Olivia Felan has a wild side, all right. Even ignoring the fact that she turns furry and feral once a month, her natural style is take-no-prisoners, full-speed-ahead, come-what-may. But when it comes to her little girl, she doesn't take chances. So when a big bad werewolf alpha steals her daughter, Olivia will do whatever it takes to get her baby back. And in this case, that means killing Rory Sullivan. The trouble is, killing him would mean wasting one sexy beast. Sully is all man, all cop, and as of late, half wolf. When he meets Olivia, Sully's a little glad he stuck his nose into his friends' business and came out with animal senses - until he gets a whiff of the chaos following her around. Now he has to decide whether he can't take his eyes off Olivia because she's too beautiful - or because she's too dangerous.
Release date:
March 1, 2010
Publisher:
Brava
Print pages:
288
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Olivia Felan held her daughter close, breathing in the sweet scent of little girl and bubblegum, and tried not to cry. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her tears.
Through the open window she could hear the sounds of New York—horns blaring, tires screeching, sirens. Cool April wind blew into the room.
A shiver rolled down her spine, but it wasn’t the coldness of the air that made her shudder. Thanks to her werewolf metabolism, her internal thermostat ran hot. No, what made her shiver was the thought that she could lose her daughter, that he would take the little girl from her forever. Fear coiled deep in her belly. The sounds of the City That Never Sleeps faded as she let the feel of Zoe in her arms soothe her.
“All right. That’s enough.” Brawny hands pulled Zoe out of her arms, though not roughly. “I need to talk to your mother, sweetheart.” Dark eyes glanced at Olivia, promising retribution. As he looked down at the six-year-old, stroking gentle fingers over the top of the little girl’s head, there was nothing but tenderness in his expression. His voice soft, he suggested, “Why don’t you go into your room and play with your dolls?”
That sweet little head with its long, dark curls bobbed. “Okay, Uncle Eddy.” Zoe looked at Olivia with a bow-lipped smile. “You’ll read me a story before you go, won’t you, Mommy?”
Olivia nodded and smiled, relieved when her lips didn’t wobble with the fear crushing her from the inside. She didn’t want Zoe to realize what a precarious position she was in—they both were in. “You bet, baby.”
Zoe smiled again.
Eddy bent and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his face softening as he watched her walk down the hallway. “You know I love her as if she were my own. I would hate it if I were forced to carry through on my threat.”
But he would, Olivia knew. For the Alpha of the pack to voice an empty threat was full-on stupidity and the surest way to invite a challenge. Eddy was anything but stupid. He might say he loved Zoe, but he’d kill her in a heartbeat.
Olivia had no guarantee that he wouldn’t even if she did manage to do what he wanted.
“I love it when she calls me ‘Uncle Eddy.’” His voice was indulgent, just like that of a loveable, doting uncle. Of which he was none—neither loveable, doting, nor any relation whatsoever to Zoe.
Olivia waited until the bedroom door had closed behind Zoe before she turned to Uncle Eddy. “I don’t want her calling you that.”
His eyes narrowed. “Do I have to teach you—again—that what you want doesn’t matter?” His voice had taken on that raspy quality she could only equate to a snarl. “You’re nothing, Livvie. Nothing, unless I say you’re something. And unless you obey me in this, you’ll forever be nothing.”
She forced back the overwhelming urge to attack him, to do something physical to protect her child. But she knew the only way she could protect Zoe—for now—was to accede to Eddy’s wishes.
Someday, though…
“No, you don’t have to teach me anything.” Olivia dropped her gaze in a submissive pose. She was, after all, the Omega of the pack. The whipping dog. The bitch that took whatever the pack wanted to dish out.
It didn’t make her feel any better to be told she was an integral part of the pack, that she was the one who allowed them to let out their aggression so they could maintain their façade of civility among humans. It was against her nature to roll over and show her belly to anyone. But unless she wanted her throat ripped out, for now she had to submit.
But one day she’d be in a position to assert herself. Just…
Not today.
“Good.” Eddy sauntered toward her, his thick fingers rubbing against one eyebrow. “Now, what was this you told me over the phone? That Sullivan isn’t dead?”
Olivia drew in a calming breath. “No. I was interrupted. That wouldn’t have happened if John hadn’t played with his food five months ago. His target would be dead, and I’d have had a clear shot at Sullivan.”
Eddy’s eyes narrowed. Clearly he was displeased with her tone. Or her excuse. Or both.
She hurriedly switched tactics. “But I know where Sully—Sullivan—is. Or, rather, where he’ll be. He’s gone back to work.” She put as much conviction behind her next words as she could. “I can finish the job. I can! I just needed to see Zoe.”
