Lone Wolf's Surrender Read online

  Quinn lifted the flat package with shaking hands, grasped the tab between his thumb and forefinger, and pulled. Inside, he found a gold envelope with a sheet of fine stationery. He opened the folded note. Her fragrance, though faint, teased his nostrils. He’d had little use for women since Priss, and the erection that abruptly sprang from his body disgusted him. Dammit. She’d always had that effect on him.

  Shaking his head, he lifted the single sheet. Tarquinius, I need your help.

  He drew a shaky breath and lowered the page. No one had called him by his given name in years, not since he’d left the pack. She needed him. The need for revenge and desire to hold her warred within him. His gut knotted. It was a moment before he continued to read.

  If you ever cared for me at all, please use the attached ticket and meet me at MacIntosh Castle.

  He’d heard whispers as a youngster of MacIntosh Castle, which was rumored to be invisible to humans but concealed from monsters only on the night of the Monster Ball. Priss had confirmed the stories to be true. Even if he planned to go, which he didn’t, how the hell was he supposed to find a castle he couldn’t see?

  Flipping the note over to see if it contained directions or a map, he placed the package and letter on the table, deciding to finish reading her note after he took a cold shower. The envelope dropped to the floor. He bent to retrieve it and opened the flap. She’d touched whatever it contained, and her scent had his boner swelling even more and his nuts drawn painfully against his body. Reaching inside, he pulled out a shiny gold ticket so bright it illuminated the room.

  The floor shifted. He grabbed for the edge of the table, only it was gone. The room spun, picking up speed with each rotation.

  “What the—”

  ****

  “—Fuck!” Quinn reached out to steady himself. He opened his eyes to find he held the gold ticket in his right hand and a large tit in the left.

  The woman connected to the breast stared at him, her smile growing wider as her gaze dropped to his exposed groin. He stood naked as the day he was born, except for the impressive erection thanks to Priss, in a room that had to be half the size of a football field and filled with people. The walls and ceiling were white, but everything else—the gilded columns circling the outer edges, the arches above the columns, and even the floor were adorned in various shades of gold. A spectacular multi-tier chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling. It’s bright lighting made his eyes water.

  He shook his head to clear it and wondered how much of what he saw was real. He squeezed the tit. Definitely the real deal.

  The heavy thumping of hip hop bass spun by a disc jockey at the other end of the large room garnered his attention until gasps and raised voices had him looking to his left. Priss’s father, Amadeus Sabinus, wore a dark scowl and forced his way through the crowd of monsters, some as human and others in their true form, gyrating to the music. “Get your hands off that woman.”

  “Sorry, ma’am,” Quinn said, dropping his hand to his side.

  She inclined her head toward Amadeus. “Good evening Mr. S‑s‑s‑s‑secretary.”

  Priss’s father nodded. “Ms. Evanslither. I apologize for this unfortunate incident.”

  “No problem at all.” She ran a forked tongue across her lips, letting Quinn see the two fangs inside her mouth. Her eyelids closed side to center, her pupils elongated. Pale brown diamond patterns rippled beneath her skin—the serpent clan. “Any time you need a plac‑c‑c‑c‑ce to res‑s‑s‑s‑st your hand, call me. I’ll be coiled up somewhere.”

  Dismissing her with a frown, Amadeus moved between them, his wolf’s eyes shifting from brown to yellow. “How did you gain entrance? You never should have been allowed through the gates.”

  “Frankly, I’d like to know the answer to that myself, though to be honest, I’m not sure where here is exactly.”

  “This is the Monster Ball. You cannot get in without a ticket, and you are not on the guest list.”

  Quinn held up the gold card. “I received an envelope, and when I took this out, the floor dropped and rose, the walls spun, and, whoosh, I was transported here.”

  Amadeus huffed. He had apparently achieved the political standing he’d once sought. Only the price he’d paid to gain diplomatic prominence—the considerable weight gain, labored breathing, and red face—was too high in Quinn’s estimation.

