He picked up the bat she had laying on her bed. “And what do you expect to do with this?”
Kill you in your sleep?
“Pretty little thing like you. What? You gonna beat up the big, bad hyenas with it?”
She carefully smoothed out a chemise she’d placed in the drawer, and turned to face the hillbilly, closing the drawer with her backside. She folded her arms in front of her chest and silently regarded the man for several moments.
“Is there a problem, hillbilly?”
“If you keep calling me hillbilly there will be.”
She stepped away from the dresser. “Oh, I’m sorry. Do you prefer redneck or Jethro or—?”
“You could use my name.”
“I sure could. But I choose not to.”
Anger flashed across his face, but it quickly disappeared. Replaced by a slow, easy smile that almost had her melting at his feet. “I wonder what it would take to get you to say my name.”
Uh-oh. “Don’t go gettin’ any funky ideas, hillbilly.” Especially since she had so many of her own.
He dropped the bat back on the bed. “Like what exactly?” When she didn’t answer, he walked toward her. “I asked you a question, sugar.”
“I’m not playing this game with you.”
He stopped right in front of her, gently taking a lock of her hair and twining it around his big index finger.
“I don’t play games. I’m a real sore loser.”
He stared at the hair he had wrapped around his forefinger, his thumb smoothing it against his skin. It took Angie a second to realize he’d stepped even closer to her. She wanted to take a step back, but if she did he’d end up yanking her hair. And she didn’t want to look like she was trying to run away from him.
When, exactly, did she lose control of this situation anyway?
Freakin’ cats!
“Damn, girl. You sure are pretty.”
Well, at least he didn’t try and bore her with “beautiful”. Men said that crap to her all the time, but they wouldn’t know beauty if it came up and kicked them in the nuts. Miki, who they all but ignored, was beautiful because if the girl set her mind to it, she could destroy the universe. Sara went beyond beautiful with her strength. The woman had lived in pain and with that fucking bitch Lynette for years and not only survived but kept her soul. They were beautiful.
Angie had a really great sense of style, amazing friends, and absolutely no delusions about herself. Or anyone else for that matter.
“That’s very kind of you.”
“Not really.” He continued to wrap her hair around his finger until his hand rested close to her cheek.
He had her trapped with the tall dresser at her back and her hair wrapped around his hand. She had to lean her head back to get a good look at him. The hillbilly towered over her. The man was big. Huge. Conall-sized. Just a little leaner.
She cleared her throat, trying her best to maintain a bit of pseudo-calm. Of course, she didn’t feel calm. She didn’t feel scared either. She didn’t know what she felt except extreme panic and a growing wetness between her legs very few men had been able to get out of her without their hands or mouth on certain parts of her anatomy. And that sound. What the fuck was that sound?
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Ever since he took hold of her hair, she kept hearing that damn sound.
Good God. That was her! That thumping noise emanating from between her legs. Was her clit supposed to sound that loud pounding against her panties? And could the hillbilly hear it? This could get seriously embarrassing.
“Look, hillbilly,” she looked for a way around him, but he wouldn’t move and he seemed in no hurry to release her hair, “if I’m gonna stay here, maybe we should get a few things straight.”
He leaned in suddenly, his grip tightening on her hair. And, man, but did that feel good. He put his nose right against her neck. Is the man smelling me? “What exactly would those few things be, sugar?”
“First off, stop smelling me.”
“Sorry. It’s just…” He took another sniff. “You smell good enough to…”
“Don’t you dare say it.”
“…lick.”
Then he did. Right across her jugular. His tongue, warm and dry, pulling the skin of her neck as it rasped across it.
She almost dropped. Right there. Right at his giant, hillbilly feet. But at the same time, her fight or flight response kicked in and she did the only thing she could think of. She brought her knee up, aiming for his nuts.
But the fucker moved like lightning. He grabbed her knee before it ever touched him. His hand slid around and up, bringing her leg up and out. He leaned his body against hers, his lean hips between her thighs and he wrapped her leg tightly around his hip.
He did it so fast, she didn’t even realize what the hell had happened until his body pinned her against the dresser, the heavy wood banging against the wall behind it.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Nik knew he had to stop. He knew he needed to back away and let her get on with her packing or unpacking or whatever the hell she’d been doing when he walked in. Then he would go outside as tiger and kill the first unlucky thing that came across his path. Hopefully one of his brothers.
But he couldn’t. He couldn’t walk away from her. He never met a woman capable of making him this feral before. He considered himself out of control at the moment, at least by Vorislav standards. She really did smell good, though. She tasted even better.
Damn his brothers to hell and back! Why the hell did they bring this vicious, foul-mouthed piece of ass into his home? Yesterday his life had been going so well. Quiet. Simple. With the occasional elk thrown in for good measure.
Now, more than twenty grand in the hole and a healthy knot on his forehead, he had some stranger pinned up against his furniture while he ground his painfully hard erection into her amazingly hot crotch. And, man, but did that feel good.
Her hands, still covered in scratches and scrapes from the day before, grabbed hold of his T-shirt. But instead of pulling him in for the kiss he desperately wanted to give her, she shoved him away.
