Dangerous Games (Riley Jenson Guardian 4)

Though was there any such thing as an abnormal psycho?

"I'm heading to the Blue Moon, boss. Give me a call on the cell if you happen to track down Quinn."

"Will do."

I touched my ear once to turn off sound but not tracking, changed my clothes, then climbed into my car, and drove on to the club. As usual, there was a queue out the front, though given the full moon was still a few days off, it wasn't all that bad. I walked past them and ignored the annoyed comments thrown my way. If they were stupid enough not to make a permanent table booking in a club as popular as this one, well, that was their problem, not mine.

Jimmy, the half-lion-shifter, half-human bouncer gave me a huge gold-toothed grin as he looked me up and down. "I like the dress, but the drying blood on your arms and legs is a bit of a worry."

"You don't think it'll catch on as a fashion statement?" I paid my entrance fees and struck a pose.

He snorted softly. "No. You been in a fight again, girl?"

"Everyone knows there's nothing like a good fight to get the hormones going." I grinned and stood on my tippy-toes to drop a quick kiss on his cheek. "Anyone I know inside?"

"Kellen came through about half an hour ago looking for you."

Ah, good. I was hoping he'd be here - it saved me the trouble of ringing him and inviting him down. Jimmy opened the door, and I scooted inside. The air was rich with the scent of lust and sex, and I breathed deep, allowing the atmosphere to soak through every pore, every muscle, every bone. The desire burning through my bloodstream leapt into renewed focus, and suddenly it was all I could do not to shuck off my dress, dump my bag, and go join the sweaty, passionate crowd pressed so close together on the dance floor.

I loved this place. Always had. But in recent months, I hadn't come here as often as normal, and standing here now, I had to wonder why. I mean, Quinn had made it patently obvious he didn't like the werewolf lifestyle, didn't like our free and easy attitude to sex. despite the fact he was a benefactor of that attitude. And he hated me coming to the clubs when he was in town.

But it wasn't until now that I realized just how much I'd curbed my wilder nature for him.

At least I wouldn't have that trouble any longer. I could do who I wanted, when I wanted. I briefly raised my gaze, watching the hologram stars twinkle against the midnight-colored roof as I blinked away the sting of tears.

Damn him to hell, I thought, and headed down the steps. Closer to the dance floor, the sensual beat of the music was accompanied by grunts of pleasure and the slap of flesh against flesh. The fever in my blood rose to boiling point and my breath caught, then quickened. I wanted - needed - to get out there. To lose myself in the middle of that sweating, writhing crowd, to think about nothing more than sheer and utter pleasure.

Once again I resisted the temptation to just dump everything on a table, and walked instead into the changing rooms. After a quick shower to wash the sweat and blood from my skin, I finger-combed my damp hair, then shoved my clothes into the locker. Once I'd clipped the key onto a chain around my neck, I finally headed out.

The rich aromas of hunger and desire spun around me, a living thing that stole my breath and made the low-down ache even fiercer. Despite this, I stopped, my gaze scanning the lusty crowd. The moon fever might burn, but tonight there was only one I wanted. Someone totally to opposite Quinn in every way imaginable. Someone who was warm and caring and most importantly of all, dependable.

Someone who not only wanted me every bit as badly as Quinn, but who wanted me as I was, not as I could be if only I would allow myself to be that bit more malleable.

My gaze centered on the brown wolf dancing with several females on the far edge of the dance floor and anticipation zoomed through me.

I moved into the crowd, flirting, dancing, and teasing, enjoying the press of so much flesh but never stopping, my eyes always on the main prize.

He was dancing with several different females by the time I neared him, meaning he was merely cruising, waiting rather than participating. The thought had my hormones doing a happy little jig. I dropped a kiss on his shoulder blade and drew in his scent, so spicy and rich and male, then slid my hands around his waist and pressed my breasts against the heated flesh of his spine. As I echoed his dance moves, I skimmed my fingers down his abs, enjoying the tremor that ran through his muscles, feeling a sudden rush of power as he pressed back against me. Encouraging, demanding. My touch slid lower, caressing hair, then flesh. His penis was thick and hard, pulsing with desire. I caressed him, teased him, sliding my hands up and down his shaft as I slid my breasts up and down his back. His hunger flicked around me, a noose of heat that captured me, drowned me, making me hunger for him, making me ready for him.

I slid my hands to his hips, gently pulling him backward, guiding him deeper into the thick press of flesh, until the smell of sex so was powerful it was almost liquid and space was at such a premium that it felt like a hundred different people were touching, pressing, caressing.

We danced, my front to his back, a slow but carnal overture of what was to come. Sweat formed where our flesh touched, and the air was so thick with the heat of our desire I could barely even breathe. Then he turned, and smiled, before his mouth claimed mine and we were kissing like our lives depended on it.

And when it all became too much, he lifted me up and onto him. Then he was in me, stretching me, filling me, in a way so pleasurable I moaned the glory of it to the moon.

He began to move, thrust, and I moved with him, riding him hard, savoring the sensations flowing through me, until the waves of pleasure rippling my skin became a molten force that would not be denied. But as the shudders of completion ripped through us both, and the warmth of his seed flooded deep inside, a tiny part of me wished I was with another.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Forget him. Just forget him.

Kellen wrapped his free hand around the back of my neck, holding me still as he claimed another kiss. It was a fierce and demanding thing, and I let his hunger claim me anew, determined to enjoy regardless of how sad that tiny part of me might be.

"Your nose and mouth are looking a bit bruised," he said, after a while.

"I had a bit of a run-in with the wall."

"Work or an accident?"

"Work."