God, she despised the wheedling tone of her voice. Three years as the pack’s Omega, and she certainly sounded the part. Damn it.
Eddy began humming a children’s song, and the words to it flitted through her mind. Ring around the rosie, pockets full of posies. Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.
God. He’d hummed that right before he’d exacted “payment” by killing the family of the last werewolf who’d defied him. It was Eddy’s “tell”—the thing that signaled he was about to become very violent.
She didn’t think he was even aware of it. Just the same, it sent ice down her spine.
“So, now you’ve seen her.” Quicker than her eye could follow, he wrapped his hand around her throat and shoved her against the wall.
The back of her head smacked against the hard surface, and she winced. Stars danced briefly before her eyes but quickly faded. It took more than a bang on the head to take down a werewolf.
He brought his face close to hers. The stale smell of cigarette smoke couldn’t be covered up by all the mints he ate. “This is the last time you disobey me without repercussion, Livvie.”
She focused on keeping her eyes downcast but otherwise not showing any fear. To show fear showed weakness, and she wasn’t weak. Submissive, yes, but only because she had to be.
Never weak. One day she hoped she could prove that to Eddy with a finality that would take his breath away.
And she’d give him an extra bite just for him calling her Livvie all these years. She hated it.
She hated him.
“I didn’t—”
“Didn’t I tell you not to return to New York until the job was done?” His fingers tightened around her throat. When she started to speak, he gave a low snarl. “Don’t talk. Nod.”
She nodded.
“And is the job done?”
She shook her head. Good thing she wasn’t meeting his eyes, or he might see the truth there.
Not only was the job not done, but she’d royally fucked it up by turning her mark into a werewolf.
Good going, Liv. Could you have possibly made it any harder?
“I—”
Fingers tightened further around her throat, and he slammed her head against the wall again. Hard enough that she couldn’t hide another wince as she shot a quick glance at him. His face darkened. “I. Said. Don’t. Talk.” He scowled. “Fucking-A. I don’t know why I put up with you sometimes.”
Because he had serious inadequacies that he covered by demonstrating his power.
Because he was a psychopath who liked to hurt people.
Because throwing his weight around made him feel like a man.
Take your pick. How he’d managed to remain as pack leader for as long as he had was beyond her. Those who didn’t outright hate or fear him seemed to be merely biding their time until they could do something about him.
When that would happen was anyone’s guess. Certainly as the Omega of the pack Olivia would be the last to know. For now, Eddy was the leader, and that was what mattered. It was the hand she’d been dealt and had to play as best she could.
So she stood still and waited.
Like a good little wolf.
Her pulse fluttered in her throat. Spots started to dance behind her eyelids. If he didn’t let up soon, she’d pass out.
She knew that from experience, because it had happened before. It was another way he had of exerting his control over her. Choke her into unconsciousness and, many times, she’d come to while he raped her—one of the many ways he had of showing her just how little she really meant to him and how easily he could do anything he wanted to her with impunity. How completely he held her life in his hands.
Literally.
“Look at me.”
She raised heavy lids and stared into dark eyes glinting with the knowledge that she’d gotten the message. He dropped his hand and strutted away from her, confident that she’d stay put.
She watched him, loathing him with each shaky breath she drew. When the bastard had moved in next door, fate had dealt her a dead man’s hand. He’d seen her, had wanted her, so he’d taken her, turning her into a monster. Six weeks ago he’d told her he had a special job for her, a job that could elevate her from Omega to something…well, something more than the bottom of the pack.
She’d perked up, as he’d known she would. But when he’d told her the job was to murder someone, she’d refused. She was a middle school phys ed teacher, for crying out loud. Not an assassin.
But then he’d taken Zoe, threatened to kill her if Olivia didn’t do as she was told. She’d seen him act with swift ruthlessness where disobedience and defiance were concerned. Just a few months ago he’d broken the neck of another pack member’s son as casually as if he were flicking lint off his sleeve. So she had no doubt that, even though he might love Zoe in his own twisted way, he would carry through on the threat. So this time when he’d told her to go, she’d gone. Thankfully she had enough tenure and foresight to ask for a leave of absence from work.
Eddy turned to face her. “Go kill Sullivan. You have one week.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it. He’d not given her permission to speak yet.
A slight smile tilted one edge of his mouth. “Very good, pet.” He gave an approving nod. “You may respond.”
“A week?”
He lifted his brows. “I’ve given you six weeks already, two of which you squandered by being stubborn. I hardly think you need more than another week.”
