Ceecee moved closer to John with a sly smile. "I think you should be more concerned about what is so special about me," she teased. Her lips brushed his briefly before she trailed a hand down his chest, her nails grazing across the ridges of his muscles until she reached his cock. She gripped him gently with that confidence only a true mate could wield.
"You are insatiable," John chuckled, the words slipping out in a growl that carried more affection than frustration. His eyes narrowed, but his grin betrayed him. He was already melting back into her pull, caught between duty and desire, and he didn't even care that Elliot was probably rushing to deliver his excuses to Kade.
"Only with you, my love," she whispered, her eyes gleaming with devotion and mischief. Her hand gave another teasing squeeze, coaxing his body to betray his earlier annoyance. She tilted her head, watching him with that maddening patience that always undid him.
John exhaled a low laugh, the sound rough and unguarded. "I guess…" he muttered, sliding a hand along her waist, "I could spare a few more minutes."
"Perfect." Ceecee giggled, her laughter bubbling like music, breaking the heavy storm of his anger from before. It was her gift—lightening his dark edges.
John bent down to capture her lips again, this time harder, less playful, and maneuvered them back into the house with steady hands, steering her toward the nearest surface. Duty could wait. For now, there was only her.
*****
May was asleep in bed when she felt a hand covering her mouth. Her body jolted awake in pure panic, heart hammering against her ribs. Her wide eyes snapped open, bracing for the worst. But instead of a faceless intruder, she found Nelly's familiar face hovering over her, eyes fierce, finger pressed to her lips in a command for silence.
May's breath caught, her fear only slightly abating. Nelly's urgency was unmistakable. Slowly, Nelly removed her hand. Then, with a swift motion, she bent and scooped up the sleeping Adelita from the side of the bed. The child stirred but did not wake, her tiny fist clutching the edge of her blanket.
Nelly pressed the little girl into May's arms. May was already on her feet, confusion clawing through her exhaustion. She clutched Adelita tightly, her instincts overriding everything else. "Nelly… what's happening?"
Nelly seized May's wrist and pulled her across the room, her grip firm. She dragged her toward the closet, every step sharp and purposeful.
The closet door creaked softly as Nelly wrenched it open and shoved both May and Adelita inside. May's pulse thundered in her ears as she held the child tighter against her chest, her breath trembling.
"Do not come out until I come get you," Nelly whispered. Her words were sharp as knives, cutting through the thick silence. Nelly had always been gentle, a caretaker with laughter. But tonight, her face was carved with steel.
May wanted to protest, to ask more, to cling to her. But the look in Nelly's eyes silenced her completely. She nodded instead, throat too tight to speak. Her hands shook as she wrapped Adelita's blanket tighter, rocking her instinctively, fighting to keep the child calm even as terror spread through her own veins.
Nelly's hand lingered for just a moment on May's shoulder—a brief, desperate squeeze that said everything words couldn't. And then she shut the door, leaving May swallowed in darkness, clutching a sleeping child, praying the silence would not shatter.
She walked back into the living area, every step measured, every breath controlled, though inside her nerves thrummed. She had woken up to the sound of someone moving around the building. Since May had confessed the chilling truth about the lawyer's disappearance, Nelly's guard had been razor-sharp. If this Kingsley man was half as dangerous as May feared—and the terror in the girl's voice had convinced her he was worse—then she wasn't about to take any chances. The scent of danger clung thick to the air, bitter and metallic, as if the house itself knew what was coming.
She sat in the dark, perfectly still, every muscle coiled tight. Her eyes had long adjusted to the shadows, catching every flicker of movement, every whisper of sound. The weight of silence pressed around her, punctuated only by the faint ticking of the clock on the far wall. Her heart thudded a slow, steady rhythm in her chest. If the intruder tried to get in, she would be ready. Her wolf stirred beneath her skin, pacing, eager for blood.
As expected, the quiet shattered with the sharp crack of breaking glass. The sound was like a gunshot in the still night, echoing across the house. Nelly's jaw tightened. Whoever they were, they weren't even bothering with subtlety anymore. The door squeaked open, groaning as if in protest at the violation, and the cool night air slipped in, carrying with it the heavy stench of unwashed bodies and cheap cologne.
The door gave way, and soon enough, three men stepped into the living room, their weapons drawn. Nelly watched them with detached calm, cataloging weaknesses the way a predator measures prey. The first one was heavyset, slow, with poor balance. The second was twitchy, overcompensating with bravado. The third moved like he thought he was in charge.
"You picked the wrong house, guys." Nelly finally spoke. She rose to her feet, her posture predatory, her eyes cold. She switched on the lights and the room flooded with brightness. The intruders blinked, momentarily disoriented. Nelly smiled.
"I'm going to count to three," she said. "And you better get out of here. Otherwise…" She let the words hang for a moment, savoring the sudden flicker of uncertainty that crossed their faces. "…you'll be living the rest of your lives without functioning limbs."
For a heartbeat, silence reigned. Then the heavyset one snorted, trying to laugh off the threat. "What are you gonna do, lady? Throw us out?"
Nelly's smile widened. Her wolf pressed harder against her skin, hungry for release. Inside her chest, her pulse quickened with the intoxicating thrill of the hunt. These men had no idea what kind of storm they had walked into.
The men looked at her and almost laughed, their faces splitting into cruel smirks as if they were amused that a lone woman dared to threaten them. Their confidence came with the stink of arrogance, cheap liquor clinging to their breath. They raised their weapons higher—steel flashing, the guns cocking with a metallic snap meant to intimidate. Nelly had lived too long among predators to be shaken by the swagger of men who thought strength was in a bullet. She was ready to shift, ready to shed this fragile human disguise and let the beast handle them all.
But before she could, another presence seeped into the room. It wasn't human—oh no, not even close. The air thickened, charged with the unmistakable scent of power, the musk of dominance, and the feral edge of a predator like her. Nelly's blood ran cold. A werewolf. What?! Her pulse spiked with sharp wariness.
Kingsley strolled into the living room with the ease of someone who owned the space, his footsteps measured, his presence heavy enough to command silence. He was tall, broad-shouldered, his eyes gleaming with a predator's satisfaction. He clapped his hands slowly, mockingly. "Wow…A functioning rogue wolf. Impressive." The way he said it made her skin crawl. He turned to his men without sparing her another glance. "Wait outside."
The humans hesitated for only a second before shuffling out, muttering under their breath but obeying without question. Of course they did—his authority was a weight that pressed on the air itself. This was wolf business.
"You're a werewolf…" Nelly forced the words out.
"Who is your rogue alpha here?" Kingsley asked.
"I have no rogue alpha." Nelly straightened, her spine a steel rod. She scanned his every move—the way his fingers tapped the armrest of the chair he chose, the faint curve of a smirk that never left his lips. She was cornered, yes, but she refused to cower.
"Impossible." His smile widened as though she were a child caught in a lie. "But I will not waste time on frivolities. Where is May?"
Nelly's heart clenched, but her face betrayed nothing. She tilted her head, feigning confusion, her words sharp and cold. "Who is May?"
Kingsley laughed, low and dangerous, a sound that sent a shiver crawling up her spine. He lowered himself onto the couch, sprawling. His presence filled the room. "See," he said smoothly, his gaze locking onto hers with unnerving intensity, "I know you are lying. Do you know why?"
"I'm sure you're going to tell me that in a second," she replied. Inside, though, her mind raced. Every instinct screamed at her to protect May, to shield her from this man who radiated menace. But the way he looked at her—as if he already knew her every secret—made her chest tighten with unease.
(Please kindly shower your blessings on this book, power stones, golden tickets are all welcome.)