A. Arthur: Shifter's Claim

“We just keep ending up in this position,” he said as this time she stood with only one foot on the ground, her other leg—the one that had been meant to assault him—hiked up against his side.

“Is this how you like it? Standing up against the wall, your legs wrapped around me while I pump you until you come?” She opened her mouth to speak, clapped those medium-thick lips shut, and glared up at him instead.

“Let me go,” she said. “Or I’ll scream so loud every security officer in this building will come running.”

“You mean the security officers that allowed you to come onto this private floor and skulk around this private suite?” Bas shook his head. “Apparently, they’re on a smoke break.” He let her leg fall to the ground and moved so that now his fingers traced the line of her neck. “Now, I’ll ask you one more time what you were doing here and you can either answer me”—he lowered his voice purposely, letting his finger glide over the spot on her collarbone he’d just licked seconds before—“or you can fuck me. I’ll let you make the choice.”

Curiosity killed the cat.

That old saying ran back and forth through Priya’s head, bringing forth the memory of sneaking into the boxes underneath her mother’s bed in search of whatever her mother reached for at night that left her so out of it, she couldn’t even get up in the morning to get her kids ready for school.

Now, true to its meaning, it seemed her curious nature had gotten her into another mess she wished she’d never laid eyes on. Only, this six-foot-plus, built like a quarterback, smooth as the buttery tone of his skin, and sexy as … well, sexy as in had her nipples so hard they now hurt, man wasn’t precisely the same as finding her mother’s stash of crack cocaine.

She’d seen him before, earlier tonight at the reception for President Wilson Reed, in the ballroom. Up close and personal he was even more handsome than he had been from two tables away. His skin tone was light, hair wavy and dark, his face was clean-shaven with a strong nose and jawline. And his eyes, they weren’t the smoky-gray color she’d originally surmised. Stormy would be the better word as he glared at her with what she thought could pass as either barely masked contempt or intense sexual desire—she wasn’t really in the mood for either at the moment.

“Look, there’s been some type of misunderstanding,” she tried to tell him, the final word coming as a partial whisper after deciding to ignore his “you can fuck me” remark. That may have been a little cowardly, which was out of character for Priya, but she figured it was a smart move considering she was actually thinking of doing just that with him.

He looked at her as if he could tell she was lying or ready to tell the lie before the words could even escape. She felt like clamping her lips shut and keeping them that way, until he did that thing he’d done with his tongue again—oh, she’d definitely open her mouth the next time he did that.

Right, because sexual arousal was exactly what she should be thinking about in lieu of the e-mails she’d been receiving that threatened the lives of all the people she loved and cherished in this world. Thinking about taking this man up on his oh-so-enticing offer—especially since the self-imposed celibacy she’d endured for the last year was about to take its toll—was definitely more important than following her blackmailer’s orders and saving her family. In some crazy twisted world, she thought with an inward sigh. She knew she had no choice here and for the billionth time tonight wondered how she was going to do what needed to be done, when the people involved were reputedly more powerful than the president himself.

“I’m a reporter from the Washington Post. I wanted to get a comment from Mr. Reynolds about President Reed’s campaign,” she blurted out. “There, satisfied now that you know why I’m here?”

He looked like he was anything but, still he’d released his hold on her, physically, that is. His eyes still bore into her as if he were performing some type of perverted X-ray of her body right in this hallway.

“You waited all night, the entire three and a half hours that Mr. Reynolds was downstairs in that ballroom to follow him to his room to ask for a statement?”

He lifted a brow in disbelief as he spoke. The slight rasp of his deep voice echoing around her as if forever planting itself in her memory, like she’d really forget being felt up by this guy, which was definitely not going to happen.

“It’s my job,” she told him with a shrug. “And since I’m assuming you’re some type of bodyguard and not going to let me get that statement, I’ll just be going.”

Priya was more than shocked that he hadn’t reached out to grab her again, to try and stop her from leaving. Instead, she’d walked about three very uncomfortable steps because she knew he was staring at her ass as she did, before his voice stopped her.

“Have a drink with me?”

She turned. “What?”

He closed the space between them, taking her by her elbow, much more gently than he had touched her before, yet still sending electrifying spikes up her arm.

“We’ll go down to the bar since having you in my room might lead us to other things besides a nice cordial drink.” He continued as if she’d already accepted, walking them to the elevators at the far end of the hall that had brought her up here about fifteen minutes before.

Once they were inside the elevator and she felt like she needed to stop this impending train wreck, Priya turned to him and announced, “I’m not the reporter who sleeps with someone for a story.”

He looked at her then, an amused grin on his face—amused and way too cocky for her, but still sexy as hell.

“Good, because I don’t sleep with reporters. I do, however, take beautiful women to bed and give them a night they’ll never forget. Tonight, however, I’ll settle for a glass of wine.”

Rebuffed and not sure whether or not she disliked it or felt relief, Priya kept her mouth shut. It wasn’t an easy task since she’d always been inclined to ask questions, always searching for answers. Sometimes, however, the answers she found were more than she’d bargained for. That was part of the reason she was here tonight, on this foolhardy mission to uncover something she wasn’t sure she believed herself.

Still, it was apparent that this man knew Reynolds personally. In the last two weeks Priya had interviewed everyone from a receptionist in Reynolds’s office to the manager of the detail shop where his SUV was dropped off every Friday afternoon. Her file on the man was almost an inch thick with one glowing remark after another. He appeared so squeaky clean she’d felt sick each time she flipped through her notes. So, if having a glass of wine with this new person she’d seen with Reynolds could help get this task completed sooner, rather than later, she’d do it, and whatever else she had to, if it would save her family’s life.

She took another sip of her wine, her glass almost empty. Bas was on his second glass, sitting in the circular booth toward the back of the hotel’s bar at well past midnight.

He should be upstairs in his room, probably in bed since he knew there would be meetings tomorrow before his scheduled return to Sedona. All of the Faction Leaders had come for the meetings, to talk about what the Assembly’s plan of action would be against the rogues and the killer drug they were filtering through the streets. Since that drug had claimed its first human lives here in D.C. and this was where the Assembly Leader lived, it was logical that they start here. The beginning was always a good place to start, he thought as he watched her take yet another sip, looking out the window toward the fading D.C. nightlife.