CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER FIVE

Mic in hand, Mila let the lyrics and raw emotion pour out of her and into the song. Harley perfectly complemented the dance tune as she played her electric violin, and the DJ hyped up the cheering crowd with his own mic. There was so much energy in the club, it was crazy. Performing was a rush for Mila. An intoxicating, unparalleled high that made her feel alive and free . . . taking her up and up and up.

Her cat loved experiencing that rush. Loved the feel of so much adrenaline pumping through her.

Onstage, Mila could forget everything else. Could shed her frustration with her pride for having spent the past six days trying to convince her not to mate with Maksim. Could shed her anger with Joel for going ape-shit on her earlier when she refused to budge on moving to Russia. Could even shed her irritation at the bitches who were trying to edge their way into the VIP area where Dominic was sitting.

He hadn’t bothered her once since that day at the barbershop, so he’d obviously accepted that she had no interest in starting anything with him. Yeah, all right, a very illogical part of her was disappointed by that. But it was for the best.

She was surprised to see him back at the club, since Harley had told her that he wasn’t a regular there. When Mila had first spotted him sitting at the table with a few Mercury Pack members, her heart had slammed against her rib cage. Knowing better than to make eye contact and get ensnared by one of his “I am so going to fuck you” looks, she kept her gaze on the people crowding the dance floor.

As she reached the instrumental portion of the song, Mila moved aside while Harley did a solo. Like the audience, Mila clapped and cheered for the insanely talented margay shifter.

Whipping out her phone, Mila put her back to the crowd as she took selfies and even recorded a little video of them all bobbing, singing, dancing, and hooting. That only made them go wilder. And then, once again, she was pouring herself into the song.

Dominic could only stare at Mila, sincerely blown away by how much raw natural talent she possessed. Her smoky, scratchy voice was filled with soul and power. Her joy and exhilaration bled out into the crowd, which was loving her performance because she was loving it.

A siren. She was a fucking siren. Engaging and entrancing the crowd so effortlessly. All those snarls, twangs, and gritty vocals went straight to his cock.

There was so much passion in her, she was unbelievably compelling and made him feel . . . greedy. At that moment, he wanted to own all that passion. Wanted it for himself. Wanted her for himself. And that thought made him straighten in his seat, double-blinking, because there had never been a single time in his life when he’d felt remotely possessive of a woman.

He barely knew Mila. Hadn’t even touched her. And yet, there was something about her that pulled him in. It was because she was real, he realized as he watched her perform onstage—no alter ego, no fake stage persona. She was authentic. Didn’t put on a show or wear a mask. She was true to who she was whether she was cutting hair, singing onstage, or merely sitting at a bar.

Many people wore masks, even if it was only for the workplace or for dealing with strangers—it was human nature, really, to wrap your sense of self in protective layers. If people hurt or rejected the mask, it wasn’t so personal; it lessened the pain. But Mila was just . . . Mila. And he suspected that was part of where her steadiness came from. Only someone who was truly genuine could have that degree of inner balance.

His wolf was just as captivated by her performance. Was just as hungry to touch and take.

A hand snatched his empty beer bottle from the table. “Want another?” Charlene asked.

“No, thanks, I’m driving,” he told her.

Everyone clapped as the song ended. Mila gave a brief shout-out to Harley and the DJ before thanking the crowd and wishing them a good night. Dominic watched her disappear off the stage and then waited impatiently for her to walk out of the door that . . . and there she was. Instead of walking to the bar, she turned the corner that led to the restrooms.

Dominic stood as he spoke to Jesse. “I’ll be back soon.”

Jesse sighed, casting a brief glance in the direction that Mila had headed. “You’re wasting your time with that one. I’m sure a woman being uninterested is something of a novel concept for you, though,” he teased, his mouth quirking.

“I don’t think you should take her rejection personally, Dominic,” said Charlene. “I’ve seen plenty of guys come on to Mila. She’s not mean about it, but she shoots them down.”

