Fangs of Anarchy: Forbidden Alpha (Part 4) In the Zone: A Werewolf Vampire Shifter Romance by Dakota Cassidy
Authors: Dakota Cassidy
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Chapter Fourteen
A hand grabbed Claire from behind, clamping over her mouth
and securing her body against the hand’s owner. The hand was strong, cool, the
body firm, rigid with muscle and pressed against hers without an inch to spare
between them. Her backpack, full of her clothing and what little food she’d
been able to buy, fell to the ground.
Her heart crashed in her chest, her instinct to rip the son
of a bitch to shreds hindered only by the fact that she had to be very careful
not to make too much noise. She was so damn close. After three days, she was
too close to finding real evidence to screw this up.
The air, rife with sweat and darkness, the kind of evil
darkness only found in the Zone, clung to her overstimulated nostrils like
grease on a hamburger, thick and oily. The alleyway, littered with used needles
and garbage, might have choked her with its stench if not for the fact that she
had one purpose.
Get inside this damn condemned building and find the
motherfucker who’d unknowingly set her on the path to murder.
Her assailant pulled her farther into the depths of the
alley, dragging her over the strewn litter, the crunch from the soles of her
sneakers scattering disposed needles.
He pulled her so fast, so hard, she had little time to
assess what exactly he was, but he certainly wasn’t
human. She’d found a human or two in the filth of the Zone—those who thought it
exotic to hook up with a werewolf hooker or a succubus madam.
The thrill-seekers, the scourge of humanity, they all came
to the Zone, located in a small, locked-down portion of Quebec, to get their
perverted kicks by doing a paranormal. So they could
go home and slap their equally human buddies on the back as they retold the
story of having a vampire suck them off.
It made her gag when she’d discovered it wasn’t just her
kind who came to the Zone; choke on the bile that rose in her throat when she’d
discovered how valuable a clean, healthy paranormal was to some humans. Worth
thousands of dollars in some cases.
Learning that made Claire more determined to keep the
innocent as far away as possible, and in order to do that, she had to get this
big lug off her.
Just as she raised an arm to wrap around his neck, ready to
pull his head down in order to gouge his eyes out, he snatched her hand, and
whispered, “Oh, Librarian, you are a handful. So here’s how this is gonna go.
“First, I’m going to put you over my knee and give you the
spanking you so richly deserve for scaring the undead right out of me. It’ll
hurt. But it’ll hurt you more than it’s going to hurt
me. And yes, before you correct me, I meant it’ll hurt you more than me.
“Second, I’m going to throw you down on any available
surface and make love to you without an ounce of mercy. But not before you take a shower. You smell like dead fish.” There was a sniffing
noise near her ear. “And Funyuns . Is that Funyuns ? Anyway, when I’m done with you, Librarian, you’ll
never leave my side again.”
Irish.
All the fight seeped right out of her, replaced by those
stupid butterflies and relief. So much relief. Irish was here and all the fear,
every sleepless night propped up under a bridge or causeway, watching her kind
fall prey to drugs and helplessness, caught up with her.
Claire twisted around, launching herself at him, throwing
her arms around his neck and burying her face in it. “You’re here!” He was
here. She loved so much that he was here.
Instantly, Irish wrapped his arms around her, hauling her
close, pressing his lips to her forehead almost as though he were relieved,
too. “I am. But don’t you even think for one second
I’m going to let you distract me. So before I run
roughshod over you, before I give you the come-to-Jesus talk, I’m going to try
to be fair and hear you out first. I want to know what’s going on and I want to
know now . Do we have a deal?”
“No,” she whispered against the cool skin of his neck,
clinging
A hand grabbed Claire from behind, clamping over her mouth
and securing her body against the hand’s owner. The hand was strong, cool, the
body firm, rigid with muscle and pressed against hers without an inch to spare
between them. Her backpack, full of her clothing and what little food she’d
been able to buy, fell to the ground.
Her heart crashed in her chest, her instinct to rip the son
of a bitch to shreds hindered only by the fact that she had to be very careful
not to make too much noise. She was so damn close. After three days, she was
too close to finding real evidence to screw this up.
The air, rife with sweat and darkness, the kind of evil
darkness only found in the Zone, clung to her overstimulated nostrils like
grease on a hamburger, thick and oily. The alleyway, littered with used needles
and garbage, might have choked her with its stench if not for the fact that she
had one purpose.
Get inside this damn condemned building and find the
motherfucker who’d unknowingly set her on the path to murder.
Her assailant pulled her farther into the depths of the
alley, dragging her over the strewn litter, the crunch from the soles of her
sneakers scattering disposed needles.
He pulled her so fast, so hard, she had little time to
assess what exactly he was, but he certainly wasn’t
human. She’d found a human or two in the filth of the Zone—those who thought it
exotic to hook up with a werewolf hooker or a succubus madam.
The thrill-seekers, the scourge of humanity, they all came
to the Zone, located in a small, locked-down portion of Quebec, to get their
perverted kicks by doing a paranormal. So they could
go home and slap their equally human buddies on the back as they retold the
story of having a vampire suck them off.
It made her gag when she’d discovered it wasn’t just her
kind who came to the Zone; choke on the bile that rose in her throat when she’d
discovered how valuable a clean, healthy paranormal was to some humans. Worth
thousands of dollars in some cases.
Learning that made Claire more determined to keep the
innocent as far away as possible, and in order to do that, she had to get this
big lug off her.
Just as she raised an arm to wrap around his neck, ready to
pull his head down in order to gouge his eyes out, he snatched her hand, and
whispered, “Oh, Librarian, you are a handful. So here’s how this is gonna go.
“First, I’m going to put you over my knee and give you the
spanking you so richly deserve for scaring the undead right out of me. It’ll
hurt. But it’ll hurt you more than it’s going to hurt
me. And yes, before you correct me, I meant it’ll hurt you more than me.
“Second, I’m going to throw you down on any available
surface and make love to you without an ounce of mercy. But not before you take a shower. You smell like dead fish.” There was a sniffing
noise near her ear. “And Funyuns . Is that Funyuns ? Anyway, when I’m done with you, Librarian, you’ll
never leave my side again.”
Irish.
All the fight seeped right out of her, replaced by those
stupid butterflies and relief. So much relief. Irish was here and all the fear,
every sleepless night propped up under a bridge or causeway, watching her kind
fall prey to drugs and helplessness, caught up with her.
Claire twisted around, launching herself at him, throwing
her arms around his neck and burying her face in it. “You’re here!” He was
here. She loved so much that he was here.
Instantly, Irish wrapped his arms around her, hauling her
close, pressing his lips to her forehead almost as though he were relieved,
too. “I am. But don’t you even think for one second
I’m going to let you distract me. So before I run
roughshod over you, before I give you the come-to-Jesus talk, I’m going to try
to be fair and hear you out first. I want to know what’s going on and I want to
know now . Do we have a deal?”
“No,” she whispered against the cool skin of his neck,
clinging
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