Collared for a Night (Crimson Romance)

  Collared for a Night

  Susan Arden, author of Tempted by Trouble

  Avon, Massachusetts

  This edition published by

  Crimson Romance

  an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.

  10151 Carver Road, Suite 200

  Blue Ash, Ohio 45242

  www.crimsonromance.com

  Copyright © 2013 by Susan Arden

  ISBN 10: 1-4405-6670-4

  ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6670-7

  eISBN 10: 1-4405-6671-2

  eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6671-4

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

  Cover art © 123rf.com

  Doug, for your never-ending belief that the right words would come and the music you provide to my spirit. The trails you cut during motocross rides inspire me to reach higher and take greater chances. Being with you has been a wild ride each and every day.

  Barbara Gibbs, for making certain the words on the page made sense with your keen proofing ability.

  Jennifer, Julie, and Jessica … for taking this journey with me. Again.

  Contents

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  About the Author

  More from This Author

  Also Available

  “Therefore I will be unto them as a lion: as a leopard by the way will I observe them.”

  — Hosea, XIII.7

  Chapter 1

  The immense grounds of the Downtown Den lay just beyond the trees. A private club for shifters located in the hip LoDo section of Denver just east of the river. The Den catered to all sorts of shifter appetites. From gourmet meals, a jazz club, and then upstairs to the individual rooms reserved for more private, sensual affairs.

  Diana arrived at the Den shortly before nine for her appointment. Rolling up to the front of the guard tower, she was surprised at the change since her last visit. During the day, when she’d met with an intake counselor, she’d been ushered into the club by a side entrance and had seen virtually no one other than a few staff moving about the interior, tidying and getting ready for the evening events. The private club was gaining popularity due to its ability to cater to the exclusive, decadent proclivities of members and a few select guests as well as provide services for first timers in need of heat cycle sex. The Den maintained a highly-regarded reputation of anonymity for clients, assisted by a guardhouse stationed on the perimeter, admitting private members and permitted guests on the nightly admit list. The counselor assured Diana that tonight her name would appear on that list. Two guards with holstered weapons stepped up to the driver’s window. “Your name?” the one with a buzz cut asked, briefly flashing a pair of amber irises in her direction. “Diana Hambre.” She’d opted to use her own name. Either she trusted the Den completely to keep her safe or not.

  Hell, she’d better be able to trust the Den, considering she was about to let an alpha male sexually service her out-of-control needs for the evening. The thought sent a shiver rocketing up her spine. A few more hours, and this yearning to grind her hips against something hard would lessen. She prayed it would, twisting the hem of her dress between her fingers.

  Neither of the guards cracked a smile tonight, nor had they when she’d visited a day ago. Their clipped tones directing the driver to hand over her admission form pulled her already taut nerves further apart, and she fumbled in touching the fingerprint identification screen the silent guard offered to her through the lowered car window.

  “Invalid. One more time, Ms. Hambre. Press firmly on the red circle.” The guard handed her back the electronic scanner. Her finger trembled as she watched the blinking red light.

  The guard nodded curtly at the change to a green flashing light. He stepped back, saying. “Thank you. You’re all set.”

  Her heartbeat slowed once her admission to the Den had been settled, and she sniffed the air. These two guards with their golden eyes were shifters, beta wolves, and held no interest for her even though their muscular physiques might help assuage her cravings in a pinch. But they couldn’t totally abate the mind-blowing urge for sex.

  The driver grunted a response before starting through the gates that slowly swung open. A wrought iron fence surrounded the immaculately-kept grounds featuring yards upon yards of well-manicured grass rivaling a golf course. The Den was housed in the three-story brick and cement building up ahead, lit with flickering gas flames in ornate lanterns on massive columns. Two doormen decked in crimson-colored overcoats, dark hats and white gloves were at the front of the line, assisting clientele from their cars into the building. The doormen’s movements were reminiscent of military precision in that no one actually milled about even though the parking lot was filling up fast.

  Diana sat back against the leather seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs. She tapped her long manicured fingers against her knee, refusing to rearrange the hem of her dress for the fifteenth time. She’d opted to wear a short little number, a black A-line dress and a laced up corset with garters to set the mood. Tonight required a little more motivation than signing forms and paying her bill.

  A queue had formed in which shiny black cars similar to the one in which she rode were creeping toward the front entrance. She lowered the window a titch, glancing up at the overcast sky. Ribbons of clouds appeared to wrap around the sliver of a moon just visible and perilously perched overhead. Soon, the moon would fully rise and the heat within her would boil. The skin all over her body sweltered.

  Diana jumped when the doorman opened her door, welcoming her into the club. After nodding, she moved past his gloved hand that held open one of the massive front doors. The heels of her strappy shoes announced her arrival within the entryway, tapping out of time to the music playing. She walked toward a woman whose inviting smile drew her across the polished floor.

  Under a twinkling chandelier, the woman’s copper-colored eyes mesmerized her. For a long moment, she forgot the lavish surroundings of the club and her reason for coming.

