Page 15 of Savage Trap

He tilts his head, and once again I’m reminded of the thin line between him and his beast. “Is that so?”

I shrug. “You can think what you want, but it doesn’t make it true, Mr. Loup. So you should do yourself a favor and stop chasing shadows.”

“And sweep them under the rug instead?” He drains his glass and I’m hoping the mini-interrogation is over. But when he pins me with his dark eyes, the sinking feeling in my belly says he’s just getting started. “Do you know what’s missing from your father’s agenda? Any reference to the massacre in the Dark River Tower, or who might be responsible. Why do you think that is?”

“Because the Boston pack is only interested in looking to the future?” He gives me a sour look and I have to bite back a smirk. Maybe I’m not so bad at this political stuff, after all. “I suggest you talk to my dad if you want a better answer.”

“I think I’ll share something with you instead. Firstly, I don’t care who tore Roan Bisha to pieces. As far as I’m concerned, they did me and the City of New York a favor. Secondly, I have no interest in going after you or your father. Ferrier’s proven to be a good alpha for Boston, and he’s not trying to overextend himself by grasping for the High Alpha position.” He steps closer, his alpha dominance radiating off him in waves. “But harboring a dangerous assassin, who according to some reports may even be feral, is not something I can turn a blind eye to.”

I’m tempted to ask him who died and made him God, but I know the answer.

The European Liaisons.

And it’s clear this guy isn’t going to let it go. Maybe he needs a scapegoat for what happened in New York, or maybe this is something personal. But there’s one question I need answered, and I tilt my head, curious. “What do you think you’re going to do to Marku if you ever catch up to him?”

His gaze drops to my neck and before I can react, he reaches out and brushes a thumb over the biggest bonding bite. It’s Arben’s, of course, and for a moment I wonder if the Wolf can still scent my mate on my skin. A growl builds in my chest and I grab his wrist, my claws pressing against my fingertips, ready to sever his grip. “What are you doing?” I hiss.

But my anger just makes his lips tip up. “You have an unusual pack, Ms. Starling-Ferrier. Two omega heirs and three discarded sons… That kind of arrangement shouldn’t work without a powerful anchor to hold you all together.”

I know what he’s insinuating. That Arben is our anchor. Which is circling too close to the truth about us being a fated pack, and Arben our guardian. So, I let my wolf out just enough for my claws to dig into his wrist. “What makes you think I’m not the anchor, Loup? Or any one of my mates? Like you said, we’re an unusual pack.”

His eyes flare, although it’s impossible to discern the black of his iris from his pupil. But I can smell his excitement as he stares at the tiny moons I’m pressing into his skin. “You half shift?”

I retract my claws and fold my arms, as if his lingering touch on my neck is a minor annoyance. “Maybe my anchor is hiding somewhere, pulling on my strings.” He glances about, and my lip curls. “I would think twice before poking in the shadows around here, Mr. Loup.”

Instead of taking my words as a threat, he tilts his head, dark satisfaction blooming in his eyes. “Let’s do a deal. You get Arben Marku to meet me for a private conversation, and I’ll grant him immunity from any prosecution by Washington.”

I pretend to mull it over, but it’s not like Arben’s ever worried too much about staying on the right side of the law. But when I open my mouth to tell him I can’t pass on his message – even if I wanted to – his hand snaps out, his finger pressing against my lips.

“Think about it,” Loup tells me. “Because I’m a much better ally than enemy, Ms. Starling-Ferrier.”

Kelly

“I’m going to look for Angel,” I tell Rory, peeling myself away enough to catch my breath. The truth is, breathing becomes quite an endeavor when I’m around my green-eyed devil, and doubly so when we’ve been grinding on each other for the length of three songs. He pouts at me, his fingers trailing down my arm, and I hum, my skin crackling with electricity. “Won’t be long,” I promise. “And maybe then we can make tracks. I really want to show our girl that thing you did to me in the hotel bathroom earlier…”

Rory’s eyes darken with predatory lust, and I get a flashback to him bending me over the vanity, his perfect cock buried deep in my ass. Like always, it was sublime, but it was his face in the mirror that made me come so hard my claws left divots in the marble. Rory is a glutton for anything sexual, but I’ve never met anyone who enjoys giving pleasure more than he does. Especially when he has our little angel looking on and complimenting his efforts.