Dominic’s wolf growled, not liking the idea of her being hounded by other males. “I won’t be long.”

Charlene frowned. “But—”

Ignoring her, Dominic left the VIP area and began winding his way through the cluster of tables. Some of the females tried catching his attention, but he simply said his hellos and never broke stride as he shouldered his way through the throngs of people and finally turned into the long corridor.

There was a line near the entrance to the women’s restroom, so he waited near the exit, his hip propped against the wall. It wasn’t long before Mila came strolling out the door. Seeing him, she came to a sharp stop and sighed, rubbing her temple as if weary. It was probably odd that that made him smile.

Dominic let his gaze rake over her. “Me. You. Handcuffs. A paddle. Any questions?”

“Yes, why haven’t you been committed to a mental health facility?”

He put a hand to his chest. “That hurts.”

“Not as much as our weird-ass conversations do.”

Chuckling, he pushed off the wall and crossed the space to her. “As it happens, my Alpha is considering having me committed. Especially since I keep claiming my watch is magic. But it really is.”

She gave him a droll look. “Is that so?”

“Oh yeah.” He glimpsed at his watch. “According to this, you’re not wearing underwear.”

Her brows drew together. “Actually, I am.”

“Really? Hmm.” Frowning, he tapped the watch. “Must be an hour fast.”

She shook her head, lips twitching. “Unreal.”

Dominic boldly stepped into her personal space and cupped her hip. Her pupils swallowed the color of her eyes, and a flush built on her cheeks. “You didn’t call me,” he said softly.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Why not?” He traced the hollow of her hip bone with the pad of his thumb. “You want me. Maybe even as much as I want you.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t attracted to you. Just that I wasn’t going to sleep with you.”

“Who said anything about sleeping?”

Mila almost shivered as that soft, silken whisper feathered over her skin and promised a sexual satisfaction she’d yet to experience. She was so susceptible to him, it wasn’t even funny. Blindsided by sexual chemistry, her hormones were in a frenzy and her skin was all tingly.

Her cat was . . . well, not pleased to see him. She was never happy to see anyone. But the feline didn’t find him quite as annoying as she found most people. She liked his strength, boldness, and determination. Even liked his playful streak, despite not being particularly playful herself.

Feigning indifference—or at least giving it her best shot—Mila sighed. “Don’t you think this is a little sad? You’re a grown man so bad at handling rejection that you absolutely have to seduce the girl just to reaffirm your sense of manliness.”

“It would be sad if you were right. I won’t deny that your unequivocal no pressed a button for me. But that wouldn’t have been enough to maintain my interest in you if there hadn’t been other things at play. I could list all those things, but you’ll just accuse me of feeding you shit to flatter my way into your panties.”

“I don’t wear panties, I wear thongs.”

He swallowed. “And now I know there is a God.”

Mila smiled before she could stop herself. “You’re insane.”

A group of girls stumbled out of the restroom, almost going ass over tit. Before they could bump into Mila, Dominic smoothly pulled her into the little alcove branching off the corridor. He gently straightened one of her curls and then let it go, smiling as it bounced back into shape. “I’ve been wanting to do that since I first saw you on that stage. I like watching you sing.”

Her brow creased. “Don’t you mean hearing me sing?”

“No, although I do love your voice. It’s all sex and sin and soul. I swear, you could sing the alphabet and my cock would get hard just listening to you. But I also love watching you perform. You get this intensity about you, like you’re crackling with energy. Your eyes gleam, your face gets all flushed, and your body oozes sex. And it makes me wonder if you look like that when you come.”

It wasn’t until her back hit the wall that Mila even realized he’d been slowly and expertly herding her backward. “Smoothly done, GQ. Now step aside.”

