A. Arthur: Shifter's Claim

“We specialize in chemical warfare,” he reminded Captain Lawrence Crowe, the director of the lab’s defense program.

“No,” Captain Crowe replied, walking to stand on the other side of the table where the man lay. “We specialize in warfare.”

“This is a man,” Mario pointed out, about three seconds too soon.

In the next instant the naked man had jumped off the table, hitting the tile floor on his hands and knees. Mario jumped back, barely holding on to a scream he knew would sound more feminine than Captain Crowe and his macho persona would appreciate. Crowe, true to his Marine Corps training, reached for his weapon, bringing both hands together and pointing it directly at the man.

A noise echoed through the room. No, it wasn’t just a noise but a growl, fierce, loud, and lethal. Mario wanted to run but the man blocked the door. He was about to look to Crowe to ask him what the hell was going on when the man opened his mouth and growled again.

“Oh. My. God,” Mario mumbled.

The man had incisors more than an inch long, and the cheeks that had looked normal just a few minutes ago had now morphed into a broad muzzle, and his eyes were an eerie yellow color that sent a shiver of fear straight down Mario’s spine. When the man or beast or whatever it was growled again it came up on its hind legs, standing taller than the door frame, looking more fierce than anything Mario had ever seen.

Three shots were fired from behind him, the sound causing him to jump each time, a hand going to his chest as if he thought that would still his pounding heartbeat.

“What the hell?” he managed after watching the big form slide to the floor, now unconscious.

He took a step forward when the captain had yet to answer him and stared down at what he wanted to call a big man cat. Right before his eyes, the muzzled face deflated and looked once more like a man. The large chest heaved up, down, up, down, until it slowed to a steady, slow rhythm.

“That’s what I want you to find out,” Crowe said, coming up behind him.

Now they both stood looking down at what … they had absolutely no idea. Crowe was anxious; Mario could almost feel the adrenaline pouring off the man in waves. He was planning something and it was going to be big. It was also going to include Mario and he wasn’t 100 percent positive he was happy about that.

The Willard InterContinental Hotel

Washington, D.C.

Present day

“What do you want?” he asked even though he had one arm wrapped firmly around her waist, the other clapped tightly over her mouth.

She’d been following him all night, her gaze fixated on him like a beacon in the dark of night. Bas had tried to ignore it, no, actually he hadn’t. He’d seen her about two minutes after she’d taken her seat at the table just ten feet away from his. She’d smiled and conversed with the others around her, all the while casing the room for something, until landing on him. Females did not normally affect him this way, they didn’t look at him and cause all the blood in his body to run hotter and faster throughout his veins. They didn’t call to him throughout the night in a room full of about six hundred people and they definitely did not wander around hotel hallways attempting to break into private suites—the private suites of Roman Reynolds, Leader of the Stateside Assembly.

She mumbled something against his hand, her lips brushing over his skin with the effort. His teeth gritted so hard he thought his jaw might break, warmth flooding him so fast and so potently he felt like he might melt with the intensity. In seconds his defensive stance shifted to something more powerful, more lethal to anyone on its receiving end. He pressed his body closer, let the curves of hers fit perfectly against him. Her ass was cradled by his now-jutting hips, and felt so sweet he almost gasped. Moving his arm upward just a few inches had the curve of her breasts resting against his arms. But both those actions and reactions were basic—male body parts plus female body parts equaled sexual desire, plain and simple, the circle of life so to speak.

Then he inhaled and that circle broke, it bent and reshaped until Bas felt like it was a lasso instead, tightening slowly, keeping them together regardless. Her scent consumed him, filtering through his body like an infusion of pleasure, a drug so pure and so powerful he automatically wanted more. Leaning forward, his lips only inches from her earlobe he whispered, “If you scream I’ll break your neck.”

Slowly, he moved his hand away from her mouth, keeping her body pressed tightly against the wall, firmly covered by his own.

“You really need to work on your greeting,” came her cool response, delivered in a sultry voice that wasn’t so deep as to be off-putting and wasn’t too high as to work his nerves. It was, he thought, inhaling another dangerous whiff of her scent, alluring.

“Do I now?” Bas asked with a slight chuckle to his tone. “And what do you need to work on? Your surveillance skills maybe? You picked the wrong room and the wrong person to follow tonight.”

Her next move was totally surprising, especially to Sebastian Perry, multimillionaire resort owner and playboy extraordinaire. She wiggled her ass against his now-throbbing erection, turned, and tilted her head so that when she spoke her next words he could actually see her lips move and feel her warm breath fan over his face.

“Maybe I need to work on you,” she whispered about two seconds before her elbow smashed into the right side of his ribs.

Another man, a human, may have buckled at the assault but Bas, a Faction Leader in the Stateside Assembly, barely blinked. He did, however, take about a five-inch step back, which gave her enough time to spin around and face him, but not get away.

“Oh, that can definitely be arranged,” he replied, moving into her once more.

While he’d loved the enticing cushion of her ass against his dick, he was now enjoying the heavy swells of her breasts pressed against his chest, threatening to overflow from the tight bodice of her dress. Her hair was short, shorter than he usually preferred on his females but cut in a chic style that he now realized echoed her snappy and courageous personality. She had a small face, plump lips, wide eyes, and high cheekbones. Everything about her seemed to scream blatant desire, and yet, there was something else.

“This may be some form of harassment,” she told him, her hands pushing futilely against his chest.

Bas, the smooth, cocky sonofabitch he was sometimes known as, only smiled. “No, this would be harassment,” he told her a second before cupping her ass cheeks in his palms and leaning forward to lick the seam of her lips.

He pressed her into him so hard and so fast his dick just about burst through the zipper of his tuxedo pants. Against his spine his cat pressed for more, teeth bared with the idea of conquest. He should have moved away at the quick inhale of her breath, the renewed effort to break free, but that only spurred Bas on, flicking on a switch inside him that had almost been permanently off.

Moving slightly to the right, his tongue ran a line along her jaw, down the length of her neck to her collarbone, which was left open for his perusal by the extremely low cut of her come-fuck-me red dress. Her breath had hitched, her heart pounding against her chest, her fingers clenching in the lapels of his jacket just as his teeth nipped along her soft skin.

Then she moved and Bas knew what would come next. His hand followed her motion, slipping down the back of her thigh to grab her calf just as her knee planned to slam into his groin. When she pushed at him he let her, but still held on to her leg, leaving her to flail against falling flat on the floor. After a split second of her looking helpless and extremely pissed off, he circled her waist with his free arm, holding her once more against him.