The Untamed Beast

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

Rick Diaz strode into the glitzy bar of the Crystal Hotel with two objectives. He needed to escape the reality of his new and tortured existence for a few hours. And he needed a woman—any woman.

Apparently, he had come to the right place.

His gaze surveyed the possibilities, hoping to find someone who looked worldly enough to ease his lust without activating his conscience. He hadn’t always been the type of guy to exploit women, but in the past few months, he had grown into a different sort of man. Or rather, a different sort of animal.

Oddly enough, women responded to the animal even more than they had to the regular guy. He had had good luck with females his whole life, but largely because he had treated them with respect. Now, that sort of behavior seemed counterproductive. It could lead to a relationship, and Rick wouldn’t curse any woman, however shallow, with that particular fate.

A tall blonde in a tight red dress caught his eye, and he prepared to make his move. Then he hesitated, distracted by the young woman standing to his target’s left. She was medium in height and build, with soft brown curls that framed a pretty face. And while she was clearly aware of Rick, she wasn’t making eye contact, and he knew why.

He scared her a little. Her instincts were working well, warning her to stay away from creatures like him.

So go for the blonde, he advised himself, but the pretty girl continued to intrigue him. There was something very familiar about her. Was it possible they had met before, or was that just wishful thinking? She had warm blue eyes, great legs and soft pink lips, and she looked—and smelled—so good. So decent. So normal.

It felt like a lifetime since Rick had had a normal experience, even though he knew it had only been nine weeks. Nine weeks since the changes had begun. Changes he didn’t understand, but even in his ignorance, his gut told him the transformation was almost complete. And when it was over, he’d never have a normal experience—or a normal girl—again.

Didn’t he owe himself this? One last time? Maybe they could even have a real conversation. Some foreplay. Something to remind him he was still human. Still decent.

Assuming, of course, that he was.

“Oh, my God, Jane,” Megan O’Neill told her best friend in a frantic whisper, “I know that guy. Or at least, I used to. Not that he’d remember me in a million years, and not that he looked like that back then—”

“He definitely remembers you,” Jane said, using the same hushed tone. “Wave to him or something.”

Megan tore her attention from Rick Diaz long enough to roll her eyes at her friend. “Are you kidding? He was always out of my league, but now he actually looks like another species.”

It was true, and it didn’t bother Megan a bit. There had been a time when hooking up with Rick Diaz had been her finest fantasy, but she had grown up since then. Plus, she was still reeling from the mistake she had almost made with Stephen. The only reason she came to the Crystal Hotel on Thursday nights—aka Ladies Night—was to keep Jane company, and to remind herself that there was a whole world waiting for her once she was ready to rejoin it.

Meanwhile, she wouldn’t have missed this for the world. Watching the dangerously hot hunk from her past burst into the bar like he was about to hold them all hostage had definitely been worth the cost of a margarita. There was something so primitive yet paradoxically evolved about him, from his shaggy black hair to his spectacular build to his riveting black eyes. And that expression—confident, unconcerned, but focused, at first on the women in general and now inexplicably on Megan.

Jane dug her fingernails into Megan’s forearm. “He’s coming over here. Lick your lips and forget about Stephen. Now!”

As Megan stared in disbelief, the powerfully built male strode toward her, his dark eyes fixed on her face as though nothing else in the world mattered. Then he was there, and for just a moment, his expression softened into a mesmerizing smile.

“Hey,” he murmured.

“Hi.” She gave him a goofy grin, conscious that her cheeks were turning pink. “You’re Rick, right? I’m Megan—Annabelle Anderson’s roommate from USC. And this is Jane.” She gestured to her left. “She’s my best friend.”

The hunk’s focus didn’t waver. “I thought you looked familiar. Let’s go somewhere and talk, okay? There’s a coffee shop on the second floor. Or we could sit out by the pool. I’m sure it’s deserted at this hour.”

His voice was so deep, so rhythmic, Megan almost forgot to respond. She just wanted to listen to him. To stare into his eyes. To do whatever he wanted, whenever and wherever he wanted to do it.

The fantasy was definitely back.

“Meggie,” Jane whispered, nudging her with her elbow. “Go on with Rick. I’ll be fine alone. You know how much you love the sundaes in that coffee shop.”

Rick leaned toward Megan, so close that his breath heated the skin on her neck. “Come on, Meg. Let’s get some dessert.”

