KEEPING YOU: Howlers Motorcycle Club 1: A Werewolf Shifter Paranormal Motorcycle Club Romance (5 page)

“No. He won’t. He says this isn’t club business, though, and that’s causing some problems. Most issues are supposed to be voted on so that we can be sure the majority are in agreement. He has the right to make unilateral decisions, but usually doesn’t without everyone’s input. I think some of the newer members are being shitty about it.” He pulled a beer out of the fridge, popped the top and drained it. “Do you know how to make meatballs?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s have spaghetti and meatballs for dinner. I’ll eat if you cook.”

“How about the person who cooks is the person who eats?”

“What about the person who brings the food in?”

I laughed. “Why don’t you give me the keys to your bike and I’ll go to the grocery store?” His smile dimmed at the reminder that he was keeping me captive. Even though I’d scored a point, I wished I hadn’t. I liked his smile and seeing it fade made me feel oddly wilted. “I get it,” I continued, teasing him. “You think I’ll wreck it. I’ll have you know that I’m perfectly capable of driving a Harley. I got my first bike when I was 16.”

“Really?” His grin was so toothy that I could almost see the wolf behind it. “What kind of bike?”

“A Schwinn,” I admitted. “My foster parents didn’t want me to learn to ride a bike. But my best friend’s mom went and bought me one. It was the best birthday.”

“Foster parents?”

“My parents are dead,” I said, not having the slightest desire to dredge up that part of my past. He obviously wanted to pursue the line of conversation, but let it go.

I instructed him to pull the ingredients for the meatballs from the refrigerator. We were going to have to make due with jarred sauce, because Sam didn’t have any tomatoes. I started mixing the meat with the herbs, crumbs and cheese, then formed the balls, dropped them on a plate and threw them back into the fridge for a few moments.

Sam poured water into a large pot and put it on the stove. I walked over and dumped in salt. Then he added oil to a frying pan and heated it until it was ready. Making meatballs with him was surprisingly fun. He jumped back, shocked at the way the oil splattered up around the cold meat. When one was done, he bit into it before I could warn him and then chugged another beer, trying to relieve his burned tongue by swallowing big the cold liquid. The next meatball was regarded with suspicion until it cooled enough to eat.

Then it was pronounced better than fresh deer.
Not gonna ask
.

After dinner was over, we put in a comedy he had on DVD and laughed our way through the misadventures. Spending time like this with him made me more aware of how human he was. Even though many of the people here were something more—creatures of myth I couldn’t believe existed—they were also people who deserved to live and be happy.

I mentioned it to him that night and told him I would never divulge their secret if I was allowed to leave. He whirled on me, the wolf in his eyes.

“You want to leave?” His hands came up against the wall on either side of my head, trapping my body between it and him. “Why?”

“I have a life Sam.” I didn’t expect him to take the simple and expected statement so strongly. He seemed offended that I’d choose to leave if I could.

“What life?”

“A life. I have friends and a career.” He knew how important my job was to me. “I can’t stay here forever.”

“Your career was wrecked by your ex,” he said, his face entirely too close to mine for comfort.

“Low blow.”

“Truth. You can’t just walk back into your life and think things will be the same.”

“And what’s your plan? To keep me here until I’m declared dead? Are you going to mate me off to one of the prospects so I can have wolf pups?”

“No one else is going to touch you. Not ever, Ellie.” My eyes widened at the sincerity in his.

“What do you—?” His mouth stopped my sentence, crushing mine in a punishing kiss that bruised my lips and pride. When he finally pulled away, I looked right into his eyes. “Happy now?”

“No,” he said.

“Why?”

“I didn’t like the idea of another man getting his paws on you.” I wanted to make a joke about paws being literal, but it didn’t feel like the time. “It makes the wolf crazy. I can feel him raging inside me every minute, demanding that I claim you. But it isn’t right.”

“He wants to…claim me?”
What does that mean?

Sam sighed. “I’ve known since the first morning I saw you that the wolf claimed you as his mate. Your scent, your softness, I don’t know what attracted him exactly, but I knew as soon as I looked at you that you were the wolf’s mate.”

“And you?”

“I am the wolf.”

“It doesn’t seem like it. You don’t touch me. You don’t want me. You speak about the wolf inside you like he’s a demon possessing you. If it’s really who you are, then it’s not the wolf. He’s your wolf.”