  “Ms. Hambre, welcome to the Den. I’m Sherry. I’ll escort you upstairs.” The woman extended her hand. Sherry’s tone and solid handshake calmed Diana’s second thoughts.

  Sherry started forward and continued speaking. “I hope our driver made the journey pleasant.”

  “Yes, he was more than hospitable.” Diana’s voice quivered. The trip pushed her buttons in all the right ways, and she arrived breathless from her journey in a privately-driven car by a tiger of a man. Sitting in the back seat, she’d nearly come undone from her level of arousal. Only her apprehension about making an unwelcome move on a club staff member had kept her sexual cravings in check. She couldn’t … no, she wouldn’t risk not having her needs dealt with as only the Downtown Den promised they would.

  This heat cycle that leopard shifters experienced was common. Yet being without a partner, as she was, placed her in danger. Without question, she had to allow her sexual nature to be satisfied. Something she’d not done for nearly a year. So she’d silently
drooled, observing the driver in his black leather pants, coupled with an inky shirt that seemed poured on, and accepted being reduced to a smoldering mess.

  “Please come with me.” Sherry’s silky voice promised nothing but pleasure. “I’ll show you to your room, unless you’d like to enjoy a cocktail in the lounge. There are several private members here this evening. Men and women who understand your predicament.”

  “No, I’d rather have a moment alone.” Diana hugged her overnight bag to her side, unwilling to test her endurance one second longer than necessary.

  “To unwind? You’re smart. Fridays can be extremely stressful. Do you meditate?” Sherry asked, taking the lead.

  “Not lately. My work schedule is so hectic. And now this … ” Her voice trailed off. No need to mention the obvious.

  Diana sniffed the air. An alpha scent lambasted her nervous system. She looked around, and there was no one else in the hallway. The scent was familiar. Achingly familiar.

  “Christ,” she swore, ever so softly. On top of everything else, her imagination was playing a mean-spirited game with her. She refused to give in to her warped olfactory ability even though she momentarily lost her concentration.

  Sherry slowed her gait without warning. Diana had to swerve toward the wall in order to avoid bumping into her. She skimmed along the wooden panels for a few steps in order to avoid careening into several chuckling males who had just entered the corridor. Diana brushed back her bangs. Each of them nodded to her with garnet-eyed flashing interest, yet their scents were not the right shifter type to lure her. Only one shifter could ease her maddening carnal urge. Male. Alpha. Leopard.

  “Sherry, a new member?” A man wearing an elegant black suit asked, hardly able to contain the wolf lick to his lips.

  With one glance over to her, Sherry shook her head. “Gentlemen, we’ll do introductions at a later time.” A cast of hungry gazes erupted as pairs of glowing eyes traveled over her body; so sharp was their perusal it felt like having her dress torn from her body. Passing by, she had felt utterly naked in their midst.

  Sherry stepped back, brushing against Diana, their shoulders coming into contact, and for a few seconds Diana’s sensation of being hunted dissipated. The woman’s skin was icy-hot, delivering a burn while at the same time cooling Diana’s skin.

  “You’re not a shifter. Are you?” Diana said the first thing that came to mind. Sherry’s eyes flickered, becoming obsidian black, then changing back to copper. “No. One reason I hold this position. If you’re interested in venturing beyond your room, we have a sensational restaurant, or room service if you get hungry. I mean later, of course.”

  Diana nodded and waited. Nothing more was said. Obviously her hostess was not going to fully respond to her question.

  She followed Sherry through a corridor lined with several doorways. All the while her escort explained the layout of the Den. They passed the restaurant where candlelight flickered over linen tablecloths. Diana sniffed the air, seeking the undercurrent of a hidden aroma that lay embedded within the gourmet-scented creations pouring from the restaurant.

  Her skin tightened, and her nose twitched. “Tempting. I might come down later on.” Diana pretended to admire the interior, clinging to the doorway of the restaurant. Her glance scoured the space, noting each of the inhabitants and wondering if, by chance, she was right in what she perceived. But no, she didn’t recognize anyone present. For a second, the heavy feeling of disappointment sank into her limbs. A second whiff and her senses perked. Regardless of her inability to pick out the source of this alluring scent, someone was present who made the space between her legs grow moist. Her belly clenched, releasing a spasm downward. She pushed away from the doorway, confused, wondering how it was possible for duplicate scents to exist.

  Diana trailed after Sherry, turning into another hallway at the rear of the club. Farther down, Sherry paused outside the club’s main hub on the other side of the corridor.

  The hostess pulled open one of the frosted glass doors. “We specialize in privacy. Our club prides itself on providing services in an unparalleled setting.”

  Diana observed several areas that were divided into a bar with an intimate dance floor off to one corner and what looked like cozy rooms. Some doors were opened, where couples sat eating, drinking, conversing. Everyone under control. Everyone rational.

  Again she inhaled, and the pungent male scent saturated her lungs. She swallowed a jolt of concern over her flagging self-control and the need to unfurl her catlike claws and fangs.

