Twisted (7 page)

Shards of glass framed the hole in her window. “Who are you?”

“Gregory Newt, a friend of yer betrothed.” Gregory aimed his thumb toward Terrent. “Ye don’t want to be with him. He’s Skene clan.”

Terrent took advantage of the moment and attacked.

Head down, he hammered into Gregory’s gut. The men cata-pulted across the road and hit the ground with the force of a wrecking ball. Gravel, rocks, and dirt exploded from the earth, leaving an indentation. Gregory roared and threw Terrent off him.

Terrent somersaulted and landed on his feet.

Gregory charged.

Maggie screamed and pushed open her door. She dropped to the gravel, clutching the truck to remain standing. Her knees wobbled. Damn panic attacks. She shoved this one down. Time to control herself. Terrent was about six-and-a-half feet, but the other wolf was bigger. She needed to help Terrent.

Oh. Oh. Well, now.

While Gregory might be bigger, Terrent was faster. Brutally faster.

He jabbed, kicked, and punched faster than she could track. The impacts drove Gregory back a foot. Another foot.

His enormous hands swept out, and he finally connected with Terrent’s jaw. Terrent’s head shot to the side. Slowly, he turned back toward his foe.

Maggie gasped. Dread slid up her esophagus.

Fire lit Terrent’s eyes with the promise of death. Gone was the charming wolf who liked her clumsiness. Gone was the smooth lover. Gone was the fierce fighter.

Here was the killer they’d created.

While her head held no memories, she knew without a doubt she’d never seen him as he truly was. Something she hadn’t known she’d been missing clicked into place.

There. He. Was.

The wolf rippled beneath his human skin. Beast and man combined in a configuration she’d never imagined. The deadliest form of both animals. That wasn’t normal.

He clapped both palms against Gregory’s face.

Bones cracked. The other wolf howled in pain.

Terrent plunged all five claws in his right hand straight into Gregory’s neck, jerking up.

Gregory hit his knees, shock flickering in his eyes.

God. She needed to stop this. Tentative steps toward Terrent made her legs wobble. Fear heated her earlobes. Slowly, she pressed against his vibrating back. “Terrent? Please don’t kill them.”

Sure, they’d wanted to take her to Scotland. But they hadn’t intended to hurt her. Even the bullets hadn’t impacted Terrent and were more of a warning than an actual murder attempt. The wolves were people she’d once known. Maybe.

“Please,” she said softly.

Muscles undulated beneath her palm. His claws retracted.

Gregory fell to the side, his hands clutching his neck.

Terrent pivoted and lifted Maggie. The ground spun away.

Safety and warmth enveloped her. She pressed her face against his heated neck. Good air in. Bad air out. She could control the panic.

Her eyes fluttered shut. The three wolves would survive, but they’d be on the injured list for a while. Although shifters weren’t as indestructible as vampires and could die from natural causes, they would still regenerate unless the wound was absolutely fatal.

Terrent hadn’t killed them. In his moment of rage, he’d listened to her. He’d stopped before killing.

She kissed his neck.

His body shuddered.

She inhaled again. “I think I remember loving you, Terrent Vilks.”

Maggie snuggled closer to the wolf as he ran through the forest. In what seemed like mere minutes, he kicked open the door to his cabin.

While her mind might not remember the man, her body certainly did. Home lived in his scent, in the feel of his arms around her. She licked her way up his neck.

Salt and man. Male and strong.

Yeah. On some level, she remembered him.

He’d been right. She’d loved him. Hell, maybe she still did. Seeing him taking down three wolves heated the blood in her veins. As an animal, as a shifter, he was all Alpha. The perfect mate to protect the children she wanted to have.

Someday.

Finding a jaw harder than granite, she nipped. His low growl sent flutters right through her abdomen to her sex. Her breasts ached. Heat flushed along her skin, the sensation too demanding to be comfortable. Need and want held nothing on the craving capturing her blood.

Air swept against her as they maneuvered to the rear of the cabin. The scent of Scotch, musk, and male filled her senses. Her butt slapped the hardwood desk in his study.

Then he was on her.

