Chapter One
“You look like you need a daddy.”
Trance merely stared down the Bear who was dressed in all leather, and gave a shake of his head. Wrong sex and wrong preference, but he didn’t mind the attention. He had an open mind when it came to anything concerning sex, but women did it for him and always had. That wasn’t changing.
So no, he didn’t need a daddy, but hell, if the right woman came along, he wouldn’t mind playing the daddy and everything in between.
He didn’t hold out much hope for the right woman, though, which made his whole wouldn’t-mind speech easier to feed himself.
Besides, he wasn’t here for a soul mate—he was on a mission from ACRO—the Agency for Covert Rare Operatives—to rescue a now free agent named Ulrika. She was on the run from Itor Corp, a powerful agency that also employed agents with special abilities. Her name meant “power of the wolf,” and she’d originally belonged to a small, rare European tribe of therianthropes, people who believe they are animals in human flesh. According to ACRO’s cryptozoologists, therians claimed to shift, spiritually and psychologically but not physically—that could be proven—into their animal.
By all reports, Ulrika had lived in harmony with her animal soul until Itor got ahold of her, mutated her powers without her consent. Now she was a powerful shape-shifter who used sex to control the angry beast living inside of her, and if she had a chance in hell of staying alive, she was going to need his agency’s help.
Which was why he was here, undercover and posing as a sub rather than his Dom preference.
This wasn’t one of the worst clubs, but it wasn’t one of the higher-end ones either. No, Ulrika would be hiding in a place where she could stand out without fear of being caught, and this underground London club was off the map.
He’d been watching her all night as he sat on the smooth leather stool in a stance that signaled available. Most of the Doms avoided him, as they should. Even tamping himself down, the wild streak practically throbbed from him.
But Ulrika was drawn to that. From what he’d gathered, she liked her men hard to handle. Probably because the tamer ones were unable to deal with what she had to offer during sex.
Suddenly, she appeared next to him, catching him off guard. He took a sip of his whiskey, as if he were the one who called her over, but she wasn’t buying it. She put a strong arm on his, and he let her push his hand with the glass in it to the bar, where he opened his palm and surrendered it.
Kira, another ACRO operative, an animal whisperer, had been right about pegging tonight as the night. Ulrika was definitely on the prowl.
She slid a firm finger under his chin and forced it upward, as if appraising him.
No, this wasn’t going to be easy.
He forced himself to stay still under her gaze. If she was a true, born Dom, she’d have known that he wasn’t a submissive, not by a long shot. But from the files he’d briefed himself on before he left the ACRO offices, he knew Ulrika’s need for sex overrode most of her other senses. Especially now, when she was scared and on the run.
He would be the one to bring her in, even if it meant posing as something that went against every one of his most basic survival instincts.
The wolf lady was beautiful—long, reddish-blond hair, piercing gold eyes. And yes, he purposefully didn’t avert his gaze, because if he was going to pull off his role as a sub, it was going to be as one who was nearly untrainable.
“Eyes down, boy,” she said, her voice sure and strong, with the barest hint of a German accent, and he shot her one final glance before doing her bidding. “You won’t be an easy one, will you?”
“I’m not a boy,” he said.
She chuckled lightly. “You’ll be whatever I tell you to be tonight.”
His cock jumped at her words.
“Are you worthy of that privilege . . . boy?”
He wanted to strap her to a spanking bench and make her ass a pretty shade of red and then they’d find out who was worthy.
He bit the inside of his cheek instead of telling her that.
“You may speak,” she said, her hand caressing his ass.
“I’m worthy. Mistress.”
“Good boy.”
He brought his eyes up to meet hers again, and she merely raised her eyebrows at him. “Unless you’d rather call me Daddy, I suggest you lower your eyes and learn to love boy.”
He hadn’t expected the sense of humor. She’d been watching him for longer than he’d thought.
He lowered his eyes, but only so he could stare at her perfectly formed breasts under the low-cut, gauzy blouse she wore. Much different than most of the leather-clad Mamas in this place.
