Her Bear In Mind Page 11

  Birth records showed that he had a 12-year-old son who lived with his mother in Greece. He wasn’t married, or, as best as she could tell, dating anyone. That basically made him the most eligible bachelor in the United States. He’d even been approached about doing one of those trashy harem reality shows last year, but had turned them down.

  Sierra hurriedly closed her browser as Dorrian stepped back out of the office. He flashed her another smile as he glided by her desk.

  Sierra cursed herself for staring at his perfectly sculpted ass as he walked away. She was going to have to be careful about this man.

  CHAPTER 11

  Dorrian chose the place for lunch. It was a little café that specialized in gourmet cheeses and wine. It was the kind of pretentious foodie place that Joe would hate, but Dorrian was perfectly at ease there. He ordered them a bottle of French wine and a platter of assorted cheeses with figs, marionberries, and a crusty, fresh baked baguette.

  “Tell me something, Sierra,” he said as he spread rosemary chevre on a piece of bread. “You seem like a sophisticated, metropolitan woman. Am I right?”

  “I suppose so,” Sierra replied cautiously.

  “I’m curious about your relationship with Governor Joe. A man whose reputation is built on his appeal to the rough and tumble, everyman demographic. He hunts and camps and gets his hands dirty. What on earth do you have in common?”

  Sierra sipped her wine and considered the question. It was true that on the surface they didn’t seem to have a lot of common interests. Sierra wasn’t much for going camping and Joe didn’t exactly spend a lot of time in galleries and museums.

  But what he didn’t understand was how liberating spending time with Joe was for her. With him, she felt like she could relax, let her hair down. She put so much pressure on herself every day to succeed that sometimes she felt as if she would burst from it. When she was with Joe, there was no pressure anymore.

  “That doesn’t sound like a work related question.” She replied coolly.

  “Oh, it absolutely isn’t.” he replied. “I’m curious, that’s all. As attractive as you are, surely you have your pick of men to choose from. And while dating the Governor surely has its advantages, wouldn’t you rather spend your time with someone who knows how to order wine in a nice restaurant?”

  “Well,” Sierra said, “as it turns out, I am perfectly capable of ordering my own wine. I don’t enjoy being kept as much as you seem to think I do. Now did you plan on bringing up a work-related topic any time soon? Or are you just here to flirt and insult my life choices?”

  Dorrian was obviously taken aback. Perhaps he was unused to women talking back to him. Anger flashed in his blue eyes and he took a few moments to compose himself before replying.

  “Work. Yes. I brought you here to discuss business.”

  “Then let’s discuss business.” Sierra replied. “What are you planning to do with The Post?”

  Dorrian didn’t answer. He sipped his wine and chose another piece of fruit. He ate the fig slowly, never taking his intense gaze off her. “Do you know what kind of man I am, Sierra? What sort of business it is that I do?” he asked.

  “You buy things.”

  “I covet,” he said. I covet the things that I want, and I acquire them. Sometimes by buying them.”

  He reached across the table and took her hand.

  “And I am a man who, by and large, gets what he wants.”

  Sierra snatched back her hand and stood up.

  “And you want me, is that it?” she spat at him.

  To her surprise, he laughed. He laughed as if at a private joke he hadn’t let her in on yet.

  “You,” he said, “are lovely. And deliciously strong willed. I’d like to throw you down right here and have you until you cum screaming. I’d do it not just because I find you attractive, but because I enjoy taking things that don’t belong to me. Having you would be a treat…”

  He paused and sipped his wine.

  “You are not what I want.”

  “Then what do you want?” Sierra asked him.

  He smiled.

  “I want Sleuth.”

  Sierra froze. She felt her heart skip a beat.

  “Sit down,” he told her calmly. “You’re attracting attention.”

  *

  Slowly, Sierra sat back down in her chair. Her mind was a whirlwind of panic. She did her best to contain her emotions, and not reveal anything he might not already know.

  Summoning her best dumb blond expression, she said to Dorrian, “You want what?”

