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“It’s been a year since the attempted hacks began,” she pointed out. “So far, you’ve lost several enforcers due to the leaks, and security is breached along the perimeters of Sanctuary at least monthly. Their rate of success in doing so is worrisome. I’m wondering if there’s a chance you have another spy operating inside Sanctuary.”
They had caught one only months before, a trusted, loved member of the pride who had been attempting to destroy them from the beginning.
“Not possible.” Was it?
Hell, he had been investigating this himself for over six months. There was no way information was getting past the compound’s perimeters, yet their enemies were finding a way in anyway. And information was getting out.
“Anything is possible,” she murmured before turning her attention back to the file for long moments.
That studied concentration on her face pricked at him. He could feel an awareness he didn’t know how to describe moving inside him.
His flesh tingled at the sensation, muscles rippling as though they were being invaded. The hair along the back of his neck prickled, a feeling he was highly uncomfortable with.
Mercury wasn’t accustomed to the signs of primal awareness that other Breeds took for granted. The drugs the scientists had given him to suppress his animal genetics years before his rescue had completely eradicated not just the instinctive responses of his animal genetics but also the feral, uncontrollable intensity he used to possess.
But now, as he watched Ria’s studied concentration of the files, the hairs at his nape seemed to lift in warning.
“Do you think you can find a spy in those files?” Suspicion echoed heavily in his voice.
She lifted her eyes again, her expression disparaging.
“That’s not my job,” she drawled. “My job is to determine if you have enough control of the situation to allow you to possess the nifty little gadgets and toys that Vanderale sends you before they ever hit production. Don’t fool yourself, Mercury. I’m not here to do your job for you.”
She snapped the file closed, her eyes gleaming with an edge of anger as she rose from her chair and stalked back to the file table. The file was slapped back onto the pile before she bent over for another.
She bent over.
The skirt tightened over her shapely ass.
Full, beautiful globes filled his vision. His hand fisted, stretched, his fingers bending as though clawed, as a sudden, horrifying haze of hunger washed over him.
He had to have her.
One minute she was searching for the file she remembered seeing the day before, the next minute there was an iron rod pressing against the seam of her ass through her skirt and Mercury’s pants.
Eyes widening, her gaze flew to the arms trapping her at the sides, he
avily muscled arms, with attached hands that were gripping the wooden table, nails biting into it as a low growl sounded at the back of her neck.
Oh hell. This was not good. She could feel the need to back into him, to roll her hips against his straining cock and feel the fierce throb of hunger in it.
“The cameras,” she suddenly managed to gasp, remembering the small piece of electronics in the corner of the room behind them.
“They can’t see shit,” he snarled at her ear. “Pull your skirt up for me.”
“I will not,” she hissed, scandalized. “I’m not here to—”
“Do it or I will. And if I touch you, I may not let go until I’m coming inside that hot little pussy I smell. Now pull the fucking skirt up.”
Ria shuddered. Bent over as she was, her elbows braced on the table, she was in one of the most vulnerable positions that a woman could know. And he wanted her to make it worse?
“Merc—”
“Now.” His breathing was hard at her ear, lust echoing in the imperative need of the word he uttered.
Ria fought back the shiver building in her spine and the uncontrollable impulse to do as he commanded.
“Mercury ...”
