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In his place is primal male power and perfection.
He looks like a hero sent to save the day and, true to form, before I can shout out a warning about the monster behind me, he’s shifted into a big, black-furred wolf.
And damn, but his wolf is also magnificent, gorgeous, and terrifying in a way I’m so grateful for right now.
He races past me, headed straight into the teeth and claws of danger, an almost equally powerful white wolf not far behind him.
More wolves stream through the doors and forward to offer aid as I turn, watching Maxim launch himself at Sweaty, landing on the tiger’s back as it tries to turn and run. I see Maxim’s bared teeth dig deep into the nape of the tiger’s neck, hear the cat roar, and then the white wolf joins the fray.
And then another wolf and another until it’s a big puppy pile with Sweaty on the bottom.
But it’s not a cute puppy pile, like the ones at the toddler playground today.
It’s lethal.
I’m not surprised, when, just a few minutes later, the wolves prowl away from Sweaty, leaving his now human form limp and lifeless on the floor.
A knot in my throat, I hurry forward, brushing past two wolves who try to block me with their muzzles and falling to the carpet by the man’s prone form.
I reach out, pressing two fingers to his neck, holding my breath until I feel the faint, thready pump of his pulse and words emerge in a rush, “Get a medical unit down here. Now. We have to get him stabilized. We don’t want him dying on us before we can figure out who hired him and what he was here for.”
“I think we know who he was here for,” Maxim says. I glance up to find him once again in his human form, studying me with narrowed eyes. But before I can respond, he jerks his head at someone behind me. “She’s right. Get medical down here. Fast. We can’t interrogate a dead man.”
Shoulders slumping with relief, I sit back on my heels, knowing there’s nothing I can do for the man without medical supplies.
The wounds at Sweaty’s neck aren’t bleeding freely anymore—some healing occurred during his shift into his human form—and anything beyond applying pressure is out of my hands right now.
“You, come with me,” Maxim says, circling around to stand beside me. “Until we’re sure we have everyone involved in this in custody, it’s not safe for you to be alone.”
I stand on shaking legs, grateful for the surprisingly gentle arm Maxim wraps around me, offering support.
“Hermione, take point on completing the lockdown and coordinating the second sweep to make sure all threats are clear,” he continues. “Drake, the tiger’s yours. Keep a team on him until he’s cleared by medical for interrogation. Nix, check in on my father and Diana and get back to me. I’ll be in my rooms.”
Without waiting for confirmation that his orders will be obeyed—of course they will, he’s Maxim—he turns, guiding me across the carpet toward the lobby doors.
I risk a glance up at his face as we walk, but he doesn’t seem angry with me, just…on high alert.
He’s in contain the tragedy mode. What happens when the crisis is contained, and he has a chance to process that all of this is my fault remains to be seen.
“Here, let’s pull this down,” he says as we stop beside the bank of elevators. Before I can ask him what he means, he reaches down, tugging my skirt—which I only now realize is up around my waist—down over my bottom and thighs. “There. More comfortable?”
I swallow, keeping my eyes very deliberately on his face as I say, “You’re completely naked.”
He nods. “I am, but partly undressed is different. More naked than naked. Don’t you think?”
“I-I don’t know,” I say, continuing to make an effort not to look at his sculpted chest, his powerful thighs, or the equally intimidating length between them.
Even flaccid, his cock is a beast—thick, long, a slightly darker tan than the rest of his skin and surrounded by a close-cropped nest of black hair I find inexplicably sexy.
Pubic hair is natural, of course, but in what little experience I’ve had with it, I can’t say I’ve ever found it all that appealing.
But now…. I do.
I want to study every part of Maxim—including his beautiful and beastly cock—like an artist preparing for a portrait.
But now isn’t the time or the place.
There’s never going to be a time or a place, not after what happened today.
