Tempting Evil (Riley Jenson Guardian 3)

It was weird.

I was a werewolf. Sex was part of our psyche, part of our soul. Come full-moon time, I'd fuck the devil himself and wouldn't give a damn. So why this reluctance? Was it just the inherent sense of depravity I was picking up from Merle, or was it simply the fact that I was fucking him under orders from the Directorate, thereby taking one more step toward finally becoming a full guardian?

Was it a combination of both?

I didn't know.

What I did know was that I needed to talk to my brother. Desperately.

"Friendly is a matter of perspective." Merle pressed the hot ends of his fingers lightly against my chest and pushed me backward. I let myself fall onto the sofa, and watched as he stripped off his pants. Thankfully, his cock was standard stuff - no barbs, no furry stripes, just slightly less than regular-sized pinkish flesh. "He survives. That's friendly enough for anyone."

So the guard had been telling the truth when it came to the relationship between these two men. Interesting. But given my reaction to Moss, it definitely wasn't something I wanted to work with.

His gaze ran down my length, and an anticipatory grin split his lips. "I would fuck you for your looks alone, but it is a true bonus to do so first when Moss has chosen you."

He climbed on top, crouching on all fours over me. His aura revved up another notch, and suddenly it felt like I was drowning in a liquid that was all heat, all desire.

"Do not move. Do not talk."

Or what? I wanted to ask. But talking had become impossible under that wash of burning desire. All I wanted to do was obey. To feel him inside, foul or not. Passive wasn't much fun, but I guess fun wasn't the point of this whole thing. Not for me, anyway.

He thrust inside. With the force of his aura still assaulting my senses, the feeling of his flesh driving inside was such a relief a rumble of pleasure rolled up my throat. God, part of me was more than willing to be silent and still if it meant easing a little of the ache. And it didn't matter how bad his essence or how little I actually wanted him - my body screamed for the release only rigid flesh could bring.

Only it didn't get it.

It turned out Merle wasn't the caring, sharing type. He came far too quickly, leaving me aching with need and more than a little put out. A situation that was not improved when he dragged me up from the sofa then hauled me down the far end of the hallway to his own cold-feeling rooms. Where the whole process began again.

Frustrating, to say the least.

Especially since it pretty much set the tempo for the remainder of our time together. He used his aura like most men used foreplay, and while it made me ready for him, it also became incredibly boring - something I never thought I'd say about sex.

But then, I was never one for passiveness. I liked to get involved, to play and feel and taste. And occasionally, dominate.

Which meant, of course, I had to find something else to do while he got his trigger-happy rocks off. Short of throwing his dull ass off and finding a real lover, that was.

And really, there was only one avenue of exploration left - my senses.

Or rather, my psychic senses.

There were no cameras in Merle's room that I could see, and I hadn't felt the electronic buzz of deadeners anywhere within the mansion - even down here, in either Moss's or Merle's rooms. But Dia had mentioned their presence and I had no reason to doubt her. Besides, I'd seen them in the arena, so they had to be elsewhere. And while I had read the guard's mind with ease, maybe all it meant was that the elevator somehow ran under the radar of the deadeners.

Or maybe my talents were.

The implications of which wasn't something I wanted to waste time thinking about, though I was more than willing to test the full extent of any supposed increase, I carefully slid aside one layer of shields, suddenly grateful for all the weeks of training Jack had been giving me. Dia might have exposed a weakness in my telepathy skills when it came to attack, but that wouldn't be a problem here as I had no intention of dropping all shield layers to attack Merle. I just wanted to test whether I could read his thoughts or not.

And I could.

Sort of. His thoughts were there, a distant blaze of color I could see, but not quite touch.

But if I could see them, then surely I should be able to read them. I frowned and pressed a little harder. It felt like I was pushing through a wall of thick glue. Resistance dragged on every mental step, but it wasn't conscious resistance. Wasn't the sort of struggle that came from a telepath who realizes his mind is being invaded. Maybe Merle was too busy concentrating on satisfaction to grasp the fact his brain was being attacked. Or maybe my talents were simply slipping under his awareness in much the same manner as they were apparently slipping under the electronic deadeners.

But again, the whys of what was going on weren't important. Trying to reach and read Merle's thoughts was. The glue seemed to thicken near the center of the mental fence, and sweat broke out across my brow. My training with Jack had often left me mentally drained, but it had never left me physically exhausted, as this was threatening to. God, every ounce of strength I possessed was being channeled into trying to breach Merle's defenses, and my limbs were beginning to tremble with the effort. If I wasn't careful, he'd surely notice something other than sex was going on.

With the suddenness of a rubber band snapping, the glue gave way, leaving me mentally shaking but floating free in the rush of Merle's thoughts. Though rush was probably the wrong word to use - and if he was any indication, then men really did think of nothing more than reaching the big O during sex.

I moved carefully through his surface thoughts, past the gathering rush of satisfaction, into the darker areas of non-active thought. The bus Starr had mentioned earlier was indeed the one bringing in fresh bedding meat for the pleasure of Starr's guests. Who were, as I'd guessed earlier, both the "department heads" of his own organization, and the various representatives from other cartels. Surprisingly, Starr had no intention of killing them. He was biding his time, waiting until he had gained enough trust to draw the true leaders of the other crime organizations into his nest. But he didn't intend just a mass murder, but a mass replacement. Starr was from the Helki pack, and many Helki wolves were also true shapeshifters - they could assume any human shape they desired. Starr would insert his own people as the head of these organizations, and the cartels wouldn't be any the wiser.

Merle's body began to grind harder against mine and the fire of gathering ecstasy was greater in his mind - a warning I'd better hurry before awareness returned and he caught me in his thoughts.