“No,” Sam said simply. “He’s yours.”

He lowered his head and kissed me, gentle as spring rain. When I breathed in, I breathed in the scent of his skin. His soft hair under my hands reminded me of the coat of the wolf brushing against my cheek while I lay almost unconscious on the lake shore the night my car was destroyed. I’d felt safe in a way, compelled to trust an animal that should have had his teeth to my neck.

Winding my arms around his neck, I kissed him back. No matter the situation, no matter how freaking weird it was that werewolves existed, I wanted him. It was chemical. It was the bolt of attraction over my skin. It was the way he laughed, almost like a bark, when I told bad jokes late at night as we talked about everything.

His hands slid down my hips, pushing me into the wall so that he could press tighter against me. I reveled in it, pushing forward to cradle his erection with my hips. His mouth came to my breast and took one erect bud between his teeth, sucking on it through the thin fabric of my shirt and moving one hand to where I was naked under my skirt. That’s what I get for refusing secondhand underwear.

“Do you want this?” He asked, then nipped my breast. My knees buckled. He caught me, moved his hands to my arms to hold me upright. “Is that why you’re wet right now? Do you want me to fuck you?” His golden eyes glittered as they raked over my body.

“Yes,” I sighed, leaning into him. It was true. From the first moment he’d touched me, I’d craved his hands on me, bruising my flesh. It was wrong, but oh, I felt so alive. I thought of resisting, of telling him to go to hell, but Sam dropped to his knees and pressed his mouth against my belly button, nipping the tender skin.

He slid his hand up my thigh, pushing back my skirt to play with the delicate flesh. His hands moved slowly, learning my curves as they skimmed down to trace the skin of my calves. With my ex, the self-doubt flooded me whenever his hands moved away from the safe zones, but I didn’t stop to wonder whether Sam thought I was good enough. His hungry mouth and eager eyes made it clear that I was.

My jailer stood to pull down my skirt, sliding his hand into my wetness. When his fingers made contact, I moaned. His erection pressed hard against my hip, burning me through his jeans. I reached out with a hand and traced the shaft, learning him, until he moaned and thrust against me.

It was too much. I wanted to feel it. When I tried to pop open the buttons on his jeans, he caught my wrist. “Not yet. You.”

One finger twirled around my clit, building the tension until I was cooing against his ear. I could feel the cool slide of his nails when it passed, but he was careful not to cut me. They weren’t as sharp as the wolf’s claws, he’d explained, but were still sharper than a human’s. A built-in weapon.

He cupped his hand over my entire sex, then carefully dipped two fingers into me, rubbing his thumb against my clit.

“After you orgasm,” he whispered, breathing hard against me, “I’ll spin you around and shove myself into you. I don’t care that you want to leave. If you really wanted freedom, you wouldn’t be fucking my fingers right now.”

Part of me wanted to argue, but what he was doing felt too good. Sam massaged my inner walls with his fingertips, and the tension built inside me. He was giving me pleasure greater than anything I’d felt before. I moaned against his shoulder, burying my mouth in an attempt to stay quiet. I didn’t want anyone who happened to be walking by to hear their captive succumbing to her jailer, but I couldn’t stop myself from making broken sounds as drove me closer to a climax.

Then I came apart on his hand as he levered his fingers in and out of my pussy while the spasms ripped through me. “You feel so good,” he whispered. “I love the way you’re clenching on my fingers.” He kissed me then, tongue moving in and out of my mouth as his fingers mirrored its motion. I leaned back against the brick wall, overwhelmed. He pulled his fingers out, then slid them into his mouth. “You taste good,” he growled and I swallowed hard. I could see the wolf behind his eyes.

I wanted to pay him back in kind, to make him beg and shake and shiver. “I’d like to find out how you taste,” I said.

“Then get on your knees.”

I dropped down eagerly, releasing his thick erection from his pants and boxers. It was hot velvet in my hand, soft over a core of steel. I pumped my fist from the head to the base, fighting to control my own rising need. Like waves crashing onto a sandy shore, so did my desire for him cover me as I dragged my tongue over his cockhead for the first time.

