Blue Moon Brides: The Complete Series (42 page)

But she’d let him take the lead.

Let him look after her.

The door closed and he heard the sound of a lock snapping into place, followed by a deadbolt. Good. He moved out, checking out the surrounding blocks for signs of vamp activity. The place checked out clean, however, so an hour later he jogged back to Riley’s safe house and plotted his next move.

It took less than hour to finish his recon. The town simply wasn’t that big, and the vamp’s stink was all over the perimeter. The faster Riley moved her women out of town, the better. When the sun went down, shit was going to hit the fan and he didn’t want her humans in the mix. He put in a call to the Pack—Luc needed to know what was up—and then hightailed it back to the safe house. A white van was parked outside, and two broad-shouldered men were ushering a woman and three children inside. The door slammed and one man made a return trip to the house.

Riley was inside.

And he was out.

That didn’t work for him, although he understood her concern. Her girls wouldn’t welcome any kind of male, let alone one who looked like him. But if she was inside, he was getting in. Going around the house, he picked a spot beside the eight-foot security fence and stripped down. Shifting, he leaped easily to the top and then down inside the garden. The place smelled good, all herbs and local plants.

He didn’t have to wait long before someone emerged from the garage behind the house, a tall, broad-shouldered woman who smelled like baby powder and apples. The beat-up suitcase she pulled listed sideways. She sucked in a breath when she spotted him, clearly weighing a hasty retreat. “Oh.”

Not Riley. This woman smelled more tentative and wilder. Like a shy thing that had been scared and wanted nothing more than to dart back inside to safety. Since he wanted Riley to come out, he lifted his head, wagging his tail.
No scaring Riley’s females.
She hesitated, clearly not sure whether she should run for the screen door or step over him.

“Riley? Did you bring a dog with you?” She sounded doubtful on the
dog
part, but he wouldn’t take offense.

There.
His Riley stepped out onto the porch, lugging a bucket of tools. Grease streaked her face and the faint purple shadows beneath her eyes worried him. She rolled her eyes when she spotted him sprawled on her porch, but she didn’t look surprised. “Yeah. He’s mine.”

“I didn’t know you had a pet.”

Mischief lit up Riley’s eyes as she looked at him. “He’s new. I’m still training him.”

She could dream. He wasn’t sure if she was serious or teasing, but he could have told her he didn’t follow orders well. Luc had tried for centuries and Dag still chose his moments to listen—and to rebel. Like keeping Riley Jones, when his Alpha wasn’t convinced she wanted to be kept.

Riley set down her bucket and headed for him, bare feet slapping on the porch.

“Is he safe?” The speaker clearly had no intention of passing him until her question was answered. Would Riley tell the truth? He knew she’d hidden her own shifter nature from these women, but things had changed. They had a vamp headed for them and these women were at risk, whether they knew it or not.

“Honey,” said a second woman hovering inside the door, smoothing her hands down her blue-and-white checked housedress. “If you believe the answer is
yes
, we got to work on your definitions some. There’s nothing safe about that dog.”

“He’s awful large.” The woman with the suitcase shook her head. Dag did a quick headcount. Two occupants left inside, plus the family already waiting in the van. “Do you think he’s part wolf?”

“Sit,” Riley said to him and his head snapped back with the surprise of the command. She ducked inside before he could complain, however, and he didn’t want to startle these women. No, he wanted them gone. So he’d wait a few minutes. See if she came on back or if he had to go inside after her.

He eyeballed the sky—still several hours left until sunset—and then ambled towards the suitcase lady, who stood her ground.
Good
. When she reached out a hand and tentatively stroked his fur, her soft fingers dug deep into his ruff. The wolf liked that plenty, tongue lolling out.
Keep her relaxed.

“He’s a bit of a mutt,” Riley said, coming back outside. She laughed. “Hell if I know what he really is, but
wolf
barely covers it.”

