Elizabeth's Wolf

Chapter Eleven

Elizabeth followed him into his bedroom, suddenly nervous, too aware of Dash as a man and too aware of the needs flaming to life in her body. It had been so long since she had felt any need to be touched, any interest in a man. But the year Cassie had written to Dash, Elizabeth had been interested, as greedy for the letters as her daughter had been. The loss of that fragile connection had been missed not just by Cassie, but her mother as well.

She knew when he drew her into the bedroom what was coming. Knew when he closed his door and went to the intercom installed between the two rooms what he intended. He turned on the receiver only. Elizabeth licked her lips nervously.

“This might be a bad idea,” she whispered as he turned back to her.

She could easily read the intent in his gaze, the sexual hunger radiating in his large body. If a man could devour a woman with his eyes alone, then Elizabeth considered herself devoured.

“Might be.” He walked to her purposely, never taking his eyes off her as her breathing began to increase.

“Dash, it might be a very bad idea.” She was breathing roughly as she glanced down, seeing how the denim hugged a more than impressive bulge.

He was aroused and ready. A man who had put aside his need for as long as he could, and Elizabeth feared she would never find the strength to deny him once he touched her.

Her eyes flew back to his face as he stopped in front of her. His lips were tilted in a wry little smile.

“I only had to look at you and you knew I needed to touch you,” he whispered darkly. “I came in to say goodnight, Elizabeth, that was all. I looked at you and I saw the need to touch. Nothing more, baby. A few kisses, a little petting. Because that’s all you need right now. All you can handle, I think.”

She drew in a hard breath, bitterness filling her.

Elizabeth smiled mockingly. “I don’t need your pity, Dash.”

She couldn’t handle that from him. She had fought the need to feel sorry for herself and to sink into the pits of her own self-sorrow for too many years. She wouldn’t let him drag her into it now. She didn’t want his sympathy. She turned and headed for the door, only to have him grip her arm, pulling her against his hard body as he stared down at her with dark eyes.

“Was that pity you held in your hand the other morning, Elizabeth?” he asked her softly as she flushed in embarrassment. “If I’m not mistaken, it was my cock. Full and hard and ready to fuck the hell out of you. That’s not pity, baby. And neither is this.”

His lips didn’t ask for anything. His tongue didn’t seek permission. He covered her lips, plunged his tongue into her mouth and took without asking. It couldn’t be called a kiss. It was a devouring, a feast of the senses, and Elizabeth was helpless against it. He bent her over his arm, arching her hips against his as he lifted her to her toes, pressing his thick, jeans-covered erection into the vee of her thighs as he gave her a taste of the hunger to come with his kiss.

She couldn’t breathe. She didn’t want to breathe. Her hands gripped his shoulders as small mewling sounds of hunger rose in her chest. Elizabeth could feel her body catching fire, her nipples, her clit, her vagina throbbing, aching for his touch, for the sensual devouring he was practicing on her lips. His tongue plunged in and out of her mouth, mimicking a much more sexual act as his hands moved over her back, her hips. They were never still. Stroking her, caressing her body until one moved purposely up her side, cupping the swollen mound of her breast.

Elizabeth jerked at the sensation of his fingers suddenly gripping her nipple, milking it, rasping over it. Electric darts of almost agonizing pleasure ripped through her stomach and shot to her womb with a punch of sensation.

She cried out into his kiss, her hands clawing his shoulders, adrift now in a pleasure that threatened to consume her. In her sexual lifetime she had never known anything like it. Had never tasted such a dark kiss, one that warned her he had no intention of making allowances for sensual inexperience. He was hungry. Needy. And she was the meal he craved.

She had never felt her cunt clench, spasm, with such desperate need. All thoughts of danger receded. The situation, so fraught with desperation until Dash arrived, was swept from her mind. There was only Dash. Only his arms holding her, his fingers tugging at her nipple, his tongue sweeping through her mouth like a sexual marauder intent on conquest.

