Malcolm’s hunger ripped through him with a vengeance. Every time she bit her lip, every time she smiled, he lost a little more control. He was a very strong alpha; from birth, he’d been granted abilities that other werewolves did not have. In the same way that some humans could run a faster mile and others could lift more weight, Malcolm possessed powers which set him apart from his werewolf community. Though these powers came in handy quite often, he honestly hadn’t planned on using any of them on Claire St.James. He’d gone down that dark road in the past and his actions haunted him now, riding him with guilt.
This time, he had truly wanted to get to know Charlie; to have her get to know him. But she was too tempting. And the effect she was having on him was far too strong. It shouldn’t have been like this. He needed to regain ground with her, and fast.
So, with both resignation and determination, he released another tendril of his power and let it coil around his blue-eyed prize. She squirmed in her chair for a moment and he knew it was lighting fires within her. He willed her to let go. To stop caring.
To trust him.
“Actually, I’ll have the beer after all.”
His arm was instantly up again, summoning the waitress back to their table.
“Another beer, sweetie?” The waitress guessed, before Cole could order. Claire nodded, smiling. “Sure thing. Be right back.” She picked up the empty bottle and strode away.
Then Claire looked up as something over Cole’s shoulder caught her attention. He turned to look and smiled when his gaze settled on Jake. He was holding Claire’s companion, Mary Jane. And he was kissing her.
“Oh my god!” Claire exclaimed softly. “She just met him!” She blinked, obviously stunned at what she was seeing. Though she was clearly shocked, he could also hear the humor in her tone. She shook her head admonishingly. “How dare he?” she asked, trailing off into a chuckle.
Good girl, he thought. Let go.
“It takes two to kiss like that, luv,” Malcolm drawled casually, his gaze still locked on the two figures.
When he turned back around, it was to find that Claire was staring at him openly. He felt pinned to his chair beneath her baby blues and the air around them heated with un-spent electricity.
“Say that again,” she said.
“What?” he asked, truly not understanding.
“Say ‘luv’ again.”
He blinked. And then, when he realized that her breathing was shallow and quick and her eyes were glittering, he allowed himself a slow, dangerous smile. “Anything else you would like me to do for you, luv?”
Claire’s gaze flicked from his eyes to his lips and back up again.
“Here you go, sweetie.” The waitress set the beer down on the table and, luckily, was quickly rushing off again, because neither of them were able to pay her any attention.
“Um….” Claire distractedly picked up her beer and placed it to her lips, swallowing a few small sips. Her eyes were still glued to Malcolm’s. “Yeah, but….”
“Charlie, I’m gonna head back to the hotel.”
Claire blinked and finally managed to rip her gaze away from Cole’s in order to look up at her friend, who had just approached the table. Jake Samson was behind her, his arm around her waist. Cole met Jake’s eyes and registered the barely perceptible nod his second in command gave him.
Across from him, Claire pushed out her chair and stood. “What? Why? Are you okay?”
Cole stood as well. He frowned as he felt his powers begin to slide and slip from where they’d been wrapped around Charlie. It was as if she was somehow pushing them away. Was that even possible? He redoubled his efforts and could sense her strength relinquish a little under the onslaught.
“I’m fine, I just….” Mary Jane fanned herself and swooned a little. Jake easily steadied her. “I think I’ve just pushed myself a little too hard.”
Though Claire was weakened by Cole’s will wrapped so tightly around her, she was also visibly upset by her friend’s sudden condition, and Malcolm cursed himself for not thinking to wait until Mary Jane had downed more alcohol before allowing Jake to control her with his kiss. It would have been more believable. He wouldn’t have had to resort to this brute force.
“I’m….” Claire swallowed and ran a hand over her face, as if to clear her head. “I’m coming with you,” she said as she somehow managed to side-step her chair and move with fluid grace around the table to take her friend’s hands.
