Chapter 1

Sam’s day since the mistaken raid went from bad to worse-much, much worse. Once they reached the correct address, someone must have passed along a tip or something since the whole of the warehouses were cleared and no-one on their watch list seemed to be present.

Disappointed, annoyed and frustrated Sam slumps in her seat having already slammed the door to her office. Were it not for the paper thin walls, she’d be screaming in anger right about now. Instead it burns in her heart and clouds all her thoughts. Before she can compose herself and allow the red beneath her eyelids to fade, the Chief himself storms into her office. On a good day the Chief’s sarcastic and cynical with an intolerance of any bullshit. On a bad day...well, everyone skits around him on his bad days.

“Torres!” he yells, hands forcefully planting on the desk.

“Chief,” grunts Sam, mentally sighing in her mind.

“What the hell is this about you letting Santiago go?-”

“Well, Chief, I didn’t exactly ‘let him go’-”

“No, you just fucked up and got the wrong building. And not just any old building but the Carter’s building! Torres, do you have any idea how much power they have? Of course you don’t you just-,” he stops sighing in frustration whilst running a hand over his balding head. Sam too is trying to breathe deeply and use some of the skills she learnt in a compulsory anger management course they’d briefly made her do.

“Look, kid...I know you mean well, I know you didn’t mean to screw this up but the thing is we can’t be getting on the wrong side of an organisation that big...I see you’re torn up about this Sammie but...if Mr Carter complains I...I would have no choice but to...seriously take that into account and follow it up with...consequences, mainly for you-Torres. So either pray hard or find some way to convince him, without harassing him, to drop any charges he may file.”

Sam listens with a pounding heart, surprise flowing through her. She’d expected Chief to go ballistic, especially since Santiago is their number one target at the moment. As the surprise quickly burns through, realisation of the Chief’s words disperses in wake.

“Wait, what?-”

“This is your mess Torres, you better fucking fix it,” sums up Chief Daniel’s, ending the discussion with another slap to the wooden desk and storming out of the room. He really is like a thunderstorm, Sam murmurs mentally to herself.

Groaning, Sam tries to push it all the back of the mind, at least momentarily so that she can actually get some work done. Even if that work is writing up boring reports, she’d rather do that than start worrying about whether or not her ‘mate’ is going to be pressing charges that could cause her to lose the job she’s worked so hard for all these years.

“Sammie! Sammie, Sammie-”

“Louise? Lou it’s only 8 o’clock in the evening, how are you drunk already?” exasperates Sam opening the door to her apartment. She sighs seeing her drunken neighbour slumped against her own door, off her fucking face and giggling like a maniac.

“Sammie, they locked me out!” pouts Lou referring to her equally rowdy friends.

“Dear God, Lou...Alright, come on, let’s get you on your feet,” smiles Sam dumping her rucksack in the hallway of her apartment and allowing the door to fall close again, before taking a stride over to Louis.

Grasping Louise’s skinny pale arm, Sam tries to haul her up but Louise only giggles and let’s her entire weight drop making the process even harder.

“Lou, come on, seriously, get up. I’m not leaving you here barely dressed,” and especially, not in some seedy block of apartments like theirs. Sam somehow manages to get Louise’s lanky frame to lean half against her and half against the wall. She gazes down at Louise’s tiny pyjama shorts and finds herself thinking how amazing it is that only skinny girls could get away with wearing...well, practically underwear. And with Louise almost non-existent chest she can easily just wear a strappy top and be done at that. Oh how, Sam wishes it were that easy for her.

Knocking on Louise’s door, it opens to allow loud music through while a pair of girls stand at the doorway. They take one look at Sam in her uniform with Louise slumped at her and immediately tries to look more sober.

“Oh hey, Of-Officer. What brings you to-”

“Girls come on now, cut the crap. Get her inside and safe,” instructs Sam with a roll of her eyes and helping Louise into her apartment. The girls sheepishly give Sam a quick goodbye before closing the door.