To his eternal shock, her hands circled his throat. A collar snapped close around his throat and he barely bit back a growl. Oh, she
didn’t
.

“Sorry, Ellie. I should keep him tied up. You guys hurry up and get in the van now. We need to get you out of here.”

Gently, he caught her fingers in his teeth.

“Riley?” One of the women backed away cautiously. Wise woman.

Only she moved and her sleeve fell away from her arm. Dag got a good look the bruises mottling her forearm, because she was no shifter and so she didn’t heal fast. Yellow and green now, Riley’s woman had been sporting those injuries for a good week or more because she was only human and hurt. 

His snarl surprised him. He didn’t know what he wanted, but he didn’t want any member of Riley’s pack hurting. They could be his. If she’d let him join. He thought about that for a long moment, finding the possibility strangely appealing. His wolf had already decided, rubbing against the other woman’s legs, marking her. If she belonged to Riley, she belonged to him as well.

“Dag—” Riley put on a hand on his back.

“He’s friendly?” Ellie didn’t sound so sure.

Hell.

He’d spent a lifetime learning how to be a predator. Lap dog wasn’t in his repertoire. But he didn’t like the bruises or the scent of fear. Ellie clearly hadn’t been here in Riley’s house for long. If she had, she would have felt safe and she wouldn’t have sported bruises up and down her arms. Giving in to his instincts, he gave the wolf free reign and the animal licked the woman’s leg, eliciting a half-laugh from her.

Riley looked down at him and nudged him with her bare toes. “I think he likes you.” Laughter filled her voice and her face was full of sweet sass. She wasn’t scared of him. Around her, he could be just Dag Breaux—or the wolf.

“He’s playing, aren’t you, big boy? He’ll keep me company while I finish up here. You guys go and I’ll be right behind you.”

With a reluctant nod, the other woman disappeared inside the house. Moments later, he heard the door slam and voices from the street. The women would be off soon.

So he had time to deal with his stubborn, lovable, too-defiant Riley.

She’d pulled her hair back in a messy ponytail, swapping his ratty old T-shirt and her torn jeans for an even rattier T-shirt and cut-offs. Her legs, holy Christ, her legs went on for a miles and he wanted to shift back right now and run his hands up her legs. Starting with her ankles, he thought, and then up, up, up until he had his hands wrapped around her hips. Her feet were bare and someone had painted the nails with a pale blue polish that sparkled in the sunlight. She wore no jewelry, had nothing fancy except the unfamiliar sparkles. She’d never looked better.

And he could smell himself on her skin and in her hair.

Did she know he’d marked her? Each and every member of his Pack would know immediately what she was to him and he to her. She might have shed his shirt, but she couldn’t get rid of him that easily. The wolf nudged the back of her calf. Not hard enough to knock her over, but she still rocked on her feet, looking for her balance.

That was only fair. She had
him
off-balance.

Her fingers tangled in his ruff, stroking and tunneling through the fur. His eyes almost rolled back in his head and he spared a moment to be grateful Luc wasn’t here. He’d never live this down, not in a million years. She’d put a collar around his neck and he didn’t mind. Much.

Of course, Riley wasn’t leaving him tied to the porch railing—even she had to know that—so he butted the back of her legs with his head, herding her towards the toolshed he’d spotted at the back of the property. They could have their words there where no one could see them.

She had no respect.

She hadn’t met a rule she didn’t want to break.

And he was fairly certain she thought
Pack
was a verb.

Yet she watched after these women more fiercely than even Luc. That was a high bar, but she met it and then some. She also thought she had her wolf on a leash.

Fortunately for both of them, he had every intention of disabusing her of that notion.

He’d do it out of sight, though. Riley’s women likely weren’t ready for a wolf to shift into a naked man and right now he didn’t want to chance an unexpected return for a forgotten item, although he had a feeling some of them wouldn’t mind a protector lurking in the shadows. They’d seen shit, had life dump on them a little too hard, and he’d make sure they got some of their own back. Right now, though, Riley’s Pack needed protecting from a threat they didn’t know was coming. Riley had trusted him—some, since he wasn’t sure about that leash business. His wolf liked this Pack of hers too. No male threat here, all female and filled with a different kind of strength, quiet and flexible. The place was peaceful, he decided. He liked it.