  Whether as man or wolf, Quinn loved the outdoors. The desire to be something other than what he was had tempted him only once. Losing Priss had almost destroyed him. He’d vowed to never again let anything or anyone get under his skin. Time and maturity had made him more accepting of who and what he was. And what he wasn’t.

  Amadeus yanked the glittery ticket from Quinn’s hand. “I should have known some riff raff like you would get an invitation on the white market. Who did you get it from? I’ll have them arrested and the business shut down?”

  “I didn’t buy anything. In fact, I had no intention of coming here.” Quinn’s lip curled in a snarl. Amadeus Sabinus had never liked him. The feeling was mutual. “You need to back off. This is one time you can’t pin anything on me.”

  “Attire is formal. You are naked. Obscenely so.” He sneered down his nose at Quinn’s now semi-erect dick.

  “Guilty as charged.” Quinn shrugged, suspecting the old man tried to get him to lose his temper so he’d have justification for throwing him out. He got a grip on his anger, mostly to piss off Amadeus. If only he could control his dick so easily. It was all Priss’s fault. The ticket Amadeus waved around carried her scent. “Give me a minute, and I’ll change into a fur coat. That’s as formal as I get.”

  “Damn you, Tarquinius Messala. You’ve been a thorn in my side the last thirteen years. I got rid of you once. I can damned well do it again…permanently this time. Don’t move from this spot. I’ll summon security to deal with you.” With the threat hanging in the air, Amadeus Sabinus growled, showing his lengthening canines. He shoved his way between dancers and headed back the way he’d come.

  The old fart needn’t bother. Quinn had never been one to stay where he wasn’t wanted. In fact, he could—

  A familiar aroma teased his nostrils. He sniffed the air and turned around. Priss.

  She tipped her head back to look up at him and gave him a smile that widened the longer she stared.

  He tensed under her intense scrutiny. Her unique essence saturated his senses, tempting the wolf to come out and claim her. Mine. Saliva filled his mouth. He swallowed hard. Nothing from the past—her leaving or the subsequent pain—mattered. He wanted her, ached to have her. Right here. Right now.

  His Jones poked her belly. She laughed. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Quinn.”

  He blinked. What had happened to the demure girl who shocked so easily and was painfully shy? Did he care? She was still the finest wolf this side of the Mississippi River. He glanced down at the hard-on cushioned in her softness. “This is your fault.”

  She tilted her head. “Mine? I think you give me too much credit.”

  “The note had your scent on it. I’ve had a boner since opening it. Have you forgotten how being near you used to always make me hard?”

  “Don’t put that on me.” She jabbed a finger into his chest. “You’ve got some explaining to do.”

  “I see you found him.” A tall woman in a sparkling gold dress paused beside Priscilla. She eyed Quinn from head to toe, her green eyes widening as she paused halfway in-between. “Oh, my.”

  Priss sighed and waved a hand in front of the newcomer’s face. “Earth to Darcy.”

  “Sorry.” The woman blushed and pulled her gaze from Quinn’s still hard dick. “I think I’ll go find an eligible stranger with similar assets and have a great time.”

  Quinn stood there, trying his best to ignore the fact that he had nothing on.

  “That’s a good idea,” Priss said. “I won’t be needing your services the next few days.”

  “I bet you won’t.” Darcy waggled
her eyebrows. “I can see who’ll be servicing you.”

  “Enough.” A blush climbed up Priss’s neck. “Go. Have fun.”

  “I’ll do that. Thanks.” The gal smiled and waved at him. “It was nice seeing all of you, Quinn.”

  “Ma’am,” he said as she moved into the crowd of dancers. He turned his attention back to Priss. “Who’s that?”

  “My secretary.” Priss planted her fists on her shapely hips. “Look, we don’t have time to discuss Darcy. You should have been here hours ago and not in the middle of the ballroom. I paid Madame LaDeaux to have the ticket’s destination changed so you’d arrive in the gardens. When you didn’t show, I figured you’d decided not to come. You’re lucky I gave up and came inside when I did.”

  Quinn lifted one shoulder in a shrug. Luck? He didn’t believe in it. “Get the ticket from your father. Maybe you can get your money back.” He stared at her. He couldn’t help it. As much as he’d longed for an opportunity to get revenge, the need to hold her had his wolf rippling damned close to the surface.

