Poisonous Desires Read online

  Draven’s Crossing 4

  Poisonous Desires

  Selena Illyria

  Published By Purple Sword Publications, LLC

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  DRAVEN’S CROSSING 4:

  POISONOUS DESIRES

  Copyright © 2013 SELENA ILLYRIA

  ISBN 978-1-61292-095-5

  Cover Art Designed By Anastasia Rabiyah

  Chapter One

  Happy Veil Cemetery

  Zelda fingered her rosary and stared at the hole in the ground. People milled about her, murmuring words of sorrow. Nothing made an impact on her pain. They didn’t know “sorry”; they didn’t know the pain she felt. Why the Jagged Pass Pack alpha bitch, Poppy, felt that Joey had to die was beyond her. Joey didn’t know about the Katnip operation. Poppy claimed she’d wanted to cover their bases. He’d overheard something, or so she’d claimed, to doubt Poppy would be dangerous. Poppy had connections, knew people who could hurt Zelda and her children; she’d already lost one person in this crazy scheme. There would be no more deaths in her family.

  Joey hadn’t been an easy man to love, and heaven knew her kids were better off without him. He’d always had to put pressure on them to succeed the way he had, from the ground up, with no help from his family and all on his own. Despite his hurtful words and actions, he’d been a good man underneath all that gruffness. He was a simple man who took things at face value and took people at their word. It was how his father had been. If she’d told him dealing with Poppy was for work, he would’ve believed her. He hadn’t known anything; that’s what she had to keep telling herself.

  The other half of the coin was that now she was free to live her life, to stop pinching pennies, to actually go on a vacation out of state, out of the country. The Wickerman Pack would be no more once she left. With Joey gone and her stepping down as alpha bitch, she had no responsibilities anymore. There would be a new pack alpha and he’d want someone younger, someone who didn’t already have children. Poppy couldn’t make them keep her on, not with her pull. Besides that, she didn’t want to be alpha bitch anymore; she hadn’t wanted to be one in the first place. Too many political games and drama, not enough support, not like how it used to be that pack meant family. Not anymore.

  Someone laid a hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze, drawing her out of her thoughts.

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Zelda. Joey was a good husband and a wonderful alpha. He was a great leader. It’s going to be hard to replace him.” Miriam Bolt, pack busybody and social climber, gave Zelda’s shoulder another squeeze, this time one that hurt. A silent message that she was now fresh meat for all the women in the pack who had hated her over the years.

  Zelda didn’t wince. She kept her body relaxed and resisted the urge to frown. Miriam didn’t give a damn about her husband’s death or her loss. All she cared about was that her son would be named Joey’s successor. That meant more power, money, and prestige, all the things Miriam coveted.

  She nodded. “Thank you, Miriam. Your words are appreciated.”

  Zelda shrugged out of Miriam’s hold. “I have to get home now. The kids will need me, and I have to clean up after the police.” It was a lie; the kids had gone directly back to college after the funeral. They hadn’t wanted to interact with the rest of the pack and listen to their ineffectual words of apology.

  Miriam’s cold, blue eyes flared with excitement before her face became an emotionless mask. “Oh, of course, the police must be harassing you about all the poisons Joey took. Why he was an oleander eater, one never knows. Silly, really, thinking you can build up a tolerance to something so dangerous. And such a shame about the account. How could you have known about that? Wives, always the last to know.” She couldn’t hide the small smile on her face. “All right, Zelda, we’ll see you at the women’s gardening meeting, yes?”

  I doubt it, she thought, but Zelda smiled anyway. “Of course.” She turned on her heel and headed out of the cemetery. Her stomach cramped, and her face flared with heat. That bitch. Was she implying that I knew something? Had Miriam heard something from her godson, the cop on the case? Zelda gritted her teeth and slipped her phone from her purse. Poppy had to be told. She hit speed dial and opened the door.

  Poppy answered on the first ring. “Zelly, how are you?”