“Okay.” She forced herself to exhale. “Can you go grab us a table? I need to stop in the restroom on the way. To freshen up.”

“You’re perfect the way you are,” he told her. Then he leaned in again, and this time, she was sure he was sniffing her neck—literally, like an animal might do. It made her quiver with excitement.

“I’ll be there in two minutes. Try to get a seat by the window,” she added, imagining how amazing he would look in the moonlight. Like a wild creature waiting to be tamed.

“Don’t be too long,” he advised. Then he flashed a sexy grin, turned and strode out of the bar.

The women stared after him in silence, until Jane managed to whisper, “Oh, my God, Meggie. Are you even breathing? I’ve been hit on a thousand times, but never like that. Why didn’t you ever tell me about him? He’s gorgeous! Did you see those eyes?”

Megan nodded. “He was always good-looking, but now…”

“Just get going! Have dessert with him. Then have other stuff, if you get my drift.”

The thought made Megan laugh, and finally, the spell was broken. “I hope you’re kidding. I’m not ready for the new and improved Rick Diaz.”

Jane dug into her purse for one of her emergency condoms, which she pressed into Megan’s hand. “Now you’re ready. Get going, please? If you don’t do this, I won’t be your friend anymore. It’s too perfect to pass up.”

Megan grimaced. “It does seem like…well, like a once-in-a-lifetime sort of moment.”

“It’s fate.” Jane gave a melodramatic sigh. “It was so devastating for you, having Stephen die one week before your wedding. It’s almost like you couldn’t recover without something to jolt you out of your grief. And trust me, this guy is just the jolt you need. So get going before some coffee-shop waitress hijacks him.”

Megan nodded in reluctant agreement, then murmured, “Wish me luck,” and headed into the lobby. On her left she saw the glass elevator that would take her to Rick. On the right, the double doors leading to a row of taxis parked in front of the hotel.

Just go home and watch TV, she told herself ruefully. That’s more your speed, right?

Jane would be disappointed in her and would assume she’d gotten cold feet because she was mourning Stephen. It wasn’t quite true. Yes, she felt bad about her dead fiancé, but not because she had been so madly in love with him that his death had left a gaping hole in her heart. Just the opposite, in fact. She had realized, one week before the wedding, that sweet, dependable Stephen wasn’t the right man for her. Sure, they had loved the same movies, devoured the same favorite foods, laughed at the same stupid jokes, almost to an uncanny extent. It had seemed like a sign that they were meant to be together always. But there was no passion between them, a fact that had become achingly clear when, during her shopping spree for sexy lingerie for the honeymoon, she had realized he’d either be amused or touched—or maybe even secretly annoyed—by so impractical an expense.

Not exactly the response a bride looks for.

So she had resolved to break the engagement, but before she could, news of his fatal accident had reached her, and she had gone numb with guilt and confusion.

And had stayed numb for almost a year, until tonight, when Rick Diaz—in all his beastly glory—had jumpstarted her senses. She wondered if it would last, or if she would revert to her old self by morning. Either way, she would be grateful to him for giving her a taste of animal magnetism. For sniffing her neck and sending her nerve endings into orbit. For proving to her that she had been right about Stephen, after all—that passion was something worth having.

Just have it with a regular guy, not a scary stud, she advised herself as she fumbled for her wallet, double-checking that she had cash for a cab.

Then a powerful form stepped out of the shadows, blocking her path.

Startled, Megan looked up into Rick’s smoldering eyes and gulped. “Oh…”

“You’re ditching me?” To her surprise, he gave her an understanding smile. Then he stepped closer. “Don’t be afraid, Meg. I won’t hurt you. I just need to spend some time with you.”

“I’m not afraid. Not really. I just…”

“Yeah, I know.” He leaned down, inhaling even more insistently than he had in the bar. “It’s okay to be confused. I’m confused all the time these days. But this feels right, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” she admitted softly. “That’s what’s so scary.”

“Come on.” He took her by the elbow and led her toward the elevator. Once inside, he wrapped an arm around her waist while pressing the button for the sixth floor with his free hand.

“I thought we were going to the coffee shop.”

“We’ll talk later,” Rick murmured. “We need to do this first. I see that now.”

“We need this,” she echoed, confused but also aroused.

