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“Youwon’t be harmed—you have my word on that,Delilah.”Thedeep, growling voice had softened somewhat and though it was hard to tell with the mask on, it seemed like his eyes were softer as well. “Ijust want to see you dance,” he told me. “Withoutanyone else to ruin it.Ijust want to watch your beautiful body move.”
“Well…all right,”Isaid at last. “I’lldance for you, but if you thinkI’mgoing to let you mate me just because my big brother says so, you’ve got another think coming,Mister.”
“We’llworry about that later,” he growled. “Fornow, let me show you to your room.”
Heturned again and headed into the darkened penthouse suite and this timeIfollowed him.
Thedim red lighting came from the living room area but we didn’t go there.Instead, the masked man led me down a hallway with several doors.Hestopped at the second one and threw it open, revealing a master suite with a huge king-sized bed.Itwas decorated all in black and white—black bedspread, white carpet, etc. but it wasn’t the décorIwas looking at.
Someonehad brought in a whole rolling rack full of colorful stripper clothing.Itwas set up at the foot of the bed.Therewas also a selection of platform heels ranging in height from a modest five inches all the way up to eight- or nine-inch stilts.
“Wow—this is alot,”Iremarked, walking over to look at the rack of clothes.Iflipped through a few of them. “Theseare my size, too.”
Stripperclothes are expensive—much more than you’d think.Youcan’t just wear any old lingerie up on stage—the clubs don’t like that.Theyhave vendors that come around and a single pair of booty shorts can cost you seventy-five dollars—if not more.SoIwas pretty impressed that this guy had put out so much money just to have a private performance.
“Everythinghas been provided for you,” the man in the mask told me. “Thereis also some makeup in the bathroom if you want to wear it.Notthat you need it,” he added, giving me a look that was impossible to interpret with the mask on.
“I, uh, usually have a blue contact lens thatIwear, to hide this.”Ipointed to my left eye, which is a pale gold with no other color at all, unlike my right, which is greenish blue. “Someguys don’t like it thatIhave two different colored eyes,”Iadded.
“Letme see.”Unexpectedly, he reached out with one big hand and cupped my chin.Hetilted it up so that he could meet my eyes, though his own were hooded by the mask.
Hestudied me for a long moment andIcould feel my heart pounding.Whatwas it about this man?Hefelt so strange and yet so familiar at the same time.Butwith that damn mask on,Icouldn’t be sure of anything…
“Beautiful,” he murmured at last. “You’refucking gorgeous, baby—you don’t need to hide your eyes.”
“Youmean…the way you’re hiding yours?”Ichallenged, but my voice came out sounding breathless.
“Youdon’t need to know whoIam,” he rumbled. “NotuntilImake up my mind about you.”
Iwanted to snap thatI’dalready made upmymind abouthim…but the truth wasIhadn’t.Iwas at a crossroads here, not sure what to do.ShouldIput on a private show for a manIdidn’t even know?Theonly oneIwanted to dance for like that wasCole.Howmany times hadIfantasized about showing him my sexy new moves asIlearned how to pole dance?Icould imagine the lazy look of desire in his eyes as he watched my hips working and my breasts swaying just for him…
“What…what do you want me to wear?”Iasked him, sinceIdidn’t know what else to say.
“Hmm…”Helet go of my chin at last—which was whatI’dbeen hoping for.Histouch had been sending my pulse into overdrive for some reason.Instead, he began looking through the rack of clothing, pausing to consider each outfit seriously.
“Hmm,”Imurmured, copying him.ButIwasn’t looking at the clothes—Iwas watching his hand.Hewas left-handed, apparently, which was fairly unusual.Butwhen he flipped through the various outfits,IthoughtIcaught a flash of white on his wrist—it looked like a scar.
“Howabout…this one?” he asked at last, pulling a hanger off the rack.
Hangingfrom it was a tiny, short ruffled skirt and a kind of bra that had a bow in the front.Idon’t mean it had a tiny little bow sewn in between the breasts either—Imean the whole front of the bra was two long strips of fabric which tied into a bow, covering your breasts, which would otherwise be exposed.
“Youmust have a thing for the sexy schoolgirl look,”Iremarked, nodding at the skirt. “Letme see that top,I’venever seen anything like it,”Iadded before he could answer.
Heheld it out to me and as he did, the cuff of his black shirt pulled up, exposing more of his wrist.WhatIsaw there made me certainIknew whoIwas dealing with.
Onthe underside of his wrist was a set of white scars that were unmistakably teeth marks.Ihad seen those scars a thousand times—more, probably.Andhe’d gotten those scars protecting me, like a big brother should.
ItwasCole—ithadto be him.Noone else would have those exact same scars on his left arm.Justlooking at them brought back a memory so terrifyingIhad tried often to repress it, thoughIcould never quite manage.
Ithad happened not long after my adoption intoCole’sfamily.IthinkIwas still eleven becauseIremember my new family made a big deal out of my twelfth birthday party andColehad his arm in a cast at the time.
Wewere at the neighbor’s house, just dropping off a bowl my adoptive mother had borrowed some time earlier.Ithink she’d sent me andColetogether because she wanted us to get to know each other, but she never could have imagined what would happen during the simple little errand.
Coleknocked on the door and we handed back the bowl, making polite small talk with the neighbor—Mrs.Krasinsky,Ithink her name was.Anyway, my new big brother introduced me dutifully and she smiled and shook my hand and said she hopedIwould be happy with my new family, etcetera, etcetera…Iremember being bored with the dull grownup talk and sad at the same time because all her talk about a “new family” only reminded me of how my real parents were dead.
Atlast she shut the door and we turned to go.Butas we were walking down the steps of herVictorianhouse, her dog came around from the side yard and saw us.
Mr.Krasinsky, her husband, was a veterinarian who specialized in exotic pets, so this was no ordinary dog—it was a wolfdog—that is a dog that has some percentage of wolf in its heritage.Thisone must have been nearly 100 percent wolf because it washugewith sharply pointed ears, a long gray muzzle, and golden eyes.