Cole was stunned. She was incredibly stubborn. Not to mention, impossibly graceful and strong.
Mary Jane immediately pulled her hands out of Charlie’s grip and put them on her hips. “Absolutely not,” she said, sternly. She glanced at Malcolm and then back at Claire. She leaned in, wobbling just a touch, and placed her red lips a breath away from Charlie’s ear. What passed between them then was meant to be secret. But Malcolm heard it loud and clear.
“There’s no way I’m letting you pass up this chance, Charlie. That man is a god. You be good to him.” She backed up, gave Charlie a no-nonsense look, and then moved in again. “And besides, I’m not going back to the hotel alone.”
At that, Claire blinked. Mary Jane straightened, a lascivious smile on her ruby lips. Charlie’s lips parted in sudden comprehension and her eyes widened as she blushed. “Oh,” she stammered. “I – I see.”
“That’s okay, baby girl. Give me a hug.” Mary Jane wrapped her arms around Claire and the two embraced. Again, the dark-haired woman whispered something into Claire’s ear. “Thanks for forcing me to come out with you tonight.”
“You’re welcome,” Claire whispered back, too bewildered to say anything else.
With that, Mary Jane pulled away and Jake led her out of the club.
Claire watched her go. And then she looked up at Malcolm. He moved around the table toward her and held up his hand. “Walk with me,” he commanded. It wasn’t even a request. Not any more.
She hesitated anyway. The effect her resistance had on him was to both impress him and to make him even more hungry for her. In truth, he had always liked a good fight. A part of him wanted her to run from him. He was a wolf, and wolves were predators. He pursued anything that ran from him. It felt good. And, though the night pressed with a sense of urgency where she was concerned, he couldn’t deny that the chase was his favorite part of the game.
He smiled when she finally put her hand in his and, once more his fingers curled over hers. Claire St.James was definitely game. She was fighting him as much as she was capable of fighting him; which is to say, with every fiber of her conscious being.
But, no woman on the planet could lie to Malcolm. He could read their bodies too well. The scent of their arousals, the sound of their racing hearts, the sight of their cheeks flushed and their lips parted, all chronicled the truth, no matter what their minds might be screaming. That included Charlie. What her body was telling him was that she was loving it as much as he was.
For Malcolm, that fact was like pitching gasoline onto an fire.
He tossed a wad of bills onto the table and wasted no time in leading Charlie out of the club. Once they were outside, he repositioned their hands so that their fingers intertwined. When he did, he felt her stiffen beside him, for just a fraction of a second. And then she let out a quiet, shaky breath – and relented.
He hid his smile. “Your friend seems very liberated,” he said as he walked them down the sidewalk toward the tattoo parlor that he had instructed Lucas to purchase.
Claire was silent beside him. He could tell she was trying to figure out what to say to that. Finally, she sighed. “Yeah, she is.” Malcolm felt victory rush through him when he heard the jealousy in her tone that he was so hoping would be there.
“I would imagine she’s the kind of person who never takes a day for granted,” he continued. “Lives for the moment.” He released a bit more of his power to let it enfold her beside him, swaddling her in submissive influence.
“Yes,” Claire said, “she does.”
“And I imagine you’re the level-headed one in the band,” Malcolm went on, hoping that he was right about what kind of person she was.
Claire frowned, mulling that one over. She didn’t say anything, which meant that it was too true to deny, but too unpleasant to admit.
“After all, someone has to keep everyone in line, right? Not everyone has a motherly instinct, Charlie. I can imagine that you do, though.”
He waited.
“Why would you imagine that?”
Bingo.
“Oh. Well – I don’t know….” He pretended to stumble over his words, as if he were embarrassed by them. “It’s just that you’re so….”
“Boring?” she asked then. She didn’t spit it at him and it wasn’t scathing, exactly. But, though her voice was still soft, her tone held something in it that he hadn’t heard from her before. “I’m safe. I know,” she told him.
