Chapter Four, The Ante

Cole gazed down into Claire’s incredible ice-blue eyes and felt his stomach tighten. He recognized a series of emotions floating in their frozen depths and the space between them was instantly charged. Time slowed down. She was surprised. And then she was frightened. The third emotion to cross her features was one that set off his own hard reaction. Lust.

All of this, he took in with expert ease and grace as he smiled innocently down at her and gestured to the empty beer bottle she held in her hand. “May I?” He bent to take it and her fingers slowly slid away. He wanted to catch them and hold them fast.

“Um… yes. I mean sure. I mean –” She closed her eyes, shook her head once, and then re-opened them, focusing them once more upon his face. “Yes please,” she said. “Thank you.” She stumbled over her speech, her soft voice wrapping around him as swiftly and as surely as his own voice had always done to others in his sway.

It was stunning, and Malcolm realized with a sinking feeling that it was going to take every ounce of his strength tonight to keep cool and not turn her before the sun rose.

Cole turned to gesture to the waitress who was standing several tables away. He easily caught the woman’s attention, whose eyes widened in recognition when she realized who he was. She blushed furiously began to approach him. He could tell she was about to call him out as Malcolm Cole the famous author, and he wasn’t in the mood to slip into that role tonight. Not now. Right now, he was in the mood to bed Claire St.James, and that was about it.

So, he let a bit of his power loose and it swirled around the waitress, binding itself around her will like a vice. She stopped mid-step and blinked. And then her smile was back, but this time, it was easy and fake. It was the smile she kept hanging on a hook beside her apron and willingly gave to all of her patrons.

“What can I get for you two?” she asked as she approached.

“Another ale for the lady, please.” He glanced at Claire, who still seemed stunned, but who was hurriedly collecting herself while she thought he wasn’t watching her. “And I’ll take one as well.”

The waitress nodded and left.

Cole turned his attention back to Claire. He listened carefully as her heart fluttered wildly. Her cheeks had become rosy. He could smell adrenaline coursing through her blood stream. But just beneath it, faint and ever so enticing, was the intoxicating scent of her arousal.

Again, his hunger spiked. He pulled out the chair that Claire’s friend had abandoned and gestured to it questioningly. His grip on the back of it was a little tighter than it needed to be. “Do you mind if I sit down?” he asked.

She hesitated. And then she cleared her throat and shook her head. “No, please. Sit.”

He could sense that she had wanted to say no. Despite the fact that she was obviously attracted to him, her defenses were up. He wondered why. She was certainly beautiful enough to have attracted all manner of dangerous scum in her life, and he could understand that such a penchant would cause her to be cautious toward men. But they were sitting in a crowded club with a good ratio of very large bouncers. It wasn’t just the fact that he was a man that was scaring her.

It was him, specifically.

He took a seat and studied her carefully. She blushed beneath his scrutiny.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” she said, peek in her cheeks darkening a little more. “It’s just that you look very familiar to me.”

The waitress came with their drinks and Claire immediately grabbed hers and took a long, deep pull. Cole watched the smooth column of her throat as she swallowed the liquid. She didn’t put it back down until it was half empty.

Now she smiled.

His breath caught, his gums aching where his fangs wanted to break free. He felt himself begin to harden and he had to reign his wolf in, forcing it to heel when all it wanted to do was hunt down its mate and fuck her like there was no tomorrow.

Her tongue darted out for a fraction of a second to lick the moisture off of her top lip. Malcolm’s vision began to swim with tiny stars. He felt a change coming on; he was losing control. He’d never – ever – lost control before. What was happening to him? Why did she have this effect on him?

He decided he needed to touch her. Like a moth to a flame.

When she released her bottle, he offered her his hand. “I’m Malcolm.” He smiled his best disarming smile and sensed her arousal growing stronger. In his mind, he was swearing vehemently. There was no way in hell he was going to make it through the night without tasting her.

She gently placed her own hand within his and he wrapped his fingers around her, his touch light, but possessive. He couldn’t help it. He was a wolf.

