STORY EXCERPT

Ghost

A dull pain drilled behind my eyes. I groaned, wondering how much I’d had to drink last night. My mouth tasted like I’d licked a dirty carpet, and whoever was revving their bike was about to get their ass kicked. I moved my hand slowly toward my temple and stopped cold at the clanking sound that followed.

Arms didn’t clank.

Keeping my eyes closed, I took a slow breath through my nose and nearly gagged at the strong urine scent.

This wasn’t my bedroom, or even the clubhouse.

I left my breathing even and listened.

Rock music, something classic, thumped through at least one wall, the bass turning muddy whenever an engine screamed outside. Several bikes answered one another, revs rising and dropping beneath bursts of laughter. Men shouted over the music, but the walls swallowed enough that I caught only scattered words.

“Boy.”

A roar of laughter followed.

“Bring me—”

Another engine drowned out the rest.

Think, motherfucker. Where’s the last place you remember?

Closer, water dripped at slow intervals as pipes clicked somewhere above me. A faint scrape came from inside the wall, paused, then started again. Rats, most likely.

I fucking hated rats more than Deadeye hated gnomes.

My head kept pounding. Each beat pressed against the backs of my eyes and left my mind blank. The last place I remembered was vague enough to be useless. Whatever sat between then and waking here was gone.

Too bad the obnoxious odors hadn’t vanished with my memory.

Sweat, stale beer, and old cigarette smoke mingled with the urine scent. It smelled like an air freshener only the most disgusting would enjoy.

Keeping my eyelids shut, I moved each limb by inches. My boots were resting on bare floorboards, and my wrists carried weight. Metal shifted against plaster when I tested my arms.

Chains. Somebody had leashed me like a fucking animal. On the bright side, my ankles were free. Maybe I could use the freedom to kick the shit out of the asshole who’d hijacked me.

Opening my eyes, I waited for the room to settle into focus. Above me was a bare bulb, its weak yellow glow spotlighting a brown stain across the ceiling. Strips of wallpaper were curling away from damp plaster, exposing patches of black mold.

Even I knew that stuff was toxic to breathe.

Across from me stood a mattress with no frame, its surface marked by stains I refused to think about. Beside it, empty cans and an overflowing ashtray crowded a wooden crate.

This bedroom didn’t need cleaning. It needed a blowtorch. That mattress alone made my entire body itch.

I sat against the wall staring at the thick iron ring my chain was threaded through. Someone had either planned my stay or I wasn’t their first guest. The ring had been anchored into the brick behind the plaster.

Drawing one knee up, I planted my boot, keeping my arms aligned, then pulled. Pain bit into my wrists as the chain snapped taut with a hard rattle. Plaster cracked around the ring as dust fell over my shoulder, but the brick held.

Outside, someone yelled, “Turn that shit up.”

The guitar grew louder.

Unwilling to give up, I pulled harder this time. My muscles locked through my arms and shoulders. One link scraped across another, but none bent. The iron ring moved by less than an inch before settling back. Goddamn it! I yanked again and again, watching the brick bulge outward, but never give. The wall had been built by someone who took pride in their work. I wished they hadn’t.

“Fuck.”

A thin line of blood appeared beneath the cuff on my right wrist. I relaxed before I damaged my hand. Breaking something wasn’t worth the risk, and I needed both hands working when the door opened.

Because sooner or later, it would.

What’re you going to do, rattle your chain at them?

I checked the floor around me. The crate was too far away to be of any use. A crushed can sat beyond my boot, but unless I could fashion it into a key or bolt cutters, it was simply trash. Broken glass glittered beside the mattress, but the chain left me several feet short of it. Even if I reached a shard, cutting through metal was not an option.

Nothing in this disgusting room was useful. Not even me. I was a big son of a bitch, yet I couldn’t even yank a bolt from the wall. If a bet had been riding on it, I would’ve lost and Holler probably would’ve nailed the chain to my bedroom door.

Holler. I patted my pockets for my phone, but they were empty. Whoever searched me had taken it.

Static swallowed the music for a beat, then spat it back out. Voices carried down the hall, followed by one pair of footsteps quickly closing in as another set faded.

The handle turned.

My body coiled, ready to inflict damage.

The door opened just wide enough for a man to slip inside. He shut it behind him with his back and remained there, clutching a plastic bottle of water in both hands.

He was short and wiry, maybe five-four, with dull light-brown hair that fell across his forehead, wearing clothes that sat loose on his frame. He kept his head down, his gaze flicking everywhere without settling on me.

He gripped the bottle hard enough to make the plastic crinkle.

I surged to my feet, the chain cracking against the wall. His shoulder struck the door, one leg pulling up and inward.

“Who the fuck are you?” I snarled.

From across the room I saw the scar on the left side of his face. It ran three inches from the corner of his eye toward his ear. When he swallowed, the mark pulled at his skin but didn’t ruin what was otherwise a handsome face.

