"Great harm," she somehow managed to croak, "when the man who asks seems intent on destroying my life."
"Freedom always has its price." He leaned forward, nuzzling her ear, nipping lightly at her earlobe, all the while continuing his gentle, insistent stroking, sending her insane with need.
"I didn't come here to find freedom." Did she say the words out loud or merely in her mind?
His tongue skimmed her skin, trailing fire down to her br**sts. When he flicked one aching nipple with that rough moistness, she shuddered and thrust toward him, wanting to feel more than just his tongue on her br**sts. He chuckled softly and captured them in both his hands, lightly pushing them together. His gaze held hers as he ran his tongue from one aching nub to the other. She shuddered and shifted, not sure how much more sweet torment she could take.
"What did you come here to find, then?" he said softly.
You, she thought. Only he'd turned out to be a whole lot more dangerous than she'd ever imagined. "Not this."
"Then what?" He lightly nipped one nipple, then the other, and sweat prickled across her skin. Her heart was hammering so loudly its cadence seemed to fill the silence, and every muscle in her body was quivering. Aching. For him.
"I was just curious. Nothing more, nothing less. I never meant for this to happen."
"You're lying, little wolf."
And the fact that he sensed it was scary, because it meant he was reading her far better than she was reading him.
"I'm not lying," she said, almost desperately.
He released her br**sts, and his fingers slipped into her moistness again. She gasped, arching into his touch.
"You will tell me the truth, you know. And before this night is over."
Mutely, she shook her head. His steady stroking was taking her higher and higher, until the need for him was so strong her whole body was shaking and she could barely even breathe.
The sound of a zipper being pulled down was almost lost in the frantic beating of her heart. Anticipation raced through her.
He pulled her closer, but nowhere near close enough. The quivering tip of him pressed against her moist heat, but went no further. His hands slid to her rear, cupping her lightly. The effort of control had him trembling, and she wondered what, exactly, he thought she was up to.
Perhaps she should tell him why she was here. But if she did, she had no doubt he'd force her from the mansion. These murders fell under the category of pack business, and he'd already made it perfectly clear he had no intention of letting outsiders get involved in such matters — that included not only her, but the police as well.
And if she told him, she'd have basically destroyed her life for no damn reason at all. At least by withholding the truth a little bit longer, she had a chance of discovering something — anything — that might give her a clue as to the murderer's identity.
She'd made her promise. She intended to stick to it. Though in many ways, she had no other choice now.
His hands tightened on her rump, pulling her forward. His hardness slipped inside a little more, and it felt so good she moaned.
"Tell me what you seek, Neva." His words were harsh, his breathing heavy. He was punishing himself as much as he was her.
She shook her head and knew she had to end this before the need for release overwhelmed common sense and loosened her tongue. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled herself forward, taking him deep inside.
He groaned and began to move, his strokes quickly becoming fierce, hungry thrusts that shook her entire body. The sweet pressure built and built, until it felt as if she would explode with sheer pleasure.
Then she did.
"Oh moons, yes!" Her body bucked wildly against his. He came with her, his roar echoing across the silence, his body slamming hers so hard the whole bench seemed to shake.
He caught her lips, kissing her fiercely as their orgasms ebbed and sanity returned. She opened her eyes and stared into his. For the briefest of moments, the shutters were opened, and in those black depths she saw compassion and surprise and warmth. It was almost easy to believe they were lovers who actually cared about each other, then the shutters slammed home and the cold stranger came back.
But before either of them could say anything, a scream rent the silence.
It was the scream of a woman in pain.
Chapter Six
For a heartbeat, Duncan didn't react, too lost in the warm aftermath of loving Neva to really register what he was hearing.