“Yeah.” His lips descended to her neck, burning her skin with kisses, torching the air with tension. She knew they were on display for anyone in the lobby to see, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was the feel of him, so she slipped her hands behind his neck, laced her fingers through his shaggy mane and kissed his mouth eagerly.

He responded with a long, low growl. Then he pressed her against the glass wall and slid his hand under her blouse as though intending to undress her right there. But when the doors opened, his strategy morphed, and he swept her up into his arms and carried her to his room like a groom might carry a new bride. Except with Rick, it was more like a warrior bringing a conquest back to his encampment.

They burst through the door, and in an instant he had her up against the wall again. This time, she knew he wouldn’t stop until they were both satisfied. Her senses were reeling, her mind engulfed with desire, her body primed for pleasure, but still she pressed her hands against his powerful chest and insisted, “We need to use protection.”

“Huh?”

“I have something.” She fished Jane’s condom from her pocket. “See?”

He stared at it, a grin spreading slowly across his face. “Yeah, let’s do it nice and proper. Right? We’ll even use the bed in honor of the occasion.”

Megan gulped as he lifted her again and threw her onto the king-size bed. Then she stared in hungry admiration as he stripped off his clothing, revealing the most perfectly toned and muscled body she could ever imagine. Heat radiated from him, and even before he stretched over her, her muscles were pulsing, her nerve endings on fire.

Then he took her with a fierceness she had never dreamed possible, satisfying himself at the same moment that he brought her to the brink of ecstasy and then beyond it into oblivion.

CHAPTER TWO

Over the past nine weeks, Rick’s life had gone from normal to bizarre. His body had gone from physically fit to powerfully built; his love life had gone from enjoyable to animalistic; and his golden-brown eyes had turned to coal. At first, he had thought it was his imagination. Then he had suspected some sort of disease that mimicked steroid use. Finally, he had realized it wasn’t just his body that was changing. His even temper had all but disappeared, replaced by a hair-trigger aggression that could erupt at any time. So far, he had managed to keep it under control, but at this rate, he might actually kill someone if he didn’t get answers soon.

So now he stood on the porch of an herbalist who called himself Hogan and who claimed to have the very information Rick so desperately needed. After scouring medical journals and finding nothing, Rick had stumbled upon Hogan on the Internet by searching for sites that discussed changes of eye color during adulthood. There had been hundreds of hits, but only Hogan had presented the phenomenon in the context of simultaneous changes in build and temperament. That had been encouraging, and so Rick had ignored other, less auspicious aspects of Hogan’s site. Herbal remedies? Cleansing auras? Crazy bullshit that Rick had laughed at for almost twenty-nine years.

He couldn’t afford to laugh any longer. He wanted his life back, now more than ever. The hours he had spent with Megan had reminded him of the simple joys life had to offer—the sound of a woman laughing, the feel of her skin, the warmth of her gaze. He had taken such things for granted in the past, but if he could get a second chance, he’d never underestimate the power of such moments again.

But not with Meg, he reminded himself ruefully. By now, she hates your guts. Poor kid. She deserves better. I just hope she finds someone soon who can give her what she needs—for more than a night.

He had done his best to restrain himself with her—to make love like a man, not an animal, one last time. Still, there had been such fire, such passion, such spirit in their lovemaking, that they had worn each other out, falling asleep in each other’s arms. They had never had a “normal” conversation,” or any conversation at all. Rick had gathered up his belongings and snuck out of the room just before dawn. No note, no flower on the pillow, no hint that they’d see each other again.

He suspected that their night together had been an adventure for her. Maybe even an awakening. But for Rick, it had been an ending, pure and simple. The monster growing inside him would soon make that kind of lovemaking impossible. After that, he didn’t know where he would turn. To prostitutes, maybe? No, even they didn’t deserve to be used as satisfaction for unnatural lust. He could only hope his descent into depravity would never be so complete that he’d inflict himself on unwilling victims, but given the progress of his disease, could he even be sure of that?

Reminded of his mission, he knocked on the door of Hogan’s cliff-side home. Almost immediately, a well-built, middle-aged man with wisps of gray in his hair and full beard appeared, greeting Rick enthusiastically and insisting that he follow him to a redwood deck, where they seated themselves at a wrought-iron table.