I shiver in anticipation and his trailing fingers lift to my sweat-streaked face. “Want me to come, sweetheart?”

Innuendo is second nature to Rory, and he grins when I poke my tongue through my cheek at him. He circles the bulge with his fingers, his eyes burning even hotter, and I back off with a laugh. But then I swipe an arm across my sweaty brow and reconsider. I feel like I’m one more dance away from melting into a puddle. “Could you grab me some water while I hunt her down?”

He nods, ducking in for a kiss before he heads to the bar. I turn to look at our other dance partners, not all that surprised to find Cam and Nate in a little bubble of their own. I’ve felt Cam’s protective instincts throbbing through our bond every time he looks at those bruises on the beta’s neck. We all feel it; the need to protect Nate. Not out of pity, but because he seems so completely certain that no one will ever make the effort.

I bite back a growl and step towards Cam, my hand sliding across his muscled back. He’s wearing a gray Henley and black jeans, and damn, I’m on sensory overload here, because he looks like a dream. With his sun-streaked locks clipped back to his scalp, Cam exudes the kind of masculine beauty that makes my mouth dry and my dick hard. I can’t resist wrapping my hand around his stacked bicep as he ducks his head towards me. “Don’t move your cute butt off this dance floor,” I tell him as I blatantly feel him up. “I’ll be back in a jiff.”

He crooks a brow at me, his gaze tracking Rory to the bar. I use the distraction to sidle over to Nate, and pressing my cheek close to his, murmur in his ear, “Just going to grab our girl.”

His skin flushes hot against mine and I smirk, knowing he’s blushing again. I saw how Angel reacted to that first bloom of color spreading across his skin like a sunrise. In fact, the throb of her arousal through the bond was so potent, it made me instantly hard. And then I’d been driven to nudge them closer, to tease out more of their delicious reactions to each other. I thought she might fight me a bit, or he might freak at our blatant interest, but instead he’d welcomed us in with one of his shy smiles and a swivel of those sinful hips.

Who knew that sexy accountant was really a thing…?

I’ve never really been into the good boys – being swept up by the Hila gang when I was in my teens kind of nudged me towards the dark – but there’s something mesmerizing about the beta’s innocence. He’s the definition of clean cut, from his shiny loafers to the black-rimmed glasses and sensible side part. I think it’s cute as hell, but adding his social awkwardness into the mix, it explains why he finds it so easy to disappear into the background. Most shifters exude some kind of animal presence, but Nate seems almost untouched by his inner beast. Or he does until that blush creeps across his pale cheeks and he starts gnawing on his plump bottom lip.

He turns his face now, and I feel his breath catch as he realizes how close I am to that slip of red, bitten flesh. I’m tempted to lean over and steal a taste, but I hold back, knowing this is something we need to talk about as a pack. Yes, we all feel some kind of pull towards the beta, but we don’t fool around outside our bonds. And inviting anyone into our circle – even if it’s just for a fling – isn’t something we’d ever do lightly.

Still, when his quicksilver eyes latch onto mine, I feel my resolve wobble and I drop a peck on his flushed cheek. “Stay close to Cam,” I tell him. “I’m grabbing Elvi and then we’re heading back together.”

He nods, but he tilts his neck and his pupils do that expanding thing that makes my wolf sit up and notice. I’m pretty sure Nate is a natural submissive, which to a male omega is a tantalizing thing, especially when you were raised to be an alpha. Protecting him is still my primary instinct, but a part of me also wants to hold him down and fuck him until he’s a purring mess.

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