  The scent had to be one of the alphas, some imagining on her part. A growl twisted and turned in her breast. Her fingertips pulsed, with curved nails ready to spring outward. She longed to shift, so strong was this unbearable urge. If she didn’t obtain relief soon, what would become of her … she groaned. There were places for wild shifters. None of those establishments were elegant or civilized.

  No, the intake counselor had promised this was the place to find relief in the form of a shifter who’d service her for the night.

  • • •

  Diana pulled at the steel collar encircling her throat. The metal band weighted the top of her shoulders. She lifted the locked ring, moving the edge away from the base of her neck. For now, the collar rotated easily enough. She was unconcerned by the steel-gauged chain linking the band to an iron post. A necessary detail. The post was secured by four large bolts to the wall of the stark room. She tugged the chain with both hands and gritted her teeth.

  “Ugh. Solid,” she groaned, dropping the heavy links to the floor, convinced she wasn’t going anywhere in the near future.

  A wrought iron grate covered the outside of the only window on the opposite wall. Good idea. Diana crossed the room, kicking at the pallet on the floor. She stopped alongside the stainless steel sink. A matching industrial commode was housed in the corner, behind a Japanese screen.

  Her whole body prickled with pinpoints of heat. So far, this irritating state had seared her body for two days too long. And now, inside the stark room, she forced her thoughts elsewhere. She studied a rectangular bin above the sink containing a rainbow assortment of condoms. The utilitarian vibe of the room was out of sorts with the sophisticated layout of the club downstairs. She vaguely recalled the aroma of roses, leather, and aged cognac from below. Her nipples tightened, remembering the scent of a man. One she recalled all too well amid a wave of lustful aching. She’d already agreed to stop compulsively reliving the delicious odor, licking her lips one last time. She shook her head, accepting it was some sort of sensory mirage.

  Inside the room she smelled nothing but the sanitized floors and walls. No hot, dirty sex. Nothing of the sort … yet. Obviously, the room was scrubbed down to a hospital spic-and-span level of cleanliness. She gasped. Just how out of control did other heat-frazzled shifters become in moonlight? From what she knew personally, extreme recklessness occurred.

  The gravitational pull assaulted her bloodstream in the same way the tides were pulled. Regular cycles each day, getting stronger and stronger. Hormones spiked in her tissues, running rampant during the rise of the full moon, and leaving her hunger to mate nearly uncontrollable.

  If she wasn’t careful, she’d lose all sense of decorum and any panther within twenty miles would know by her pheromones that she was hot and ready. To humans the scent would be unnoticeable, but every alpha male would perceive the patchouli rose essence emanating from her skin and sex; figuratively a bud in bloom during the apex of the full moon. The pull was too strong to resist.

  She cautioned herself: Don’t judge or guess your way into a further frenzied state. Her skin had begun to burn from a heat that boiled under her flesh. Soon, she’d have company.

  Her belly lurched. She needed something to relieve the burning sensation of her skin. Water. She could cool her parched body with water. Diana untied her flimsy robe in front of the sink. She pressed the lever, releasing a stream of cold water over her hands. She ran a wet palm up her arm, then sw
itched and repeated on the other side. The water droplets cooled her aching skin. Wetting her hands again, she rubbed her palms across her chest and over her breasts. Her nipples puckered into erect points. She pulled each pebbling areola, unleashing jolts of excruciating pleasure. She thumbed each tender nipple, again and again. Finally, panting, she cried out when no relief came. Her skin now sizzled as if sunburned. Blistering ripples of pain assaulted her every few minutes from the inside out.

  Christ Almighty. They didn’t call this a heat for nothing. She shuddered under the billowing fire spreading across her body and clenched her jaw, immediately catching the skin of her lower lip with two curved canines. She opened her mouth, swiping her tongue over dagger-pointed teeth.

  Without gazing into a mirror, she could only imagine the changes taking place as her body shifted toward panthera. No longer would she peer out to the world through murky hazel irises, but through eyes flecked with emerald green sparks. At least that’s what Cole had murmured each time she had shifted, and he had provided the heat cycle relief she craved.

  Tears flooded her eyes, blurring the sight of the speckled rosettes forming over her skin. She blinked, noting the design had darkened remarkably in just seconds. Before long, a honey-colored coat spotted with smoky black designs would follow. She paced over the bare floor, coming up to a gouged, white wall. She turned and crossed back over the wooden planks, walking a grid in a search-and-rescue pattern.

  Downstairs, laughter pealed. Voices erupted, followed by the crash of glass and applause. She prayed the loud occurrence was unusual for such an elegant club.

  Out of nowhere, a devil-may-care attitude arose inside her. Her body shivered. Her sex throbbed. “Mmm,” she moaned, crossing the boundary into believing a raucous evening would be exciting, in a club catering to solo shifters without mates.

  That’s what she was, and wasn’t. At this moment she was sorely tempted to pound on the door and demand that an alpha-whatever be sent to her. This was the first heat in which she’d agreed to coupling without Cole by her side.