  She wore a red velvet, strapless gown that hugged her curves and flared out at her narrow hips. The tips of her stilettos and polished toenails played peek-a-boo with the hem. Diamond encrusted ruby teardrops fell from her earlobes and glistened in the light from the massive overhead chandelier. A large matching gem hung from a golden chain and lay nestled between her lush breasts that almost spilled from the confines of the dress.

  “Stop staring like you’ve never seen me before, and come on before my father gets Liam O’Reilly to kick you out.” She took his hand and tugged him into the crowd of dancers.

  Quinn glanced behind them, half expecting to see Amadeus. His gaze was drawn to a small woman with long, curly, blonde hair. Her silver evening gown glittered in the overhead light as she gyrated between several men, her eyes closed, head thrown back in total abandon. A strong hint of mating need emanated from her. Someone was getting laid tonight.

  He bumped into a solid form. “Sorry,” he said over his shoulder, using his free hand to keep his dick from being ripped from his body as he squeezed sideways through a narrow opening made in the crowd by Priss.

  She jerked on his hand. “Come on, Quinn. I hid a tuxedo outside.”

  “I prefer what you’re wearing over a tux.”

  “Smart ass.”

  “I do try.” His heart and mind both raced. What the hell was he doing here, letting her lead him around—a role reversal from thirteen years ago? And why did it feel as though all the days since they’d parted had simply melted away, along with the revenge he’d sought as recent as a few hours ago? He’d find out what she needed, but refused to let down his guard. No way would he go through that pain again.

  “Hurry, Quinn. I hear my father.” She rushed him through a set of French doors that led to the terrace and lush garden.

  His steps slowed as he stepped outside. Jazz and laughter floated on the fall breeze from the streets on the other side of the high wall that enclosed the large estate. Different shades and shapes of green foliage grew beyond the tiled floor. Bright colored flowers dotted the thick carpet. His Herefords would tear down fences to get at this manicured lawn. “Priss, hold on.”

  She hurried ahead down a long flight of steps and was swallowed by tall hedges and bushes where white blooms resembling trumpets filled the night with their sweet floral scent.

  He relied on his senses and followed Priss’s scent, having no trouble tracking her even when magnolia trees lined the trail on both sides. Finally, he rounded a curve and found her seated on a metal bench under a large moss-draped live oak. Maybe it was the moonlight or the lingering magic of the ticket, but seeing her like this took his breath away. He paused on the walkway a moment before joining her. He needed to regain control of himself and shore up his defenses.

  Quinn loathed having to voice the words but needed to know. “Is your husband here tonight?”

  She smoothed the folds of her dress. “Does it matter?”

  “Yes. No.” Fuck. “I’m not sure.”

  Finally meeting his gaze, she asked, “Then why do you ask?”

  Having anything to do with a married woman was a rule he never broke. Ever. Now, he questioned that decision. Hell. He’d go home with a ton of guilt, but what was a little more considering what he already carried on his shoulders. “Everyone in Texas carries a gun. I’ve learned to be careful.”

  “This isn’t Texas.” She cleared her throat and looked away. “My husband didn’t make it.”

  Whatever restraint he’d had, whatever rules he’d lived by evaporated and blew away on the warm breeze. Taking her hand, he tugged her from the bench and into his arms. His hands cupped her ass and hauled her against him.

  Her eyes closed, and she released a long sigh. He ran his tongue along her bottom lip and whispered her name. Her hands slid up his chest, and her fingers tangled in the hair that fell to his shoulders.

  The smell of her arousal teased his senses and cut off all logical thought. He burned with need and tightened his arms, growling as his tongue slipped into her mouth. He stroked and explored, tasting her thoroughly. Lifting her skirt, he smoothed his hands over her hips and caught the elastic of her thong. He ripped the crotch and yanked her closer. His erection nestled against her cleft, and he rubbed it against her wetness.

  She moaned.