As I stroked his shaft with my lips and tongue, he shuddered against me, lost in his own pleasure. Though I’d dearly loved fucking his darker side the night we met, this was better. Present in his skin, he could stroke my hair, fist his fingers in it when I sucked hard, or look down at me with something like adoration glowing in his eyes.

“You taste amazing,” I told him, pulling back and meeting his gaze. It burned across my skin so that I felt it on every inch of my body.

“Keep going,” he said, a low growl building in the back of his throat and I eagerly obeyed. He was the best candy I’d ever tasted and I wasn’t going to stop until he was shuddering and throbbing against me.

I grasped his heavy balls in my hand and squeezed gently, then redoubled my efforts on his shaft. The confidence I’d always lacked with my ex empowered me, made me enjoy being on my knees in front of him. Everything was arousing, from the press of him on my tongue to the slight breeze that came in from the windows and stroked my breasts.

Suddenly he tried to pull back, to take his cock out of my mouth, but I sucked down hard, willing him to stay in place. “Ellie,” he moaned, “I’m going to—.” Then he shook hard and I swallowed, sucking him until his twitching rod had stopped and I released him.

He slid to the floor and pulled me onto his lap. “Ellie. God.” When he looked down at me, something I didn’t expect was in his eyes. Something warm. Something possessive.

His arm slid down to my wet slit. He fingered me, moving his hand fast against my skin until I came, bucking and moaning.

Then he carried me up to the bedroom, chained my ankle with the handcuff, laid down behind me and went to sleep.

Seven

Time passed in the same vein. A few weeks after our mind-blowing encounter in the hall, after days of working on a new formula while Sam deal with club issues, Sam got up, unchained me and went out to work on some business with the other members of Howlers MC, locking the door behind him when he left. I asked him whether he’d tell me what the business was, but he explained that club matters are strictly for members. I knew that the wolves were involved in several business ventures, because I’d attended a tense dinner in the clubhouse the night before. Isolating myself and staying locked in his house, Sam had said, was not the way to earn a place in the community where I was going to live.

Sometimes I looked at the fences and thought about escape. I missed my house. Sarah was probably frantic. But Sam had been beyond serious when he said an escape attempt would end in my death, and I wasn’t sure whether it was worth it. Whether I’d be able to make it. What I would do once I was gone, if I could get gone. Would I never see him again?

The guest room had changed in the last few days. There was a television and a binder full of movies and television shows. A tablet—that couldn’t access the Internet, of course—sat on the table, with plenty of books for me to read. It was a comfortable prison, but I was still locked in.

One thing Sam had done for me that made the hours tolerable was set up a lab. I’d asked for a variety of chemicals, a vent, a lab bench, equipment and the insects I’d gone into the forest to find in the first place. He and a few of the bikers had come into the room, torn out a closet and expanded the walls to make me a lab area. One of the low-priority tasks I’d left behind at work was mixing an intravenous solution that could be delivered in an IV, and I was sure I was close to getting it right, even with the rudimentary facilities.

It was obvious to me that the wolves—or Sam, at least—were successful in whatever business ventures they’d undertaken, I mused while I used a syringe to extract blood from the insects. The equipment he’d brought me was top notch and he’d even managed to get ahold of restricted substances. That took money—a lot of it—or a level of influence that it wasn’t possible for isolationist wolves with tempers to acquire.

Once the powder was finished, I mixed in a little liquid and it reacted by fizzing up the sides of the bowl. I scraped it down once it had settled and then stirred it into a thick paste. A beaker containing other active ingredients was warming gently on a Bunsen burner; I poured them in and continued stirring. It was important to mix it for the right amount of time at the right speed, and despite the wonderful equipment Sam had brought me, I didn’t have everything.

When I was convinced that it was as close to perfect as this batch would be, I poured it into a titration device, let it settle and then syphoned off the clear liquid at the bottom. I caught it in a flash, capped it and put it into the fridge. The mixture would have to be suspended in saline before it could be delivered, but I thought it would work.

Maybe if someone had an injured ferret or puppy I’d be allowed to try it out. At best, it would stop impending death caused by a massive injury, stop the animal from losing too much blood, and prevent infection from setting in. At worst it would cause a mild, irritating burn on the skin that I could fix with salve.