  “Don’t do that,” he told her as he helped himself to more cheese.

  “Don’t play dumb with me, Sierra. You don’t need to give me a reason to hurt you.”

  Sierra found herself thinking about how her claws had easily sliced through tree bark. She stared back at him fearlessly.

  “I very much doubt you could hurt me.” She said.

  Dorrian chuckled.

  “Ah, yes. You newborns always think you’re invincible. Tell me, Sierra, are you capable of running without careening into the trees yet?”

  “I don’t know what you’re-”

  “Don’t do that.” He told her again. “It’s tiresome. Now, if I deigned to, I could tear your heart out with my teeth and eat it faster than you could even dream of shifting. So please, stop playing coy, and let’s talk business.”

  He said this as calmly as if he had been discussing the weather.

  With dawning realization, Sierra said, “You were the one in the woods that night. You were watching us.”

  “Clever girl. Yes. Myself, and my associates witnessed your little tumble in the woods.”

  Sierra decided not to ask if he was referring to her falling down or making love with Joe. His creepy smile suggested he might well have meant both.

  Her heart was pounding in her chest. Looking into his eyes, she didn’t doubt that he would kill her right there just to make a point. There was something sociopathic about the way he could so coolly describe eviscerating her while sipping his glass of Bordeaux.

  Around them, life proceeded as normal. The café patrons chatted happily with each other, read newspapers, and ate their baguettes, blissfully unaware of the danger.

  “Do you believe in anarchy?” he asked her.

  “What?” Sierra asked, bewildered by the shift in conversation.

  “Do you believe that society can remain civilized in the absence of government?”

  “No.” Sierra said after some hesitation. She wondered where on earth this was going.

  “Nor do I.” Dorrian replied. “Which is why I believe it is a mistake that shifters in this country remain largely ungoverned. They tend to fall into loose geographical conglomerations. Most of those are overseen by an Alpha or sometimes a council. But those Alphas are not held accountable by anyone. They all make their own rules. And that’s not even accounting for the many shifters living outside the pack structure.

  It’s chaos. Such ineffective management is what could lead to our discovery. What would have happened if someone shot the shifter who attacked you in the street? I hear you were just admitted to the hospital? We simply can’t have mistakes like this occurring if we wish to continue to avoid human detection.”

  “Those things weren’t Joe’s fault.” Sierra protested.

  “Joe’s Alpha.” Dorrian countered. “That makes it his responsibility to ensure accidents like these do not occur. Still, I can’t expect constant perfection, and he’s doing a better job than most. The pack I acquired last week in Savannah were eating so many humans the police thought they had a serial killer. So if he agrees to my terms, I would be willing to keep him on as Alpha.”

  “What are your terms?” Sierra asked.

  Dorrian smiled and reached into his briefcase. He produced a legal document at least forty pages long and passed it to Sierra. He then produced a second document twice as long as the first. The first was headed “Merger Agreement”. The second “Constitution o
f the Shifters Alliance of the United States”. Sierra scanned them briefly.

  “I currently control fifty-eight packs in the North Eastern and Central United States. Sleuth will be the first of many Western packs. Each pack is managed by their independently selected Alpha, but I set the laws and maintain the authority to remove and replace that Alpha if I think it is necessary.

  As Omega, I oversee all the packs, make sure they follow the laws, pay taxes, and provide for them as needed.”

  “And what if we don’t want to join your little totalitarian state?”

  Dorrian paused. He set down his wine glass and looked her in the eye.

  “Then I will slaughter one third of the population of your little town and leave one of my own people in charge. And I’ll take you back to New York with me, where I’ll keep you in a little cage and use you as I see fit.”

  And then he smiled.

  Dorrian stood up. He carefully set some money on the table for the check, finished off his wine, and turned to go.

  “Tell Joe he has a week to think it over.”

  He brushed one long finger over her bare shoulder as he walked out. Sierra’s skin crawled under his touch. The door shut behind him with a faint tinkle of the welcome bell. Sierra was left at the table, alone, clutching the papers in shaking hands.

