Predator's Claim Read online

  “Bart,” she whispered into the crick of his neck. “Are you okay?”

  “I almost killed my own cousin. I would have killed him. If he’d been sober…”

  “You didn’t kill him. Although I don’t think anyone would have faulted you if you had.” She let out a nervous laugh. “I almost did, myself.”

  “Charles…” He shook his head, forlorn.

  Her heart sank because she knew, despite Bart’s profession, there wasn’t a violent bone in his body. He might be the sort of man to defend his woman and family, to the death even, but he would never seek out an unnecessary quarrel. Something had changed in him already. The Alpha in him had already presented itself, and his intimidating wolf demanded more of an outlet with each passing minute.

  As much as the changes thrilled her, because he was coming into his own, they scared her too. Because the closer he got to fulfilling his destiny, the sooner she’d be faced with the now-agonizing decision: hurt him now, or hurt him later? Surely she’d damage him either way.

  She loved him. It had to be love. A part of her knew it always had been. She’d always run from Bart, knowing her feelings for him but too scared to confront them. He terrified her with the way he saw into her soul. It had been so long since she’d revealed herself with any amount of intimacy to anyone, and she’d convinced herself love wasn’t for her.

  So what did she do now?

  She supposed she’d do what she always did. Love ’em and leave ’em. It was all she knew.

  She bit back the sprout of anxiety, realizing it had already morphed into a tumor of near-panic. For the first time, Charlotte wondered if she could continue to share his bed for a while. Just a few nights with him. Just a few wondrous evenings to tuck into her memory banks and savor later. Would it be so bad? Probably. But she was beginning to think she couldn’t leave him without fully surrendering to him first.

  Just a few nights of pulse-pounding, earth-shattering loving to feed her broken heart. And then she’d go and let him have the kind of life he was meant to lead.

  Chapter 9

  Within minutes, they were at Bart’s cabin, staring at each other outside his door. As she reached for his hands to stroke them, something in his face crumpled. He didn’t meet her gaze, as if ashamed of what he’d done and what he might do.

  “That wasn’t me back there.”

  She peered into his shadowed eyes. “Yes, it was. And I’m so proud of you.”

  “How could you be proud of such violence?”

  “Like it or not, Bart, our world is a violent one. And you took care of your pack. You put your life on the line for them.” She swallowed, amazed at the sore thickness of her throat. “But I’ll be honest and admit I’m glad you’re a strong fighter, and that Flynn was drunk.” She let out a nervous laugh.

  He cupped her face with two hands, his breath coming in erratic bursts. “I’d lay my life down for you, Charlotte.” He rested his forehead on hers. “I’d do anything for you, my mate.”

  My mate. No, she couldn’t say the words out loud. Better to do what always came easiest for her: deflect through sex. “Let me do something for you now.”

  With that, she grabbed his key out of his hand and unlocked his door. Once she opened it, she pushed him gently inside. Bart licked his lips, and his breaths now escaped in pants. As a tingle of excitement danced up her spine, she closed the door behind them and backed him against the nearest wall. Stopping only to toss away the clothing they’d picked up from the bonfire scene, she knelt before him.

  For a moment, Charlotte didn’t move. She just knelt there, her head bowed, in total submission. Her heart pounded with a foreign happiness.

  Only when he curled his fingers in her hair did she look up.

  “Take me in your mouth, beautiful.”

  She smiled, so eager to make him feel good. And she knew one or two things about making a man feel good. He wasn’t the only one with tricks up his sleeve.

  Her fingers trembling with need, Charlotte encircled his length, amazed she could fit both her hands on him. Gently, she caressed his stiff cock, so gratified to feel it swell and pulse in her hands. When his head fell back, his eyes closed, she removed her hands. Bart’s head snapped back up as if worried she’d disappear.

  With another little grin to make him crazy, she opened her mouth and wet her lips. Moving with a slowness programmed to drive him over the sensual edge, she took his cock into the warmth of her mouth. Swallowing him as far as she could, breathing through her nose, she closed her lips around the base of his shaft.

  And stopped moving.

