Packed: The Enforcer: A Shifter Paranormal Romance Read online

  Tek was wondering if he had made a mistake in assuming that she felt the same way about him as he did about her. When he took the time to consider it, he realized that – aside from when he'd been hurt – she hadn't made the usual demands most women would of the man they were in love with, even considering the fact that they really weren't supposed to be together. She was never there the next morning, she assumed he would reschedule his life around wanting to be with her – he was usually the one who instigated them getting together. She certainly hadn't dropped any hints about wanting to move in with him, or that she wanted to take their relationship any further than it had already gone. She didn't drool over rings or leave pictures of wedding dresses around for him to discover.

  And now, with her standing there, looking anywhere but at him, he wondered if he hadn't made a very big mistake.

  She was clutching the roses as if they were a lifeline and shaking like a leaf, he realized all of a sudden. She sank like a rock onto the hassock behind her, as if her knees had given way, and he felt horribly helpless all of a sudden.

  "Is this real?" she asked, looking up at him with tears in her eyes.

  "Yes, Mari Rose, it is."

  She didn't look any happier at the news.

  "Is that a good thing, as far as you're concerned, or a bad thing?" he finally had to ask, unable to read her body language at all, not that he was the best at doing anything like that anyway. He really wished that women would have one of those text bubbles like comic books had that would let everyone know exactly what emotion they were feeling at any given time. That certainly would make things a lot easier for males.

  In answer, she rose, still carrying the slightly crushed flowers, and walked into his arms, holding him so tightly she crushed the delicate blooms even further. "It's a very good thing," she whispered, clinging to him in a way she never had before. "You're not kidding, are you? You're not going to say April fools or psyche or anything like that, are you?" she asked worriedly as she pulled as far away from him as he would allow, which wasn't far.

  "No, I'm not. I promise. I've never lied to you before, and I won't start now, believe me." Granted, that was partially because she hadn't acted like a jealous lover and hadn't asked him questions that she really didn't want to know the answer to. But he had absolutely no doubts that she was the perfect woman for him, and he – who hadn't had much happiness or even good fortune in his life – found himself overflowing with love and happiness.

  He bent his head to kiss her, softly, romantically, but it quickly got out of hand. They were starved for each other, and the flowers fell unheeded – bit-by-bit – to the floor as they mashed themselves together and possessive mouths followed equally possessive hands.

  Eventually he pulled a little away, saying, "I want to take you right here and now, on the floor, but I want better than that for our first time really together again." So they made it – acting civilized – to the bedroom door, and then all hell broke loose.

  Chapter Seven

  He lifted her in his arms and carried her the short distance to her neatly made bed, reaching down to tug the covers down and off, so that he had a clean playing field, and he set her down as if she were as delicate as the roses they had trampled getting there. She was in a heavily faded royal blue and white t-shirt with the club's logo on it – albeit an old one - that was several sizes too big, and as he claimed her bare, flat belly with his big hand, he knew he recognized it.

  "That's my shirt," he said, not accusatorily, but puzzled by its appearance on her.

  She blushed, and not because his hand had boldly captured one of her breasts. "Yeah, it is."

  "Where'd you get it?"

  Mari's face turned a wildly bright red, and she tried to distract him from wanting an answer by kissing him deeply, which he enjoyed and participated eagerly in, until he released her lips and cupped her head firmly, not allowing her to move it, as he gazed down at her.

  He didn't have to repeat the question. She knew what he wanted to hear, and she also knew him well enough – unfortunately – that she didn't want him to ask again, either. So she sighed, somewhat petulantly, and explained, "I stole it out of your locker at the clubhouse."

  Her confession both surprised and amazed him. "You stole it?"

  "Yes. I...uh, borrowed...the master key out of the office and took this out of your locker." The design on the breast pocket of the newer version of the club's t-shirt he was wearing was suddenly of great interest to her.

  "Why?"

  She'd worried he'd get to that question sooner or later and squirmed under his pointed gaze. There was no way she wanted to answer him, but she knew he was going to make her, one way or the other. Mari sighed. She'd probably already earned herself a punishment of one sort or the other, and as much as she didn't want to confess that particular tidbit to him, she also didn't want to make things any harder on herself than she already had.

  But she also knew that, as long as she at least appeared to be trying to get it out, he wouldn't tack anything more on.

  Usually.

  "Well...I...um..."

  Apparently, she had miscalculated, because after only about two seconds of stalling him, she found herself bent over the edge of the bed, her pajama bottoms and frilly pink panties around her ankles as he reached down and relieved her of any hope of help from those two garments by flinging them across the room. Then, planting his big feet between her ankles and forcing her legs apart as he divested himself of his own clothes, he reached down to reclaim his jersey.

  She heard something plastic click and then the sound of a viscous liquid being squirted loudly, glassily out of a container, then silence. It took her just about long enough for him to do a second round of energetic squeezing, and just as his thickly wet index and third fingers met her cringing bottom hole, she realized what he had been doing – slathering his fingers, then himself, and now the spot he intended to occupy on her.

