Unleash the Night (Dark-Hunter 8)

She thought he might be frowning as he picked up the tissue paper on top and held it to his face. He seemed to be savoring it...

"What are you doing?" she asked with a frown.

Without responding, he set the paper aside, then reached in and pulled out the gray sweatshirt inside. She smiled at his confusion.

"I know you said you're taking classes at UNO, but I couldn't bring myself to put a pirate on you. I saw the LSU tiger shirt in a store and had to buy it. I know it's weird, but I've always had a thing for tigers and I thought it'd look good on you."

He cocked his head to the side as if completely perplexed or intrigued by her words. "Thank you, Maggie."

The sound of that nickname on his lips brought a shiver to her. She loved the way he said it-sure, deep, and protective. It was almost like an endearment.

"So is there anything I can do for you?" she asked.

Wren stiffened at her question, in more than one way. The one thing he wanted from her was the one thing he could never ask-to have her naked in his bed. And that added a deep, inexplicable burning to his chest. "I'm fine."

"You sure? I could get-"

"Aimee?" he called, interrupting her.

The door opened instantly to show him the bear-swan. She passed a quick look between them as she drew near the bed.

"She needs to leave," Wren told her.

Aimee nodded, then reached for Maggie.

She shrugged off Aimee's touch. "Wren..."

"I need to rest, Maggie. Please."

Marguerite hesitated at the strain she heard in his voice. How could she argue with that? He was in extreme pain because he had saved her life when most men would have turned the other way and not bothered.

"Okay." She moved back toward the bed and leaned down to kiss him lightly on the cheek.

Wren couldn't breathe as desire roared through him. It was all he could do to not pull her into his bed...

Before he could think better of it, he caught her head as she started to pull away and pulled her lips to his. He growled at the sweet taste of her. At the softness of her lips under his. It was the first time in his life he'd ever tasted a woman, but even so he couldn't imagine any woman tasting better than this one. She was incredible.

Maggie's lips were soft and decadent. They awoke a fierce hunger inside him that craved nothing but her. It was a hunger that both scared and thrilled him in a way he would never have thought possible.

He shouldn't feel this. Not for a human. Not for anyone.

God save them both from his ragged emotions.

Marguerite moaned as she tasted the feral wickedness of Wren's mouth. His tongue swept against hers, making her shiver. He smelled of patchouli and antibiotic cream.

More than that, he smelted of raw, earthy male. Of wicked midnight delights that she wanted to spend the entire day sampling.

He pulled away with a deep snarl. "Go, Maggie. Before it's too late."

His words confused her completely. "Too late for what?"

"Aimee," he said between clenched teeth as he refused to look at Marguerite.

Aimee pulled her back. "C'mon, Maggie. He really should rest."

Wren watched as the women left. His heart ached at the loss. Even now Maggie's scent clung to him. It filled his nostrils, making the beast inside him roar with possessiveness. It wanted her in a way that was hard to deny.

He placed the heel of his hand against his groin, which was rock hard and throbbing. He'd never wanted anything more than he did right now to have a night alone with her.

But it was impossible and he knew it.

She was human and he was an animal... in more ways than one. There was no way he could trust himself with a woman. No way he could trust himself with anyone. He could turn vicious in a single instant. It was the curse of his people and his breed.

Even his own mother had turned on his father...

Sighing, Wren looked at the gray sweatshirt Maggie had brought to him. He felt a smile curl his lips, and that was the most amazing thing of all. He couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled. Hell, he wasn't even sure if he'd ever smiled before in his life.

A foreign feeling entered his chest. He didn't know what it signified. He held the tissue paper to his face. It held the faintest trace of Maggie's sweet, feminine scent. He crushed it in his fist as a brutal wave of desire consumed him.

Moving the paper aside, he held her gift in his fist as he lay back down.

Someone knocked on his door.

His breath caught as he hoped it was Maggie again, but it wasn't. Aimee entered the room.

"You okay, cub?"