“Get the fuck offa me!”
Nik released her and her hair immediately. He didn’t want to, but never in his life had he ever forced a woman to do anything she didn’t want to—and making his baby sister eat dirt didn’t count—so he wasn’t about to start now.
Like an alley cat trapped under his couch, she hissed at him, “Don’t ever put your fuckin’ hands on me. I don’t like to be touched.”
“Really? ’Cause it smells like you didn’t mind much.”
Goddamn, motherfuckin’ shapeshifters! As far as Angie was concerned—they cheated! Being able to smell fear, panic, pain, and now lust ripped away her ability to lie her Latina ass off.
And, to her growing rage, he was right. She didn’t mind much. For the first time ever, she didn’t mind being cornered. By a lunatic hillbilly, no less. A lunatic hillbilly who made her feel like she hadn’t had sex in a thousand years…and that this might be her one and only chance.
No, sex with the hillbilly wouldn’t be the problem. Her lack of control would be the problem. She could see it in his eyes. Angie would never be able to control him. Never be able to tell him what to do and just have him do it. His brothers were easy. A few complimentary words, a few glances from beneath her lashes, and she could lead them anywhere. But not this one.
This was not some big kitty she could lead around by his cock. This one was a big, mean, woman-eating tiger. And she’d do well to keep her legs closed and her body off-limits.
Controlling men and sex were the only things she ever had going for her, she wasn’t about to give that up to this asshole.
No matter how badly she wanted him to push her onto all fours and fuck her from behind.
“You need to go now.” She pushed herself away from the dresser. His eyes narrowed at her sudden and brutally cold detachment. Scooping some folded clothes off the floor, she pulle
d open the dresser drawer and carefully placed them inside with the others.
“So it’s like that, is it?”
She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Like what?”
He shook his head. “You know, sugar, if you wanna pretend what just happened didn’t. And that what we both felt, we didn’t. Well, that’s on you.”
The bedroom door opened as he headed out. “But we’ll both know you’ll be lyin’ your pretty little ass off.”
Then he was gone, the door closing quietly behind him.
Angie glanced down at her hands. They were shaking. Badly. Not from fear, though. She didn’t fear the man. Not even close.
And for the first time ever, Angie regretted she really hated being touched.
Chapter Five
Nik leaned against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed in front of him. He watched the food on his stovetop bubble and cook. He could feel his face frowning. He’d let some woman make him frown. She also made him hard. Unbelievably, painfully, mind-alteringly hard. But the frowning definitely pissed him off more.
He didn’t let women get to him. Why should he? There were others. More than enough to keep a man damn happy without attaching himself to just one.
Known for their brutality and solitary ways, most tiger females and males spent little time together except for the occasional vicious mating.
But the Vorislavs weren’t raised like other tigers. Not with the father the good Lord cursed them with. The rest of his kin didn’t even call his daddy eccentric. They called him weird. The less friendly ones called him a freak. A freak among freaks. And he was Nik’s sperm donor.
Nik knew he should never come home from hunting and find his siblings sitting in his kitchen. Eating his food. Drinking his beer and coffee. And if they were, he shouldn’t let them live. But he did. The old man had insisted on it since they were cubs. He’d wanted a family from the very beginning and did everything necessary to ensure that. He prided himself on two things: surviving the Vietnam War and making sure all his children were with the same female.
Nik understood the first. But the last boggled his mind. There were few, if any, tigers who only bred with one female in their lifetime. Most of the tiger families consisted of half sisters and brothers. But not his. It wasn’t that his mother didn’t want other males either. But if any got too close, his father made sure they never got too close to much of anything ever again.
Really, if you favored your balls, you kept away from “Vorislav’s female”—his poor mother’s nickname among the tiger community.
Nik didn’t hate his father. He simply didn’t understand him. He definitely had no desire to be like him. True, he hadn’t yet had the need to have any cubs of his own like Ban, but his sexual appetite was as healthy as any of his breed. So, to avoid the nightmare of dealing with a tiger female in heat, he spent his free time getting his itch scratched by other cats. Lion females were great because they only bred with their own kind. So, if they needed or wanted simple sexual gratification, they came to him. Same thing with leopards and jackals.
But Nik avoided humans like the plague. They could be as bad as wolves. Some were happy enough to bump from one bed to another. Yet too many others wanted to commit their lives to one person. Forever! Why the hell would anyone do that? Why the hell did his father?
No. He needed to stay away from Angelina Santiago. Far, far away.
Of course, not easy with her living in his house—even temporarily. And pushing through his kitchen door with that half-crazed look on her face, storming up to him, and grasping his T-shirt between those soft, cool hands.
Yeah, a problem waiting to beat him over the head…again.
“Where is it?” she demanded.
“Where’s what?” He wanted to pull her hands off his shirt, but if he touched her again…
“The TV. Where is it?”
“I don’t have one.”
“What do you mean you don’t have one?” Panic wafted off her in waves. “What grown man doesn’t have a TV?”
“One who likes to read instead.”
“Read?” He loved her face. Especially when she looked so beautifully perplexed.