Hands in her hair, mouth taking hers, his jeans barely containing the hard cock pressed against the apex of her legs.

She fell back. Her elbows caught her and sent a stapler spinning off the desk. Papers scattered. Pens rolled away.

He ripped open her shirt, flinging buttons to slam into walls. His mouth went to work tracing her jugular down to her breasts. Hard kisses, firm lips, heated tongue.

His hands palmed her elbows and lowered her to the desk. Flat on her back, her legs hanging over, her body exposed to him, she tangled her fingers into his thick hair. Vul-nerability rushed through her along with lust. The two shouldn’t coincide. Yet, with the powerful hunter, the combination spiraled her need higher.

Sharp fangs split her bra in two, and fire engulfed her nipple as his mouth enclosed it. She cried out, arching against him. With a low growl, he kissed along the underside of her breast until reaching her other nipple. The man did have a fine attention to detail.

Sweat broke out on her brow. She shifted against him, her breath panting out.

Licking down her torso, he reached the button on her jeans. The snap gave, and he slowly pulled them off along with her thong. Dropping to his knees, he settled in, his shoulders pressing her thighs wide.

The hard kiss to her clit almost shot her off the desk. Her elbow smacked the phone, and it rolled away with a ringing clatter. Shards of plastic flew up. Her hands pressed against the wood. The man was too much. “Was it like this with us before?” she ground out.

He rubbed his cheek against her inner thigh, his whiskers scraping. “Always.” Turning his head, he sank his canines into her leg, his palm cupping her sex.

The orgasm surged inside her so quickly, so powerfully, tears swept into her eyes. She blinked, her body moving, explosions rippling through her. “God.”

His fangs retracted, and his lips wandered over her mound. He chuckled and licked her, swirling his tongue around her clit.

“No—” She grabbed his head. It was too much.

One broad hand encircled her wrists and pinned her hands against her stomach. He sucked her clit into his heated mouth.

Way too much. She kicked out, her mind spinning.

He tightened his grip.

A warning.

She stilled. Mini-explosions fired out from her sex. “I can’t—”

“You will,” he rumbled against her, the sensations so erotic, her eyes rolled back. Her head dropped to the desk.

Her muscles relaxed.

“Good girl,” he murmured. His tongue pressed her clit.

“No—”

“Yes.” Pleasure rode his words, while demand filled his tone. The Alpha in full force . . . and he wasn’t letting her go. He’d play until he was satisfied.

The truth of the thought surged desire through her veins so quickly her breath heated. Hot and desperate. His hold immobilized her on the desk, his shoulders kept her thighs wide. Vulnerable. One finger slowly entered her.

Her shoulders tightened. “I had an argument once with a friend about the existence of the G-spot,” she breathed out.

“You mean . . . this?” He wiggled his finger.

Electricity bolted to her nipples, her entire body a string he’d plucked. She bit her lip, but a small moan escaped.

“Yeah.
That
.”

“Hmmmm,” he said thoughtfully, his mouth on her, his finger inside her, his broad shoulders branding her skin.

“Maybe it’s time we talked about our agreed mating.” His canines scraped along the side of very delicate tissue.

“Goblegack,” she said. Her mind blanked, her body short-circuited.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He slowly licked her slit.

Did wolves have rougher tongues than people? Not that she remembered doing this before. But still. “No . . . mating.”

Another finger entered her. He went to work with pur-pose, with some serious damn talent. Vibrations shook her legs. Her stomach muscles contracted. White sparks flashed behind her eyes.

Could a shifter go crazy from too much pleasure?

Who the hell cared?

She twisted against the cool surface, nerves firing. A ball of lightning uncoiled into tendrils of flame deep inside her.

She gasped, holding her breath, trying to jump into the fire.

If he’d just give a little more pressure—

He sucked her entire clit into his mouth.

She cried out, arching her back until only her shoulders remained on the desk. The orgasm crested through her on shards of raw need, finally breaking over into waves of intense pleasure. She rode them out, panting, her mind blank-ing. The intensity sheeted the entire room white and silent.