  “That bitch Miriam held me back. I think she may know something or her godson, Mark, may have told her something about the case. I don’t know. Look, I need my cut now. I can’t handle the pressure, the questions, and the suspicions. I won’t have the kids dragged through this too. The police won’t go away. They keep coming over asking me questions. Are you sure Kendall won’t talk?” Zelda demanded. Sweat dotted her brow as her heartbeat picked up the pace. The thought of someone saying something was enough to scare her. Her nerves were already raw enough from everything she’d been through. A court trial wouldn’t help. Her daughter, Kassie, had already suggested Zelda seek a therapist.

  “Kendall is a good girl, and besides, she’s on a cruise around the Bahamas for the next three months. A lovely birthday trip from yours truly. I can get you your cut. No problem. Are you sure you want out now? The Werewolf Summit is coming up. Lots of new customers.” Polly actually sounded sad that Zelda wouldn’t be there.

  “No, the kids’ college funds are all paid up, and the mortgage will be paid up after the insurance company cuts the check. Then I can sell the house. I’m not going to stay where I’m not wanted. The pack certainly won’t be sorry to see me leave once Miriam’s son takes over.” She shoved down the bile that rose in her throat. “I didn’t know he had a million-dollar policy, but now that they’ve ruled his death accidental, they are paying me out by Monday. I can go, live in that house in California I’ve always wanted. I can’t do this anymore, not with all the police hovering around.” Zelda had rehearsed this speech many times in the past few days, but she doubted Poppy would let her off so easy. Zelda refused to be pushed around by the police or by Poppy.

  “But we do need you,” Poppy whined. “Those cookies of yours are always a big winner, and we can make so much money in Draven’s Crossing.”

  Zelda refused to allow Poppy to try to dissuade her with talk of money. She wasn’t greedy. “No. No. No. I can’t, not with Torger and the Council hovering about. Plus, there’s that spook brother of Torger’s. He’s still in town. No. I’m out.”

  “Fine.” Ice filled Poppy’s tone. “I’ll have your money ASAP. Bye, honey, and if I haven’t said it, I’ll say it now, I’m so sorry about your loss.” Poppy signed off.

  Zelda pulled into her driveway. Sure she is, she thought. Zelda hung up and got out of her car. As soon as she got her money, she was getting the hell out of Dodge. Poppy wasn’t going land her ass in jail. Poppy could find another stooge for her ridiculous plan.

  * * * *

  Nadia took in a deep breath and blew it out. She was going stir crazy. They’d been holding her for at least a week. The longer this went on, the more vivid her nightmares became. She couldn’t stop the memories of her abusive father or the pain and emotional damage he’d inflicted on her mother and sister, as well as on herself. Last night in her dreams, she’d regressed back to her childhood. Emotional scars ripped open at the memory, and now she couldn’t shake the haunting footste
ps of her father. He’d put her in a basic room, like the one she was in now. Everywhere she looked, tendrils of fear wrapped around her body. She needed to feel safe again, secure. Nadia kept reminding herself that she was an adult, that she could defend herself, that she’d left home long ago. Her father and his abuse couldn’t touch her now, not ever.

  She closed her eyes and reached out with her mind to the last time she’d felt truly in charge of herself. Nadia ordered her mind to go back to a moment when she’d been safe and secure. A new place emerged from the fog of her mind. Pockmarked, pale peach Italian marble blocks rose up around her. Diaphanous white drapes fluttered in the high, rounded archways, and the sound of a fountain trickled somewhere nearby, adding to the stress-free environment. Candlelight flickered around the room, bathing the space in pale golden light. Nadia’s heart rate slowed as the tension ebbed away to nothing. The light perfume of vanilla and cinnamon floated on a soft breeze. Her father was nowhere to be found. This was Sanctuary.

  “Take off your clothes,” a rich, deep baritone ordered. Urban. Her Urban. Arousal spiked in her blood as the pulse of desire started between her legs. Her skin prickled with awareness as her sex flooded with moisture. This memory was from the last time they were in Italy together, months ago. She’d been without him for far too long. Nadia exhaled and relaxed further, sinking into the need he sparked deep in the pit of her stomach. He would keep her safe; he always did. He would also make her forget about her father and her current situation. A shard of yearning sparked in her heart, and a slice of pain filled her chest. Tears formed in her eyes. She shoved it all back and took a breath. Thinking about that small sentiment of wanting to be with him in a relationship wouldn’t do, not now. She had to focus on Urban and the here and now.

