5: Hood - Pack Trust Page 3

  That had me squinting. Was my serotonin derivative wearing off?

  “Do I look like I need another dog lapping at my heels?” I spun on those, walked away, poured myself a drink--didn’t offer him one. Took a big swig.

  For fun, I propped my foot on a nearby chair, set my drink down, hiked my skirt up, and adjusted my garter snap. He moved like a flash. Silent, deadly, sensual. Next thing I knew, he was up against my back, had his hand over mine--touching the skin of my thigh, slipping his hand toward the inside. His other hand was around my waist, holding me against him. He nuzzled some more.

  Turning my mouth into his, I asked, “See what I mean?”

  Chapter Three

  Hood took my lips in a passionate way, and he reached to slick his fingers, inside, you know? Stroking me. I enjoyed that. I made no secret of it. I returned, stroke for stroke with my tongue as I kissed him, one hand up behind me, around his neck, holding his lips to mine.

  The more he stroked, the stronger my scent got, the more lost in the kisses we became, until he lifted his lips and told me darkly, “I’m going to fuck you right here.”

  I knew he’d want that. I liked bringing him to the need, where he didn’t care about anything but getting off. I didn’t say anything. He unzipped his pants, pushed my skirt up and stepped closer to sink himself in me. I leaned over my propped-up leg a little, and let him put his hands on my hips. I think he had about five thrusts in before I asked, “You think this turns me on?”

  He growled, and pumped me more roughly. I’m sure it pissed him off that I put it like that. He came, and he held me there on his shaft while every last drop emptied into me.

  With my face practically on my knee, I watched the image in the glass window, reflecting my calmness and his anger. I wondered if he could even guess that I felt dead inside.

  Too tired.

  He closed his eyes briefly after he was done, and he rolled over my back, kissed the place where I was bitten through my shirt. I don’t think he realized the spot. I did, because the scar there is numb, never got the feeling back. So I couldn’t feel the kiss, but I watched him in the window.

  Someone else might have thought it was sweet, the way he kissed me and held on to me. But there was nothing sweet there. Just...possession.

  He repeated, “Come to bed, Giselle,” and pulled himself from me, zipped his pants in one deft move, and pulled my skirt down.

  I didn’t even twitch in response, except to close my eyes. I could have fallen asleep right there. Something about his presence makes me feel safe. I swear he’s a drug.

  Maybe it’s the fact that he saved me from the bitches that attacked me that night, so long ago.

  There I go again, thinking about that.

  Soft but firm, Hood put his arm around my waist again, and lifted me from my position, forced me to stand up. Smoothing the hair back from my face, he said, “You’re beat,” then scooped me up and carried me through to his apartment.

  Lobos is a full community, complete with cafeteria, direct from kitchen dumbwaiters and intercoms, living quarters, and employment areas, among other things.

  I was asleep in his arms before he got me to the bed, secure in the knowledge that he’d chase my nightmares if I had any sneak up. He undressed me, tucked me under the thick goosedown duvet and sat beside me on the edge of the bed. I know because I woke up and watched him. He propped his elbows on his thighs, leaned forward and ran his hands through his hair.

  His back rolled, his shoulders hunched, and I could see the litheness of the wolf in his graceful posture. I thought he was beautiful--but carrying the weight of the world. I made a little noise in my throat and closed my eyes. I hated the fact that he handled everything on his own, that he never opened up to me. I would’ve cried for him, for us, if he hadn’t been there.

  At the small sound, he turned, tilted toward me and touched my cheek. “I’m here, Giselle. You can sleep.”

  That didn’t help my desire to cry.

  I reached out for his hand, and took it in mine, and whispered, “Hold me, Hood, please.”

  “Scoot over.” He pulled his hand from mine, stripped quickly and then climbed in beside me, spooning up to me with an arm around my waist, letting his fingers splay across my belly. When he nuzzled at my neck and whispered, “You sleep,” I did.

  At least, I did for a bit, a couple of hours, maybe, before the nightmares came back. Somewhere in the night, he’d fallen asleep and rolled his back to me. Abandoned me to the madness.