  She could feel he was tempted to thrust, the desire to move transparent in the tremors at his knees. However, he held back, following her lead. She didn’t lick, didn’t suck, just held him captive in the welcoming cavity of her mouth.

  You belong here, inside me.

  Oh, fuck, sweetheart.

  Her little tease worked.

  In no time at all, he let out a curse and she felt him grow yet again. Sweet droplets of precum tickled the back of her throat, flavoring her saliva with his delicious essence. Only then did she begin to move. Slow, maddening sucks along his length, and she savored his taste.

  His male scent, so potent, enhanced by his confrontation with Flynn, worked as an aphrodisiac on her. She wiggled in place as moisture seeped from her core, and her pussy fluttered with the need to take him. His every groan, more animalistic than human, spurred her on. And his taste, oh, how his taste called to her.

  She’d make certain he never forgot her, and that she lived in his memory as the one who made him forget himself. She’d see to it he compared every other woman to her. The idea of him being with another woman sent a stab through her chest, but she ignored the vile ricochet of pain.

  He’s mine.

  “Goddammit, Charlotte,” he grunted. “I’ll come if you keep this up.”

  “Good,” she murmured as she kissed his tip. “I wanna taste more of you.”

  “Ah, Christ.”

  Seeing he was near the edge, she cupped his tight balls and played with them. Her other hand snaked between his legs and placed soft pressure on his perineum.

  Bart grabbed her head and fucked her mouth as if giving her the kiss of life. From the jump in her pulse, he may have been. Triumphant, she felt him tense and explode. As he came apart, she drank every delicious drop, and her wolf cried in exaltation.

  So good.

  He slid out of her, still harder than any man ought to be, and pulled her to her feet. He kissed her hard and dug his fingers into her hair.

  “My turn.”

  The feral intensity to his voice made her thrill, and her nipples tightened in anticipation. He saw how her body responded, and acknowledged with an evil grin. With the tips of two fingers, he grasped one of her nipples and slowly rolled it. Over and over, teasing and pulling, until the stiff point reddened, aching in the very best way. Charlotte let out a moan, already so primed for release.

  “No, my pretty pup,” he uttered. “I’m going to play with you for a good, long while before I let you come.” And then, as if to emphasize his power over her, he scraped his fingernail over her nipple.

  She cried out in pleasure, remembering how he’d raked his wolf claw down her torso before. How she wanted him to do it again, to score and mark her. “Please,” she whispered. “I want you to scratch me with your claws.”

  “That would hurt you.”

  “I don’t care. Please, Bart. Leave your mark on me. Scar me.”

  His eyes glowed amber with hunger, and she prayed he would.

  *

  He couldn’t.

  As someone who’d lived with scarring all his life, he knew how it impacted one’s thought process, and it wasn’t always good. He wouldn’t do that to her. The only mark he would ever leave on her was his bite, the way every wolf man marked his mate. But he wouldn’t destroy her gorgeous skin just because they felt a little kinky in the moment.

  It didn’t, howev
er, mean he wasn’t up for a bit of rougher play. He picked her up in his arms, hoping he wouldn’t drop her because they shook so much, and brought her over to his bed.

  She sat up on the bed and reached for her granny boots, which she’d thrown on again after their shift back to human, and began to unlace them, the only stitch of clothing on her fair skin.

  “No. Keep those on.” He couldn’t stop one side of his mouth from curling up in a half grin. “You have no idea how many fantasies I’ve had about these boots.”

  And before she could question him, Bart kneeled before her and took her boots in hand. He rubbed his hand all over the smooth leather, massaging the tops of her feet. He slowly moved his hands up her legs, shivering as he made contact with each inch of exposed silky flesh. He squeezed her plump thighs, memorizing their texture, and explored the gentle slopes of her hips. He touched his hand to her left hip, tracing her wolf tattoo. Crouching before her, he kissed the tat.

  Her wolf responded in kind, and as Charlotte groaned, he heard her animal’s barely-stifled growl.

  Her female scent slammed into his skull, making him bloody well delirious. Unable to resist, he put his face in her lap, but didn’t lick her yet, as much as he wanted to. Rather, he buried his nose in the little hairs growing along her pussy and breathed her in. Such decadence, such delights, he’d never known. He would spend the rest of his life revering this woman and her fragrant body.