Instead, he caught her earlobe between his teeth. “Shall I tell you what I want to do to you?” He breathed her in, filling his lungs with her. “I want to taste and nip that very bitable mouth. Want you naked beneath me so I can play with those pretty breasts and suck on those nipples. Want to spread your thighs and eat your pussy until you come all over my mouth. And then . . . then I’ll fuck you. There’ll be nothing slow or easy about it. I’ll fuck you hard and deep.” He slid his hand from her hip to her lower stomach, splaying his fingers wide as he added, “So fucking deep you’ll feel me right here. And you’ll come screaming.”

Mila silently moaned. The bastard really needed to stop talking. The air was thick with a sexual tension that purred against her skin.

Telling herself that he’d probably given that exact speech to dozens of different women, she lifted her chin. “Look, beneath all the weirdness, you seem like a nice guy. But I’ve told you before, I like men, not little boys. You want sex at its most basic, where there are no ties involved. That’s fine, but I want more than that. Which is why I’ll soon be moving to Russia.”

Dominic went completely still. “Moving to Russia?”

“For the arranged mating, remember?” Mila’s last word came out a little breathy, because he’d crowded her even more against the wall. Their bodies were pressed so close that Mila could feel his cock throbbing against her clit even through their clothes. Jesus, that was quite a lot of heat he was packing. Her cat unsheathed her claws, ready to rake at his face if he made a wrong move.

“You said it wasn’t official.”

“It’s not.”

Dominic’s eyes narrowed. “You’re immigrating to Russia, leaving your pride and family and friends . . . even though it’s not official?”

She shrugged. “I need a change of scenery.”

“There’s more to this.” Dominic sensed she was leaving out some details. “What are you determined to get away from?” He traced the line of her jaw with his fingertip, fighting to keep his anger in check—yeah, he did know it was an illogical anger. “You’re not a runner. No, you’d stay and look your problems right in the eye. For you to move to another country, it must be something big. Something bad.” The same something that was responsible for the shadows in her eyes, maybe. “Tell me what it is, Mila.”

Her eyes flared. “How about instead I buy you a glass of mind your own goddamn business?”

Sensing she was ready to push him away, he softly said, “All right, easy. If you truly don’t want this, I’ll back off and leave you alone. But I want a kiss first.” He brushed his nose against hers. “I want just one taste of you, Mila. No harm in that, right?” He ground his cock against her clit, delighting in her little throaty moan. “Just one taste. Let me have it.”

In the grip of a hissing, spitting, clawing need, Mila swiped her tongue along her lower lip. “Just one,” she said. He slowly dipped his head, lowering his mouth to hers. And the tension between them just . . . exploded.

He took her mouth like he owned it, lashing her tongue with his. Mila moaned, gripping his shoulders. The kiss was hard. Hungry. Carnal. Red-hot waves of need coursed through her blood and twisted her insides.

Greedy for more, she curved her body into his and ground against his cock. He growled into her mouth, kissing her harder and deeper, as he shoved his hand under her tank top and closed it around her breast. Mila dug her nails into his shoulders, holding on as he devastated her senses. If this was going to happen just once, she might as well enjoy it.

Dominic bunched his free hand in those curls, groaning at the silky feel of them. He was now officially obsessed with her mouth—it was soft and hot and tasted so fucking good. He squeezed her breast, barely refraining from clawing off her bra and sucking on the taut nipple that was digging into his palm. He settled for giving it a light pinch, swallowing her thick, needy moan.

This thing between them was no case of simple lust. It was a vicious, wicked hunger that stole every sane thought from his brain. He could feel the heat of her pussy against his dick, and it was driving him out of his mind. All he could think of doing was freeing his cock, slamming it deep inside her body, and fucking her so raw she’d never forget it.

Sifting her fingers through his hair, Mila tried taking over the kiss. The bastard didn’t let her. With a possessive snarl, he curled his hand around her throat. Mila tensed, and her cat bucked at the dominant hold. But all thoughts of resistance drained from Mila’s body when his mouth latched on to her pulse and he sucked hard. Her soft, raspy moan was laced with the intense desperation that was heating her blood.

