What the Cuff? Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  About the Author

  What the Cuff?

  Celia Kyle

  Published: March 2012

  Published by Summerhouse Publishing. Copyright, Celia Kyle. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

  Summerhouse Publishing

  http://summerhousepublishing.com

  Email

  [email protected]

  Cover Artist

  Celia Kyle

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

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  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Chapter One

  God obviously had never considered cheating men when he'd given Lyssa her shifter abilities. Nope. As infallible as the all mighty creator was supposed to be, he definitely hadn't considered that man would be so stupid as to cheat on a werewolf. If he had, he'd have known that giving a woman the power to grow inch long canines that could rip a cheating man to shreds was a mistake.

  Oh well, Byron was just about to learn the error of his ways.

  The scents of sex, Byron and some anonymous female, had filtered and danced through Lyssa's home when she'd stepped across the threshold. Her. Home. He'd brought some bimbo into their shared space and now, he'd pay. Hell, maybe they'd both pay. A person really couldn't look at the house and imagine that Byron had decorated it, could they? The fact that the woman went after a claimed man meant the stranger would feel her wrath just as surely as Byron would.

  Byron's heavy, aroused musk served to piss her wolf the fuck off. Couple his scent with the sticky sweetness of the woman and the animal was ready to tear the house apart looking for them. As it was, she didn't have to look far to find them. Of course, they'd use the bedroom. Her. Bedroom.

  Breathe…just breathe. Another wave of their combined scents assaulted her and she amended her thoughts. Okay, breathe through my mouth. In and out. Slow and steady.

  Right, slow and steady was how she'd rip them to shreds.

  One mouthful of muscle, blood and bone at a time.

  She leaned against the wall outside her bedroom and waited for the bimbo inside to finish. From the grunts she heard from Byron, it wouldn't take him much longer to get to the finish line. Then again, he always was a one minute man.

  The woman though, she was taking for-ev-er.

  Just come already, bitch.

  "Oh, Byron! Yes! Yes! Yes!"

  No, no, no!

  At least, that's what he'd be screaming when she went in there with fangs bared and eyes glowing like the full moon.

  True, she didn't really love the man, but he was hers. For the moment. And no one cheated or dumped Lyssa McGivern. Not even some pasty white, pansy-assed human male.

  She pinched the bridge of her nose as the screams from the bimbette grew louder and louder. Man, some women knew how to fake it. Byron could never squeak an orgasm out of her, so she couldn't figure out how he was managing to pull anything remotely like the big O out of the woman. She checked her watch. Six fifteen. If they'd just finish already, she could get him, and his shit, out of her house and still manage to watch the ten o'clock news.

  Tick tock, Byron.

  Louder and louder the woman's wails became, overshadowing Lyssa's presence. "Yes! Harder, faster."

  Much faster and he'll finish before you do, sweetheart.

  She almost felt sorry for the woman…almost.

  "Like that, baby? Like the Byronator deep in your ass?"

  Byronator? Ass?

  Horror washed over Lyssa. He was in her ass? She resisted the urge to snort. Barely. The woman deserved whatever she got with Byron if she allowed the man to dominate her. Hell, they deserved each other. She'd never bent to her boyfriend's—make that ex-boyfriend's—ill and given him her ass. To her kind, that was as good as handing a man a "fuck me over" pass and showing their belly. She'd done that exactly once, to her alpha, and she'd never do it again as long as she lived.

  Nope, no way, no how.

  "Yes, fuck me, please Byron," the woman pleaded. Yeah, she'd be begging even harder when he finished before she did and left her wanting.

  Lyssa peered around the doorway, peeking through the two inch gap and smirked. Okay, the bitch had grit. She may have given Byron her ass, but she rode him like a cowgirl, holding the reigns while he struggled beneath her to keep up.

  Lyssa tilted her head to the side, eyes following them as the stranger gave her man pleasure. Come to think of it, she didn't think she'd ever seen that look of pure rapture on Byron's face when they'd made love. Not…ever.

  Huh.

  The grunting, groaning, and moaning grew in volume again as seconds ticked by. She checked her watch. Yup, about time Byron's stamina gave out. The woman riding him screamed and arched with what Lyssa assumed was her orgasm.

  Byron did the same, arching and sinking deeper into the woman's ass. They froze, bodies bowed, mouth's open with shouts of pleasure on their lips. Like an erotic sculpture in the middle of her bedroom, the couple fascinated her.

  It wasn't watching them have sex. Sex? She'd seen more sex in her lifetime within her pack to last her two more. No, it was something else. Something…different about these two writhing on the sheets she'd paid for.

  Byron's chocolate brown eyes softened as he stared at the woman perched atop him. The harsh planes of his face, normally taut and drawn when he looked at Lyssa, seemed more…relaxed. He stroked and caressed the woman, hands sliding over the skin of her arms, shoulders and back in long sweeping passes. The woman leaned over Byron's chest, nuzzling and scraping her teeth at the juncture of his shoulder and neck.