  He hated that he craved her when all he’d wanted since leaving Jasper was for her to suffer as he had. Fuck. Double Fuck. Hell. He dropped the fabric and took a step back. “What’s going on, Priss? Your rich husband can’t get it up anymore? Did you go to all this trouble to get me here for a good fuck?”

  ****

  “If I’d wanted a good fuck, I’d have called someone else.” Priscilla wanted to slap the smirk off Quinn’s face. Only she couldn’t. She needed his help, would do whatever he demanded to gain it.

  Anxiety rolled around in her stomach as she considered the situation. Money had topped her list of expectations that he might demand. Sex had never entered her thoughts. Given their past, it should have. She had to gain his cooperation. If that was the only way to get it, she’d gladly do the deed.

  It wasn’t like they hadn’t already been together. Truth be told, since she would never see Quinn again once he left, having sex with him seemed a great idea. Her wolf agreed wholeheartedly. The bitch would have had her strip, drop to all fours and wag her ass the second she’d seen Quinn in all his naked glory. Good thing Priscilla had control, most of the time.

  Her nipples had grown rigid and poked against the velvet bodice. Her heart pounded, and she couldn’t seem to draw enough air into her lungs.

  Shaking with a sudden need to touch the man she still dreamed about, she dropped to her knees and caught his thick erection in one hand. Her fingers stroked his velvety hardness.

  “Priss?” His voice was deceptively low, but she knew him well enough to recognize the warning it carried.

  Opening her mouth, she licked a pearl of pre-cum from the thick tip. His earthy taste exploded on her tongue, and she barely suppressed a moan as she captured the crown between her lips. He smelled of outdoors and virile man.

  He caught the back of her head in his big hands, arched forward, withdrew, and drove deeper. She relaxed her throat muscles and took more of him each time he surged into her mouth, catching hold of his muscled hips to keep her balance. His strong fingers wove in her hair and held her immobile. Strands curled around his fingers, holding him in place as surely as her mouth. She partially closed her teeth around him just enough to scrape the rigid length as he withdrew and slid forward again.

  “Fuck,” he growled.

  She fisted the wide base of his dick and sucked the broad head, drawing hard, then circled her tongue around the tip as though it were an ice cream cone.

  “Dammit, Priss.”

  She could stop. Probably should. But she didn’t want to, even though bringing him here had never been about her. Since her marriage to Claudius, she’d lived i
n isolation. Her life had become desolate, and Quinn made her feel alive once more. She needed that, even if only for tonight. At least then, when everything that mattered to her was gone, she’d have memories.

  Priscilla fondled Quinn’s balls as she licked his erection. They were like two hard eggs, almost flush against his body.

  Sliding him from her mouth, she teased one of his balls with her tongue and tightened her grip on his dick. He jerked. His breathing had become labored, and sweat dotted his skin. She drew on one testicle, stretching it away from his body, then let it pop from her mouth. She repeated the action until he groaned and his legs trembled.

  She was none too steady herself. Need had her rubbing her clit against the heel of her shoe as she squatted in front of Quinn. She ached for his touch, longed for the stretch of his fingers inside her.

  She returned her attention to the swollen rod, taking as much of him into her mouth as she could, then withdrew, letting her canines rake with more pressure over his sensitive shaft.

  His breathing grew faster. She squeezed the base and pumped while licking and nipping the engorged tip.

  He growled and pushed her hand away, then thrust in and out of her mouth, his movements rough and urgent. She didn’t care. Blood raced through her body, heightening senses that had lain dormant for years. She smelled the light sheen of sweat on his chest and abs and longed to taste it. She wanted him. She needed him to want her, to take her. She didn’t want to have to beg, but at the moment she would.

  She closed her mouth around him, making the suction more snug. Her tongue flicked and teased the underside of his erection near his balls every time he entered. His body jerked involuntarily. He growled, caught her head in an unbreakable grip, and filled her mouth. She swallowed the salty cum that pulsed down the back of her throat until the spasms ended.

  He released a long breath. His hands fell to his side, and she let him slide free, then wiped her bruised and swollen lips on the hem of her dress.

  Quinn tugged her to her feet, moved the front of her skirt aside. He lifted her against a tree and struggled to regain control.