Elizabeth moaned into the kiss, her tongue twining with his, helpless against the sweeping sensations working through her body. She was only barely aware of him bending, lifting her into his arms and moving her to the bed. He didn’t release her mouth. And every now and then she swore he growled against her lips. The sound was hot, blistering with hunger, and sent juices flooding her pussy.

She was going up in flames. She swore she was going to climax from his kiss alone.

As he laid her back on the bed, he released her slowly, his lips sipping from hers hesitantly as he finally broke the connection. Elizabeth lifted her eyelids drowsily, staring up at him, her breath catching as she saw him quickly unbutton his shirt then strip it from his broad shoulders. His hands were strong and wide, lightly calloused and so warm. Elizabeth realized she was almost shaking now with the need to have him caress her, to peel the robe and gown from her body. She wanted him to touch her, stroke her with those demanding hands.

And he did. Staring down at her, his hands went to the belt of her robe. His lips covered hers again, his tongue pushing into her mouth as she moaned in hunger. He made her hungry. Hungry for every kiss, every touch.

Elizabeth arched beneath him as she felt the robe part, felt his fingers at the tiny buttons that ran down the front of her gown.

“Good God,” he groaned as he spread the edges of her gown apart, staring down at the full, hard thrust of her breasts and their tight nipples.

Elizabeth flushed heatedly as he stared down at her. She watched his face, seeing the heavy sensuality that shaped his lips, made his eyes appear drowsy, his expression filled with lust and emotion.

“Dash.” She whispered his name beseechingly, her nipples aching for the moist warmth of his mouth.

“If I touch one of those hard little nipples I’ll never hold onto my control,” he sighed, watching her breasts as they rose and fell roughly. “Do you understand that, Elizabeth? I won’t stop.”

She licked her dry lips, staring into the piercing depths of his eyes when his gaze returned to her.

“Then don’t stop.”

Dash felt flames sear his loins at her words. Quickly he turned, sat on the edge of the bed and began to remove his boots. If he didn’t undress before he touched her, then he’d have no more control than what it took to loosen his pants and pull his cock free before pushing it inside her.

Lust raged through him now, nearly out of control as he fought to get the boots off his feet. Behind him, Elizabeth shifted, coming to her knees behind him, her fingers smoothing over his back before halting on his right shoulder.

“How cute.” Elizabeth traced the little mark on the back of his shoulder. “Cassie has a mark just like that.”

Dash stilled. She was tracing the genetic marker that shadowed his skin just below the curve of his shoulder. A particular identifying mark impossible to miss if anyone knew what it was. A paw print. It was a standing joke among the scientists who had coded it. Like a small strawberry birthmark impossible to be rid of.

“It’s the same shape, too,” her voice was a bit amused. “Don’t let Cassie see it. She already claims Dane isn’t her daddy and that she’s certain her daddy has a mark just like hers.”

The blood began to rush to his head, knowledge flooding his brain like a sudden icy drenching. Cassie had such a mark? There was only one way a child could carry a mark like his. Only one way that genetic marker could have been placed. If Dane was a Wolf Breed. But that couldn’t be possible. Could it? A Breed in such a prominent position as the renowned surgeon had been? No. No Breed would ever allow his child to be harmed, let alone attempt to sell her. What the hell was going on?

He turned to face her.

“Are you sure?” He fought to clear his mind. “Absolutely certain?”

She was staring at him, her smile slowly faltering as she saw his expression.

“Of course.” She frowned in confusion. “I raised her, didn’t I?”

Elizabeth didn’t have the mark. Dash knew she didn’t. Her shoulders were a soft creamy shade of perfection, without flaw.

“Did Dane have the mark?” he asked her slowly, somehow knowing that he didn’t.

“No.” Elizabeth shook her head. “No one in his family did. I teased Dane that the doctors must have gotten his sperm mixed up with someone else’s…”

She was talking. He saw her lips moving, bitterness lining her face, but it seemed everything inside him had shut down. He was watching her speak, hearing her, his brain processing the information while he seemed to shrink inside himself in horror.