He nodded. Aimee was the only person he allowed to call him cub. She didn't use it as an insult but more as a friendly pet name. Of all the people and animals in Sanctuary, Aimee was the only one who had ever made him feel halfway welcome. But she, like the others, feared him. She was afraid even now, though she was trying to hide it.

She crossed the room. As she reached for the bag and paper, he hissed and growled at her. She straightened up instantly. "I thought you'd want it thrown away."

"No."

She held her hands up in surrender. "Just so you know, I sent her home."

It's where Maggie belonged, but the thought lacerated his heart with pain. He didn't want her home. He wanted...

He wanted her here with him.

How stupid was that?

"Why didn't you give her her backpack?" Aimee asked in an innocent tone.

He glanced to the corner where Maggie's black Prada backpack was resting. Maggie had left it in the bar, under the table, during the confusion of last night. Aimee had found it not long after Maggie had left and told him about it this morning. He'd immediately ordered Aimee to bring it to him. He hadn't wanted anyone else to touch something so personal to Maggie.

"I forgot."

Aimee nodded. "You want me to take-"

"No!"

The bearswan gave him a sharp stare. "You need to curb that temper, cub. You know what Maman has said."

He returned Aimee's stare tit for tat. "I don't want your scent on her property. Understand?"

Aimee rolled her eyes at him. "What is it with you freaky cats? I swear I don't know who's more territorial, you or the wolves. Artemis protect us from the lot of you."

He watched as Aimee left the room and gently shut his door. He cradled the shirt to him as he closed his eyes and conjured up Maggie's face. Nick had been right, she was a beautiful lady. He finally understood what Nick had meant when he'd called her top-quality goods. It bled from every part of her.

And he was nothing but a hunted piece of shit whose life was as worthless as a twig.

It was true. His life was worthless. He was worthless. He'd destroyed everything he'd ever touched.

Aching with the truth, he let his human form dissolve into that of a tiger. He stared at his large white paw on the shirt. What he wouldn't give to be a human male. Then again, he would kill to be anything other than what he really was.

All he'd ever wanted was to belong somewhere. Anywhere. But it wasn't meant to be.

Part of him wanted to rip the shirt apart to rid it from his sight, but the other part refused to let him. Maggie had given it to him. She had gone out of her way to bring it here. It was a gift. A real gift, and he would treasure it as such.

Closing his eyes, he could still taste her kiss. Smell, her scent on his skin.

And God help him, he wanted more.

Marguerite couldn't get the taste of Wren to leave her. She'd never had any man kiss her like that. It'd been sinful and wicked. Decadent. Possessive and hot.

He was so not the right kind of man for her to think about. He was a busboy. Her father would have an apoplexy if he ever learned she'd spoken to, never mind kissed, a man like Wren.

But that didn't matter to her. Wren was wonderful.

"And he saved my life," she said under her breath. There was no way Blaine or Todd would have done such a thing, and even if they had, they wouldn't have walked her home with a bullet wound in them. They would have lain on the ground, screaming for an ambulance and the best surgeon money could buy to be flown in from the Mayo Clinic.

But Wren had never said a word about his injury. Then again, he wasn't exactly chatty. She'd never met anyone who spoke less. And yet she was more attracted to him than she'd ever been attracted to anyone. He said so much more with silence than most others with a thousand words.

She couldn't help wondering if part of his appeal was the fact that he was so socially unacceptable to her father. She could just imagine introducing them.

"Hi, Dad, this is my boyfriend. I know he needs a haircut and that he works in a biker bar, but isn't he great?"

Her father would instantly have a seizure.

Even so, she still tasted Wren's lips. Felt the steel of his hand cupping her head as he tasted her.

How could anyone make her this hot?

"Put it out of your mind."

Yeah, that was easier said than done. All she wanted was to head back to the bar and see him again.

"I can't."

As much as she liked Wren, she loved her father, and her father would never, ever accept her dating someone like Wren. She couldn't do that to him, even if he was an egomaniacal SOB who was more worried about his constituency than his daughter. He was still her father, and since her mother's suicide, he was all the family Marguerite had.

She couldn't see Wren anymore. She couldn't. No matter what these weird feelings inside her thought or argued, their acquaintance was over.