  She opened her mouth to tell the stranger that he didn't like that, didn't like his neck touched and definitely didn't care for cuddling after sex. But…but a smile creased her ex's lips and he appeared to grasp her tighter, pulling her closer.

  Lyssa eased through the door and Byron's eyes snapped open, colliding with hers. In that moment, that second, she knew. She'd never loved Byron. It was a given in their relationship. She was with him because his success matched her own and they seemed to like the same things. Sex had been mediocre, at best, and they'd only stayed together because their relationship made sound financial sense. She'd never held delusions that the man lying on her bed, dick still embedded in another woman, was her mate. But now, seeing what shone in his eyes (after his initial panic) she couldn't deny what was before her.

  Love.

  She edged out of the doorway, attention centered on the resting couple, Byron's eyes never leaving hers. When she could no longer stand to see the two, she turned her back on them and strode through her home toward the kitchen. Their combined scent seemed to chas
e her, taunting her, showing her what she'd never had and obviously didn't deserve.

  She needed a drink. A big one.

  With shaking hands, she pulled a sparkling, crystal glass from the cabinet and poured two fingers of whiskey. In one gulp, she downed the fiery, foul tasting alcohol and tipped the bottle to pour another. God only knew how Byron managed to stomach the stuff, but she needed to numb the feelings that bounced and ricocheted through her heart. Jealousy, anger, resentment…they all fought for dominance. Her wolf wanted blood, but her human heart just wanted to crawl in a hole and fade away.

  Her ears perked when the soft scuffle of feet and shifting of fabric filled the silence. She tracked the movement, using her heightened senses to her advantage, as always. Within moments, the musky scent of Byron, and sex, filled the kitchen, overpowering everything else, even the whiskey.

  "Alyssa?"

  She downed another glass. What was that? Two? No, three so far. Damn, she still had her demons fighting for supremacy within. She took a deep, cleansing breath through her mouth, adopted a blank expression and turned slowly. No sense in letting the man see how affected she was about all that she'd seen.

  "Byron." She wouldn't twitch. Or flinch. Or tear up and beg him to look at her the way he'd looked at the woman in her bedroom, now using her bathroom. She wouldn't because while she wanted those things, she realized she didn't want them from him. Her wolf snarled and growled, but she tamped down the urge to show dominance over this man.

  Their entire relationship had been a struggle to keep the wolf under control and all she could do was reassure it that this would all be over…soon.

  "Alyssa, look…"

  "Lyssa, Byron," she corrected with a snap.

  She hated her given name. Hated. It. He knew that and still insisted on calling her Alyssa. Three years of "Alyssa" and she was ready to snap him like a twig if he didn't listen to her right now. Inhaling another deep breath, she begged her wolf not to wrench control away and tear, literally, into the man.

  She took a swig of alcohol and wondered when she'd start to feel its affects.

  "Lyssa," he amended. "Look, what you saw was… You see…I don't…"

  She sighed. This was exactly why she'd never taken his flesh between her fangs and mated the man. He couldn't even stand up to her, how was he supposed to live with her family?

  Her pack? Defend their cubs?

  "You don't love me, Byron. Newsflash: I don't love you. We don't love each other. What we have, had, was comfortable and it worked. At least until you brought Home-wrecker Barbie into the picture."

  Byron's eyes flashed and a rush of blood suffused his cheeks.

  Ooh, human man is mad.

  "That's not fair, Lyssa. Carmen has nothing to do with us.

  You said it yourself, we had comfortable and I want more than that from life." He ran a hand through his hair.

  She poured herself another glass. This time, she made sure to fill it to the top. Why the hell did Byron always sip the stuff? It didn't really have a punch at all and only managed a tingling burn going down. She hoped at some point, she'd get drunk enough to drown the jealousy raging in her gut.

  "Yeah," she sighed. "You're right. We had comfortable and now…we don't." She smiled and shrugged, but didn't feel the least bit of warmth, happiness or aloofness she tried to convey over the discovery. Over. All of it. Three years of living with a man who her wolf could hardly tolerate and it was gone. Ruined. By love. For someone else.

  She tossed back the rest of her drink and moved to pour another only to discover the bottle empty. Well, that just wouldn't do. "I'm going out for the evening, Byron, but I'll be back tomorrow and we can discuss divvying up the things in the house and figure out when you'll move out. Tell your cowering doe in the bathroom that she's got a nice ass."

  Lyssa winked at her ex and smiled a true smile as she brushed past him. She always did like to shock the man, either with her behavior or saying things at inappropriate times. Like…now. "Maybe I'll have a little taste sometime."

  She strode through the ranch style home, passing pieces of their history as she approached the door. Different items caught her eye while she walked. The picture of them at the Grand Canyon, the tribal mask from Africa, and the sculptures they'd purchased together in Italy. All of it spoke of a different time. A time when "comfortable" had been enough and mediocre sex was status quo. All of it was gone now, buried beneath Byron and his new lover's writhing bodies and dirty sheets.

  Lyssa grabbed her purse from the couch as she strode through the living room and slid the strap over her shoulder.

  Without a backward glance, she stepped into the soft light of the waning day and shut the door behind her with a soft click.