She clamped her lips together and gave an abrupt nod. Arguing with him would accomplish nothing except to have him shorten the deadline even further.
He sighed and shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “I’m not such a bad guy, Livvie.” He shrugged. “I just know what I want, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get it—and that includes killing everyone who gets in my way. Some women find that kind of confidence appealing. Attractive, even.”
What kind of women? The ones with a death wish?
She licked her lips. “May I ask what it is you want? Why is it so important that Rory Sullivan be killed? What did he do to you?”
Olivia thought for a moment he wasn’t going to answer her, feared that she may have gone too far when his face darkened. But it was remembered rage that colored his features, not anger directed toward her.
“Let’s just say there’s a man I want to destroy, and I’m beginning by removing everyone who’s important to him. Starting with his friends.” His lips parted in a grin. “I hear he’s fallen in love, so very soon I’ll be ready to take that away from him, too. Although”—he tapped his chin—“if she’s fetching enough, I may have to use her before I kill her.”
“You’ll kill her?” The words left her mouth before she could stop them. She bit her lip, preparing to be smacked because of the incredulity in her tone.
The smile faded from his face, and his eyes narrowed, though he didn’t lift his hand to her. “Yes. The male friends are peripheral, not enough for me to bother with personally. But a wife?” The grin returned, this time so full of malicious glee it wrapped ice around her gut. “To watch his face, the agony in his eyes as I fuck her and then kill her, with him powerless to stop me?” He nodded. “That is something I must do myself.”
Well, if he was going to use Olivia to do some of the dirty work, she damn well deserved to know why. “Who is this man? Why do you hate him so much?”
Eddy turned away from her. “Merr…” He broke off and shook his head. “He had everything—a loving family, wealth, power, and the poor sod couldn’t stand that he wasn’t normal.” With his heightened emotions, Eddy’s New York accent slipped a bit and took on a British flavor. He shook his head again. “It should have all been mine. If his father had just done what I’d asked—begged!—things might have been different.”
He trailed off, seeming to be lost in his thoughts. After a moment he shrugged. “Never mind. It’s not something you need to know.” He glanced over his shoulder at her, eyes hard. “All you need to know is that for your daughter to remain safe you have a job to do.”
Eyeing the distance between them, Olivia wondered if she could catch him off guard long enough to kill him. She could morph her fingers into claws now, just like he did. She might be able to do it.
It would only take one quick slash across the throat.
But then what about Zoe? There was at least one bodyguard standing outside her door, his bulk casting a shadow onto the floor of the hallway.
Olivia briefly closed her eyes. She’d never be able to do it. She couldn’t kill Eddy and go for the bodyguard before he could get to Zoe.
She had no other choice. She must finish the job she’d been given.
Thinking back over the last few days, she remembered her first impression of Rory Sullivan. Tall, dark, and dangerous.
An earnest protector.
Sexy as hell. But…
He had to die.
Detective Chief Inspector Rory Sullivan chased the rape suspect down the paved pathway in London’s Battersea Park, a sense of euphoria he’d never before experienced lending strength and speed to his strides. He had never run this fast, never felt like he could keep running without tiring.
On one level Sully realized it was his new werewolf metabolism that enhanced his abilities. And even as he appreciated that aspect of his…condition, the fact that he also felt a nearly overwhelming urge to sink his teeth into the man, to feel his hot, rich blood course down his throat didn’t escape him.
He hated himself for it. He hated his erstwhile friend Declan O’Connell for getting him into this mess in the first place.
And he hated the one who had turned him. If he ever found out who it was, if he ever had an opportunity to kill the bastard, he’d take it.
He didn’t know anything about being a werewolf, but one thing his instincts told him: werewolf justice was swift. And final. He couldn’t wait to exact his own on his maker.
He increased his speed, his heightened sense of hearing picking up the sound of the suspect’s labored breathing, the thud of shoes on the paved walkway, the shouts of the other officers giving chase.
A snarl worked its way free of his throat. The team couldn’t have the creep. The sodding lowlife was his.
Sully launched himself through the air and brought the man down onto the pavement. He flipped him over, taking care to keep the man’s lower body under control so the bastard wouldn’t get a chance to knee him in the nuts.
Though the son of a bitch tried anyway.
Rage exploded through Sully’s skull, making his eyes burn, his teeth ache. A pulse pounded in his throat. Through a haze of crimson he saw the rape suspect’s eyes widen, the pupils dilating with fear.
Ah. Fear.
Sully drew in a deep breath and held it, savoring the ethereal essence of that tangy emotion.