And these women needed him.

The leash—well, he and Riley would be having words about that.

Riley considered her options as the van started up. Ellie had seemed fine with the presence of a big ass wolf in her backyard. She didn’t know if the other woman truly believed Riley’s “pet” was a dog, but all of the women living in the house had learned when to push and when to wait.

Ellie trusted her.

Keeping the truth from her—and from the other women inside the house—hadn’t sat well. If it had been her, she’d have wanted to know what might be coming when the sun fell. She’d have wanted to make her own choices. Run or hide. Fight or stay put. She’d had the same choice, that last night out on the bayou with Mary Jane. Granted, Mary Jane hadn’t known her temporary deckhands were wolf shifters, but if she had… well, Riley would have wanted her to share that information. If she hadn’t been so distracted by watching Mary Jane color up around the two, maybe she would have scented the truth for herself.

The leash wrapped loosely around her wrist snapped taut and, startled, she looked down. Yeah. Even shifted, Dag understood every word she said. Just in case she’d had any doubts on that score, he was pulling at the leash, a determined look in his gold eyes. What would he do if she told Ellie the truth? She wouldn’t let him stop her from doing the right thing, but maybe she owed him the courtesy of a heads-up before she pulled the plug on their cover-up. 

She probably should have thought through her leash plan. Her brothers always worried that she was impulsive, acting before she thought, and this certainly seemed to prove their point. Dag was alpha to the core with a dark thread of violence that let him hunt vampires in the bayou without batting an eyelash. And yet he was also a good man. Or maybe it was because of that he was a good man. She didn’t know and the wolf herding her towards the toolshed at the back of the property wasn’t planning on an introspective half hour. She didn’t miss the intent in his predatory prowl either.

It was payback time.

The wolf pressed against her legs. Hard, because when she tried to head back into the house—she was definitely playing with fire here and they were only two hours from sundown—the animal didn’t budge. And trying to move almost two hundred pounds of wolf was impossible. Her wolf nipped lightly, catching her fingers between its teeth and pressing. There was no missing the message there. Dag was out of patience and she needed to see what he wanted before he shifted in public.

She went the only direction available to her: forward. It wasn’t such a bad thing, if she was being honest with herself. The hot afternoon sun beating down warmed her up, a kind of lazy-making sun that made you want to pick a spot on the grass and curl up. The week’s events were catching up with her. Somehow she had to find the energy to keep moving though. Not only because her wolf clearly had plans of his own, but because there was undoubtedly a vampire headed here. Maybe she could make plans with her eyes closed.

It was a thought.

“You got a plan?” she asked the wolf crowding her and he yipped. She hadn’t known a wolf could sound male and self-satisfied. Hers did, which just figured.

She looked over her shoulder, but they were out of sight of the house now. She’d picked the place because not only was the fence high enough to deter an Olympic pole vaulter, but the property had plenty of outbuildings. Eventually, she’d planned on converting the crazy-leaning garage into a studio. Right now, though, all the dilapidated building did was block the women in the house from spotting them.

Dag didn’t hesitate, just shifted. Riley had seen that change from the deck of his houseboat, but she’d never stood so close before. Close enough to feel the difference as the fur rippled away, replaced by sun-bronzed skin.
Bare
skin. God, he was naked and hard and he’d clearly been thinking all sorts of thoughts because an impressive erection jabbed into her belly as the man replaced the wolf in a blink of the eye, eyes still glowing.

Suddenly she had six-plus feet of hot, hard Cajun crowding her. Her back hit a wall—
toolshed
her brain registered—and she looked up. His arms came down on either side of her head, caging her in place as the now-familiar pulse of arousal started beating low in her belly.

