Seduced by a Shifter (18 page)

Her eyes got bigger, her brows buried under the soft sweep of her bangs. But one thing stood out the most. “The male population?”

A slow nod. “Only the males can shift into wolf form. The females can’t.”

Her feminist side shouted “double standard rip-off” while she simply asked, “Why?”

His head tilted to the side. “If they had to change every full moon, they wouldn’t be able to carry our young.”

Willow’s heart flipped in her chest. The thought of carrying Ben’s young should terrify her, but the idea of a little boy with his hair and bronze eyes running around, laughing, just like his daddy, filled her with a deep longing.

Turning her mind from the impossible, she instead focused on his information, relieved her new friends weren’t werewolves. “So the females are basically human.” It wasn’t a question.

“Ah. No.” At her questioning look, Ben explained. “Most of the women in town, like the men, are indeed human. Take Kaylie. Even though she’s married to my alpha, she’s one hundred percent human.”

Willow nodded. “So Tess is—”

“A shifter. In the sense that she is faster and stronger than a human and her senses are keener than a human’s. But she can’t shift form.”

Well. There went her relief bubble. Ben made it sound like Tess, and all the female shifters actually, were sort of like super humans. She’d have to think more on that concept, but now back to more questions. “If Kaylie is human and Dean is, uh, not, what is Lukas?” Their cute little baby.

Ben shifted in his seat. “Lukas is a shifter and before you ask, he won’t be able to turn until he hits puberty.” He lowered his torso over the table, holding her gaze with the same good deal of warmth and intimacy as when he held her hand. “You see, there’s only a small percentage of the world’s female population that has the compatible DNA to produce male shifter offspring. Out of that number there’s only one or two who will cause a male shifter to, let’s say, stand up and take notice. When they touch for the first time, they initiate a, mating heat, if you will, that causes this man and woman to, get to know one another better.”

Uh-huh. She blinked at him. “Mating heat?” Fitting name for this near overwhelming arousal, this uncanny awareness when Ben was around. Even now she was wet and ready for him. And now she finds it it wasn’t just a physical reaction, it came from deep within her DNA.

Wait a minute. “Are you telling me...?” She simply could not bring herself to say it.

“You’re my mate, sweetheart. You’re my other half.”

She closed her eyes, head shaking in firm denial. “No.”

“Yes.” He growled the single word, causing her eyes to pop open. When he reached for her again she growled herself. “Don’t touch me.”

“Dammit, Will.” He jammed his fingers in his hair, agitation plastered all over his features.

“Dammit nothing, Ben. You can’t expect me to accept all of this and jump back into bed with you.”

“Why not?” His face scrunched like a petulant child, wanting something he couldn’t have.

As for Willow, her jaw dropped at his sullenness. “Because it’s too much. Because I need to think. Because you’re a damn wolf, Ben. A wolf.”

He stood, his anger rising to the surface, a muscle in his jaw working as he struggled to cap his fury. Every inch of his long, lean body rippled with barely held power and she suddenly realized he could probably, literally, snap her in two. It wasn’t a pleasant thought.

“What? And now you fear me? Christ, Willow! I’d sooner cut off my
head
than hurt a hair on yours.” He let out a string of curses, towering over her, hands fisting until his knuckles turned white.

He turned in a circle, hands lacing behind his head. “I’m still me, Will. Still Ben. I’m the same person who took you to dinner, who taught you to ski. Who held you when you had a nightmare, for God’s sake! I’m still the same man you made love with. The man you gave your virginity to.”

Yeah. And now she knew why. The mating heat. Ben didn’t want her for her, he wanted her because she could give him four-legged offspring.

She refused to meet his gaze. “I need some time alone.” It was a mere whisper. “Please, Ben. Leave. If you care about me at all, leave me alone so I can think.”

For several long minutes he stood there. Stood there watching her still form, her head down as she gazed blindly at the tabletop. Finally, after an eternity, she heard him go back into the bedroom, grab up his things and make his way to the front door. “I don’t know how long I can stay away, Willow. You’re my mate and I...need you. Your touch is a balm to my soul.”

She kept her back to him, her spine rigid. “That’s just pheromones, Ben.”

“All attraction starts off as pheromones, Will. Until it turns into something more meaningful. Something lasting.” He paused and she so wanted to look at him, to read his expression. She didn’t.

