I t couldn't have been past eleven o'clock in the morning when he heard it. The most horrible sound. The kind of sound that drove men to kill, to destroy all they love, to destroy everything.

With a growl he stood up, went to the window, and threw it open. The carolers at the front of the house glanced up at him. They looked quite festive in their Santa hats and green and red sweaters, singing happily about Rudolph and his goddamn red nose.

Mace glared at the group and roared. A full-on, lion-protecting-his-Pride roar. The kind of roar that would travel up to five miles and let any other shifters know this territory belonged to him now.

The carolers stopped, screamed, and ran. He slammed the window down and turned back around. Dez kneeled naked on the bed, watching him with beautiful wide-awake eyes.

"What is wrong with you?"

"They woke me up. I hate that."

"Mace, I gotta live here. And weren't they from the church?"

"I thought I saw a priest."

Dez buried her head in her hands. She wondered if it were really hot in hell or just a little humid.

"Don't worry, Dez. They'll convince themselves it didn't happen."

Her head snapped up. "Look, Mace. I know you're a freak, but do you think you could be a little less freaky?"

Mace calmly walked toward her. All naked and glorious. Dez's body responded immediately at the sight of him-her breath leaving her in a soft whoosh, her nipples tightening, and the evidence of her lust pouring from between her thighs.

"You like me freaky."

She watched as he moved toward her with the grace of the animal he truly was, and Dez felt awe. Not only for what he could do, but for what he did to her. How he made her feel.

He stood at the foot of the bed. "Come here, Dez."

She shook her head. "No."

"You scared of me?"

She shook her head again. "No." Her eyes traveled up his body until their eyes locked. "I just think you should work for it."

She spun on her knees and dived off the bed. She never touched the floor, though. Mace had her by the ankle and clearly had no intention of letting her go.

"Mace Llewellyn, let me go!" She tried to pull her foot away, but Mace wasn't having it. He dragged her back as he kneeled on one end of the mattress.

"Would you look at that ass." He slowly pulled her back toward him. "That ass belongs to me, ya know."

"It does not!"

"I guess it always has. Belonged to me, that is."

"Mace, lemme go!"

"No. I'm not even remotely done with my ass. Not even close."

He pulled her onto his lap, ass up. Mace gazed down at her butt. Such a delightful, perfect ass. His ass. He leaned down and kissed the right cheek. Then he unleashed his fangs and bit her.

Dez squealed. Mace didn't even know her voice could go that high. She unleashed a stream of curses, some he never even heard of-spunk bubble?-reached back, and punched his thigh.

"Did you just bite me," she demanded.

Mace licked the blood away. "Uh-huh."

"Did you break skin?"

"Uh-huh."

She moaned as his tongue cleaned off her wound, her hands gripping the comforter. "Why?"

Mace kissed her ass just before he flipped her over. He shrugged. The woman asked the oddest questions. "Cause you're mine."

"You irritating, motherfucking cat!" Dez tried to scramble away again, but Mace didn't let her move an inch from him. Instead, he pulled up one leg, draping it over his shoulder, and wrapped the other around his waist. He yanked her tight against him, the length of his cock pressing against her hot pussy, while he ran his tongue over her ankle.

"By the way, Dez." She looked up at him in confusion and lust. "Love the toenails."

He didn't hear her fall out of bed until she hit the floor. Mace opened his eyes and found one of her damn dogs staring at him. Tongue hanging out with the foulest breath known to man or beast. Apparently, the dogs feared him less. As the afternoon wore on, they kept moving closer and closer to him. Testing to see how far they could go before he tried to eat one as an appetizer. Now one had his front paws on the bed and that foul wet nose almost touching his. He really didn't like how this particular relationship kept moving along. He'd hoped they would have run away by now.

He heard the cell phone ring and realized why Dez left their warm bed. He could hear her scramble for it. "MacDermot. Oh yeah. Hi. Hold on, hon."

She crawled back into bed beside him, her naked body rubbing against his as she handed him his phone. Would anything ever feel as good as that? "Your phone. Thought it was mine."

"It's not Missy again, is it?"

Dez chuckled. "Nope."

He took the phone from her. "Did you fall out of bed?"

"Shut up." She turned over and put her arm around one of her stupid dogs. That one actually lay on the bed. And his woman spooned it. She shouldn't be spooning the dog. She should be spooning him.

"What?" he barked into the phone.

"Hey, hoss."

"Hey, Smitty. How's it going?"

"Fine. Are we still on for tonight?"

"Hold on." Mace pushed Dez's shoulder.

"What?" She didn't turn around, but instead stroked that stupid dog's neck.