“Is this where I pay the piper?” she asked. The sun-warmed wood felt good, so for a moment she simply breathed and let the heat seep into her body.

She’d pushed him, putting a leash around his neck. A man like Dag Breaux wouldn’t play those kinds of games, not unless he was the one holding the leash. Or doing the tying. She shivered at
that
mental image.

Was he mad or just thinking? The yellow glow faded, as the last of the wolf retreated deep inside some secret hiding spot, and familiar dark eyes stared down at her. That stern face sure didn’t look positively overjoyed, and an even harder pair of arms warned her he could keep her here without trying much. And yet she wasn’t worried. This felt right too.

“Take it off,” he said. “I’m not one for bein’ tied up,
boo
. You wan’ to play those kinds of games, you picked the wrong mate.”

She reached up and unfastened the collar. Smoothed her fingers over the red marks because the man was so much larger than the wolf. “You didn’t like it? Not at all?”

“Hand it over.”

Parts of her—southern parts—tightened in anticipation at the dark demand in his voice. But she did as he asked. God. He was playing another one of his games, but she didn’t know the rules of this one. Only that he’d never hurt her—and she’d enjoy every minute.

“That wasn’t nice,” he said and she couldn’t bite back her smile. Yeah. Definitely pissed off over the leash.

“Nope,” she agreed, “but you don’t like me because I’m nice, Dag.”

He didn’t disagree with her.

“You put a leash and collar on me,” he pointed out. He shifted closer until his legs pressed against hers, skin on skin. He was naked. She was close enough. No way she missed—or failed to appreciate—the erection poking up between them.

“You don’t feel mad.”

He thought for a moment. “I’m not mad,” he said eventually.

“Good.” She leaned up and nipped his jaw where a dark shadow of stubble roughened his skin. Fought back a little shiver because just that small touch felt good.

“But I always get even,” he warned. His hand tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, his thumb rubbing over her jaw. Damned if she knew whether the caress was intentional or habit on his part.

“You don’t like to play?”

“How much do you know about wolves?”

“Not much.” Her high school biology days were long behind her and she’d been too busy butting heads with Dag—and enjoying his brand of sensual dominance—to run any science experiments. He was territorial. Protective. And really, really lethal, both in bed and out.

“Wolves like to play.” That was apparently all the warning he figured she needed, because he opened the shed door and scooped her up into his arms in one smooth move. If she shrieked, that was hardly her fault, was it?

“Uh-uh,” he said quietly. “You don’ wan’ those other women hearing do you,
boo
?”

That would be far more explaining than she wanted to do, even if Ellie didn’t go for the gun she liked to carry. Whatever Dag wanted, whatever lesson he wanted to teach her, she could go along with it for now. Or that’s what she told herself. They’d have a little fun and this would be over.

Out front, the van’s motor gunned to life. Her girls were on their way to safety.

He sat her on the workbench and kicked the door shut. The place was more of a dumping ground for their outdoor odds-and-ends. There was barely room for the pair of them among the stacks of pots and shovels. When she steadied herself, her hand landed on bag of dirt and she had a ringside view of assorted power tools. Someone had added a pair of ruffled curtains to the tiny windows, but the glass was more decorative than not. The place was no romantic rendezvous or a five-star Hilton.

He smoothed his hands up her thighs, pressing her legs apart until he could step into the space he’d made.

Her breath caught. “Dag—”

“Shhhh,” he whispered gruffly, “We’re discussin’ this leash business.”

They were? She’d thought they were going to have sex.

~*~

Riley tilted her head back against the wall, watching him. Her eyes twinkled, the corners of her mouth turning up provocatively. Her ponytail slid away from her throat, revealing the small bite mark he’d placed there last night. She hadn’t hidden the mark. Hell, no. She’d pulled her hair back and put it on display.

He heated right up, knowing she wasn’t ashamed of his marking, but it didn’t mean she got away with murder. He pressed the leash against the side of her throat and the pulse pounding there. Deliberately, he leaned into her, fisting her ponytail.