“I’ll stay the rest of the night next door, then I have work in the morning. The guys will be back to”—he paused—“normal by then.”

A minute ticked by in silence, then, “Don’t shut me out, baby.” An almost mournful sigh. “Just don’t shut me out.” With that, he slipped out the front door.

Too shocked to feel anything, Willow remained on the kitchen chair until the sun’s light brightened the room. Three things stood out in the chaos of her mind. One, she really wanted her father. Two, she never did ask about Rome. and three, she was in love with a damn werewolf.

Willow called Rome, leaving a curt message on his phone when he had the nerve not to answer. “Did you know? Of course you knew. Why, Rome? And just what the hell are you?”

She refused to answer her bodyguard’s calls or their kn
ocks on the door, which occurred about every half hour. Finally she went to the door and yelled, “I’m not talking to you, so go away.” Childish, she knew, but she felt like she had the right to sulk for a few hours.

Too much. It was all too much. She launched herself onto the couch and stared up at the ceiling. Then she listened to Ben’s messages, the one from Wednesday morning and the two from today. Over and over. The silky smooth sensuality, an animalistic purr that made her want to strip naked and rub against something hard, hot and male.

In an attempt to distract herself from the images infiltrating her brain and arousing her body to near fever-pitch levels, she turned to the Internet for information about wolves, both real and mythical.

When Rome finally got back in touch with her it was via text message, the coward, telling her “not over the phone.” He said he’d be back tomorrow, that she was safer where she was than in Fort Knox, and to “fkg relax.”

It took a minute for Willow to figure out what
fkg
meant, at least in Rome’s shorthand, and she briefly thought of replying what exactly he could do with his suggestion. But some calmer part of her brain interjected, reminding her that the man
had
saved her life. So, fine. Until she saw him again, she’d
fkg relax
. Or try to, anyway.

Around five thirty there came a knock on the door. Willow ignored it, thinking it was Joe or Scott again. But whoever this person was didn’t stop. A female voice yelled, “It’s Tess, Willow. Open up.”

Willow frowned, undecided. She didn’t know if Tess really considered Willow a friend and wanted to stop by to talk, or if the woman planned to tell Willow to keep her mouth shut about their kind.

No self-esteem issues here.

The knocking turned into pounding, then kicking. “Open up, little piggy, or I’ll huff and puff and—”

Willow yanked open the door. “Did you just call me a pig?”

Tess lowered her booted foot and hiked her skirt back down. She looked fabulous as usual, dressed in a long, tight denim skirt, a cream and tan turtleneck top with a luxurious brown, cream, and green sweater jacket over it that reached to her knees. She held a blue felt bag in one hand. “Whatever it takes.” Tess eyed Willow. “You gonna let the big baddie in?”

Rolling her eyes, Willow stepped back, allowing Tess to enter. “So, could you really kick down the door?”

Tess looked from Willow to the door and back again. “Nah. It’s solid core steel. Now, the door frame, that’s a different matter.” She held out the bag. “Earrings to go with the dress.”

Crap. Willow sunk back onto the couch. “Oh.” She eyed the bag, then Tess.

Now Tess rolled
her
eyes. “Seriously? I’m still the same girl you went shopping with, Will. Or do you consider me a freak now?”

“I take it you spoke with Ben.”

Tess settled into the chair on the other side of the wood coffee table. “I don’t know what you said to that poor man but I’ve never seen him so dejected. Like someone stole his smile. And put his heart through a paper shredder. Then fried the pieces just for spite.”

Willow gaped. “I didn’t...”

Tess tilted her head. “Didn’t what? Reject him?”

Willow tossed her hands in the air. “I just said I needed time to think. To leave me alone so I could think.”

“He’s still a male, Will, and has a bucketful of pride. All the male shifters do. Especially the ten. They have dominant, alpha, chest-beating genes programmed into their DNA. They can’t help it.”

“The ten?”

Tess hummed an affirmative. “Kaylie told me you meet them all your first night here, at her place. I can’t believe you didn’t feel the testosterone overload when you stepped into that room.”

Actually, she had. A room full of big, masculine, and yeah, proud men. And very gentle, considerate, protective men as well. Willow slumped back on the couch. “Maybe I did.”

“And maybe you never answered my question.”

Frowning, Willow asked, “What question?”

