung her mane off her shoulder, exposing the elegant line of her neck. Christian's fingers itched with the need to trace that line, to feel her pulse flutter beneath his touch. She stared at him boldly, unashamed of her near-nakedness, challenging him with every breath. "You may go."

Her dismissal should have annoyed him. Instead, it sent a thrill of pleasure through him—she was every bit as fierce as he'd imagined. A worthy opponent. A woman who wouldn't bend easily to any man's will, even his.

She eyed him speculatively. The smirk had returned to tease her lips, plump and inviting. "Unless you would rather stay and watch me shower?"

Images flooded his mind unbidden—water cascading down her curves, steam rising around her like a halo, droplets clinging to her lashes, her lips, her breasts. His body responded instantly, heat pooling in his groin, his jeans suddenly too tight, too restrictive.

Christian took a deep breath through his nose, taking pains to ensure that his chest did not visibly rise in the process. The air was thick with her scent—sleep-warm skin and a hint of arousal that mirrored his own. It took every ounce of his considerable self-control not to cross the room, to gather her in his arms and show her exactly what she did to him.

"I'm sure you have nothing that I haven't seen." He bowed mockingly in her direction, the gesture hiding the evidence of his desire. "I will see you downstairs for breakfast."

Her eyes flashed, a mixture of frustration and amusement dancing in their depths. She turned away and strode towards the bathroom, the perfect curve of her bottom swaying hypnotically with each step. She moved with the natural grace of a predator, confident in her own skin, in her power over him.

She was muttering under her breath. She must not have realized that his ears were as preternaturally sharp as hers, because he was sure she said, "Not if I see you first."

And the Daisy he was getting to know would have come up with a better comeback than that. The knowledge that she was just as affected as he was, just as off-balance, sent a surge of satisfaction through him. Whatever this was between them—this electric, dangerous attraction—it wasn't one-sided.

Christian forced himself to turn away, to leave the room before he changed his mind. The soft click of the door closing behind him felt like the sealing of his fate. There was no escaping this hunger, this need that pulsed between them like a living thing. He could only hope to control it, to channel it, before it consumed them both.

As he made his way down the hallway, he could hear the shower starting in Daisy's bathroom. The sound of water hitting tile only intensified the images in his mind—Daisy, naked and wet, water sluicing over curves he'd only glimpsed. He quickened his pace, desperate to put distance between them.

But even as he descended the stairs, he knew it was futile. No amount of physical distance could diminish what had ignited between them. It was only a matter of time before one of them broke, before the careful restraint they both maintained shattered under the weight of their mutual desire.

And God help them both when it did.