Artificial insemination. Elizabeth had been unable to conceive because of Dane’s low sperm count. So they had contacted a friend of his, a fertility doctor. Marcus Martaine. He had performed the procedure secretively because of Dane’s pride. The other man hadn’t wanted anyone to know he couldn’t father a child. So they had gone another route.

Dane still hadn’t been happy, though. He had never cared for Cassie. Always saw her as his failure, Elizabeth said. Cassie was a girl but he wanted a son. She wasn’t conceived properly. Didn’t look enough like him. Dane’s list had gone on and one.

Cassie wasn’t Dane’s daughter, though. She was Elizabeth’s. He could smell it. He would have known it if she wasn’t. The differences in the scent would have been too vast if Elizabeth’s egg hadn’t been used. But Dane’s sperm hadn’t been.

“Dash?” She was watching him in concern now as he stared down at her, everything suddenly falling into place.

Dane had to have known Cassie wasn’t his child. That she was a Breed child. He had to have known because he had tried to bargain with her. The information of the marker wasn’t public knowledge. It was a very carefully kept secret for the time being. Dash had made it his business to study every piece of information being given on them. There was a specific marker in a specific location for each Breed. The Wolf Breeds carried theirs on their right shoulders.

“I have to see it.”

Suddenly, he had to be certain. Had to make sure Elizabeth wasn’t seeing a resemblance that was possibly not there.

“What?” She shook her head, bemused. “See what?”

“The mark, Elizabeth.” He gripped her shoulders, stilling her as she moved to turn away. “Show me the damned mark.”

“On Cassie?” She frowned, fear starting to shadow her eyes as she pulled her gown and robe closed. “Why? What does it mean? It’s just a mark. We asked the doctor about it.”

And of course, Martaine would have lied to the doting mother. It was an experiment. A secretly conducted experiment. One Martaine had obviously told no one about except the father. He would have needed Dane’s help. Somehow, he had talked the other man into the dangerous experiment.

“Show it to me.” He gripped her wrist, dragging her from the bed and into the other bedroom, stopping beside the sleeping child.

“Dash, stop, you’ll wake her,” she whispered.

He ignored her, gently lifting the small strap of Cassie’s gown and baring her shoulder. It was there. A dark shadow just under the skin. A genetic marking of the Wolf Breeds. Had she been raised in the labs, she would have been branded, or tattooed, according to the lab in question, to hide the marker. But she hadn’t been. She had been born to a loving mother and a bastard father.

Dash bent close, drawing in the scent of her skin and shaking with the knowledge his brain was finally accepting. It was faint, a bit darker than he remembered. The genetics were obviously recessed much as his were or he would have detected the scent of a Breed sooner. But it was there. She was a Wolf Breed child. But whose?

What had they done? Dash knew Martaine well. He remembered the doctor visiting the labs, checking results, deciding who lived and who died. Dash had been picked to die. He was the runt of the litter and still smaller, weaker, than the other Breeds of that pack. Martaine had been young then, not even in his thirties. A cold, brutal bastard.

Dash was breathing harshly, perspiration dotting his forehead as he fought the rage building inside him. They weren’t containing the experiments to the labs anymore? When had they brought the genetic mix into the general population?

He eased the strap back, glancing at Elizabeth’s tight, furious expression as he stalked from the room.

“God damn them.” He had no sooner cleared his bedroom than he turned, ramming his fist into the wall. Plaster cracked. A solid two by four split. Dash felt it as the sound echoed around him.

He was aware of Elizabeth jumping back as she entered the room, a small cry smothered behind her hand as she stood staring at him, her eyes wide. Dash leaned his head against the wall, rolling it on the cool plaster as he fought to think.

“Was she naked when you took her from Grange?” His voice was a hard, vicious growl.

“No.” Her voice was faint. Thin. “She was wearing her panties. But her nightgown had been ripped off her. Dash, what’s going on?”

Grange would have demanded proof. Dane would have given it to him. Files, of course. He had to have had files of the experiment in case they were needed. And the mark. A mark that could be validated.