  “Bart,” she whimpered, digging her hands into his hair. “Please.”

  He looked at her from his position and arched a brow. “Do you want me to suck you off, baby? Do you want me to eat you until you fall apart under my lips?”

  She nodded, her face red.

  Had he shocked his Charlotte again? Good. He enjoyed the feeling. “Say the words, sweetheart.”

  “I want you to eat me.” She lifted her lips in invitation.

  He grinned, enjoying this dynamic. He slid a finger between her lips and watched her practically vault off the bed. “You mean this pretty, wet pussy right here?”

  She moaned in agreement.

  He removed his finger. “Not yet.” He smoothed his moist digit up her torso. “You said you wanted to feel my claws.”

  “I do. I want you to leave a scar.”

  He shook his head. The idea made him recoil, for the thought of Charlotte suffering any pain made him recoil, but he couldn’t deny he wanted to leave his mark on her. He’d be gentle, but by the time they were done, she would wear his mark. All over her. “I can’t scar your beautiful body, Charlotte.”

  “But—”

  “No. You heard me. I won’t do that to you.”

  Her pretty eyes, suddenly so sad and unfocused as she stared past him, made his chest hurt and his wolf howl. Out of nowhere, she began to cry. As her tears spilled over, Bart gathered her into his arms. “Please don’t cry, Charles. You’re breaking my heart.” He held her away from him, just by a few inches because his wolf wouldn’t let her go any farther, and brushed away the insistent tears. “Why’s it so important I scar you?”

  She gazed at him and sniffled. He watched as her chest rose and fell on a shattered breath of some emotion he didn’t quite understand.

  “I just want…I just want to remember.”

  “Why would you forget?”

  “Never mind.”

  “No.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and massaged her scalp. “If something makes you cry, I wanna know what it is so I can fix it. Or kill it.”

  Her voice bubbled with soft laughter and his heart swelled again. God, it felt so good to cheer her, even though she wasn’t anywhere near happy enough right now.

  “I’m not ready to talk about it, Bart. I don’t want to talk at all. I just want to feel you inside me.”

  He sighed, frustrated she didn’t yet trust him with her heart. Well, maybe once she saw what he could do to her, he’d crack her shell and she’d open up a bit more. “Okay, Charles. I’m done talking too, for now.”

  He leaned in and took her nipple in his mouth, laving and sucking.

  “Yes,” she moaned, grabbing his head and holding him to her breast.

  To see her so transported only made him hungrier. With her nipple still between his lips, he leaned over her and pressed her into the mattress. His cock, already standing at attention, now seemed to wave a red flag of desire. It thumped and throbbed and danced in agony. She spread her legs wide and he nestled between them, feeling her wetness on his stomach.

  His wolf, already watching the proceedings through famished eyes, roared to life. It demanded communion with her wolf, demanded it now. Be still, you beast. I’m getting there.

  He moved between her breasts, palming their fullness, amazed at her beauty. The enjoyment he received in smoothing his hands over the round globes knew no parallel. Her womanly body floored him. She was a fucking miracle.

  His wolf stampeded inside him, forcing its claw to pop through the skin at the tip of his index finger. She wants us to scratch her. Do it. You can make it so she doesn’t scar. Mark her.

  A primal fever took root in his being, and Bart tried to retract the claw, but his wolf fought hard. It seemed to understand what she needed, perhaps better than he did. As he licked her skin and absorbed her scent, it became harder to deny his own wants and needs. He removed the clawed hand from her body, dismayed at the thoughts skittering through his head.

  She noticed how he whipped his hand away and met his gaze. Before he could say a word, she lifted his hand and gasped at the sight of the claw. And then, Charlotte brought the claw to her torso and positioned it on the underside of her left breast.

  “Do it.”

  His eyes wide in disbelief and a sexually-charged thrill, Bart watched, feeling almost detached, as he scratched a thin line across her plump breast. He was careful to keep the scratch superficial. Even still, she gasped as the small wound left a tiny trail of blood under her nipple.

  Breathing heavily, his heart pumping with near madness, he continued marking her skin in this way. He let his claw travel between her breasts and over her ribs. As he traveled toward her soft belly, it wobbled under him as she sucked in sharp breaths.