  She looked toward Urban and felt her ease increase. He stood in a darkened archway, painted in shadows and candlelight. Her gaze ate up his form from his broad shoulders, wide chest, and trim waist to the defined ridges of his abdomen. The skintight, black leather, knee-high boots wrapped around the thick muscles of his thighs. In the dim light, she could see the outline of his thick erection pressing against the front placket of his pants. She swallowed as a yearning to drop to her knees, undo his fly, and take his cock into her mouth hit her square in the gut. She could practically taste and smell the sex, musk, and sweat. A whimper formed in her throat, but she swallowed it away. He hadn’t given her permission for that or ordered her to do it.

  Nadia refocused her attention on herself and looked down at her clothing. Gone was the eight-year-old body, so weak and puny, unable to protect her mother or sister. Now she was an adult with full breasts, curves, and a trim body that had been honed to fight, to kill, but also to accept the pleasure that Urban would dole out to her. Her cocoa skin was covered by a loose-fitting dress and golden strappy sandals that tied up to her knees with slim ties. The only jewelry she wore was the pair of chandelier earrings he’d given her after their Paris encounter.

  Urban strode into the room. “Didn’t hear me? I said take off your clothes. Now.” Urban moved with predatorial grace. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched him glide forward, smooth and liquid. The soft light of the space illuminated his form until she could see him properly. He wore a black-and-white, checked carnival mask rimmed in gold. His torso was bare, but scars turned his rich golden skin into slices and swathes and a patchwork of healed and not so healed areas. She could see some bruises around his ribs and on his stomach. If he ached, it didn’t show. She didn’t ask him what happened. Nadia never asked. It was their rule. Even if she wanted to know, yearned to ask, had the questions on the tip of her tongue, the words never found their way out. If she allowed her curiosity free rein, that could open a door into her own past, and she didn’t want to go there and taint their relationship. He stopped moving and stood out of reach, a few feet away. Her heart flipped in her chest, and anticipation wove around her veins.

  “Do I need to say it again?” He crossed his arms over his chest, showing off the sleeping wolf under a full moon tattoo that decorated his upper arm.

  No more stalling, she told herself. Rather than reply verbally, she answered him with actions and stripped off the loose-fitting, Grecian-style chiton she’d appeared in. Only her shoes and the chandelier earrings remained. Through the eyeholes, she could see his green eyes blaze with passion. For a moment she hated the mask that caressed his face and hid his reactions from her. She wanted to trace the contours of his cheekbones, coated in a layer of golden stubble, see his sensuous lips that she’d kissed and nibbled at and yearned to feel in her loneliest hours. Another whimper formed in her throat. A question formed on her tongue, but again she let it fade away. Instead she focused on her body’s reactions to being so close to him once again. Her skin heated, and prickles of fire danced on her arms and legs. Arousal swirled in the pit of her stomach as her pussy throbbed with need. Her clit pulsed with anticipation. She fisted her hands to keep from touching herself. Urban hadn’t given her permission yet. Nadia wished he would order her to do something, anything. She needed this release, if for only a moment.

  Urban reached down and undid his fly, much to her annoyance. She’d wanted the honor. Maybe she should give him a little taste of her impatience with a few brushes and accidental presses to his groin. The thick, ruddy crown of his shaft peeked out from between the V that formed at the front of his pants. This time, the whimper she’d been holding back slipped out. She wanted to tease that cockhead, swirl her tongue over the wide cap, and take him into her mouth. Instead, she clenched her fists and dug her nails into her palms. Sparks of pain rushed up her arms and added to the yearning that swirled around her body. Her skin felt too tight as her labia and the skin on her inner thighs tingled with anticipation and arousal. Urban tested her control further by pulling the panels of his pants apart a little more so she could see the start of his thick cock that disappeared into the ink-black leather.