“I know, I know. You have a million questions,” Hogan said with a warm smile. “I’m sorry I made you travel so far, but we really couldn’t do this over the phone. And anyway, I had to see for myself. You understand?”

Rick nodded. “Don’t worry about it. I just need answers. And quickly.”

“It’s almost complete,” Hogan agreed, leaning forward and lifting Rick’s eyelid to get a better look. “They were brown originally?”

“Light brown.” Rick cleared his throat so that his voice wouldn’t sound menacing. “What do you think it is? And when you say it’s almost complete, what does that mean?”

“You are approaching your twenty-ninth birthday?”

Rick nodded. “It’s tomorrow.”

“Well, then…” Hogan sat back, his expression sobering. “There’s no time to waste. Although, ironically, once tomorrow comes, you’ll have all the answers you need, anyway. With or without me.”

Rick scowled. “What does that mean?”

“It means, everything that is happening to you is happening for a purpose. Tomorrow that purpose will be revealed to you. The same way it was revealed to my father on his twenty-ninth birthday.”

Rick’s frustration lessened. “Your father?”

Hogan nodded. “He was a Guardian, just like you. But unlike you, he had more time to prepare. Nine years, not nine weeks. By the time he found out what was going on, he was ready—physically and spiritually. To him, it was an honor. For you, it must seem like a nightmare.”

Rick stood and began to pace. “Any chance you could get to the point? I’m a guardian? And it’s an honor? What the hell are you talking about?”

Hogan surprised him by laughing. “You’ll need to master that temper. Dad always said it was the hardest part. That and the aggression—wanting to rip someone’s throat out if they cut him off in traffic. But in time, he got it under control, and so will you. It’s your destiny. Plus, you have something my father never had. You have me to guide you.”

Over the next few hours, Hogan explained the facts to Rick, who was alternately horrified, intrigued and disbelieving. It was crazy enough to hear that other men had gone through this process and had actually been proud of it. But to hear that the phenomenon was a spiritual one? To be told that Rick was a guardian of all that was good and decent in the world? That was the most unbelievable part of all, especially because he had been so sure he was becoming a wild beast—maybe even being possessed by a devil!

According to Hogan, the spiritual universe was divided long ago into three strata. The Upper Realm became the domicile of spirits who had been tested and found to be good. The Lower was reserved for those who had proved themselves to be depraved. The Transitional—or Middle—Realm became a testing ground for still-evolving spirits, to see where they should be sent for the rest of eternity. Each spirit would be born into a human host. The choices made by that human would decide the fate of its spiritual self. The only way for a human spirit to move from the Middle Realm to the Upper or Lower was through death.

Passage from the Upper Realm to the human world was more fluid. An Upper Realm spirit was given the ability to enter the Middle Realm and briefly inhabit the body of a human, assuming that the human consented. This became a rare and highly prized event in the history of man, and a great honor to the host body.

Unfortunately, a Lower Realm spirit was also given the power to inhabit the body of a willing human host. And unlike its Upper Realm counterpart, the Lower Realm spirit—or demon—invariably had malevolent intentions and would wreak havoc upon all humans, spreading misery and depravity to an unimaginable extent. Because of this, the human world was given additional protection—a buffer zone—to deter invasion from below. Not only would an evil spirit need to find a human host, but it would be required to pass through the buffer first, where it would be met by a Guardian of the Middle Realm who would attempt to bar its passage.

“The greatest honor a human can experience is to be inhabited by an Upper Realm spirit. And the second-greatest honor is to be appointed Guardian,” Hogan assured Rick. “At any given time, there is only one Guardian who has reached his so-called maturity—the nine years when optimal physical prowess co-exists with sufficient life experience. In other words, my father turned twenty-nine and took over the post on the very day his predecessor turned thirty-eight and retired. Meanwhile, some other young man was turning twenty and beginning the nine-year process of maturing into a Guardian.”

“Except for me, it only took nine weeks,” Rick muttered. “That doesn’t fit your story.”

“Obviously, something happened to the existing Guardian—”

“And there’s only one at a time? That’s nuts. If it’s such an important job, why not have a bunch of guys ready to go at a minute’s notice?”

Hogan hesitated, as though needing to choose his next words with extra care. “The Guardian has the fate of the world in his hands—his alone. If he knew there were others who could step in…well, that might undermine his focus. Make him less willing to sacrifice his life.”

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