But then, if I tried it out on a beloved pet and it failed, would I be in the hot seat with the werewolf whose pet I tested it on? Sam had made it clear that changing occurred during the full moon, the night before the full moon until midnight, and during times of massive stress or injury. When the injured member of the Howlers Motorcycle Club had been carried back onto the compound, he was stuck in an injury loop, shifting randomly without control. But when a werewolf was extremely pissed off, the change could come on like a defense mechanism.

I didn’t want to be on the end of that temper tantrum.

When the work bench was cleaned up and the top was a sparkling black again, I packed away the rest of my tools and stored them in a box in the closet. The room was large but it wasn’t an entire apartment, and I was careful to keep my things put away so that it felt more spacious. Claustrophobia setting in would be the worst possible thing that could happen right now.

Well, okay, maybe not the
worst
.

The rest of the day passed in a haze of Gossip Girl, which I’d heard of but never seen before. I had all the time I needed now to binge watch the shows that my captor had gathered for me. It would have been a nice vacation if there was a scheduled end date. The sun had just slipped behind the mountains out my window when I heard Sam slam the door and start up the stairs, so I sat up, combed my fingers through my hair and straightened my spine.

It wasn’t necessary for me to attract him, but as sick as it sounds, he was the only thing truly making captivity bearable. Most of the other people in the compound didn’t have much time for me. Madison had come by a few times and spent a few hours in the clubhouse with me, but it was awkward, uncomfortable. She didn’t know what to say, because we were both aware that the possibility of a death sentence was still not off the table.

During the last visit, I’d asked her bluntly whether she agreed with me being held hostage by my lover and her husband.

Madison said, “You have to understand. They protect their own—the members, the prospects, their ol’ ladies and anyone who has dealings with the club. You’re a threat to all of that now.”

“So what am I supposed to do? I didn’t do anything wrong.” I didn’t want to die, but I had a life outside of this place. Tempting as the prospect of more nights with Sam was, I was gripped by a desire to see my apartment, my work and my friends again, to assure them that I was okay.

“Why not stay?” She put a hand on my leg. “You could stay with Sam. He’s a good man.”

“He’s not a man.” He wasn’t. Not really.

“He’s more man than wolf for most of the month. Both love you. If you weren’t the wolf’s mate, he wouldn’t have dragged you from the car. If you weren’t the right ol’ lady for Sam, Mike would have killed you rather than agreeing to let you stay here.”

“Do you think he should have killed me?” Her eyes shifted away and I sighed.

“Not if you decide to stay,” she said at last. “Please understand, if you went and told someone, our entire way of life would be ruined. They’d take our men, my son, and they’d study them. They’d tear them apart. I don’t want that.”

I pictured the people I’d met on the nights that Sam and I had dined in the clubhouse. Despite their reserve, they were boisterous and welcoming enough. Each of them seemed to genuinely care for the other members of their pack. Then I thought of Madison’s bright-eyed son that I’d seen playing across the compound on her back from my lonely prison window. I didn’t want any of them to be hurt either.

Torn, I slumped back against the pillow. I was damned if I did and damned if I didn’t. Even if I never breathed a word to anyone—and I knew now that I wouldn’t—they would sooner kill me than take the risk.

“Just think about it. Please.” She reached out to hug me and I tentatively put my arms around her, returning the embrace before she stood and left, her citrusy perfume lingering in the room.

Part of me agreed with her. I liked it here. I liked the clubhouse and the mountain air and the people like Madison who’d treated me with kindness. I felt safe—if I didn’t consider the fact that some of them wanted me dead so that I couldn’t ruin their lives.

If I’d left the first day, I’d have gone straight to the police or the Army or someone with big guns and solid fences. But now I had a better understanding of what the Howlers lived for, and it seemed almost noble. For family, Michael would insist I stay, but also that I not be harmed because of what Sam felt for me. For family, Sam would fall in with Mike’s choice and keep me here, even if he was willing to let me go. Family first. Family always.

How could I argue with that?

I thought of family as Sam bounded to the door, used the key to open the lock and entered. Any space he was in seemed smaller—and not just because of his massive frame.

“Do you want to have pizza tonight?” He asked. “One of the pups is turning 16 and Reid is making a bunch of pizza.”

“Sure,” I said. He smiled at me and started talking about what we could do that night. Did I want to go to the party and should we look for a new bed now that there were two of us? He talked like us staying together was a foregone conclusion.

But I just didn’t know.