“Yeah. I read. And I have a whole bunch of books you can borrow.”
Her face twisted in disgust. “What? I look like Miki to you?”
She released him and stormed back out.
He stared at the door she went through. “Who the hell is Miki?”
Growling in annoyance, Angie moved through Nik’s house. They were alone. His family members long gone. Just her, the hillbilly, and books. Books!
She shook her head and wandered into what she could only assume was the library and his office. One wall had a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. Books filled it and he even had books on top of books. The other wall had a floor-to-ceiling case as well, this one filled with CDs and actual vinyl albums. She went straight for the music. He set up his music chronologically starting with stuff from the fifties. She frowned. Clearly a big Elvis fan.
“No TV. And Elvis. Could this get any scarier?” As she moved past the different decades, she finally hit the eighties and nineties, and smiled in relief. He had a nice selection of alternative music and a butt load of some great tech. He seemed to be quite the Lords of Acid fan. Considering their music usually had to do with fucking while being bound, she wondered briefly if he was a bit of a “kinkoid”. Into tying up girls and fucking them senseless.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Goddammit! She really needed to get control of that. Having such a noisy clit really was unacceptable.
She grabbed one of the earlier Lords of Acid CDs and popped it into what had to be the most amazing sound system she’d ever seen. She turned on one of her favorite tracks, “Rough Sex,” then went through a pile of magazines he had on his desk. He had a stack of news magazines like Time and Newsweek, but she had no interest in reading anything that depressing. Thankfully, buried down at the bottom, was a recent copy of Vogue. The name on the subscription label said Kisa Vorislav. Must be a sister, since Nik wouldn’t dare have a wife.
With a sigh, she sat down at his desk, put her feet up on the exquisitely carved wood with the magazine on her lap, and promptly fell asleep.
Nik could hear her moving around his house. He could imagine the way the skirt of her mini-dress swirled around her thighs. And those shoes. The black “strappy ones” she debated about getting. They really did look good on her. Twenty grand well spent as far as he was concerned.
His cell phone went off and Nik let out a sigh of relief. Anything to distract him from the thought of that woman in those shoes.
“This is Nik.”
“Hey, Nik, darlin’.”
“Sahara. Hey, baby.” A lioness. She belonged to the Lyon Pride from this afternoon. He and Sahara had gone a few rounds in the past. The woman did know how to have fun.
“My sisters said they saw you in town today. And I started thinking, I’m free tonight…”
Nik smiled, then groaned. “I can’t. I’m babysitting a dog-lovin’ human.”
“Get your brothers to do it. From what I heard about her fabulous taste in clothes, they won’t mind a bit.”
Nik’s good humor fled. He thought about his brothers lingering around his territory, watching Angelina walk around his house in those shoes. He didn’t like that thought one goddamn bit. Then he realized he felt territorial about a woman he had no intention of breeding with. That particular realization pissed him off even more.
No way. He was not his father’s son. He’d meet up with Sahara tonight. Meet her and fuck her into oblivion, completely blocking out Angelina Santiago and her strappy black shoes.
“Ya know, Sahara, as a matter of fact—” Tech music suddenly pulsated through his house. But not just any tech music. The Lords of Acid. Specifically “Rough Sex” by Lords of Acid.
That heifer.
Thoughts of the evil viper bent over his kitchen table, taking his dick, while screaming out his nam
e almost had him coming in his jeans. Especially when he added in the handcuffs.
“Sahara, I can’t. Really. I made a…” he sighed heavily, “…a commitment.”
“You?”
Nik’s frown returned. “Yes. Me.”
Sahara chuckled. “Uh…okay.”
Angie woke up when she felt her chair kicked.
“What?” she asked, not bothering to be polite.
“Hungry?”
She nodded, yawned, and stretched. Arms over her head, legs stretched out with toes pointed. When she finished, she looked up to see Nik staring down at her with his hands clenched into fists. “What?” she asked again.
“Nothin’,” he growled.
Strange man, she thought as she followed him from the room.
Angie expected him to go to the dining room, but he kept walking right into the kitchen. She wondered how long she slept, because it had gone pitch black outside. She’d look at her new watch, but she’d left that on the dresser in her room.
She followed Nik into the kitchen and stopped in the doorway. He had the table laid out with food, wine, and lit candles.
Oh, but no. That wouldn’t do one damn bit.
She popped on the overhead light. He looked up at her with a frown. At first, she thought it was annoyance, but she realized the bright light bothered his eyes.
“It’s too dark,” she gave as way of explanation.
“I guess it would be.”
“Does it hurt your eyes?” She didn’t know why she suddenly cared. Honestly, she hated candlelight dinners. To quote Miki, “You never know what the hell they’re puttin’ in your food, dude.”
“Not really. Just not used to it. I don’t really need lights at night.” He placed a huge bowl of food on the table; the salad and bread already out. “Sit, sugar.”
She realized she’d been standing like an idiot for the last two minutes. She grabbed a seat and plunked herself down.
“You talk to your friends again today?” he asked conversationally.
“No. I’ll call ’em tomorrow. Give ’em the night to cool the fuck off.”