“I hope you make that noise when I’m in you.”

As his words penetrated her dazed brain, Mila frowned. “You said—”

“That I’d back off if you truly don’t want this,” he finished, lifting his head. “But you do. I felt it.”

She glared at him, chest heaving at the raw need carved into his face. “You’re a tricky motherfucker.”

“Just think about this, Mila. Soon, you’re going to be in a whole other country, part of a whole other pride—or whatever type of shifter group your soon-to-be mate belongs to—and you’ll be bound to someone you obviously don’t care for. At least enjoy what time you have here.”

“What, you offering me one last night of fun before I enter into a mating? Yeah, I’ve heard you’re good at those,” she said a little bitterly. “Also heard you often bring a friend to play. Does that mean you’re going to invite another guy to fuck—” She cut off as he gripped her chin.

“There won’t be a threesome,” Dominic growled as a dark, unfamiliar emotion flared inside him. “There’ll only be you and me. I won’t share you.”

“You can’t share what you don’t have.”

“Oh, I will have you, Mila.” He nipped her lower lip. “Be honest. It’s not that I want sex with no ties that bothers you. It’s that you think you’d be nothing more than a faceless fuck. You’re wrong in thinking that, Mila. No woman has ever been a faceless fuck to me. Just because I didn’t offer any of them a relationship doesn’t mean I didn’t see them as people; it doesn’t mean I didn’t respect them.”

“I don’t—”

“There are many reasons why I want you—none of which I’ll say aloud because, as I said before, you’ll only think I’m feeding you compliments to weaken your resolve. But I will say this: no one has ever done what you did tonight.”

She swallowed. “What’s that?”

“Made me feel possessive.” Dominic swooped down and took her mouth again, letting her taste that possessiveness. He consumed her with a hunger that demanded to be sated, and he knew there’d be no ignoring it. He sucked on her lower lip, barely resisting the urge to give it a sharp bite. “Come with me.”

She shook her head. “You may have been lying when you said ‘one taste,’ but I wasn’t.” She shoved him back a step, satisfied by the surprise on his face. Yeah, people tended to underestimate her physical strength. Slipping from between him and the wall, she jabbed a finger at him. “You need to do us both a favor and let this go now. I’m not looking for one last crazy night before I commit.”

His legs ate up the space between them yet again. “What are you looking for, Mila?” he asked, his voice soft but serious. “Because no matter what you say, I genuinely don’t think it’s an arranged mating.”

Mila fisted her hands. “Just keep your distance, GQ.”

He looked about to argue with her, but then one of the club’s waitresses called out his name. Mila used the distraction to her advantage and headed straight to the greenroom on shaky legs. Inside, she shoved on her jacket so roughly, she almost knocked over the freestanding lamp. All the while, she muttered about how Archie was right—dominant male wolves were more trouble than they were worth.

Hearing the greenroom door close behind her, Mila rolled her eyes. Fucking GQ just had to follow—

“Don’t move.”

Mila froze. That wasn’t GQ’s voice. No, it was a woman’s voice. Unfamiliar. Cold. Despite the warning, Mila would have whirled on the spot if it hadn’t been for the snick of a gun. Her cat shot to her feet with a feral hiss, eager to strike at the intruder.

“Oh, this was almost too easy,” said the stranger. “Cat shifters are supposed to be tough to sneak up on.”

“I heard you. I just figured you were someone else.” Thanks to Dominic, she’d been both frazzled and distracted. She took in a long breath and smelled . . . jackal. She’d never liked those little bastards.

Looking into the glass of a framed wall poster, Mila caught the reflection of the woman behind her. Average height. Curvy. Red hair. Pale skin. Gray-blue eyes. Holding a whopper of a freaking handgun with a silencer attached to the barrel—a gun that was pointed right at the back of Mila’s head.

