Werewolves of Chicago: Xavier Page 5

  Through gritted teeth, I grind out, “I want you,” and watch her eyes begin to close. The three simple words are all that matter, so I repeat them, “I want you.”

  Releasing her, I walk out the door with quick strides to the staircase. Cutting a frustrated look to her, I tell her, “Now you should lock the door.” She stares at me. “Do it, Emily. I’m not kidding.” Long black eyelashes flutter and she slowly closes me out. I hate that she listened, but I’m grateful for it. As the deadbolt clicks, I descend into the darkness of the storm, away from the need for a woman I know I should leave the fuck alone.

  Emily

  Both hands lay flat against the door as I press my forehead to its cool surface and listen to the door downstairs shutting with a loud BANG. His incredible proclamation is on repeat. My heart is pounding it. I want you. I want you. I want you. I want you.

  Running to my children’s bedroom, I silently shut their door and race across the hallway to my own, grab my vibrator and take it with me to the bathroom where I shove a towel on the floor to block out all sound, locking me inside where it’s nice and private.

  I want you. I want you. I want you. I want you.

  How hot he just made me. My pussy is awake again for the first time in years. I am screaming to be touched. I’m so turned on I’ll probably cum the second I hear the whir of this little electric miracle.

  God, his eyes. The cut of his sharp cheekbones. The masculinity of his beard, eyebrows, and muscles! This guy is all man. Oh my, oh my, oh my. His muscles are so hard and move so deliciously with his every motion, it’s insane. I have to touch them. I have to touch him. I have to touch myself. Turning on my vibrator, I pull off my sweats and touch it to the crotch of my panties, thinking about the bulge in his crotch.

  How it grew more and more noticeable as the seconds ticked by. They are so wet. I can’t help it. Seeing that bulge. The man is enormous. I can tell by his EVERYTHING. Oh God, those thick fingers sliding down that bottle like he was stroking himself. It was so erotic. He was teasing me, that bastard. His lips parted as I looked up at him, feeling so hot I wished nothing more than to strip off my clothes and suck on those lips. Taste his tongue. Stroke him like I’m stroking myself. Stepping out of my panties, I hold onto the bathroom sink and moan silently as I slip the quiet vibrator into my slick folds. I’m throbbing! This is insanity. I close my eyes and picture him as if he’s right here in front of me.

  I had to come back. I am going to show you what you’ve been missing all these years.

  No! You need to go.

  No, I don’t. I need to feel you on my cock riding me until you scream and beg me to fuck you all night long.

  I can’t scream. I have the kids.

  Fuck, Emily. Stop bringing reality into this. I find a rhythm with the vibrator and moan softly as the ache grows desperate.

  We’ll be quiet. We can fuck nice and silent. It’ll make it hotter that we have to hide it.

  He pulls me to him. Smashing his mouth onto mine he gasps against my lips telling me how good I feel in that deep rasp he had just now.

  His tongue searches for mine and finds it, playing with mine, teasing me as he pulls my thigh roughly up and balances my foot on the edge of the bathtub so that my legs are open for him. His thick fingers slip into me. I imagine this vibrator is really them pressing in, probing me until they find that delicate spot that makes me squirm with pleasure.

  “You’re so wet for me, Emily. Your pussy, baby. It’s so hot against my fingers.”

  “Your rough fingers,” I whisper.

  “That’s right. My rough fingers that are deep inside your cunt, massaging you from the inside until you cum on them. You want that?”

  “I want it! Finger me until I can’t stand anymore.”

  “You’re a dirty girl, aren’t you?” he groans then makes a sexy-man moan in my ear, so deep and awesome. “I’m going to fuck you right here in the bathroom. Bend you right over this sink and ram my cock inside your slick, hot little pussy, ram you over and over until you cum again and again and you pass right the fuck out, you’re so spent.”

  He flips me around and presses his crotch into my ass, his jeans still on. “You feel that?” he groans, grinding on me. “You want my cock, Emily?” I moan a long and low “Yes!”