  Another sound slipped past her lips, unintelligible to her ears as he hooked his thumbs into his waistband and pushed them down until his cock was halfway out. He slipped a hand into the front opening of his pants. She watched the hidden show of him stroking his cock from base to tip and back down again, hiding the full display from her view.

  “Want this? Need to taste me as much as I want to eat you out?” He pushed more of his pants down until only his balls were stuck.

  She let out an anguished cry and started to move forward, only to stop herself.

  Urban tsked at her and shook his head. “Did I say you could move?” Behind the mask, she could see his green eyes darken and harden.

  Nadia bowed her head. “No, Sir.”

  “Stand up and look at me.” His tone brokered no retort or smartass remark.

  She did as she was told. Nadia hungrily watched as he continued to stroke his cock. A single clear tear wept from the slit at the top. With each downward action of his hand, she felt the shadow of his touch against her sex and deep inside. She could feel the ghost of calloused fingers and palms against her sides, her breasts, her back, her ass, her legs, all over until she stood before him, shaking with desire.

  “Look at you, so beautiful, every inch of you perfection. I can’t get enough of you.” He moved forward, his cock bobbed with each step. Urban stopped an inch or so away from her. His body heat beat against her skin, adding to her own need. “Kneel and taste what you do to me.”

  She sank to the floor and waited for him to bring his cock closer to her lips. Her heart pounded against her ribcage as the heavy throb of need in her womb reminded her that she still needed him inside of her. Urban sifted his fingers through her hair, brushing it away from her shoulders. He brushed the tresses back into a ponytail and gripped her hair, pulling back her head before he pushed his hips forward. His cock brushed against her lips. Her tongue darted out for a taste before she swirled it around the thick crest and then took it into her mouth. With a moan she teased the slit, lapping up more of his precum before taking hi
m further inside of her. The heat and width of his cock burned her lips and stretched them to the limit.

  He groaned and flexed his hips, pushing more of his shaft into her mouth. She traced the veins that her tongue could reach and teased the sensitive flesh. Her arousal built up with each thrust as her vaginal walls clenched and flexed and fluttered in time with each push. With a grunt, he pulled away from her. “No more; on the chaise, spread your legs.” His voice sounded harsh and torn, frayed around the edges.

  Urban produced a condom packet from the pocket of his pants, tore it, and rolled it onto his flushed cock. His chest, shoulders, face, and ears were all red; sweat beaded on his brow and formed a fine sheen over his skin. He tugged off his boots and pants and strode toward her.

  Nadia laid back on the lounge and watched his actions with amusement and impatience. “Please.” She dug her nails into her thighs to keep from working her clit and alleviating some of the need that had built to the point of discomfort. She needed release, now, to be ridden hard and fast; there was nothing tender about this encounter. Later, they could take it slow.

  He didn’t answer. He climbed onto the chaise, wrapped her legs around his waist, and positioned himself at her dripping entrance. “Hold on, honey; this isn’t going to be sweet, not in the least.”

  She thrust her chest out. “Don’t care, fuck me!” Her body was already at the edge without him touching her properly. Her nipples ached, and her skin felt too hot and tight. Every nerve ending was alive and burning with desire.

  He didn’t punish her for that outburst. Urban thrust into her in one move. She was already so slick, there wasn’t any resistance. Nadia squeezed her inner muscles around his thick shaft.

  “Touch yourself, honey,” he ordered. He paused to grip her hip and dangle her upward while balancing on one hand on the edge of the couch.

  Nadia ran her hands over his chest, raking her nails over his bright red skin. He let out a deep growl, pulled out of her, and slammed into her. With each thrust, he rocked her body and pushed her further over the edge until she was clawing at her self-control to keep from coming without him. “Urban.” She moaned and rocked against him as she touched a finger to her oversensitive clit. Shards of fire burst in her gut, inflaming her body until she felt she would drown in fire. He fucked her hard, his cockhead rubbing against her G-spot with each thrust, setting off more sexual sparks.