Her heart jumped just as her inner cat hissed again and lunged for freedom, wanting at the bitch. And Mila had no doubt that her cat could take their foe on. The jackal was right to use a gun and attack from a distance. Mila’s kind didn’t fight fair or easy, and their inner felines were positively merciless. They might be only slightly bigger than a domestic house cat, but they were also, pound for pound, one of the strongest breeds of shifter. And they always went for the face.

“You’re a cool one,” the jackal observed.

“What do you want?” asked Mila, her voice flat even as adrenaline spiked through her, preparing her, sharpening her already-acute senses.

“Nothing. I’m merely here to collect—”

Mila grabbed the freestanding lamp and swung it as she whirled. The metal base hit the jackal’s arm so hard that little reverberations scuttled up the bone of Mila’s arm. Fucking ow. The gun dropped to the hardwood floor with a clang.

Before the jackal could make a dive for the weapon, Mila slammed the base of the lamp into the bitch’s chest, sending her staggering backward. Then, wicked fast, Mila shifted.

Absolutely furious, the little cat flew out of the pile of clothes and wrapped herself around the jackal’s head. Snarling and hissing, the cat shredded her face with razor-sharp fangs and claws. Tasted blood. Growled in satisfaction. Welcomed the rush of adrenaline, intent on exacting vengeance.

The jackal’s cries of anger and pain were muffled by the cat’s thick fur. No one would be coming to help the intruder. No one would interfere.

The jackal shook her head as she stumbled around the room, unable to see. She pulled hard on the cat’s body. The cat didn’t release her. No. She dug her fangs and claws deeper, refusing to give up her prize. Refusing to show pity.

The jackal retaliated fast and hard. Delivered harsh blows to the cat’s head, sides, and spine. Clawed at the cat’s face, legs, and flanks.

The cat ignored the pain. The scent of her own blood mixed with the smells of the jackal’s blood and fear, and that only drove the cat wilder. She tore more strips out of the female’s face. Sliced into the lips, eyelids, and forehead. Bit into the nose and sides of the face. Mercilessly mauled as much skin and muscle as she could reach.

Even through the sound of blood thrashing in her ears, the cat heard the satisfying sounds of the jackal’s screams, the tearing of flesh, and the—

Something hard and heavy slammed into the cat’s head. Glass shattered. Water doused her fur.

Hurting and slightly dazed, the cat loosened her hold on the female. The jackal took advantage and dug her claws deep into the cat’s flanks as she finally ripped the cat away from her face. Screeching, the jackal slung the little cat across the room.

The feline flipped in midair and landed on her feet near the dresser, panting and growling. Ready and raring to pounce once more.

The female growled back at her, eyes blazing with fury as she moved toward the gun. “You crazy fucking—”

The cat launched herself at the female again.

Having finally shaken off Charlene—who was somewhat pissed by his insistence that she stop interfering—Dominic headed straight for the greenroom to track down Mila. He shoved open the door . . . just in time to see a silvery blur of motion spring through the air and latch on to a woman’s head. It was Mila’s cat, he quickly realized. She savagely clawed at the woman’s face and ripped at her scalp. What the fuck happened here?

Gaping in shock, Dominic watched as the woman—blinded by all that fur and no doubt disorientated by the cat’s weight—staggered all over the place, punching and slapping and clawing at her attacker. The cat ignored her. She had a death grip on that woman, and she wasn’t letting go. No. Snarling, the feline just kept on ravaging her enemy with her sharp claws and fangs.

The scents of blood, fury, fear, and jackal slammed into his system, and Dominic’s shock was quickly replaced by the same rage that made his wolf let out a guttural roar. It didn’t matter that the cat was dominating the fight, Dominic still wanted to slap the little bitch that had dared harm her. That had bloodied her.

Mila wouldn’t have started the fight—her kind followed the principle of “live and let live.” No, the redhead had to have brought the fight to her. He felt some grim satisfaction in knowing that the jackal was no doubt sorely regretting it.