  I woke up to the sound of my own voice screaming, “Brett! No! Oh, God, no! Brett!”

  That jolted Hood from any rest he’d been having. Within seconds, he was over the top of my thrashing, had turned me from my belly to my back, pinned my hands so I wouldn’t pummel him and was saying, “Giselle!”

  When my eyes came open to the realization that I’d been through it all again, and once more he’d come to my rescue, I started the crying that I’d been holding in, telling him in a whimper, “I hate this.”

  Hood released me immediately, as soon as he realized I was really awake, and dropped down to kiss my temple, and curl me up to his chest, snuggling me over him like a blanket, wrapping his arm around my back. He cocooned me and crooned, “I’m gonna figure out a way to stop this.”

  Crying into his chest, I said softly, “Just kill me.”

  His arm tightened and I thought his heart skipped a beat, but I must’ve been imagining that.

  It took me ages to stop the sniffling. When I did, he kissed the top of my head.

  I swiped at the wetness on his chest that my tears had caused, and pressed my cheek over the spot. I love his chest. Big, strong, firm. Solid ribcage, thick, corded muscles. It’s odd, because he appears tall and thin when he’s up and dressed.

  Pressing my lips to him, I whispered, “I missed you.”

  He chuckled. “Because you don’t sleep. Tell the truth, you just miss the bed partner.”

  That irritated me. It wasn’t like I couldn’t get half the male population of Lobos in my bed. Maybe all the male population. All you had to do was crook a little finger or swish your tail. I propped myself up and looked at him with my annoyance. “That’s it exactly.”

  I could have sworn his heart skipped another beat under the hand I had still on his chest.

  “If I’d stayed away another day, who would you have slept with?” His gaze was hard.

  We both knew that three days was about my limit.

  “Why didn’t you stay away another day and find out?”

  He lifted his arms and tucked them behind his head, taking his time in answering. He closed his eyes and said, “Maybe I was just being considerate. Did you ever think about that?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I smacked his chest with a small thump of my hand. “You’re a son of a bitch, you know?” I turned to get out of bed. Four hours sleep was enough.

  Hood grabbed my wrist though, before I managed it. “Don’t go. I’m still tired.”

  “So?” I pulled my hand from his grip. It never occurred to me that he didn’t sleep much either when he was away from me.

  God, he was beautiful. The duvet had slipped down, and barely covered his manhood. In the dim light before dawn, I could see the planes of his upper torso, shadowed ridges and the spiraling hair that made its way from his navel, disappearing beneath the blanket. In human form, Hood was not hairy at all--which really is crazy, considering he was born a wolf. He sure didn’t spend much time in that form. Or maybe he did--when he was away from me. I never considered that he left me so he could be like that. Not then, anyway.

  “Don’t be a bitch, Giselle.”

  “If I am, you’re the one that made me that way.”

  His lip turned up a little. “If you want to get into the semantics--”

  “Fuck you.” I didn’t care if he hadn’t been the one to bite me. It was his plan, the whole stupid genetic integration program.

  “That’s exactly what I want, now that
you mention it.” Yeah. He’s insatiable. Great, huh, to know he always wants you.

  I was up off the bed, but that arrested my departure. I stretched, my back to him, knowing that would just turn him on more.

  “Giselle.”

  The blankets rustled. I looked over my shoulder at him. He’d pushed the covers off. Hard and ready, his cock throbbed, beckoning me to climb on. I stared at it for several minutes, debating the issue.

  He watched me, but didn’t say anything. Maybe he noticed the way my nipples puckered up, or the way I got instantly wet at the thought of straddling him. I knew I could come in that position. Not that I really cared about that. Sometimes I just wanted to feel him inside of me, and know that he needed to put it in.

  That I could ease that ache he felt.

  There was an ache inside me at that moment. A need to be needed, to be fulfilled. A little bleakly, I let my gaze travel over him, from his cock to his face. I lifted one eyebrow and asked, “You want something from me?”

  There was no question what he wanted. It was on his face, and in every tense part of his body.

