The words were barely out of my mouth when his aura hit, every bit as heated and will-withering as Moss’s. Sweat beaded my skin and rolled down my back, and the low-down ache of desire became so fierce it was positively painful. His smile was all arrogance.
“If I wanted you, I would have you,” he said, voice soft, flat, yet filled with the confidence of a man who always got what he wanted.
And with an aura like that, I guess he always did.
His gaze skidded down my body, and the desire burning the air increased, until it felt like every inch of my skin was being flayed alive. My knees buckled under the pressure, and my butt hit the back of the sofa. It was the only reason I remained upright.
His gaze rose to mine again. “And I think I will.”
He began to unbuckle his belt, and I wasn’t sure if it was anticipation or fear that sent a tingle down my spine. Hell, the sex part didn’t worry me, nor did having an audience. It was just him. There was something inherently sick about him, something wholly off-center that made a deep-down part of me shiver away from the thought of having him inside. And yet, that foulness held none of the intensity I’d sensed in Moss. Merle was survivable. I doubted Moss was.
“Merle, put it away,” Starr snapped, even though Merle hadn’t actually gotten it out yet. Thankfully.
But the force of Merle’s aura died at the order, as suddenly as a switch being flicked. There had to be were in his mix.
“Where’s Moss?” Starr continued, his gaze not leaving mine even though his question was obviously aimed at the spirit lizard.
“Greeting the new guards. He will be here soon.”
My heart leapt at the mention of new guards. Did that mean Rhoan had arrived? God, I hoped so. I needed to see him. Needed to talk to him. Get reassurance and guidance and a great big hug.
“Tell him I wish to see him immediately on his return.”
“Yes, sir.”
Starr’s gaze slid down my body. It wasn’t a sexual look, more the sort of look one boxer might give another right before their bout. When his gaze returned to mine, it hinted at recognition, and that was a whole different class of scary.
“Do I know you?”
I resisted the urge to lick suddenly dry lips and shook my head. “Unless you’ve been up to Sydney recently. I’ve only been in Melbourne for a few days.”
“So why do I feel this sense of familiarity?”
“I can’t say, sir.”
His thin lips curved into what I presumed was a half-smile—though it very easily could have been a half-sneer. “Respectful to those of obviously greater power. I like that.”
Right now, I liked that he liked. Anything was better than him mulling over the fact that he knew me. Because if he knew me, I obviously knew him. And for safety’s sake, I had better find out how before he did.
I didn’t say anything, and he continued to study me. My stomach turned faster than a washing machine on spin cycle, and was threatening to rise at the slightest provocation. Which was weird, because I’d always figured when I finally confronted the man who had chased me, abused me, injected me with crap, and tried to kill me, I’d feel anger—rage—more than anything else.
But I guess in imagining the whole scene, I’d forgotten one important point—Starr himself. Or rather, the fact that it had taken power, cunning, and sheer, bloody ruthlessness to take and hold control of the cartel.
“Are you from the red pack?”
Oh God…he did suspect. But how? Who was the man behind the mask, who was he in my life?
I forced a casual shrug. “I don’t know. My mother was human, and never sure who my father was.”
“You have the coloring of the red pack.”
“She was Irish. I have her coloring.”
“Ah. The offspring of a groupie.”
I nodded. Wondered if he believed me. There was no expression on his face, no flicker in his eyes, to indicate whether he did or didn’t. Just the emotive swirl of evil sucking the very goodness from the air.
“We should talk some more,” he said eventually.
My heart just about stopped. I might want to kill him, but I certainly didn’t want to talk to him. Not now. Not later. Not anytime.
Even killing him wasn’t an option right now, not only because of Merle and the black thing, but because Jack would kill me if I did anything before we’d discovered the location of the final lab.
“Talking is fine with me.”
He smiled for real this time. It was the nastiest thing I’ve ever seen. “As if you even had the choice, my dear.” His gaze moved to Merle. “Bring her in for brunch.”
His words sent another shiver down my spine. I had a bad feeling Starr’s idea of “brunch” was not toast and orange juice, but something a whole lot darker. Bloodier.