“I’m Claire,” she said. “But my friends call me Charlie.” She blinked then, as if she couldn’t understand why she’d just told him that. After all, he wasn’t a friend. She’d only just met him.

Hope began to flare within him, a match struck in a night that had been too dark for far too long. “Charlie,” he said softly. He could swear he saw her muscles relax as he said her name. And it was having the opposite effect on him. He wanted to jump her bones. Instead, he sat back and took a long pull on his own beer. Beer had no effect on him, but she would run for her life if he began downing entire bottles of Everclear in front of her. At least it was wet and cold. That helped a little.

“So, Malcolm….” She let the name linger on her tongue, as if trying it out.

Malcolm swallowed hard. Christ.

“Are you in town for business or pleasure?”

“Honestly?” He put his beer down and lazily turned it between his thumb and forefinger. “Both.”

She nodded. That was everyone’s answer when it came to Las Vegas. He could scent the alcohol in her blood now – just beginning to work its magic.

She took another drink and he waited. When she finished, he asked, “And you?”

She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, a little harder than she perhaps should have. He imagined that her senses were dulling as a result of the beer. One kiss, he thought, and I can bring them roaring back to life.

“As cheesy as it sounds, I’m a drummer,” she admitted to him, shrugging as she said it. “And my band just got this… deal.” She frowned. “We’re playing at that casino down the street – the really tall one.”

“The August,” he supplied easily.

“That’s the one,” she said.

“So, what kind of music do you play?”

“Everything,” she said. “Whatever the crowd’s in the mood for, really.”

He continued to study her, taking everything in as she finished off her beer and he raised his hand to summon the waitress. Across from him, Claire chewed on her lip again, her expression at once nervous.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” she said. “Honestly, I never drink this much. I mean….” She was embarrassed suddenly, as if admitting as much made her some horrible cross between the drunk blonde bimbo and the teetotaler. “I mean, I may not be able to drink it if you order it.” She smiled sheepishly and put her hands in her lap. “But, thank you.”

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 which 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.

For some reason, following in the Baton Rouge police chief’s footsteps didn’t sit right with Malcolm. And the truth was, he wanted to see the look in Charlie’s eyes when she realized what was happening. He knew that somewhere deep down, she would recognize the mark. It was hardwired into her. She was a female-born and a dormant. She would know he was marking her as his, and he wanted to see that knowledge in those stark baby blues.

More of Lucas’s words came back to him.

“The moment the needle penetrates deep enough for the blood to take effect, she’ll slip into submission. You’ll have to act fast, then, or she’ll freak.” Lucas told him.

An alpha’s mark forced a submissive effect onto the dormant he marked, and its initial stages were potent. Dormants were normally overwhelmed with instant sexual need, an utter stripping of will power, and a healthy dose of fear that could cause them to do crazy things. But so far, those dormants had all been human.

Malcolm wasn’t sure what would happen to Claire. It was entirely possible that she would slip into fight mode and it wouldn’t be fun. God only knew what she would be capable of once an alpha’s blood mingled with her own.

He’d decided that once she’d been marked and Malcolm could see that she’d had a chance to register his claim, he would kiss her then. He would push hard until she was weakened beneath him. If necessary, asleep.

Because Claire had never had a tattoo before, she didn’t notice that Caige failed to use a stencil or to clean the area of her arm that he would be marking. Instead, she simply kept her eyes shut tight and tried to trust the strangers in the room with her.

Malcolm took up position on Claire’s left side as Lucas dipped the hand-held machine into Malcolm’s blood and drew the thick red liquid into the tube of the gun. With one last meaningful glance at Cole, Lucas placed the tip against the inside of Claire’s wrist and, after covertly wrapping his free hand around her arm to hold her in place, he turned it on.

He pressed hard, wanting the needles to strike true the first time around.

Claire’s eyes flew open as Malcolm’s blood found hers and her arm instantly heated up. Caige held her fast, keeping the gun pressed tight against her skin as the powerful blood did its job. Cole was quick to grab her other arm with his right hand. Claire arched her back and opened her mouth to scream, but Cole’s left hand came over her mouth as he slid one long, well-muscled leg over both of hers in order to straddle her so that she couldn’t even move.