  Mari only managed to make one lunge away from him before his hand curved over her shoulder and he guided her right back to where she'd started from, then tapped the back of her neck.

  She knew just what that was the signal for, too. He wanted her to lace her fingers there – well out of his way, and where they would do her absolutely no good against him, either.

  And she took so long in obeying him that she could feel – and then hear – him reaching down to snick his thick leather belt out of his jeans.

  Her fingers made it into position in record time, not that she had any illusions that that was going to alleviate even the tiniest bit of the punishment she knew was about to come.

  And she wasn't disappointed.

  After he doubled it over in his hand, he began lashing her defenseless rear end as he spoke. "You agreed to be my submissive when you came back again this time – and you've submitted yourself to my dominance a few times since we first came together – and now I'm going to ask you again to take some time and decide whether or not you want to, because this time it'll be permanent. I won't release you, even if your brother forbids us to see each other again. I'll leave the club so that we can be together."

  That had her rearing up – not because of the unrelenting sting of the leather which already had her doing as much in the way of calisthenics as she could as she danced to its horrible tune, but because she'd never heard him once – ever – in all of the time she'd known him, suggest that he would leave the Alpha-Omegas. The club was his life, and she wasn't at all sure that he could function without it.

  But just the idea that he would even consider that told her just how serious he was about her, without him even ever having said he loved her.

  This was almost – in a strange way – more than love. He was willing to give up everything he was, everything he had ever been, for her.

  What was it that every thought she had, needed time to make a decision, all of a sudden? She was perfectly capable of knowing what she wanted on the spur of the moment, and she damned well wanted him!
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br />   Although not, necessarily at this particular moment, although it came out that way anyway.

  "I don't – yeow – have to take any – oohh! Oww! – time. I want – Jeebus! – to! I want to!"

  He was doing his best not to laugh at the idea that she was agreeing – during a thrashing – to even more of the same, but he wasn't doing a very good job of it. But he didn't let his unexpected mirth deter him from what he had set out to do. He covered every inch of what had been the pristine, ivory skin that he adored with angry red lines and welts, some of which inevitably overlapped, leaving livid red crosses that he knew would remind her for days afterwards to be more obedient.

  And, since he intended to move her lock stock and barrel into his house as soon as possible, he would be able to follow the progression of her healing – much like she had him, only for very different reasons – rather than just hearing about it from her whenever she sat down to dinner with him.

  "Still," he said, "I will ask you again when we've been together for a month or so, just in case." If she decided against it, he'd move her back, although he was pretty much counting on the idea that she'd stay with him. He didn't know what he'd do if she turned him down.

  Yes, he did. It would be like the interminably long year and a half spate where they weren't allowed to be together, and they were both trying to be good and obey the rules for once. He didn't like to dwell on those times, nor any of the others when she had disappeared from his life. They were dark, violent episodes for him, when his preferred method of occupying himself usually meant that someone else was going to get hurt, and he spent a considerable amount of time inebriated.

  He didn't care what it took, and he hadn't just been blowing sunshine about leaving the club. He had thought for years that it was the best thing in his life. That it had saved him when Alt had taken him under his wing and helped him develop into the valuable asset that he was to the club. Alt had admired the skills he had excelled at while he was in the military, and had built on that, sending him far and wide to become an expert at pretty much every weapon there was, legal and illegal, including his own body. He had a black belt in all of the major disciplines, and had completed, and in a lot of cases taught, every self defense class that was out there.

  He was a fighting machine – point him and shoot him, as Alt used to say, and the enemy fell down in his wake. He had helped the Alpha-Omegas become a force to be reckoned with, and not just in New Mexico. The successes he helped them attain meant that they could franchise the club out, and now they had a very tidy, very steady income from the dues of members in clubs all across the states.

  Alt had helped him learn to channel his rage for the club's – and his own – benefit. He had been like a surrogate father to Tek.

  Except for one thing. Tek had his eye on Mari. He'd stayed away from her as much as he could and certainly the thought never even crossed his mind to make any improper advances, but she was everywhere. He bided his time until she turned eighteen – although she was still in high school because of her late-in-the-year birthday, and he'd attended – as had the whole club – her birthday party that October. It was a week or so late that year because of business with the club, but Mari didn't care – except that meant she wouldn't get her presents until then! He could still remember what she wore. It was a beautiful sundress, in her favorite lavender, with bits of lace here and ruffles other places.

  He'd thought a lot about what to get her for her birthday. He knew her dad was giving her a car, although it certainly wasn't a new one, and it wasn't in the least flashy – it was a nice, solid, boring, green late model Camry that would – in all likelihood – last her until she could buy her own, new car.

  So he settled on something he knew she wouldn't expect, but that he hoped she'd like – he took the car before it was presented to her and had it painted the same exact shade as her dress. He worried that it might turn out looking like a big grape or something, but he knew a really good guy who did a great job with it. It turned out better than he'd expected, and Mari had given him a big hug as she jumped up and down and thanked him, and her dad, of course, exuberantly.