  “I’m not begging.”

  He wasn’t, either. I knew, if I didn’t ease that ache, he’d ease it somewhere else. He was giving me the choice. I lifted my chin. How to go back to bed without losing something?

  “That’s a shame. I think I’d like that.”

  “Liar.” A little pissed, he said, “Get the fuck over here.”

  That didn’t sit well. But most importantly, I couldn’t figure out what had gotten into him. He never treated me like that. The whole liar liar thing. What was up with that? I didn’t like it. I turned my back and went into the bathroom, locking the door behind me.

  What the hell was going on?

  Liar. Last night. And now this morning. The accusation had been odd. Not playful, like usual. More--edgy, angry.

  I couldn’t hide in the bathroom all day. I couldn’t do much in there at all, actually. I had no clothes, no makeup. So eventually, I opened the door and peeked out.

  He was gone.

  Chapter Four

  I took a shower, found clean clothes. Yes, I had some there. Just not in the bathroom.

  Instead of going to find him, I went back to the computer, and went through more flight lists. No. I didn’t stop to eat. At this point in time, I wanted one thing. To find Jack and Fera.

  Getting pissier by the screen, I asked aloud, “Where the hell did you take her, Jack?”

  Racking my brain for memory of anything he said that might give me a clue. Jack and I had spent some time together--yes, having sex. I decided to give up on the manifests and called down for security to bring me the video files on Jack. They were delivered on a cart.

  Plopping onto the sofa in the apartment, I plugged in the first tape. Jack in the foyer, when I first met him. The next was Jack and I in the elevator as I brought him up. Just small talk, niceties. Not one damn clue to where he went.

  The third one I watched was a meeting he had with Hood. I probably wouldn’t have been able to see that, if I hadn’t been in Hood’s apartment. I’m sure they thought I’d called for the tapes so he could review them.

  The body language on the tape showed Hood tense. I didn’t really like the feeling I got from it, so I thumbed over the others. Hours and hours of Jack at Lobos had been recorded, but the one I really wanted to view wasn’t there.

  Jack and me.

  I rummaged around. If it wasn’t in the vault, it had to be there, in the apartment. It took me a while, but I finally found it. In the bottom drawer of Hood’s desk. Unlocked. Obviously he wanted me to find it there?

  I plugged it in. It wasn’t rewound. I had my finger on the rewind button, but stopped myself. What had he been watching, specifically?

  Jack and I had done some serious romping, victims of a sexual stimulant Lobos is developing. You could hurt yourself on it. I took it voluntarily, not believing its purported properties, and stepped up for Jack’s initiation just to irritate Hood. We--I--duped Jack into taking it. Then I let myself go and totally enjoyed his company--which, I’m sure, didn’t improve my relationship with Hood. I mean, I knew he’d see it all on video. Nothing happens at Lobos that he can’t replay.

  The tape was right smack in the middle of the sex. Right before Hood came in and bit Jack. I staggered back and sat down. The camera showed us on the floor, Jack on top of me. We’d been all over the place. Just thinking back to it made me smile.

  Jack had been so fun. Made me laugh. You could actually hear him cracking jokes, and me giggling hysterically.

  When Hood entered, it was like a fleet shadow. He was fully dressed, wasted no time before he jumped on Jack, effectively stopping our action. The expression on Hood’s face appeared incensed, wrathful. I slow-framed it so I could examine that.

  I’m sure he was pissed at me, but I figured that he was mostly irritated because he’d been held up elsewhere, an issue in the habitat--thus the reason I was annoyed, took the shake, met Jack, got it on with Jack. Yeah, I was in a mood to irritate Hood, but I won’t go into why here. That doesn’t mean I was actually expecting him to break in on us. I thought he had more couth than that.

  I rewound that and watched it a few times over and over again, tried to make sense of the intrusion, and Hood’s body language afterwards.

  I knew that Jack had been selected for the integration program, but honestly, Hood doesn’t usually do the DNA infliction himself. I thought the procedure had been scheduled for when Jack was sleeping, recuperating from the wild sex shake.