  Now, she could crumble.

  Chapter Two

  It took three bottles to silence the wolf, but she drank a fourth just to make sure it kept its yap shut. Now, the jealousy…that was a different story.

  Knocking on Caleb's door at midnight because she didn't have anywhere else to go just gave birth to more emotions rattling through her heart. She wondered what else she'd have to drink to make the depression die a horrible death. All of these feelings, ugh. Emotions weren't part of her makeup.

  There was only one person she could accept and allow herself to feel and he wasn't answering the damned door.

  Lyssa pounded on the steel encased wood. "Caleb."

  Thump-thump-thump. "Caleb, open up." Thump. "I can hear you in there, you know. Turn off the gay porn and open this door!" She leaned her head against the cool steel and waited.

  Threats of gay porn watching would get him out of bed. It just had to.

  The rapid tattoo of running feet filtered through the barrier and she smiled. He was coming. Good. He'd come and take care of her, just like he always had.

  She placed her hand on the door, absorbing the cold as she waited for Caleb to let her in. Locks clicked and turned while she stood there, letting the door take her weight. Man, maybe the fourth bottle had been a mistake. Her body was a furnace, filtering the alcohol through her system. Damned wolf genes. If she were a human…she'd probably be dead.

  Okay, bad thought. She didn't want to be dead physically, just emotionally. She'd done a good job of being the emotionally unavailable woman. Until now. Now, she hurt…on the inside.

  The door swung open and she fell forward, right into Caleb's strong arms. Ah, she knew he'd catch her.

  "Whoa, damn Lyssa, you smell like a fucking brewery."

  He hauled her to her feet, none too gently she might add, and she leaned against his chest, eyes closed.

  "How much did you drink?"

  She held up four fingers…at least, she thought it was four.

  "Four drinks? What'd you do, spill them all on yourself?"

  Caleb pulled her into the entryway and she propped herself against the wall. She heard the door slam shut, followed by the clicks of the locks. Caleb was a cop and didn't take any chances with his own safety. Time and again he'd told her that he knew exactly what was out there, and the worst of it far outreached her occasional furry tendencies.

  "Bottles." She stumbled along beside him, using his body as a crutch.

  Unfortunately, he stopped walking and she kept going. She tumbled forward, toward the smooth tile of the foyer, arms outstretched before her. Inches from the ground, those same strong arms wrapped around her from behind and hauled her to her feet once more.

  "Four bottles? Jesus, Lyss." He pulled her against him again. "Why didn't you call me?"

  She shrugged. Why hadn't she? Too many reasons and not enough liquor in his house would get her to tell him. "Jus' didn't."

  "Come on." He steered her toward the back of the house. "Let's get you to bed and we'll talk about it in the morning."

  Passing the bathroom, she clutched the door frame. Damn if her bladder wasn't making itself known. Like, right now.

  "Got'sa pee."

  "Need help?" he asked as he released her to struggle t
oward the toilet on her own.

  "No, I'm drunk, not an invalid. Besides, it's not like I'll fall in. My ass'll stop me from drowning in the toilet." She snickered. Damn, even drunk, she was funny. She would have slapped her knee, if she could find it.

  Standing in front of the toilet, she reached beneath the hem of her dress for her panties and noticed Caleb still in the doorway. "Can I 'elp you?"

  "Just waiting to see if you'll need anything." He smirked and her wolf, damn the bitch was back, wanted to wipe the half smile off his face.

  "I can pee on my own, Caleb. Been doin' it for a while now." He didn't budge. "At least turn around, jackass."

  He did as she asked and Lyssa got down to business.

  Things went fine. Body relieved, she stared at her panties around her ankles. Damn, that was a long way down. Okay, panties were overrated and she was just falling into bed now, anyways, right? She kicked them free of her legs and left them on the mat. Tomorrow. Sober and in the light of day, she'd pick them up.

  Yeah, tomorrow.

  Lyssa rolled to her feet. Huh, rolling. Her stomach kinda flopped around too. With a push, she flushed the toilet and then staggered toward Caleb's broad back. Once again, he caught her weight easily.

  "Better?" She nodded against his back. "Want something to eat or do you want to go to bed?"

  "Both," she whined, nuzzling his back.

  He reached back and pulled her against his side. Together, they shuffled further along the hallway.

  "Going to put you in here, k? You've had a lot to drink and your parents will rip me to shreds if I don't take care of you."

  He kissed the top of her head and she smiled. This was her Caleb. The bestest friend a werewolf woman could have. He was a no-bullshit guy that knew when to stand his ground and when to let her have her way. It had always been that way between them from the time they met at five years old.

  "M'kay."

  "Burger good? Rare?"

  Oh, he was talking her wolf's language and the bitch was cranky from being drugged with alcohol. "Mmm…yeah."

  Lyssa slumped onto the king sized bed and burrowed into the pile of pillows Caleb kept strewn across the mattress. The affects from the alcohol were already filtering through her system and dissipating. Bummer. She didn't want to confront the evening's events or rehash them with her best friend.