She brought her cleavage close to his face. “Like what you see?”
He breathed deeply—her sweet scent belied what she really was underneath—part woman, part wolf . . . and he was the perfect one to tame the beast he knew was inside that body.
“Yes. I like.” His voice was husky with need, and if she hadn’t been able to tell from that, all she needed to do was look down at the massive bulge between his legs, straining to be set free from the black pants he wore.
“Room three. Face the wall. And keep your clothes on. I want to have some fun taking them off myself.”
He nodded, pushed off the stool and walked toward the room without the requisite, Yes, Mistress.
He heard her low growl follow him down the darkened hallway all the way to room three, with its heavy cuffs and chains hanging from the far wall. Which was exactly where she wanted him and the last place he wanted to be. No, he should be the one cuffing her, arms above her head, her breasts and body open to him for his pleasure.
Instead, his body would be in Rik’s hands.
She was part feral predator and all danger, to herself and to the outside world if she couldn’t learn to control the change. In order to help her do that, he’d have to first rein her in. Slowly. Without her realizing it.
He’d have to hypnotize her into wanting him to be her sub, again and again, because word on the floor was that Mistress Rik didn’t take the same sub twice. Ever. And since his skill as an excedo had, as far back as he could recall, included the ability to tame most people with one look into his eyes, he really was the perfect man for the job.
It had been three months since Ulrika surfaced on the scene following a botched assassination attempt on the head of ACRO’s new sister agency, The Aquarius Group. Ulrika’s failure to kill Faith Black had apparently led to her escape from Itor when her handler was captured. She was now on ACRO’s radar, and hopefully Trance could get her off Itor’s before they tracked her down. Now he remained facing the wall, feeling her eyes on him. She’d picked one of the private rooms, which gave him hope that she wasn’t into displaying him for the world to see.
He wasn’t heavily into the BDSM scene—not anymore, but when he was in his late teens and early twenties, he was a frequent visitor to all the clubs, first in the Chicago area, where he grew up, and later wherever the Army stationed him. These days, he wasn’t looking so much for controlled sex as he was a woman he could fall in love with. But there were very few women who would understand what he was or the job that utilized those special skills to the best of his ability.
It was kind of hard to explain to a date that you possessed the gifts of super-strength, better than average eyesight and the power to hypnotize most any human who looked you in the eye.
It was even harder for him to truly let go during sex—because Trance knew his own strength, and his worries about hurting a woman accidentally during lovemaking had stopped him from ever getting past the formal stage with any woman—sub or other- wise.
Rik’s breath was warm on the back of his neck. He turned his head to let it graze his ear and she caught his lobe between her teeth, nipped just hard enough to make him turn his head back.
Her hands came around his chest—unbuttoned his shirt slowly. As she peeled it away from his shoulders, she brought her nose in to smell him, to nuzzle his neck and to nip the sensitive skin at the nape. His senses were on high alert, every touch of her fingers was like fire against his skin. His heart beat loudly, his mouth dried, and maybe this was all a mistake.
A hand caressed his balls and then his shaft through the fabric of his pants. He’d wanted to wear his usual leathers, but in them he was certainly not unassuming.
“You’re nervous,” she said.
He didn’t answer, didn’t have to. It was more nervous energy than actual fear, but it all worked in his favor. Enhanced his role.
She rubbed against his bare back since he still faced the wall, eyes down, as she hadn’t given him the command otherwise. “Your safe word?” she asked.
“Daddy.”
Again, the deep chuckle. “You’re a funny boy. I have a feeling you won’t be as funny by the time I’m through with you, though. Are there things you’re not comfortable doing?”
Yes, this. All of this. “My tolerance is high,” he told her instead.
He didn’t know if that was actually the truth or not, but he had no way of knowing, having never subbed as many Doms did in order to learn how to better their role. He only knew that he preferred pleasure over pain, used restraints with his subs only to enhance pleasure . . . He wasn’t into humili...
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