  *

  The end table made a perfect arc as it sailed through the air before connecting with the wall with a bang. It shattered spectacularly, breaking into at least six separate pieces that tumbled to the floor. It left behind a significant dent in the wall. Plaster dust rained down on the broken scraps of wood.

  Joe had not been happy to hear about her lunch date with Dorrian.

  In a rage, he seized upon a chair and went to hurl that as well. There was a very tentative knock on the bedroom door.

  “Sir?” the meek voice of one of the maids intoned from behind the door. “Is everything alright?”

  “It’s fine! Go away!” he shouted.

  Sierra heard the maid’s footsteps retreating. Joe proceeded to rip the upholstered chair in half and throw each piece to the ground. Fluffy bits of stuffing drifted around the room. Joe grabbed the hope chest sitting at the foot of the bed.

  “Okay! Enough!” Sierra shouted at him.

  She yanked the big trunk out of his hands and took a brief moment to marvel at how easily she could lift it.

  “I know you’re angry! Stop taking it out on the antiques!”

  Joe collapsed into the remaining armchair in a huff, clutching the documents Dorrian had passed along.

  “THAT SON OF A BITCH CAN’T JUST WALTZ IN HERE AND-”

  “I know.” Sierra said. She knelt next to him and took his hand.

  “IF HE THINKS HE CAN THREATEN YOU-”

  “I know.” Sierra said again. She stroked his thigh lightly.

  They sat that way for a long time; Joe breathing heavily, slowly regaining his calm, Sierra leaning her head on his leg, kissing him and stroking.

  “I won’t let him hurt you,” he said quietly. “You, or any of my pack. It’s my job to protect them…”

  Joe put his head in his hands.

  “How am I going to protect them?”

  Sierra stood up. She took Joe’s face in her hands and lifted it up to meet her eyes.

  “You’ll find a way,” she told him. “We’ll find a way. It’s going to be alright. We’re not letting this slimy bastard beat us.”

  She kissed him gently. Joe took her head in his hands and pulled her close, deepening the kiss. There was a hunger in him. An almost desperate quality in the way he kissed her. It felt like he didn’t just want her, but needed her, a need so powerful it could swallow her up. Sierra allowed herself to be lost in that feeling.

  Joe stood and enveloped her in his strong arms. He buried his finger in her hair, locking her in his embrace. Sierra fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. She undid them slowly, one by one, letting her fingers trail across the muscles on his chest as she did so. She pushed the shirt off his shoulders and reached for his belt buckle. Joe’s lips moved to her neck, sending shivers down her spine as he kissed that smooth spot where her neck met her clavicle.

  She had his pants off now, leaving him standing before her naked except for his black silk boxers, which clung to his muscular thighs. The boxers were pulled taut by his throbbing erection.

  Joe pulled her blouse over her head. He knelt and kissed a line down from her navel to the top of her skirt, and in one deft motion pulled that off as well. Her body ached for him. She moaned as he ran a finger lightly across her panties; just the barest graze along her clit. It was torture. She pushed her panties off and he repeated the motion, just the lightest touch, and she moaned again.

  “Please,” she panted, not able to articulate anything beyond that.

  Joe smiled at her and obliged. He lowered his mouth and sucked on her clit as he slid two, practiced fingers inside her. She whimpered as those fingers stroked her g-spot.

  Sierra pulled him up and steered him towards the bed, unhooking her bra as she did so and letting it drop to the floor. He stroked one thumb across her nipple and he continued to kiss her.

  They fell onto the bed, tangled up in each other. Sierra hooked one leg around him and buried her hands in the hair on his chest. She pulled on it and he groaned appreciatively. There was fire smoldering in his eyes as he straddled her.

  There was only the thin silk of those boxers between them now. They were thin enough that he pushed the tip of his cock into her, just an inch. One, agonizing little inch. The boxers were wet when he pulled them back out.

  “Please,” she begged him again, “Please, please, please.”