“I should have known,” he muttered. Hell, he thought, he had known but had just refused to admit to it. The idea of it had been too extreme, too far-fetched to consider. How the hell had it happened? Martaine must have lost his mind. “God damn. I should have known. No wonder he wanted her.” A short, bitter laugh escaped him. “Hell, sure he wanted her. She was a fucking gold mine.”

He pushed his fingers through his hair as he fought to beat down the fury pulsing through his body. Elizabeth and Cassie had been through hell. Hunted. A price on their heads. All because Dane Colder had allowed his wife to be impregnated by Breed sperm. How had they managed it? Why had Martaine not informed the Council that he had discovered the secret to breeding the species? He hadn’t, Dash knew. The experiments into the breeding were well documented.

“Dash.” Elizabeth’s voice was filled with fear. “Dash, what’s wrong with her?”

He shook his head desperately. He couldn’t tell her. Couldn’t let her know.

Her voice was faint. “What does that mark mean?”

He looked at her, seeing her white face, her terrified eyes. How he had wanted to protect her. God help him, protect himself. Thinking he could be something to her, build a future and still hide what he was. Still know only her sweet passion and woman’s heart rather than her disgust.

“I have to talk to Mike.”

He had to figure this out. Had to inform Kane Tyler of the changing situation. This would assure Cassie’s acceptance into the compound rather than only the consideration of it. Dash had understood the Pride’s stand and had been praying for a positive response. He hadn’t expected his prayers to be answered in quite this way.

“No. You have to talk to me.” She gripped his arm, her voice echoing with anger, filled with demand. “You talk to me first, damn you. What does that fucking mark mean?”

“Not yet, Elizabeth. I have to talk to Mike.” He couldn’t tell her.

“Like hell you do.” She shook his arm furiously, fear echoing in her voice. “You tell me what’s going on first, damn you. That’s my baby, Dash. Not Mike’s. What the hell is going on?”

Dash closed his eyes, shaking his head roughly as he tore his arm from her grip.

“Go to Cassie. Now,” he snapped. “I have to talk to Mike first.”

He stormed from the room, knowing the lateness of the hour, the fact that Mike was comfortably in bed with his loving wife, likely dreaming dreams of bliss. A short bitter grunt sounded from his chest. Must be fucking nice.

He found his friend’s room and rapped the door with hard knuckles. He heard a grunt, a curse, Serena’s drowsy voice. Seconds later, Mike opened the door, his eyes blurry with sleep.

“What?” His eyes cleared when he saw Dash. Dash knew the fury raging inside him was clearly in evidence.

“She’s a Breed.” His voice was flat with pain.

“What?” Mike shook his head, clearly confused.

Dash couldn’t blame him. He was having a hell of a time understanding himself.

“Cassie,” he growled. “That’s why Grange wants her. She’s a Breed, Mike. A Wolf Breed. Just like me.”

“No!” Elizabeth’s shocked, disbelieving voice had him turning slowly.

She had followed him. Somehow, his mind consumed with rage and pain, he had been unaware of her behind him. He knew now. She was staring at him like the animal he was. Her eyes wide, disbelieving, as she watched him with heartbreaking horror, fighting to deny the truth of what she heard. The truth that the man she had nearly taken into her body, the man whose tongue had plunged into her mouth was an animal. Bitter acceptance filled his mind as he watched her. She looked like she was going to be sick.

He growled, a low animalistic rumble that had Mike cursing and Elizabeth shaking in terror. He knew what his eyes looked like in the hall, the dim light overhead reflecting at just the right angle, turning them a demonic red without the sheltering protection of the contact lenses he wore when needed. An animal. An animal she had nearly fucked.

He could see it in her eyes as she backed away from him. Saw it in the glazed need to escape as she turned and ran for her room. And he was behind her. She would try to take Cassie and escape him now. Run from the animal. From the beast. Escape a truth she didn’t want to accept. There wasn’t a chance in hell he would let her get away from him.

He caught her at his bedroom door, his arm wrapping around her waist as she fought him, clawing at him as he dragged her against the wall, her fist nearly connecting with his jaw as she broke from his hold. Breathing hard, her eyes wild in her white face, she faced him.