  Let me explain that shake. Viagra meets Spanish Fly, or something like that. The scientists at Lobos like combo-drugs. Jack was supposed to be dosed with it. They really did want him to endorse the product for the open market. He’s a tri-athlete Olympian with a high international profile. One of those golden boy types, but he’s tall, dark and handsome. Funny, how he and Hood are so alike and so different. Hm. Maybe that’s part of Jack’s appeal?

  Too in-tune to the scene before me, and into comparing, I never heard Hood enter. Not until he asked, “You like that?”

  “Yes.” I didn’t take my eyes off of the screen.

  “Which part in particular?”

  Hitting rewind on the remote, I backed it up to the spot right before Hood came in, where Jack slid into me, making me laugh at the same time. “This spot, I suppose.”

  Hood silently came around the edge of the sofa and sat down beside me. My nose wrinkled. He’d been with somebody else. She’d been all over him, judging from the strength of what I could smell. The bitch better stay clear of me on a full moon night. I’d kill her.

  “What do you like about it?”

  I turned to look at him. “Jack.”

  He didn’t like that answer, which, of course, is why I gave it to him. I could tell by the way the muscles in his upper arm bunched. He said, “Jack’s a prime specimen, I guess.”

  “You selected him yourself.” Without blinking, I said, “I thought you picked him for me.”

  “You were wrong.”

  “Apparently. You gave him to Fera.”

  His gaze narrowed, but he was watching himself enter the room, not looking at me. “I gave Fera to him.”

  “For safekeeping? You wanted someone who could--”

  “Don’t try and second-guess me, Giselle.”

  I, too, turned to watch the T.V. again. Just in time to see Hood sink his teeth in Jack’s back. I hit the pause button. “Look right there.” I pointed. Then asked, “Why did you do that?”

  I remember being squished under the weight of the two men, with Jack still inside of me, and the way he’d thrust more when he’d been bitten, hanging onto me. That had brought back the horror of my own initiation. In fact, I thought I’d gotten the terror of that approach across to Hood, and talked him into drug induction before the bite, plus painkillers to alleviate the excruciating agony.

  Hood didn’t answer, though, he just watched the screen. It ran on while I st
ared at his profile, wondering what had been going through his head.

  “You’ll never guess, so stop trying.”

  The video now showed me taking care of Jack. He’d gone numb and I was doing my best to make him comfortable, and explain what had been done to him. I hadn’t taken care of a man with that tone since Brett--but that seemed like a different lifetime.

  “You know what that reminds me of?” Hood surprised me by asking that.

  I had no idea. “What?”

  “That professor.” He was reading my mind again. Guess that answered the question of how long the S.D. lasted.

  I couldn’t believe my ears. “What...professor?”

  “You know.”

  Very carefully, I shook my head and said, “No. I don’t...know.” I had a feeling, though, that I wasn’t going to like whatever he was going to say.

  Hood didn’t look away from the video. But succinctly, he said, “Burkett.”

  I gasped, “Brett?”

  He didn’t have to answer. And I suddenly knew that he’d been watching us, that night, before I left Brett’s place. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand how he ticked. How did he justify all the stuff he did? Prying into my life, playing God, stealing my world out from under me.

  Oh, he’d replaced it. I now had plenty of money at my fingertips, and my work at Lobos stimulated my brain. And I could say that I wasn’t bored. But I’d often wondered if Brett would have eventually talked me into that picket-fence life.

  “You loved him.” He dropped that, dead, between us. “I could tell.”

  We had never talked about Brett, that night, or anything about my life before Lobos. Except what I’ve already said, and the fact that he knows I call out for ‘the professor’ in my nightmares. That’s because I feel so guilty, though.

  But...I always called him Brett, not Burkett.

  Feeling cold all of a sudden, I said, “Yes. I did.”

  That’s when he turned his cold, dark eyes on me, and said, “I’m glad he’s dead.”

  I knew that Hood didn’t kill him, but that didn’t make his confession any better. I looked away, back at the screen, and said, “You can’t kill every man I love.”