He wanted to intervene and help the cat, but, well, she didn’t need it. And it would have been suicidal to get between two fighting female shifters anyway. They’d just as easily turn on you, offended by your belief that they required any aid.

Unable to do anything other than stand there and offer the cat his silent support, Dominic ground his teeth. The patches of blood matting the cat’s fur worried him, especially because he had no idea how much of that blood was hers or how serious her injuries were.

He whipped out his cell phone and dialed the number of the Mercury Pack’s Beta female. Ally was working the bar tonight, and as a Seer, she could heal physical wounds.

She answered on the fourth ring, but he didn’t bother with greetings. “Ally, I need you in the greenroom.” He ended the call just as fast and pocketed his phone, wanting to keep his hands free in case the little cat needed him. Right then, she still didn’t seem to require help. It was kind of surreal to see a creature so small and fluffy acting like . . . well, like that.

He noticed the gun and swore. He picked it up, and yeah, it smelled of the jackal. Rage blew through him yet again, and he took a carefully controlled breath.

Did it surprise him that Mila obviously hadn’t let the weapon stop her from defending herself? No. Just like it didn’t surprise him that she’d obviously caught the jackal off guard. He’d learned a lot about Mila’s kind from Madisyn. There was no warning with a pallas cat. No posturing or hissing. They just struck—no care for whether they were facing someone who was stronger, bigger, armed, or even part of a group. Nope, they straight up wouldn’t give a shit.

He heard footsteps just before Ally, Jesse, and Harley came skidding into the room.

“Dear God,” said Ally, wincing at the noise level. He didn’t blame her. As the cat thrashed, bit, hissed, and snarled, the jackal screamed and cursed and condemned it to hell. “I heard all the hissing and yelling in the background when you called,” Ally went on, “so I brought Jesse and Harley, figuring something bad was going down.”

“What led to the fight?” asked Jesse.

Dominic shrugged, hating the feeling of helplessness that came from being forced to watch while Mila’s cat was hurt. “Haven’t got a clue. I also don’t understand why the jackal hasn’t shifted. It could be that she’s latent, or it could be that she’s hoping to retrieve this to end the fight.” He showed them the gun. “Any of you recognize her?”

Harley blew out a breath. “Kind of hard to say, since I can’t see her face. But I don’t recognize her scent.”

“Neither do I,” said Jesse, looking just as eager to intervene as Dominic was.

“She came to the bar earlier and ordered a martini,” said Ally. “At least, I think it was her.”

The cat let out a little yelp, and Dominic spat a curse. He took another steadying breath, reminding himself that, with their thick hides and overabundance of fur, her kind were hard to hurt.

“I don’t like that Mila’s in pain right now,” said Ally. “But I have to be honest, I just love watching pallas cats fight. Even while scratching and biting like a critter of pure horror, they’re still somehow immensely cute.”

Jesse grimaced. “They’re odd-looking creatures that—”

They all jerked back as the jackal tripped, fell, and bashed the back of her head on the glass coffee table. Her arms slipped to the floor as her body went limp. Dominic could hear her heartbeat, so he knew she was simply out cold.

Sides heaving, the little cat detached herself from the jackal and backed away, her teeth bared. Eyes still locked on her enemy, she pitched forward and swiped at the female again and again. Made a series of rumbly sounds, as if trying to provoke the jackal, but the woman didn’t stir.

Blood matted the cat’s coat, and Dominic thought he could make out some welts, scratches, and puncture wounds—with all that thick fur, he just couldn’t be sure. There was blood near the black stripes on her cheeks and over the little dark spots on her forehead, and he wondered if the jackal had clawed at the cat’s face to make her let go.

Wanting the feline healed, Dominic cast a brief glance at Ally. “Maybe you—”

The cat’s attention snapped his way. Ears flat, she curled her upper lip, baring long, bloodstained fangs. Green eyes—their pupils round rather than vertical—glared at Dominic with an unblinking, crazed stare. And, honest to God, his fingers itched for holy water. Shit.