Awareness returned as she relaxed into mush. He stood, fully dressed, male satisfaction crossing his face. His gaze dark and intent, he tugged his T-shirt over his head. Hard, sculpted, natural muscle shifted as his hands went to his jeans. He was too male, too beautiful to be real. She sighed.

“I really love your chest.”

His upper lip quirked as he kicked his jeans away.

“Ditto.”

“Whoa.” Her eyebrows lifted. He was erect and so freakin’

huge. Tingles cascaded inside her abdomen.

The dark determination in his gaze shot awareness up her spine. An odd craving throbbed between her legs. Again.

How was this possible?

Naked, real, Terrent Vilks was all strength, all predator.

And right now, his absolute focus pinned her in place.

Her heart fluttered in female awareness. An instinct as old as time. One that had her stilling, watching him, part of her wanting to run . . . the other part needing him to make good the demand in his dark eyes. To take her as he wanted.

He grasped her biceps and tugged her into a seated position. Warm palms swept the shirt off her shoulders and down her arms.

Her breath caught in her lungs. Desire spun inside her stomach with harsh wings.

Erotic sparks danced on her skull as he threaded his fingers in her hair, tilting her head. Between his hands, he cradled her face and brought his mouth down on hers. Her heart jumped into action as he held her in place, hunger swirling through her. The kiss was firm, demanding, possessive. A statement. A claim.

A sharp nip to her lip made her open her mouth, the small bite a declaration that there would be no barriers between them. No protection—no hiding. Plunging in, his tongue stroked her, heat rolling off his strong body to warm her front.

Her nails sank into his powerful biceps, while flames licked her into a craving so intense it’d be frightening if she had time to think.

He released her, pleasure curving his smile.

She swallowed and searched for reality. “Um, bedroom?”

Heat flared in his eyes. “No.” Sliding her off the desk, he turned her around to face the far wall. His erection brushed her bare buttocks.

She stopped breathing. Again. “Um—”

Flattening against her upper back, his rough palm gently pushed her down. She turned her head, resting her cheek against the chilled walnut. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she swallowed a moan. His foot nudged her thighs farther apart.

Oh God.

His hands grasped her hips, tilting them.

On all that is holy
.

He plunged inside her with one strong stroke. The heavy desk moved a foot. Fire lanced along every nerve in her lower body. Her nipples hardened to steel against the desk.

Her head shot up, her chin on the surface. The wall danced and morphed in her vision, so she closed her eyes.

Tightening his hold, he withdrew, slowly pushing back inside her. Large, he caressed needy nerves she hadn’t realized she had. He tilted her hips to a higher angle. She turned her head and buried her face in her arms. Too much feeling . . .

too much pleasure. God, she craved him.

He slid out and then back in. His palms branded her skin.

Their breathing filled the heavy silence.

Embedded inside her to the hilt, he allowed a moment to pass as he remained still.

Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

Instinct ruled as she widened her stance.

His sharp intake of breath was the only warning provided.

Long fingers bit into her flesh. One arm snaked under her, winding to flatten against her upper chest and yank her to him. Her head jerked up. Her back bowed. With one hand, he controlled her completely as he started to move.

To pound.

To take her like the wolf he was.

The force of his thrusts pressed her against the desk. Restrained, she couldn’t move, could do nothing but feel. The sense of helplessness heightened every sensation. She lifted onto her tiptoes, taking more of him. Taking
all
of him.

The pounding increased in strength and speed.

Her calves trembled, the sensation rippling up her legs, her butt, her spine, to the top of her neck. She tightened around him, gripping with a strength that shot tears into her eyes. Each hard thrust blasted stabs of pleasure through her skin.

She was so close.

With a sharp cry of relief, she broke.

She screamed as great spasms rode her into blasting waves that battered into a painful pleasure. The fine line between the two blurred, leaving only sensation. Deep, dark, dangerous sensation. A feeling she’d always know existed ... would always want.

Only Terrent Vilks could create it.

Coming down with a sob, her body went limp.

The powerful shifter ground against her, his whisper of her name the barest of kisses on her neck.

Maggie tugged down her sweater and tripped over a rock.

Terrent shut the passenger door of his SUV and grabbed her arm. “You okay?”