Merle nodded, and hitched his pants. “Is that all for now?”
Starr snorted and glanced back at me. “My assistant hungers. Prepare for a rough ride, my dear.”
I arched an eyebrow. “And Mr. Moss?”
“Will undoubtedly be annoyed at missing the action.” He glanced at Merle again. “Do not forget the whore bus.”He nodded. As Starr left, that switch went on again, drowning me in heat and desire. Merle held out a hand, and I went to him, my legs so wobbly it felt like they were about to give way at any moment.
His large hand wrapped around mine, his fingers rough and burning hot. I shivered, and knew in that instant what Rhoan had been trying to tell me. It wasn’t the sex that was the worry, it was this—the feeling that evil was about to invade, and somehow corrupt.
All I could do now was remind myself it was better this man than Moss.
Merle glanced over my head, and though he didn’t say anything, the soft sound of footsteps indicated the spirit lizard was leaving.
His gaze came back to mine. In the tawny depths of his eyes, lust and insanity seemed to rage. Or maybe that was just my imagination—a natural result of the force of his aura combined with the base sense of his foulness that filled every quick intake of breath.
“We shall fuck here first.” Merle tugged me around the sofa. “The scent of sex will inform Moss of what he has missed.”
“That doesn’t sound very friendly to me.” The words came out breathless, sounding anticipatory when the opposite was true. The force of his aura might be such that my skin burned and I ached for sex, but part of me recoiled at the thought of spending any time with this man.
It was weird.
I was a werewolf. Sex was part of our psyche, part of our soul. Come full-moon time, I’d fuck the devil himself and wouldn’t give a damn. So why this reluctance? Was it just the inherent sense of depravity I was picking up from Merle, or was it simply the fact that I was fucking him under orders from the Directorate, thereby taking one more step toward finally becoming a full guardian?
Was it a combination of both?
I didn’t know.
What I did know was that I needed to talk to my brother. Desperately.
“Friendly is a matter of perspective.” Merle pressed the hot ends of his fingers lightly against my chest and pushed me backward. I let myself fall onto the sofa, and watched as he stripped off his pants. Thankfully, his cock was standard stuff—no barbs, no furry stripes, just slightly less than regular-sized pinkish flesh. “He survives. That’s friendly enough for anyone.”
So the guard had been telling the truth when it came to the relationship between these two men. Interesting. But given my reaction to Moss, it definitely wasn’t something I wanted to work with.
His gaze ran down my length, and an anticipatory grin split his lips. “I would fuck you for your looks alone, but it is a true bonus to do so first when Moss has chosen you.”
He climbed on top, crouching on all fours over me. His aura revved up another notch, and suddenly it felt like I was drowning in a liquid that was all heat, all desire.
“Do not move. Do not talk.”
Or what? I wanted to ask. But talking had become impossible under that wash of burning desire. All I wanted to do was obey. To feel him inside, foul or not. Passive wasn’t much fun, but I guess fun wasn’t the point of this whole thing. Not for me, anyway.
He thrust inside. With the force of his aura still assaulting my senses, the feeling of his flesh driving inside was such a relief a rumble of pleasure rolled up my throat. God, part of me was more than willing to be silent and still if it meant easing a little of the ache. And it didn’t matter how bad his essence or how little I actually wanted him—my body screamed for the release only rigid flesh could bring.
Only it didn’t get it.
It turned out Merle wasn’t the caring, sharing type. He came far too quickly, leaving me aching with need and more than a little put out. A situation that was not improved when he dragged me up from the sofa then hauled me down the far end of the hallway to his own cold-feeling rooms. Where the whole process began again.
Frustrating, to say the least.
Especially since it pretty much set the tempo for the remainder of our time together. He used his aura like most men used foreplay, and while it made me ready for him, it also became incredibly boring—something I never thought I’d say about sex.
But then, I was never one for passiveness. I liked to get involved, to play and feel and taste. And occasionally, dominate.
Which meant, of course, I had to find something else to do while he got his trigger-happy rocks off. Short of throwing his dull ass off and finding a real lover, that was.