I have to be… He almost heard her thinking. She wore her thoughts on her beautiful face.
“Come,” he said. “I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.” They were standing in front of the coffee shop that neighbored the tattoo parlor. As he’d suspected it would, Claire’s gaze skirted from the coffee shop to the store front next door.
“Coffee?” Her voice trailed off.
He knew when he had her. Her shoulders rolled back and her chin lifted. Defiant. Strong. He wanted to take her right there on the side walk.
“Screw the coffee,” she said, outright. “I want a tattoo.”
* * * *
“He isn’t happy.”
Vincent Cromwell smiled and almost laughed at that. “No, I imagine he isn’t. But it isn’t our fault that he underestimated her pull.” The tall werewolf moved to the nearest seat and took it gracefully, the overhead lights bringing out the blue highlights in his hair. She’s attracted the most powerful available alpha in our community, with the exception perhaps of James Valentine. And Valentine isn’t in the game.”
The older man across from him took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He leaned forward, placing his elbows onto his knees, and pinned Cromwell with a meaningful gaze. “He’s moved everything up and is flying in right now.” He pulled his cell phone out of the inside breast pocket of his expensive suit and glanced at something on its screen. “He’ll be here in less than two hours.”
“Do you have a plan?”
The man with silver hair smirked and sat back again. “I did. Cole ruined it.”
“Then, we’d better come up with another one,” Cromwell suggested, coolly. He sat back and crossed his hands over his stomach.
“Do you think he’ll take her tonight?”
“Cole?”
The silver haired man nodded. Once.
Cromwell thought about that for a moment. His magical feelers had been out in that alleyway earlier. He’d sensed an incredible amount of deadly-strong resolve around Malcolm Cole. But, contrary to what he’d been expecting to find, he felt no evil. Darkness, yes. Evil, no. Cromwell somehow doubted that Cole wanted to harm Claire St.James. And turning her tonight would undoubtedly bring her vast amounts of mental anguish. In the end, Vincent couldn’t call this one. He just didn’t know.
“That depends,” he said, running a forefinger over his goatee. “On a lot of things.”
“I see.” The man in the expensive suit stood then, his movements filled with fluid grace. “I want you to cast some sort of recovery spell and at least get her back within the confines of this hotel.” He turned toward the exit when Cromwell’s voice stopped him.
“I could do that,” he said. “But Cole is no stranger to magic. He would know what was happening, and he would stop her. As I said, he has his entire pack with him right now. And he’s strong enough, even alone.”
The gray-haired man considered this for a moment. And then he strode across the room and opened the door. “I’ll deal with Mr. Phelan. You watch Charlie. Wait for the opportunity,” he threw a significant glance over his shoulder, “and then bring her home.”
Behind him, Vincent Cromwell nodded his acquiescence, but said nothing. As the older man left the room, Cromwell steepled his fingers before him, drawing an image of Claire St.James in his mind’s eye. And then he smiled and left the room as well.
* * * *
When Cole led Charlie into the parlor, he was immediately impressed with how well and how quickly Lucas had set everything up. There were two customers already inside, but Caige had possessed enough forethought to hire several other trained artists to deal with whoever might come in that night.
Caige, himself, looked up when Cole entered, and their eyes met. Silent communication passed between the two as Caige approached.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
Claire shrank just a little beside Cole, and his grip on her hand tightened. She looked up at him and was captured in his stark green gaze. He willed her not to back down.
“I would like to get a tattoo,” Claire repeated, this time to the parlor owner. Cole could see that she was intimidated by Caige, as most people were. The werewolf looked like a very handsome actor playing a very wicked role. Charlie she was a Dormant and, as such, even more susceptible to other werewolves and their, for lack of a better word, manliness. Lucas Caige was just about as manly as they came, and his pitch black eyes, which were rare for a wolf, were both intoxicating and threatening.