“What are you, man?” The rapist struggled beneath him, hands and feet scrabbling for traction on the rough pavement. Blood seeped from scrapes on his cheek and chin, drawing Sully’s gaze there.
His nostrils flared with his indrawn breath. Beneath the stench of marijuana and fear was something else. Something good.
God, this guy smelled…
Like food.
And this puppy was hungry.
Sully brought his gaze back to the suspect’s and leaned closer.
Wide eyes focused on Sully’s face. “Your eyes…” His gaze drifted down to Sully’s mouth.
Sully grinned and ran his tongue over the tip of elongated canines. He’d never been one to play with his food before he’d become a werewolf, but now he was finding it could be fun.
“What the fuck are you?” The suspect’s voice choked to silence as Sully tightened his hands around the man’s throat.
From a distance Sully heard someone call his name, then again. “Sully?” Footsteps crunched along the pathway, gaining speed. “DCI Sullivan!”
The horrified alarm in the newcomer’s voice drew Sully away from the wolf and back to himself. He drew in another breath, this time a calming one, and pushed the beast back. He couldn’t help giving one last squeeze of his fingers around the rapist’s throat, then pushed away from him and stood. He walked a few paces away, his back to the group of uniformed officers who swarmed over the babbling suspect.
He scrubbed shaking hands over his face. Now that the euphoria of the adrenaline rush was fading, he was appalled at his loss of control. One minute he’d been chasing the suspect on foot, the next he’d tackled him to the ground and had been ready—with incredible eagerness—to tear into the man’s throat.
One thing he had always prided himself on was his ability to not let criminals get under his skin, not allow them to prod a response from him. Calm and cool, that was DCI Sullivan.
Not anymore.
God. What kind of hell had Declan brought him into?
From behind him he heard the slide of restraints being fastened around the suspect’s wrists, the scuffle of feet as the man was led away.
“What the hell was that all about?” Detective Constable Aubrey Lindstrom moved in front of Sully. “You return from holiday and start attacking suspects?”
Sully closed his eyes until the burning stopped. Once they felt normal again—once he felt normal again, or as close to normal as possible—he opened them to see Lindstrom standing there, a muscle twitching in his jaw, waiting for a response.
“It’s nothing.”
“Nothing?” Lindstrom glanced over Sully’s shoulder, then pointed toward the departing police cars. “That bloke is going to tell everyone who will listen that you tried to kill him.” His pale blue eyes held a mixture of confusion and frustration. “This is me you’re talking to, Sully. Remember? The guy who sees through bullshit?”
DC Lindstrom had a knack for ascertaining when someone was lying—whether it was a suspect or a man he’d worked with for nearly ten years. But Sully couldn’t very well tell him what had happened to him on holiday. For one, he wouldn’t believe it.
For another thing, it meant potentially exposing his friends as well, which he wouldn’t do.
Even if he wanted to break every bone in Declan’s body, it wouldn’t change anything. Something told him this was a secret better kept than exposed.
If humans found out that werewolves really did exist, he and his friends—and every other werewolf out there—would be in danger.
He shouldn’t give a rat’s ass, but he did. The fact that he no longer thought of himself as human started the rage building again.
He used to be human. Now he was something…
More.
Or perhaps something less.
Maybe a little of both.
“Look, I…” Sully broke off with a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. He loosened his tie. Pushing his suit jacket back, he thrust his hands into his front pockets. “I can’t go into details, all right? I’m just a bit tired.”
With a slight lift of his eyebrows, Lindstrom gave a nod telling Sully clearer than words could that he wasn’t buying that, either. “Well, you can expect a call to the Chief’s office. You know that, right?”
Sully pursed his lips. Frustration burned in his gut, tempting the wolf to come out and take care of things. With a growing sense of panic, he pushed the beast down again and turned toward the park exit. “He can do whatever he wants,” he said with a barely restrained growl.
“Yes, he bloody well can.” Lindstrom put one hand on Sully’s arm and pulled him to a stop. “And if you go in with an attitude like that, mate, he’ll slap you with a suspension so fast your head will spin.”
Sully jerked away from the detective. The entire situation was a sodding mess, and the only ones who could help him were the two people he didn’t want to see. If his so-called friends had been up front with him from the beginning, his life might not have been plunged into this hell. He trapped a howl of fury in his throat. “You let me worry about that,” he rasped and stalked to his car.
“Yeah. I’ll do just that,” he heard Lindstrom mutter.
Sully unlocked his unmarked sedan with the remote key fob and opened the door. He sighed and looked at Lindstrom over the roof of the car. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
Su. . .
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