Claws and Fangs Read online

  Chase suddenly stepped back and his arms were gone, leaving her feeling cold and sexually frustrated.

  “I’ve seen enough.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll take it. Let’s get back to your office and draw up an offer.” He was brusque after that.

  The next day, Chase agreed to the seller’s first counteroffer. The paperwork was finalized for the sale and he refused to allow her to take him to dinner to celebrate his purchase. It hurt. The warmth and friendliness was gone. He was cold and withdrawn once their business had been concluded.

  The attraction was so powerful that it was almost unsettling. She couldn’t stop wishing he’d call and ask to see her again.

  It hadn’t ever happened. That had been the last time she’d seen Mr. Woods, but his memory lingered in her dreams. It explained why her imagination would bring him into her nightmare.

  His voice drew her out of her memories and back into the hellish basement...

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  “Hurry up,” he demanded. “I don’t want to be here all night.”

  That sexy voice was one she’d never forget. It still made the feminine parts of her respond. It was whiskey and honey, husky but full of strength. A bitter laugh threatened to burst forth. She was dying, and her mind had decided to create more fantasies that included him. It beat fixating on the horrific way her life would end.

  The slats in the door were wide enough to watch him cross the room to retrieve a shovel. She reached out to touch the rough wood, wishing she could get closer. The chain jerked her in place when the length, shackled to her wrist, pulled taut. The cuts, caused by her struggles to wiggle free, hurt enough to make her whimper.

  Mr. Woods suddenly spun to face her. She couldn’t see his face in the shadows but his eyes seemed to glow blue—and he was looking right at her. He dropped the shovel and headed toward the wall.

  She froze in place, barely breathing as he crouched on the other side of the door. The change in the color of his irises was stunning, only strengthening her belief that it was just her mind playing tricks.

  “Hi,” she got out, barely a whisper, not caring if she was talking to a figment of her imagination. Her voice came out rough, dry, and it hurt. She’d kill for a sip of water.

  His eyes definitely radiated blue as they widened, and then his fingers dug between the slats. Wood snapped when he yanked hard, tearing it away.

  “Son of a bitch.” His tone deepened into a snarl, his anger clear.

  Jasmine swallowed, trying to stay in the fantasy. It beat the alternative. “Did you ever build those condos?” She wanted to wince at how horrible her voice sounded. It seemed pretty pathetic to screw up a daydream.

  “Jasmine?” He leaned closer, a dark shadow.

  He gently gripped her upper arms. It still hurt but she didn’t pull away. He had big hands, and the warmth of them was worth the pain. His glowing gaze traveled down her body where she sat in the dark, cramped space, before lifting to meet hers.

  “I’ll get you free.” One hand released her and he magically withdrew a knife from his long coat. “Hang on.”

  He dropped his other hand to grip the shackle on her wrist. It hurt enough to make her cry out but he didn’t stop. The tip of the metal stabbed the lock and he flicked his wrist. The shackle parted, releasing her. He tossed it aside and the chain fell to the dirt next to her knee. He repeated the process to free her from the other restraint.

  “Come here.” He shoved the knife back into his coat and opened his arms. “Crawl to me. I don’t want to drag you out.”

  Every movement hurt but she managed to shift to her knees, careful of the low roof of the storage area she’d been confined inside. He backed up enough to give her room. She straightened the second she was clear and threw her arms around his broad shoulders. Her breasts were smashed against warm cotton and a firm torso.

  His soft, silky hair was down now, testament to him being a fantasy. The real man had always kept it secured in a leather tie at the base of his neck. She’d always wanted to see how it would look free from that confinement.

  His strong, thick arms wrapped around her waist. She breathed him in instead of the atrocious stench she’d adjusted to. Her nose buried into the long strands of his hair. “You smell so good.”

  His massive body tensed.

  “Don’t let me go.” She didn’t mind dying if she could just hold on to the memory of him. It meant she wouldn’t die alone, despite him not being real. “Please. Don’t leave me.”

  He drew her closer by tightening his hug. “I’ve got you, Jasmine.”

  She wished that were true. “I’m glad it’s you.”

  He stroked her back. “You’re safe.”

  Exhaustion took hold as his warmth surrounded her. Her eyes closed for the first time in days as she clung to him, and the fantasy that had brought him.

  Chase softly cursed as the woman in his arms turned limp. He could hear her steady heartbeat as he lifted her more securely into his arms. He stood and turned to stare at the wolves. One of them spoke.

  “What do we do with her? Can you wipe her memory? It would be a shame to kill her after all she’s survived, but there may be no choice.”

  Chase hesitated. “She’s none of your concern. Clean this up and remove all evidence of what happened. I’m taking her somewhere safe. There’s been enough death here.”

  He strode out of the basement with Jasmine cradled in his arms. He’d liked the sweet, soft-spoken woman a little too much. She’d bravely met him—a stranger—at night to show him possible sites for the pack to roam. She’d also easily bought into his lies, making it possible to avoid altering her thoughts. He’d found her attractive and had picked up her very subtle hints that she was interested, but he’d ignored every one. She was the type of woman he’d destroy.

  He refused to allow that to happen, despite the way his body had reacted to Jasmine. She had wavy hair that reminded him of coffee and cream. Most of it was shades of brown with blonde highlights. He’d fantasized running his fingers through those tresses of hers. Her eyes reminded him of the sky, pale blue, and they held a look of innocence. Her curvy body was the opposite, drawing a man’s lust with her full breasts and flared hips he wanted to touch and explore. She was human though, fragile, and bringing one into his world could become hazardous to her health. He’d never allow harm to befall her, even if that meant he was the one she needed to be protected from.

  Of course, now everything had changed.

  “Chase?”

  He clenched his teeth as a shadow near the front door moved. Arry stepped into his path, her green eyes narrowed. She shouldn’t be there, yet she was. Irritation flashed as he stared back at her, knowing she’d purposely arrived in hopes of him needing her somehow. It was never going to happen.

  “Open it and move.”

  “Who is she? Dinner?” A pink tongue darted out to swipe ruby-red lips. “Not very appealing.”

  A growl of anger burst forth before he could halt the instinct. Arry might actually mean her words. He and Arry were as different as night and day. “Do as you’re told. She’s a survivor.”

  “Not for long. She’s circling the drain.”

  He trusted Arry’s sense of smell better than his own. She was older. “Get the door,” he snapped. “You’re visiting my territory, and you’ll do as you’re told.”

  “Fine.” She opened it wide, stepping out of his way. “You should let me drink her and just end it. She’s got twelve hours at most.”

  Not if Chase had anything to say about it. He glanced around, certain no one watched. His senses didn’t tingle as he strode to his car and gently adjusted Jasmine in his hold as he situated her in the passenger seat then closed the door. He paused at the driver’s door to peer over the top of the car. Arry stood silent, her blonde hair white under the streetlights.

  “Help them clean up that mess inside.”

  “I’m here to see you, not dispose of rogue kill.”

  “It’s an order. D