But, as any parlor owner would have done, he nodded and smiled a reassuring smile. White teeth flashed and Claire smiled, a little nervous.
“First one?” Caige asked, his voice low, his tone gently teasing.
She nodded.
“Then the first thing you’ll need to do is pick what you want.” He walked her over to a series of large poster-sized displays on the wall. Each one contained several dozen artistic renderings. There was a dizzying plethora of choices. Cole was half afraid that, while Claire carefully deliberated over which one she might want, she would sober up and decide not to go through with it.
However, she surprised him once more by immediately striding toward the middle display and pointing at a drawing near the top.
Malcolm’s head swam. She was pointing at a black wolf, howling at the full moon. Caige’s eyes cut to him, for a fraction of a second, and he knew that the other wolf was just as surprised.
“Can I have that one?” she asked.
Lucas nodded, expertly hiding his emotions, and led her toward a private room; there were four such rooms in the parlor. Cole joined them, closing the door behind them. At the center of the room rested a plush, reclining table, beside which stood a silver tray, covered in saran wrap. Atop it were a large number of various artist’s tools.
“Would you like me to show you what each of these instruments are and what they’ll do so that you won’t be surprised by anything?”
Claire quickly took in the number of alien-looking devices, replete with needles, and visibly paled. Then she shook her head. “No. Please, just do it. I don’t even want to watch, or I might change my mind.”
Caige nodded and Cole smiled.
“Have a seat.” Lucas motioned toward the table. “Where do you want it?”
“My wrist. Then I can cover the bandage with one of my wrist bands when I’m playing and no one will be the wiser.” She sat down and looked down at the insides of her arms as Cole and Lucas once more locked gazes.
Malcolm was fast becoming flabbergasted by everything Claire chose. A wolf? The inside of her wrist? It was like they were sole mates. If he had believed in such a thing.
“The right one.” She held out her arm and released a shaky breath. It would be the same exact spot where Lily had born Daniel Kane’s mark. Suddenly Cole wondered whether all Dormants instinctively and automatically went down the same roads when it came to their mates.
Claire glanced up at him and he caught and held her gaze. Her ice blue eyes were nearly pleading. Begging for him to make her believe this was the right decision – and to continue to give her strength with wh
ich to do it.
My Charlie, Cole thought. So very brave.
“It’ll be stunning, luv,” he told her softly. She smiled and blushed. “And should you change your mind fifty years from now, I’m sure they’ll have created some instant method for removing them.” Just not these kind, he added mentally.
With that, Lucas moved behind the table and gently placed his hands on her shoulders. Cole’s jealousy instantly spiked, but he reigned it in and allowed the other wolf to ease Claire back into the table-chair, reclining it so that she was in a more relaxed position. Then Caige’s gaze cut to Cole and more silent communication passed between them.
“Just close your eyes and relax, Charlie,” Cole told her, allowing a fair amount of power to lace his words and influence his tone.
Claire closed her eyes.
Cole moved behind the table as Lucas handed him a pocket knife. Malcolm wasted no time, drawing the knife’s sharp blade down across his palm. As the blood welled up, he squeezed his hand into a fist and held it over one of the empty ink containers on the plastic-wrapped tray. When it was half full, Lucas nodded.
Malcolm drew his hand away as the wound closed. His earlier discussion with Lucas came back to him…
“I’ll have to go a lot deeper than I would normally with an ink job; deep enough to draw blood. So it’ll hurt her a lot more than it would otherwise. Can you cloak her against that pain?”
Malcolm had considered that carefully. The truth was, he held a good deal of influencing ability when it came to his unique talents, but the power to help someone ignore pain wasn’t one of them. The most he could do was hold her in his sway.
Or kiss her. A werewolf’s kiss could do many things. Through a kiss, a werewolf could exact upon his victim drowsiness, weakness, pleasure, and even sleep. He’d heard that was what Daniel Kane had done to his mate when he’d marked her.