  Just the idea of seeing Xavier’s cock and what it must be like, so thick and long and crimson red with desire for me, makes me quake on my vibrator. I grip one hand on the sink imagining it’s really him inside my body, feeling the urgent explosion, the orgasm tremors begin. The sweet, deep burn of this feeling expands until I can’t stop it.

  Everything quivers as it consumes my senses. I even feel this orgasm in my hair and the bottoms of my feet. I want this man inside me so badly that even the thought of him is enough to drive me to this amazing and oh-so-hot place. Making sure I make no sounds at all, I give myself over to it knowing I am alone and fantasies are totally normal, no matter how dirty they are. I have a feeling this one is tame in comparison to what that man would actually do to me if I let him, but it is what makes me cum this hard and for this long. I want you. I want you. I want you.

  As the orgasm finishes, I bite my lip as my walls clench one last time. Opening my eyes, I’m scared to see my reflection, but I’m glowing. I look flushed and happy, something I don’t remember seeing in a mirror in a very long time. Crumbling into a ball, wearing only my shirt, I start to weep. Why did I have to meet Xavier now?

  Where was he seven years ago?

  Xavier

  “You’re kidding me. Finally.” I grate, leaning back against the rough leather couch cushion.

  Draik’s eyes are locked on Kara who’s standing over the five of us. Hatred is all over him. She glances to him and then addresses the group again. “The Captain wanted me to know. It was good of him after what happened to me. To us,” she adds, mumbling, “But he doesn’t know you all exist.”

  Alisa sits on War’s lap and says to him in an intimate tone, “Maybe we should tell them what we were thinking.”

  All eyes go to the new couple. War’s lips are tight and he kisses her shoulder in agreement, his hand comfortably on her leg as though they’ve known each other their whole lives. Which they haven’t. Her eyes are full of love, as they always are when she looks at him. A stabbing pang of jealousy surprises me and I stretch my jaw in an effort to lose that feeling and focus on the larger issue.

  “Alisa and I were thinking of moving into this building. We’d all be in the same place.”

  Curragh, sitting next to me and close to his wife Kara, stares at the hardwood floor and nods. “We should have done that weeks ago.”

  “We were optimistic,” Kara says, touching his hair and then pulling her soft hand back to cross her arms and sigh. That kind of ease in her touch hits me and again jealousy springs into my blood like unwanted poison. I’m never jealous. I’m perfectly happy with who and where I am. So what the hell?

  Kara tells us, “Word is the flight list of Russian passengers with one-way tickets to Chicago drew the attention of the TSA and then Captain Mazzagatti was notified along with the other districts. Suspected of being mafia, we don’t know where these men are because they’ve vanished right after arrival.”

  “Dead, I hope,” I mutter, knowing there’s not a chance in hell that’s true.

  “They’ll wish they were,” Draik says, under his breath, his eyes on a future where he’s got one in his fangs.

  “You think they’re in the tunnels again?” War asks, frowning to me.

  It takes me a second to realize he was talking to me. I glance over when the silence brings me back from my daydream of Emily Foster slapping me. Only in my fantasy, I pull her to me as soon as she does it, and silence her anger with a really rough and hungry kiss while she slips her arms around me. Looking at War, I blink and ask, “What? What’d you say?”

  War frowns and glances around. “I asked if you think they’re in the tunnels.”

  I too quickly answer, “Wort
h a look,” leaning forward now to make sure I stay in the game. This is important. “If this is Alexander Kruglov and he’s back and getting recruits we need to check it out. Find out what’s really happening.”

  “The force has already looked into the tunnels,” Kara says on a frustrated exhale. “It was just how they left it.”

  “Chicago P.D. doesn’t have our particular set of skills,” Draik informs her abruptly, rising up to walk to the window. He wants to pay back Alexander more than any of us for what was done to him. He’s chomping at the bit to do something now.

  Curragh and I are both staring at the coffee table. He says what I’m thinking, “Let’s go check it out.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Draik calls over, his back still to us.