“Super scary,” she whispered, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck and lay a kiss on him. It was one hell of a kiss too. Her mouth snared his, warm and certain. Licking and pressing, teasing before moving in for the kill. Her tongue took his mouth thoroughly until each breath he drew was full of her, the scent and the taste of her surrounding him. Leather and some earthier, richer aroma, gasoline and grease, the scents reminding him he’d cornered her in a toolshed when she deserved silk sheets, candles, and the penthouse suite at the St. Regis.

He had no idea why she wanted him. Wanted this.

But he did too. Badly. The heat between them was blazing out of control and the only surprise was he didn’t spontaneously combust. She ran her hands over his scalp, her nails pricking erotically as she controlled their kiss, holding his head close to hers.

Yeah. She’d picked the wrong wolf if she wanted to be in charge.

He dragged the leash down the side of her throat, reminding her. She arched into his rough caress, squirming a little. Yeah. She was needy and he was grateful.

Her fingers speared through his short hair, cupping his head. Her eyes closed, but he kept his open. Watching her was almost the best part because her body did all the speaking her mouth wouldn’t. From the pink flush on her cheekbones to the needy grip of her fingers, her chest rising and falling faster and quicker... She was speaking his language all right.

The shadow between her breasts where the lacy cups of her bra parted tempted him and he dipped the leash into the valley, tracing the too-tempting space. She shivered, clutching him harder while she muttered his name like an incantation. He’d put his dick there someday soon, push in and out of that slick channel while her soft flesh pillowing him. He’d mark this part of her too.

When he tore his mouth away from hers, she protested.

“No,” she demanded. “Come back.”

“You’re not the one givin’ orders now,” he said almost tenderly. He set the leash down on the tabletop beside her where she could feel the leather’s tickle against her bare skin. Reached for the hem of her tank top and dragged it up over her head.

“Oh, good. We’re getting naked.” A smile quirked her kiss-swollen lips.

Once the shirt cleared her head, he tossed it behind him. She didn’t protest, so he moved on to step two in his plan, flicking open her bra so her breasts spilled free.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, knowing he sounded gruff. Had he told her before? He didn’t know and that shamed him. Her pale skin crowned with those rosy tips that made his mouth water. Fortunately, he was on a look and touch plan here, so he ran a finger down her pretty, pretty skin. When he grazed the tip, she moaned.

“Better.”

Uh-huh. He stepped back. “Lose the shorts.”

Her eyes darkened and her tongue darted out, moistening her lips. She did what he demanded. Didn’t hesitate, just dropped her fingers to the button, popped it free and unzipped. Then she lifted her ass. “Pull,” she demanded.

He didn’t need a second invitation. He tugged the shorts down and was rewarded with the sexiest little pair of panties he’d ever laid eyes on. The silky fabric was robin’s egg blue with a little bow playing X-marks-the-spot. She must have had clothes stashed here, because he would have remembered these.

“Pretty,” he rumbled. He ran a finger down the lacy panel, from the top of her mound to the bottom of her slit.

She dropped back on her elbows, shuddering. “Dag.”

Her name on his lips was half-moan, half-demand. Nope—she sure didn’t like saying
please
, not one little bit.

Getting closer was suddenly his life’s mission. He stepped back in, her legs bumping his arms, the edge of the workbench biting into his thighs. He drew her hands to the edge and gave her an order.

“You hold on now.”

“Or?”

Always challenging him—classic Riley. Instead of answering her, he picked up the leash. Her eyes followed his hands. Yeah. He had her wondering now.

Leaning over her, he stroked the leather down the valley between her breasts. “I’m goin’ to put myself there.”

The fantasy sounded even better spoken out loud. He teased her belly button, rimming the sweet little indentation and drinking in her small gasps.

“I’m not doin’ much of anythin’ here,
boo
. You usin’ your imagination?”