“Who brought me here?” I took another step, forcing the chain taut. “Answer me.”

ADULT EXCERPT

London

Pressing against him, I brought my lips to his, fast, then again, deeper, the force of it catching even me off guard. My towel nearly dropped, but his hands clasped the small of my back, holding me up and against him. Our mouths pressed together, and I parted my lips, letting him in because I craved the taste, the warmth, and the promise in every lick and nibble. I set the tempo, mouth demanding, tongue greedy, hungry for the thing I’d spent so long without.

I unwrapped my arms, shoved both hands into his hair, and dragged him even closer. He responded with a low, deep growl, rumbling through his body into mine. The sound turned my insides molten. My cock throbbed, desperate for more friction.

He moved both hands around my waist, then up my back, but avoided the scars. That alone made me wild. He gripped my sides, fingers spanning my rib cage, firm without pinching. The towel fell to the floor. I didn’t care. I was hard and dripping and pressed against him. There was no shame left, only want.

He broke the kiss, and for a heartbeat I whined, a needy and unashamed sound.

My mouth might’ve made that noise, but I owned it. I wanted him. No. I needed him, and every molecule in my body had gotten in line and filed a formal complaint with my brain, which had since abandoned me for a vacation in “Can We Do That Again?” land.

Pushing into his body, I let my hips do what they wanted. With the towel gone, there was nothing between my erection and the hard slab of his abs. My dick pressed into warm skin and didn’t care how clingy it looked. Not a single part of me cared about anything except this.

His hands dug into the sides of my waist, powerful enough to remind me with every second why I should let go. His teeth nipped at my mouth, not sharp, just enough to sting. Then his tongue swept across my lower lip, and I opened for him, hungry for contact. I grabbed his biceps, flexing under my grip. I wanted to bite him, scratch him, tear a mark into his gorgeous skin, so I’d never forget this happened, even if the rest of my brain short-circuited and left me gasping like a porn star in a washing machine.

I didn’t care about his wolf. I wanted the man in front of me, swollen with need for me, like I was air and he’d run out of it.

His breath was hot and ragged against my cheek. “You make me lose my goddamn mind, shorty.”

“Good,” I managed, yanking him closer. “I want to see how much you can take.”

Any other time, those words would have crashed my system, but right now? They only kicked me into a higher gear. His lips crushed mine again, sloppier, more desperate, and my hips stuttered against him.

My body wasn’t used to this. Not this kind of friction, not this kind of ache, not this greedy, brutal want.

His palms moved down, pulling me closer, until my cock was sandwiched between us. I rubbed against him, moaning, and damn, that was embarrassing, but it didn’t matter. None of this mattered except his body locked around mine.

Then, without warning, Ghost broke the kiss and spun me around by my hips. The world tilted with him. My back hit the wall. Air caught in my throat. My pulse went haywire. I reached for the wall behind me to stop my legs from giving out.

He didn’t let me slide. Pressed there, his mouth attacked my throat, teeth worrying the line of my jaw, until all I could do was pant, eyes squeezed shut, vibrating with need.

My cock leaked against his stomach, dripping more with each grind of his hips. His thigh wedged between mine, and I grabbed his shoulders, bracing myself before I dropped to the floor.

I couldn’t stop myself. “Ghost,” I gasped, not even sure what I was asking for. He answered by kissing down my neck, tongue flicking against my skin. I arched into him, greedy for more. His hands mapped my thighs, then worked around to cup my bare ass, squeezing until he had a full handful. I yelped against his mouth because holy heck, that felt incredible.

He dropped to one knee. I barely processed the movement before he dragged me down to sit on the edge of the bed, his hands digging into my hips, guiding my cock toward his mouth.

I stared down at him, lips parted, watching every second. His eyes locked on mine, pupils blown wide, daring me to watch him do this.

My cock bobbed between us, flushed, glistening at the tip.

Then he swallowed me whole.

Heat rocketed through me, intense and embarrassing. My brain crashed. I bucked forward, helpless to do anything else. His lips sealed around my dick, tongue flat and wicked under my shaft. He sucked hard, dragging a desperate sound from my throat.

“Hnh,” I cried, clutching the back of his head. My fingers dug into the short strands at his nape. Everything was so much. I’d never been touched like this, never been the center of so much hunger. I tried to say something, but the word fell apart in my mouth.

He kept going. He didn’t tease or hold back. He wanted to taste everything I could give, and that made me ache harder. His mouth set a brutal pace, lips slippery, tongue flicking along the underside, hands bracing the backs of my thighs so I couldn’t squirm away even if I’d wanted to.

I didn’t want to.

I wanted to live here.

His nose nuzzled my lower stomach. Every time I thought I’d gotten a grip, he’d suck harder or slide down even farther, swallowing me to the hilt. I saw stars. My knees nearly snapped.

I dragged a hand through his hair, gasping with every pass of his tongue. “Holy crackers,” I managed, “keep doing…that.”