  “We need someone to stay with the women,” Curragh tells him.

  Draik snarls, “They’re your women. You and War stay with them. I’m going.” He heads for the door. Argument over.

  I rise up and follow him, calling out behind me, “Keep your phones on.”

  But War calls out, “WAIT!”

  Draik’s already out the door. I sigh and look over my shoulder. I just want to get out of here, too. This investigative search is exactly what I need to get my mind off the human female. And I don’t want to pause and hear why we shouldn’t do it. War’s new to our pack and to his abilities. He’s just recently learning how to be the most aggressive motherfucker around.

  Draik and I have that down pat.

  “What!”

  Alisa is standing now and War’s got his hands shoved in his medicine satchel. He pulls out a couple of Glocks. “They’re loaded,” he says as he approaches and hands them to me. Everyone’s watching behind him.

  “War, think about this. If we have to shift, your precious collection will be down two weapons.”

  He shrugs and pushes back his shaggy hair. The kid is so young still, but he’s got brains, I’ll give him that. And I always do.

  “Doesn’t matter. I can get more. I can’t get more of you guys.”

  Sweet, too. Fuckin’ strange ass wolf, this one.

  I grab the pieces with one hand and clap his shoulder with my other. “We’d do fine on our own. I’ll take these just to make you feel better.” Heading to catch up with Draik, I mutter, “And learn to talk a little quieter, would ya.”

  He chuckles and whispers as soon as I close the front door, “Will do.”

  Smiling to myself, I stomp down the stairs to get the fuck out of here.

  Xavier

  In a half hour, my blonde packmate and I are hunched over and sniffing the old hideout. The cops were right in their limited appraisal. It looks just like how they left it. The pricey furniture is gone, the entire place cleared out. The chandelier in the bathroom is gone. The only thing of value left in this place is the stuff you’d have to remove with a jackhammer. It looks and feels like a relic of a wealthy family who found the oddest place to call their home. Because that’s what it is.

  “They should sell tickets. Make it a museum,” I mutter to myself.

  Draik’s too filled with the desire for blood to comment. “Come on!” he growls, walking fast. His fists are tight. One of the guns is shoved in the back of his belt-line, sticking out. He freezes. I hear it, too, and we both flash to the wall and flatten to it, drawing our guns and exchanging a look of readiness.

  The place was quiet until two seconds ago. Now two men speaking in their native tongue pass from one room ahead into the next, so engrossed in their conversation they don’t see us. They’re human, so they can’t smell us either. Or hear our heartbeats, which are now slamming so loudly in our chests that Draik wiggles a finger in his ear like that will help. He looks at me and I nod. Moving slowly, we make sure our boots make no noise as we advance on our prey. Sniffing the air, our nostrils flare. We listen with the focus of ten men for any other voices. These two might be alone. Might.

  Two more steps and we’re peering into the large empty room where the shit went down not long ago. From the kitchen on the other side, the two men’s Russian conversation echo back to us. They still don’t know they’re not alone.

  I scan the upper corners but see no signs of cameras or holes that could hide them. Draik’s fucking heart rate is through the roof and I tap him on his shoulder blade. He looks at me, eyes filled with rage. Touching my index finger to my lips I remind him to settle down. We’re better when we’re relaxed. His jaw ticks but he nods once to show he heard me. We stalk closer, hunched over and ready to shoot these weapons or shift into our wolves. Whatever is needed, we’ll do it. We’re both ready. We both can’t wait. We’re both hoping for a fight, but for very different reasons.

  His, revenge. Mine, distraction.

  I couldn’t get the image of Emily riding my hard cock out of my stubborn head until I heard those voices.

  I need this. I need it bad.

  Draik locks eyes with me. It’s time. We kick the door in and point our weapons at two Russian men in their mid-forties standing by the bare metal, industrial kitchen sink. These two even look like mafia, grizzled with hard blue eyes that go cold upon sight of me and my friend, both of us Viking-sized.