  “Yes,” she hissed.

  He scratched a path right down to her pussy and made sure the red trail stopped there. He wouldn’t hurt her there, not even if she begged. He surveyed his creation, horrified yet so turned on at the sight of his marks on her. On her breast, where he’d begun scratching, a few droplets of blood appeared. Bart promptly leaned over and licked it away, and then proceeded to flick his tongue over the entire trail of scratches, until he was certain no more blood would appear. By the time he finished, her skin had already started healing. He saw one or two spots that looked as if they might need more time to mend and frowned in worry.

  She cupped his cheek. “I’m okay.” Once again, her face lit up with a serene smile. “Thank you. Now mark me for real.”

  His wolf reared up inside him. Everything in him that was possessive and protective and dominant came to the fore. Everything in him that screamed “man” demanded out. Bart loomed over her, hungry and wild, and allowed his canines to descend. He buried his face in the crick of her neck and bit the soft spot between her neck and shoulder.

  Charlotte stilled under him. Her blood seeped into his mouth and he drank it greedily, eager to have her stamp on him, as much as his was now on hers. Her blood in his body sealed their bond. She was his. He was hers.

  No one, nothing, would ever part them. He’d make sure of it.

  As she moaned, her body wiggling and pressing up against him, he felt the need to claim her in every way. He licked the marking wound, sealing it as he had the others, and took her mouth in a demanding kiss. She met him, glide for glide, as their tongues mated and battled.

  When they finally came up for a snatched gulp of air, he pressed his thumb against her swollen lower lip. “I’ll never let you go, my mate.”

  He waited for her to echo the sentiment, knowing
above all things she felt it in her heart too. However, Charlotte said nothing and averted her gaze.

  Clearly the little minx still needing convincing they were meant to be together. Luckily, he’d never grow tired of showing her.

  Bart slid down her body, licked once again at her stiff nipples, and dipped his tongue into her navel. She clutched him hard, scratching his shoulders as she pressed him farther down. This time, he was only too pleased to oblige her. Her pussy, glistening with her silky juices, called to him. He spread her legs wide and rolled them back so he had perfect access for seeing and tasting her. Once her pussy was open to him in all its glory, he lowered his head and feasted. Wild horses couldn’t have dragged his sad carcass away from her sex. He buried his tongue between her lips and teased her pearly clitoris. Her body was his to command, and he wanted nothing more than to mark her in another way now, mingling her body’s essence with his. With each stab of his tongue into her sex, he dreamed of fucking her hard, long into the night. And with each velvet thrust, her pussy contracted and a low moan issued from the back of her throat. He nibbled her clit and slapped her ass, and her cries grew louder. By the time he inserted two fingers inside her, sucking all the while, she screamed his name and her body jolted with a fearsome crack.

  “Bart! My mate!”

  Yes. God, yes.

  Spurred on by her ecstatic moans, he removed his face from between her legs and rolled her onto her stomach. Prodding her wobbling body, he pulled her onto all fours. This was how he would take her. Like an animal, expressing his dominance and his need to protect her always. He smoothed his hand over her dewy pussy, eliciting several sharp cries from her. And then, knowing he could wait no longer, Bart drove his cock home.

  Home.

  This time, he didn’t worry about being gentle. There was no room for gentle in a mating dance. No, this woman needed to know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, she was his. Each time he ploughed inside her, sliding easily through her wetness, she cried with renewed fervor. His entire body shook as he fucked her, but he maintained his grip on her hips, knowing he could not stop until they came together. She clenched him as he increased his speed, and her woman’s grip egged him on. Her tightness made him want to rejoice and their bodies acted with the keen instincts of beasts rutting in the wild. Everything fit. Everything melded. He tasted her, smelled her, became one with her. And as his balls drew up and his vision threatened to blacken, she shouted his name again and shattered around him. One more thrust and screeching sensation overtook him in the wildest orgasm of his life. Beside himself, he almost forgot to pull out. However, as his cock began to lengthen and thicken again, with its unique wolf locking mechanism, he quickly withdrew and fell to the mattress.