Hazel eyes leveled with blue. “Do you consider me a freak because I’m a shifter? Because I was born with more strength, speed, and sharper senses—and, believe you me, the scent thing can be a real downer at times—than a human?”

Willow looked at the woman who sat motionless in the chair. The woman whose gorgeous face and killer body had once graced thousands of magazine pages, and not less than twenty covers.

A light bulb suddenly blazed bright inside Willow’s head, making everything crystal clear. “No. It’s like saying you’re a freak because you’re beautiful, or because you have hazel eyes instead of blue, or that your boobs are huge...”

Tess waved a regal hand in the air. “Yes, I know the outside package is phenomenal. I’m talking the inside, Willow. The inside package. Just like the men, I carry a beast inside me, so I’m not one hundred percent human like my sister. My DNA is different. My blood is different.”

“Is it still red?”

Tess visibly relaxed, her lips curving in a tiny smile. “Yes, it’s red.”

Willow nibbled on her bottom lip, considering. “And your wolf really can’t come out?”

A sad shake of Tess’s head. “No, and trust me when I say that the thought of turning furry once a month is a bit much on top of my monthlies, but every now and then I do wish for the ability to produce a sharp set of claws.”

Willow smiled. Exactly what she thought last night, minus the claws part. Except now that Tess brought it up, Willow could see how that particular talent could come in handy.

“So what are you going to do about Ben?”

Willow’s smile died. “What do you mean?”

“You’re his mate. If you don’t accept him, he’ll either wither away and die or hound you until you either beat him senseless or give in out of sheer irritation.”

Her smile was back. “That what you did to Caleb?”

“Naw. I fell in love with him.”

With no response, Willow looked away.

“Oookay. So I’ll leave the earrings on the table here. I expect to see you at my wedding.” Her small squeak of excitement at the word “wedding” pulled Willow’s attention from the far wall to the shining glow of happiness in Tess’s eyes. “Anyway. Put them and the dress on. Show up. Go to the reception. Watch us interact. See for yourself that shifters really aren’t all that different than humans. We laugh, live, love. And we love something fierce, Will. It’s what scared me about Caleb. How fierce his love is. Don’t let go of something precious because you were too afraid to hold on. Believe me when I say you’ll never regret holding on with everything you’ve got.”

Graceful as always, Tess rose to her feet. “And if you need more time to think, take it. But don’t keep Ben hanging. He’s the pack’s heart.”

Unable to respond because of the fist-sized lump in her throat, Willow glanced away, nodding that she heard and understood. After Tess left, Willow curled up on her side, allowing the tears to flow. She missed her dad. She was scared and didn’t know what to do.

But most of all, she missed Ben.

* * * *

The next afternoon Willow slipped into a nearly empty row near the back of the church, doing what Tess suggested. Observing. People gathered, sat, mingled, or stood up front, talking to Caleb and his groomsmen, all handsomely attired in black tuxes with varying hues of green vests and bow ties.

From the tingles of awareness that raised the fine hairs at the nape of her neck and how her breasts ached, she knew Ben was around, even if she didn’t see him. Not for the first time did she wonder if his proximity would always cause this type of reaction.

Her ever-present and now dapperly dressed bodyguards sat behind her. A male voice announced they were about to begin and people started buzzing around for seats. Someone slid down the row toward Willow. Without looking she knew it was Ben.

Could he hear the jagged beat of her heart? She glanced up when he sat next to her, her belly twisting at the naked heat in his eyes. He made no attempt to hide the raw longing as he traced the shape of her body with his eyes. Evidently he liked what he saw, until his gaze landed on his bite mark, now covered by a healthy slathering of makeup. His lips turned down ever so slightly, but he didn’t say a word. He did, however, cover her hand resting on her lap, and entwined their fingers.

It was both a clear sign of ownership and desire for touch, two characteristics as necessary to a wolf as air, which Willow had discovered in her foray on the Internet. No matter how charming he appeared on the outside, she needed to remember a deadly predator lurked just under the surface. He was a wild mix of danger and passion, an ultimate temptation, and she wanted to slide into his arms, into his heat.

This was exactly why she couldn’t think properly when he was near. She forgot everything except how she felt in his embrace.
I’m an embarrassment to women everywhere
, she thought, peeking at him as the wedding processional began.
But really, who could blame me?