  “Vhat de fuhk?” one mutters, going for his gun. I don’t even hesitate. I shoot him in the arm right under the shoulder and above the bicep. He yells out and grabs the place as blood seeps over his pasty-white fingers. His gun clatters to the floor. His comrade just stares at us. This isn’t the first time he’s been at gunpoint and he’s not fazed.

  “Vhat you vahnt?”

  “Your boss, fuck-nut,” Draik snarls.

  Panting against the pain, the other Russian glares at us. He looks behind us toward the door and I go on high alert. Draik and I move out of the way of it, our guns trained on our current targets. I don’t hear anything outside, but that doesn’t mean we’re safe.

  We aren’t safe here. We never were.

  “Where the fuck is Alexander Kruglov,” Draik demands of them.

  The Russian with the calm exterior flashes for his gun, and Draik shoots the fucker in the head without pausing. I crack my neck as my wolf grows more demanding to get in the game. He wants to play. I’m all for it.

  “You might as vahl keel me too.”

  “No, we’re just going to make you shit your pants,” Draik snarls, his eyes beginning to glow yellow.

  Eyes glowing bright amber, I casually scratch my beard with my clawed hand, fur bouncing from the pores of my palm. The Russian’s eyes go wide. He may have seen a lot of things in his crime-infested existence, but a real live ‘monster?’ Never. Draik smiles at the sound of urine traveling down his hairy leg.

  “Bet you didn’t think you’d need diapers today,” Draik chuckles.

  My wolf is at the edge. But I don’t want to have to ruin these clothes if I don’t have to. This is the fifth black t-shirt I’ve had to replace. Growling in a voice that is only half-human, I ask again, “Where is your boss?”

  Holding his hands up, the Russian stutters, “Ve haf not seen heem. Ver told to come here first and report back.”

  Draik demands, “Report back where?” his voice also preternatural. I love it when we do this. I’m having the best time I’ve had in weeks.

  The Russian shakes his head. My teeth become sharp fangs. He sees me, and starts stammering something in Russian. Voices coming up behind us alert us we are about to have company. Draik takes three long strides and swipes the guy’s face with his claws, slicing it. “Go back to Mother Russia.”

  He picks up the dropped gun. We whip around. Start shooting as the door fills with five ready-to-battle men. The ones we can see go down quickly. Until we run out of bullets.

  With no other choice, Draik and I explode in the cracking of reshaping bones of our other selves, snarling as we shift. Most of the humans recoil. All react. But some are quick to recover and start shooting at us. We don’t go back the way we came. We head for the door they came through instead. Where Howard was the last time. The surviving
Russians are behind us. In our wolf forms, we have more advanced abilities. We are stronger now. Faster in a way that is only supernatural. The walls become our trampolines as we jump from them to the ceiling, the floor, and back to the walls, evading the bullets by a narrow margin. It throws their aim to see us, two huge wolves, do this, no matter how seasoned they are as shooters. Only one bullet skims my hind leg but doesn’t enter. I push myself faster, growling at my packmate and friend to hurry. Twists and turns in the hall eventually dim the sounds of shouting and shooting. We do not slow down. We go faster. We have to stay alive. Our friends need us.

  And I have to see Emily again.

  Emily

  “Honey, you really didn’t have to come in today,” Natalie tells me, her voice compassionate. “You should be home resting and grieving.”

  She’s been saying that every day for almost two weeks now. She’s a good person. I’m lucky she hired me years ago. I had few skills and little confidence. Thanks to her I have more of both now.

  I’m not grieving, but I can’t really explain that without feeling like a bad wife and woman. I am lost, though. I don’t know how to go about my days now that I’m free. I still try and text him when I’m running late because I don’t want him upset. Then I remember there is no one to text. No one will get angry if I keep him waiting. It’s a very strange feeling. I’m not at all used to it.

  “I need the distraction,” I smile to her. “You know me. I’m not the sit at home type. Your shop makes me feel good.”