  He slid off the boxers, revealing his huge cock. He entered her ever so slowly. Sierra threw her head back as she felt him fill her up. She held his body close to hers as he thrust into her. He buried his hands in her hair again and kissed her desperately.

  They lost themselves in each other. There was no more worry. No more Dorrian. There was only them, locked in this glorious moment together, building towards their fall.

  Sierra held him tighter, her legs wrapped around him as she came, shaking. Joe whispered that he loved her and came a moment later. Sierra could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

  They lay that way a long time, trying to catch their breath as they gazed into each other’s eyes.

  Joe stroked her hair.

  “What are we going to do?” she asked him.

  He kissed her and held her tighter, lost for an answer.

  *

  “Sierra…Sierra wake up.”

  Sierra opened her eyes groggily. She was still naked and tangled up in Joe’s sheets. Cinnamon was sleeping by her feet, snoring.

  Joe was shaking her lightly, trying to wake her. He was showered and dressed in one of his better suits. Based on the half-light streaming through the window, it was just passed dawn.

  “Sierra,” he prodded her, “You have to get ready now or we’ll miss our flight.”

  Sierra blinked and tried to process his words.

  “Our flight?” she asked. “Where are we flying?”

  “Atlanta.”

  She sat up in bed, fixing her tousled hair.

  “Why are we flying to Atlanta?”

  *****

  Two hours later, they were sitting in first class on their way to Georgia. Sierra sipped her fourth cup of coffee, hoping the caffeine would kick in soon.

  “Dorrian claims he has control of fifty-eight packs.” Joe said and he consulted a legal pad filled with scribbled notes. “The closest is a pack in Atlanta. Werewolves. The pack leader’s name is Pearl. She just so happens to be an old friend of mine. We’re meeting her for dinner.”

  “And what do you hope to gain from this dinner?” Sierra asked.

  “Dorrian’s a tyrant,” Joe said. “It’s not loyalty that binds these packs to him. It’s fear. Fear, mostly, or the strength of these other packs. If I can convince them to turn on him, he won’t h
ave the strength to back up his threats. So we start with Pearl, and then we convince fifty-seven more Alphas.”

  Sierra nodded and nibbled her in-flight peanuts.

  “We won’t need fifty-seven more.” She countered. “We’d need…twenty. Maybe less. Dorrian’s a business man. We don’t need all of them. We just need enough that if he tried to take control back he’d lose too many people. We need enough that it’s no longer cost effective for him.”

  Two hours later, they landed at Atlanta International Airport. As they stepped out the front doors, Sierra was hit with a humidity so thick for a moment she couldn’t breathe. She peeled off her coat and squinted up at the sun as Joe helped their driver load their luggage into the town car. Sierra climbed into the shaded car gratefully, sucking in the cool, air-conditioned air. Joe noticed and laughed at her.

  “They have this thing here in Georgia,” he told her. “It’s called sunlight. Not sure if you’ve heard of it.”

  Sierra rolled her eyes at him and reached for a bottled water, already missing the rainy skies in Washington.

  The town car took them to their hotel, where Joe and Sierra showered and changed for dinner. Joe eyed her with lust and approval as she stepped out of the bathroom in a short, green dress and heels. She turned to the mirror to put in her earrings and watched Joe’s reflection staring at her.

  “What?” she asked him.

  Joe stood behind her and kissed a line from her neck to her shoulder.

  “I think we can be a little late.”

  Forty-five minutes later, they were back in the town car and Sierra was trying valiantly to fix her hair again. She finally gave up on trying to re-tame the curls and pulled it back into a loose bun.

  Pearl lived in a sprawling old plantation house at the end of an unmarked dirt road. Bright green ivy crept up the sides of the white building. There were wolves wandering all over the property, most of them currently taking naps in patches of sunlight on the wide front porch. An old woman was waiting for them by the door. She wore a flowered dress that went well with her wide brimmed, pink sun hat and had her long, white hair neatly pinned in a bun. She looked like the perfect caricature of a southern belle. She smiled a broad, gap-toothed grin as they stepped out of the car.