An hour later she was standing next to Ben in the hotel ballroom now transformed into an elegant atmosphere. An elaborate display of
hors d’oeuvres
and drinks were provided while the wedding party remained at the church for formal photos. A DJ played rousing music over in a corner and everywhere she looked, Willow saw people clearly enjoying themselves.

But she had no interest in any of it. She needed to speak with Ben. Questions still circled her head and in a room teeming with people, some she knew, most she didn’t, wasn’t the place.

“Is there somewhere close we can talk? Privately?”

Ben looked around the crowded room, then, grasping her hand, tugged her out a side door and down a carpeted hallway. Near the end of the corridor he pulled her into a deserted room, closing and flicking the door lock.

“This is a woman’s restroom.” Willow said.

Ben shrugged. “Best I could do on short notice. If you want, I could check and see if there’s a free hotel room.” This was accompanied by a wicked smile.

The way she was feeling, a hotel room would be a bad idea. Beds were in hotel rooms. “No. This is fine.” She looked around at the single stall, tiled floor, and wide immaculate marble vanity. A vanity that could easily hold her weight.

She gulped, her eyes locked on Ben’s in the mirror, his sly smile saying it all. He was thinking the same thing. All too easily she could see herself hopping on top of the vanity and testing it out. She remained rigid, not trusting herself to move away from the temptation.

Ben closed in behind her, setting his hands on her hips, his chest brushing her back. His lips tickled her neck. “So what did you want to talk about?”

Her eyes fluttered in helpless acceptance as warmth washed through her. She missed this: his touch, his heat, his scent. Too good to resist. She tilted her head, giving him better access. “I’ve been thinking.”

His hands stroked her ribcage, his lips busy nibbling on her throat. “About how good we are together?”

Her response was a distracted murmur. His hands were torture, smoothing over her torso in long, gentle strokes, barely missing the underside of her breasts. Liquid heat gathered between her thighs.

His low growl startled her. “God, Willow. You’re scent is making me crazy. I want to touch you. I
need
to touch you.”

He
was
touching her, just not where her body begged. Taking her silence as acceptance, Ben gathered the skirt of her dress in his large hands and began to inch the material up. “You’re beautiful, sweetheart. You take my breath away.”

Her lungs understood. Air swooshed out, shallow and fast as her legs, knees, and thighs were revealed. One hand covered her breast, holding and kneading the swollen mound. When her belly was exposed he hooked the material over his fingers, leaving his thumb free to strum over her nipple. He skimmed his other hand over her trembling flesh, inching underneath the waistband of her plain cotton panties, arrowing to her mound.

“So soft,” he whispered in approval in her ear, giving her lobe a nip, then soothing with his tongue. “So wet.” He parted her folds with two fingers, unerringly finding and strumming her clit with a third. “So hot.”

She gazed at their reflection, mesmerized. Her legs parted, her hips arching into his touch. “The mating heat.” Her words came out halted, the fiery sensations building almost too much to speak past.

“What about it?” Ben watched her as he played between her legs, his eyes edging with that amber glow she know knew meant his wolf was rising to the forefront. His control was slipping. Slipping because of her. The hard ridge of his erection pulsed at her spine, a thick enticement.

Knowing she could make a man lose control was daunting and exciting. At the same time, knowing he had the same power over her was terrifying. Her knees started to wobble, her body growing wetter with need. From only his fingers. As if sensing the rising hunger, he applied more pressure, faster, right over the throbbing nub.

A sharp gasp escaped. “Ah. What happens when it’s gone? The mating heat. Then what?”

“Nothing will change, baby. I’ll always want you.” He punctured his words by thrusting two fingers deep inside her pussy. Her eyes rolled up into the back of her head, which fell against his shoulder. “I’ll always want this tight little sheath wrapped around my cock. Squeezing me dry.”

She gripped his forearm, tightening when his pumping fingers scissored, his knuckles rubbing over tender tissue, making her gasp and cry out. “Ohmigod. I need...I…”

“I know, sweetheart,” he whispered roughly against her cheek, his own breath harsh and unsteady. “I know.” He dropped his other hand down to her clit, working her sex with both hands. Her muscles quivered and clenched. “Come for me.”

It was impossible not to. She fell apart in his embrace, coming in a soft cry as the world spun away. Her body still shivered when she felt his hand go to the front of his pants. The sound of his zipper rasped loudly, and she heard the crinkling of foil.