Chapter One
Aziza Jane Stewart had two beasts between her legs—one was a motorcycle and the other was pissing her off. The machine’s engine roared as it came to a stop in front of the Greenwich movie theater, and she swung her leg over the seat, taking her hands from the hot, hard body that had given her so much pleasure when she’d snuck into his bed this morning.
Brandon Nash—werewolf Enforcer, undeniably passionate lover and general pain in her ass. They’d only been an item for five weeks and already they were running into problems.
“Aziza.” Brandon turned off the engine and reached for her hand. “Don’t go like this.”
She stepped back, out of his reach. “Like what, Brandon? Like I’m being stood up for the third time since we’ve been back in London? Like every time we’re alone together, we only have time to slip in a quickie and a little pillow talk before you get a call for some new, conveniently timed wolfy emergency that you won’t tell me about?” She lowered her voice, glancing around the busy square. “Like you aren’t dropping me off for a play date with Greg that you set up at the last minute so you won’t feel guilty and I won’t get into any trouble on my own?”
Brandon ran a hand through his hair and Aziza bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to hurt. It would be easier to get mad and stay mad at him if she could ever get over how irresistible he was. Brandon might be the best and brightest of the “them” police, but he still looked every inch her sexy, giant stalker. Everything about him heated her blood and turned her on. The way his muscular, broad-shouldered body dwarfed the large machine he straddled, that thick sable hair shimmering like silk in the late afternoon sun, his strong, tight jaw and the dark, trimmed beard framing full, sensual lips… God, she loved to bite and lick those lips. Seeing the pleasure she gave him in those piercing, golden brown eyes never failed to make her heart race—only now it was pounding with a frustration that matched the emotion in his gaze.
What the hell did he have to be frustrated about?
“Damn it, Aziza, I did that for you. You’ve mentioned Greg’s busy work schedule and I know you wanted to visit this cinema—”
“I wanted to do it with you! I don’t give a shit about the movie. Werewolves know about romance, right? Or is it all, ‘You’re mine, fuck the flowers and get on your knees’?” she asked, mocking his raspy growl.
His eyes flashed. “That’s not fair, Aziza. I—”
“Never mind. It doesn’t even matter.” She crossed her arms. “Fuck the flowers and violins, they aren’t my style either. But you can tell me why you’re bugging out on me again. Does it have to do with the Jiniyr this time? Razia? Isn’t the Enforcers being on high alert for the last few weeks something their ‘Vessel of Fire’ should know about? Or am I still not allowed in the club until I bow to the Big Bad Wolf boss and he gives me the secret handshake?”
“No, it’s not Razia, and you don’t need to know about this.” His tone was adamant, his shoulders stiff. “Yes, the Alpha has told the others to wait for his approval before interacting with you, but this isn’t about you and my father. As I’ve told you many times…this is my job, Aziza. Something I’ve trained for. Why do you insist on pushing me for details? You’ll notice I haven’t asked questions about what you spent the night doing at that damn fetish club besides looking after your stray—again—or exactly what had you knocking on my door to satisfy your needs before dawn.”
“I noticed you managed to resist until about two seconds ago,” she replied archly. “You know I didn’t do anything without you because I told you I wouldn’t. You also know that if you came with me once in a while, you’d never have to wonder. And don’t pretend I was the only one enjoying myself this morning. Your broken bed tells a different story.”
He closed his eyes and took a breath before opening them again. “Aziza, I know you’re angry, but about the club—I want you to stay away from Underbridge for now. I think you should know—”
The pocket of his leather jacket started to ring and Aziza shook her head. “I think you should answer that. It’s important, right? It always is. Don’t let me stop you, Enforcer.”
“Fuck. Damn it all, Greg said he would be here.” Brandon pulled out his cell to check the number and swore again before shoving it back into his pocket. He looked beyond her, studying the crowd. “I don’t see him.”
She laughed derisively. “Waiting to pass me off like a hot potato? I’m a grown woman, Brandon. I don’t need anyone to take care of me and I don’t need or want you to tell me what to do unless we have whipped cream and a safe word. Greg will be here. He’s a man I can always count on.” She shooed him away with her hands. “You should run along before that leash gets any tighter.”