He’s pretty good at it, too. You should see the detail in his designs—”
“Calms him?” Zan interrupted, brows lifting. “God, if he was any more laid-back he’d be dead.”
Jaxon put in his two cents. “I think what we see on the outside of that guy is a carefully controlled mask. Wouldn’t surprise me if he’s the most dangerous dude any of us know.”
On that point, he got no argument. Jaxon, Zander, Aric, and Ryon had been together since they were Navy SEALs—a promising career cut short years ago when their unit was attacked by rogue weres, more than half of them slaughtered and the rest, including the four of them, turned into wolf shifters. But Hammer, along with their new boss Nick Westfall, had only been with Alpha Pack for a few months. Those two were born shifters, a fact that had the team and the doctors and scientists at the Institute of Parapsychology completely fascinated.
Nick, a rare white wolf, had replaced the deceased Terry Noble and brought Hammer with him to the team when they both left the FBI, and Jax had to admit the newbies were working out pretty well. Nick was tough-as- nails, but fair, and knew how to laugh at himself when the situation called for it. Unlike Terry, he wasn’t above having a beer with the guys, and he sometimes joined them when their wolves needed to run and hunt. He had their backs, always.
Hammer was cut from the same cloth as Nick, though he was more of a mystery. The huge gray wolf preferred to keep to himself and remain ensconced with their leader at their compound deep in the Shoshone National Forest rather than make the trek to Vegas to blow off steam and get laid.
“Quilting,” Aric muttered with a short laugh. “Man, I’m gonna give him hell about this.”
Zan shook his head. “Probably not a good idea to harass a guy who can kill you with one blow from his fist. Ease up, Savage.” Zan made a right, toward the Bellagio, and grinned. “Here we are. Reservations are under my name. We’ve got four nonsmoking rooms with king-sized beds and the weekend off, boys. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
This prompted a round of cheers and whistles.
As Zan found a parking space, Jaxon addressed the group. “Keep your cell phones charged and handy. Is anybody besides me going off by themselves?”
Aric laughed. “Are you kidding? I don’t know about these two,” he said, indicating Ryon and Zan, “but if I don’t find a hot woman with loose morals PDQ, I’m going to self-combust and torch half the Strip.” Considering his particular Psy gifts, the man was only half-joking.
“No shit,” Ryon eagerly agreed.
“I’m going to hit the casino for a while, just relax, maybe play some blackjack,” Zan put in. “There’s something to be said for going slow and anticipating the ride.”
“I’ll go slow the second time. Or maybe the third. Let’s go, ladies.” Jaxon got out of the SUV carrying his duffel bag, scenting the air. His blood thrummed hot in his veins, his cock already half-hard at the prospect of burying himself between a pair of silky thighs, sliding deep. Fucking all night long, in every position. It had been weeks since they’d been able to make it to Vegas, and like his friends, he was feeling the burn.
Inside the hotel, Jaxon and the others checked into their rooms and dropped off their bags, but didn’t linger. Zan had booked them all on the same floor, so they rode down together again and then split up. Zan went looking for the blackjack tables, Aric and Ryon heading for the front doors and disappearing into the night. Jaxon skirted the gaming area and strolled to the nearest bar, ordering a Jack and cola. He sat with his back to the bar, sipping his drink and scanning the crowd, waiting.
She’d be here. Right on the dot, like before.
Jaxon wasn’t one to waste valuable time searching for a “date” when he had only two nights off, and Alexa had been not only reliable on their two previous weekends together, but extremely talented in bed. The blond call girl had taught him naughty things he’d
As if he conjured her, she stepped around an older couple and came toward him wearing a wide smile, a little black halter dress, matching heels, and nothing else. He knew that from experience. Her long blond mane tumbled over her shoulders, full and teased, in a dramatic style that never failed to call to mind an eighties rocker. But the fluff framed a pair of nice full breasts, the nipples even now peeked through the thin material of her dress and awaiting his tongue. Her face was overdone with makeup in his opinion, and she had the hard look of a girl who’d already seen too much of the crap life had to offer. But even so, she was still attractive.
“Hey, hot stuff,” she greeted him in a sultry voice. Stepping between his knees, she twined her arms around his neck, pushed her breasts against his chest, and captured his mouth with hers.
Her tongue slipped inside and dueled with his, seeking and tasting. Her nipples grazed him though his dark T-shirt, begging to be appreciated. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he broke the kiss. “My room.”
“Not yet.”
He frowned. “Why not?”
“I have an idea.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Let’s go for a walk.”
“I’m not paying you to take me for a stroll down the Strip, gorgeous.”
“There’s plenty of time to play in your room, but this is different. Just trust me.”
He hesitated. Inside, his wolf growled suspiciously, not trusting her or any situation that was “different.” The man, however, was ready and willing to be led by his cock, especially if she came through once again with her love of the daring and kinky.
“All right.” Sliding off the stool, he offered her his arm. “Have it your way.”
Raking him up and down with her eyes, she ran her tongue over her lips in an exaggerated come-hither gesture. “If you insist.”
Pushing down another ripple of unease, Jaxon let her pull him away from the bar and through the front doors, outside. He wondered what game she had in mind as they walked in silence, away from the Bellagio and down a side street to the next block, leaving the hordes of people behind.
He didn’t have long to speculate. Tugging his hand, she led him across a dark parking lot dotted with only a few cars, toward the back of small abandoned building that used to be a club or something. At the back wall, she pulled him around the corner to where the side of the store was shielded from view of the neighboring business by a tall wooden fence. She backed him against the brick, attacking the fly of his jeans. Which, admittedly, was bulging with excitement.
“Alexa,” he began, shaking his head.
“Shush. This is gonna be so good.” Expertly, she freed him, stroked his erection. “You ever had public sex? It’s quite a thrill.”
“Yeah, but who’s going to see us? There’s nobody around.” There was something wrong with her logic in this, but damned if he could think what it was.
Because at that moment she sank to her knees and manipulated his aching balls with clever fingers tipped in bloodred nails. Swiped the head of his leaking cock with that pretty pink tongue. Began to lick his shaft, laving him like he was the last ice-cream cone in the Mojave Desert. He moaned, burying his fingers in her hair, not caring about the gallon of hair spray making the strands stick to his palm like a damned spiderweb. All that mattered was her mouth, sliding down over his rod, the heat, the suction, taking him deep—
A scream ripped through the night, shattering the mood. Jaxon straightened with a gasp, disengaging himself from his date more abruptly than he intended, pushing her back. He listened, ignoring the hooker’s muttered protests. Another scream went through him like a bolt of electricity, the sheer terror in the female’s voice calling to something primal within him.
Quickly, he tucked his flagging erection into his jeans and zipped up, and then pulled Alexa to her feet. “I have to see about this. Go back to the hotel, where it’s safe.”
“Oh, come on,” she began, pouting. “It ain’t your problem. Let someone else deal with it.”
Spinning her around, he gave her a push toward the corner. “Go, now, and don’t follow me. I’ll call you.” In that moment, he knew he never would, but the reason eluded him.
Digging his iPhone from his jeans pocket, he took off at a jog, wincing at the stab of pain in his mangled leg. In human form he could walk with barely a limp, but more strenuous activity such as jogging, running, or sparring with his teammates still caused the injured limb a great deal of agony.
Ignoring the pain, he scented the air.