  Alt handed her the keys, and she got behind the wheel, but instead of choosing one of her many girlfriends with which to take her inaugural ride, she chose Tek.

  He was very startled at her choice and had nervously glanced at Alt for the okay before getting into the passenger's side.

  She'd been driving her dad's car for three years now, and was relatively experienced, but he still kibitzed, telling her to slow down and that she tailgated, but she ignored everything he'd said, very much like she did with her dad. But when they stopped at a light that he knew was going to take a while to cycle back around to them, he reached over and turned the car off, saying, "Get out."

  Mari looked bewildered. "What? Why?"

  His door was already open, and he had one foot on the ground. "If you're going to ignore everything I'm telling you, and continue to drive like a dumbass, then you ain't driving me."

  "All right, all right," she agreed, restarting the car but driving much more slowly than she had been and leaving more than enough space between her car and everyone else's, for once.

  "That's better."

  Mari humphed petulantly.

  "Be happy I didn't follow my first instinct, little girl."

  "I'm not a little girl – I'm eighteen and one week!" What was it about this man that made her instantaneously agitated in a way that no one else did? She liked almost everyone, but Tek got under her skin faster than anyone else – and yet she craved being close to him. Hell, she turned down parties with her friends to go hang out at the club on the off chance that he would be there. And she knew her dad wouldn't approve of how she felt, so she was smart enough not to broadcast it to anyone. Her closest girlfriends didn't even know.

  "Don't argue with me, little girl," he warned mildly, smiling behind his hand at her exasperated sigh.

  After a few minutes, she asked, "Why didn't you follow your first instinct? What was it?"

  He chuckled, and Mari thought it sounded lovely. He almost never laughed. "Something your father would probably kill me for, although it's something he should have done a lot more of with you, I can see."

  She frowned, thinking, then gasped and glared at him accusingly. "You were going to spank me!"

  "Keep your eyes on the road, Mari." He was still smiling, like the cat that ate the canary.

  "Weren't you?" she prodded.

  "Got it in one. Everyone always says you're smart; I guess you really are."

  "Well, it's a damned good thing you didn't!" she said, somewhat alarmed that she was having to work on being outraged at him, even though it was an entirely outrageous thought for him to have. It seemed more titillating to her than brazen, especially with a guy like Tek, who set off all of her warning bells. He was a bad boy – a bad man, she corrected. Her mother used to warn her against away him when she had first started developing, although her father had always said that, if the shit should hit the fan, she should go to him, because he would keep her safe.

  Mari'd had her doubts about what her father had said, even when she was younger, and now that she was legal and had grown up a lot more, she knew that she might have been safe with Tek in some ways, but in danger with him in others.

  And that appealed to the wild streak in her. She knew she was going to go off to college next fall and intended leave this place in the dust. She also knew that if her dad found out that she had made a pass at an older man – he was twenty-six or so, she thought to her eighteen and one week – especially Tek – that he would probably ground her for life, although she didn't suppose he could really do that, since she was of legal age now.

  It was much more likely that he would take her car away, which would be horrid, especially since it was such a beautiful color, thanks to Tek, but she could work around that. She'd ridden her bicycle all over hell's back acre before she'd learned how to drive, she supposed she could go re
tro as long as she needed to.

  Besides, she could always catch a ride with someone to a convenient spot and have him pick her up.

  "Yeah, but you sorely need keeping in line, little girl."

  "I do not!"

  He motioned for her to turn into the parking lot of a local ice cream shop – not that they hadn't had their fill of cake and ice cream back at her dad's house. Or at least, she had.

  "Now there you go. Arguing with your elders. There's a spankable offense right there."

  She got out of the car just as he was coming around to open the door for her, and he chided her again. "You should always let the man carry the heavy things and open doors for you and all that stuff."

  "Why? I'm perfectly capable of doing all that myself, even the heavy stuff."

  He offered her his arm and she hesitated, then took it. "Because a good man will treat you the way you expect to be treated. You should always expect to be treated as a very special lady, and that means that he should always observe every courtesy with you."

  She had to shake her head. That sounded like very strange advice, coming from a man like him. Granted, she didn't know him all that well, but she knew of him, and everyone always warned her about him, although they never really gave her any specifics to work with, either. "And is that how you treat your lady?"

  He held the door to the ice cream shop open for her, too, both the inner and the outer, and then pulled back her chair before seating himself inside. But when the waitress handed him a menu, he handed it back. "We'll share a brownie hot fudge sundae with Mystic Mint ice cream, please."

  She gave him a raised eyebrow, half smile look, as if she wanted an explanation for what she considered his aberrant behavior.

  "Ice cream is my weakness," he confessed.

  "But there was a ton of it at my party!"

  He raised his eyebrow back at her. "Let me rephrase that. Good ice cream is my weakness. Especially Mystic Mint."