"Smitty wants to know if you wanna hang out with them tonight."

"Them?"

"Yeah. Him, Sissy Mae, and their Pack."

"Sure."

He watched her stroke that stupid dog's belly. Honestly, what next? Forget it. He didn't even want to go there.

"All right. We're in," he said into the phone.

"Great. Meet us at the hotel. We'll go from there."

"When?"

"Eight o'clock. We'll get dinner first."

"You got it."

Mace closed the phone and glanced over at Dez. Immediately his cock became hard. Damn, but the things the woman did to him. She must have catnip in her veins. He planned to turn on his side and put his arms around her, but when he tried to move his legs a one-hundred-and-fifty pound pile of raw dog meat happily sat on his feet. He didn't even realize the big bastard had gotten on the bed.

"Woman, there's a dog on my feet."

"It's his bed."

"Is this our lives from now on? I'm going to have to put up with these fucking dogs in bed with us?"

Dez turned over. She smelled of panic. "Our lives?"

"Yeah. Our lives. I thought I made this clear to you last night."

"Are you always like this?"

"Yes."

"Cause that's going to get on my nerves."

"Too bad."

She ran her hands through her hair. "You know, I always hated cats. Hence the dogs."

"Ah yes. You definitely want something around your house that licks its ass, chases its tail, and follows your every command until a car drives by."

She raised herself up on her elbows, her anger making her smell fucking amazing. "Dogs are loyal. They're intuitive. They drag people out of burning buildings. With cats you just hope they don't kill you in your sleep."

Mace had to be the most relentless man she'd ever known. He wanted her and apparently had no intention of giving up until he got what he wanted. What exactly should she do with a 230-pound shapeshifter anyway?

Sauer yelped as Mace unceremoniously kicked his furry butt off the bed. Then Mace was on her, kissing her, snatching the breath from her lungs. Damn, but she loved the feel of the man's body against hers. All that velvety flesh over hard muscle. One big hard muscle pressing against her inside thigh.

Now see. How exactly was she supposed to panic about their "relationship" when that demon tongue of his so gently stroked the inside of her mouth? And those big hands of his were on her breasts, tugging and rolling her nipples?

Tricky bastard. He was trying to keep her off track. Confuse her. The bastard wanted her to love him. Dammit. Why couldn't she get a nice, normal psychotic with mother issues, like every other woman in New York?

Mace flipped her over. She buried her face in her pillow and gripped the irreparably damaged headboard between her hands. He grabbed a condom, then thrust inside her, taking ownership-again.

Well he could forget anything about her loving him. She was completely okay with the desperate lust holding her captive. That was perfectly normal. But love? No way. That wasn't happening. And the fact she squeezed the damaged wood headboard so tight she had splinters in her fingers? That meant nothing. Or the fact that she gasped like a long-distance runner on her last mile-it didn't mean a damn thing either. At least not to her.

And when she came and screamed his name into her pillow? Nope. That didn't mean shit either.

Aw hell.

Chapter Eleven.

M ace pulled the thick, black cable sweater over his head and tugged it down his body. He shook the water out of his mane and put on his new watch.

Dez's arms looped around his waist from behind. She pressed her T-shirtcovered body into his and kissed him on the back.

He took hold of her hands. "How are your fingers?" It took him forty-five minutes to get the splinters out, and she whined the entire time. He offered to cut her fingers off entirely rather than using the tweezers, but she resisted that idea.

"Fine now. Was the shower okay?"

"Too small."

"Well, blame your genetics on that one."

"You still should have joined me."

"I couldn't. I had to feed the boys."

Mace glanced over. They sat staring at him. Their dog tongues hanging out. Since Dez couldn't see him, he flashed his fangs. One of the dogs started to whine.

"Whatever you are doing-stop it." She released him. "Hey, do me a favor."

He turned around and saw that she'd grabbed two leashes off the dresser. "Walk 'em for me, babe." She handed him the leashes and walked out of the room.

Mace stared at the leashes in his hand. Had the woman lost her mind? Had the world gone mad? There was no way he was walking these...these...

Mace looked over at the dumb beasts waiting patiently for him. "Dogs."

"You'll need these too." She came back in the room, and shoved a couple of plastic grocery bags in his hand. "Thanks, babe." She walked away.

Mace stared down at the bags in his hand.

Oh, there is no way!

No. No. No! She just asked for too much. Demanded too much. She wanted him to walk her dogs and to pick up their shit. Him. Mason Rothschild Llewellyn. Breeding Male of the Llewellyn Pride. Former Navy SEAL. And a lion.