Terror instantly registered in the depths of her blue eyes. She was trapped, alone, with these men and no one knew where she was. She was in pain. She was defenseless. And, worst of all, something about it was turning her on. He could smell it.

Cole leaned in and placed his lips to her ear, the fiend in him fully enjoying the feel of her breasts pressed so hard against his chest as she arched beneath him, attempting futilely to get away.

“Don’t fight it, luv. Let it happen and it’ll be easier on you,” he told her, allowing his accented voice to wrap around her. She shivered as the initial pain of the needles undoubtedly began to wane and gave way to a rising sense of pleasure. Of need.

She gasped behind the silencing grip of his fingers over her mouth as the mark began to take shape. Cole turned to look when Lucas whistled low.

He’d removed the needle and was gazing down at her arm. A fine, shimmering emerald line was twining its way across her cream-colored flesh. It was intricate and impossible. It was stunning.

Seeing it on her had a horribly forceful effect on Malcolm. He grew painfully hard above her. His fangs exploded in his mouth and he knew that his eyes were glowing. He could feel his pupils expanding hungrily as everything in the room came into stark contrast. His skin burned where it touched hers and all he could smell was her arousal, her shampoo, the cinnamon-flavored toothpaste she’d used before leaving the hotel.

His claws began to grow as need wracked mercilessly through him. Every bone in his body was telling him to bite her now. To rip off her clothes and thrust into her wetness as he swallowed her blood and brought her over. Tiny starlets of light began to dance before his vision as his wolf threatened to break free and flash into existence.

It was Lucas, clearing his throat beside him, that brought his mind and body reluctantly back to reason. He glanced over at the black-haired werewolf. Caige’s dark eyes glittered with warning. He couldn’t take her now. The mage had been right.

Claire knew what was happening to her. He could tell that although she would not understand the logistics of it, it was clear to her that he was laying some sort of claim on her body. As he straightened and gazed down into those beautiful eyes of hers, he knew that she was aware he was marking her as his own.

And if he didn’t give her a chance to digest it in stages, she would hate him. She would despise him. She might even try to kill him. He doubted that Charlie was going to turn out to be a weakling of a made wolf.

No. He had needed to mark her. That much, he could defend as his right. He needed to protect her from Phelan. But, claiming her and changing her was another story. He needed the chance to fully explain things to her before he brought her completely over.

Now was not the time.

Charlie moaned behind his hand as more heat and moisture gathered between her legs. Even Lucas visually tensed at the sound, watching with wonder as she closed her eyes against the mounting pleasure. Caige was a wolf and also an alpha, and he was definitely not immune to the blatantly sexual image that Charlie currently presented.

Lucas stood, undoubtedly wanting to remove himself from the situation as quickly as possible. He moved toward the door and, with one last glance at his leader and his leader’s chosen mate, he left them alone, closing the door securely behind him.

Malcolm removed his hand from Claire’s mouth and gazed at her through the tops of his now all-black eyes. As if she could sense that he was drawing her attention back to him, her eyes fluttered open.

“You are mine, Charlie.”

“What have you done to me?” she asked breathlessly.

“I’ve marked you as my own. It can’t be reversed and you can’t fight it. So, I suggest you surrender to it. And let it be.”

He could feel that she would have instinctively fought against such a claim had she not been under the submissive effects of his mark. She was a tough girl, and he got the sense that she wasn’t new to the notion of fighting. But an alpha’s mark was inexorable.

Still, she managed to narrow her gaze just a little. “You’re not human,” she accused. It was impressive that she had come to the conclusion so quickly. It was even more impressive that she accepted it so readily. But that was a female-born for you.

“What the hell are you?” she ground out as another vicious wave of invasive pleasure threatened to make her climax right then and there.

He smiled, flashing fangs. Her eyes widened, her breath catching.

“I’m a werewolf,” he told her. “And so are you.”