****

Adrian deliberates the choice to ring her. Reason tells him not to for the simple fact that she may see it as ‘creepy’ how he got her details and all. But then...his desire and craving for love tells him to do it. She is his after-all. So what if he twisted the Chief’s arm to gain her details, he has every right to do so. She’s his.

Screw it, he decides, pressing the green icon.

“Hello? Sam Torres speaking,” she answers in a sleepy tone.

“Sorry did I wake you up?”

“What? No, it’s fine just...who is this?Wait, Bobby if this is you, your mother’s going to be hearing about this-”

“Actually it’s Adrian. Your mate,” he clarifies, cutting in before she gets riled up.

“Shit,” curses Sam momentarily dropping her phone in the bath and struggling around to find it in the soapy suds. Wiping the foam from it, she contemplates hanging up but decides it’s way too cowardly and Sam Torres is not a coward.

“What do you want? How did you get my number?” she asks with frustration. She knows his type the ones that keep tracking and sniffing like a hungry dog and she’s their bone, and after they have their bone, and they’re done with it, that’s it; end of story. Never again will she hear from them.

“I have my ways-”

“Yeah, like that’s not weird or anything. I am a Deputy Chief you know. And stalking is a criminal offence. I could get a court order out on you,” she reminds him.

“Good luck with that,” he smugly responds. Court orders take a lot of time and tend to sometimes get...‘lost’ along the way.

“...What do you want anyway? I said I was sorry. Do you want it in some kind of official note or something?”

Ade grins remembering his only upper hand, “You know, I don’t exactly appreciate that tone Miss Torres. Especially as I could have you laid off as it were for that unfortunate incident earlier.”

Sam inhales sharply and forces herself to exhale slowly before responding.

“Just tell me, what you want,” she grits out.

“...I’m still debating that, Miss Torres, but for now, I think I can settle on hearing your beautiful voice.”

That’s it, settles Sam. It’s simple, she just won’t talk to him and then tomorrow, she’ll just get the phone company to change her number. Simple, problem solved.

“So tell me, why choose to be a cop?” asks Adrian, trying to create some kind of small-talk. He wants her to warm up to him at least a little before he can make his demand of a date and then from there they’ll just progress, guess Ade. According to his agenda, it should only take within a week. Because surely, how hard can it be to fall in love? Especially when the other person is your mate.

“Oh come on now, are we really being this childish? Not talking to me, huh? Just because I said I wanted to hear your voice? Okay...Fine, I could always pop around,” he shrugs.

Sam gives a snort down the phone. Yeah right, as if he knows her address.

“What? You think I don’t know where you live? Let’s see...I believe it is...Rosedale Avenue, flat number 17b, isn’t it?”

Sam’s eyes pop wide open and jaw slackens in shock. How could he possibly know that?

“How do you know that? That is personal, private information. I can have you under arrest on the basis of stalking!” she cries only to gain chuckles on the other end. Such a noise, conveying the dismissal of her panic and the importance of the situation, just infuriates her more.

“Right...sure. Do you even have any idea as to who I am?” he grins.

“An arrogant asshole seems to be pretty fitting,” Sam mutters back, not quite intending for him to hear it, but sometimes she just...gets word vomit.

There’s a moment of stunned silence from Ade’s side, where he can’t exactly believe she’s just said that. Yes, he’s had the odd insult thrown at him by numerous drunken girls and yes, he’s been insulted countless times by members of his family but never...never has a sober, woman who’s not only his mate, but also the one he’s trying to charm, insulted him.

He can’t decide if it’s refreshing or if it’s angering.

“You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that much. Although, I’m not quite sure, whether it’s ridiculously stupid move on your part or a brave, bold one,” he remarks aloud.

Sam snorts and spits out, “what I’m being is honest.”

“Maybe a little too honest, perhaps?” banters Adrian with a smile in his voice.

“No...I reckon someone like you could do with a lot more honesty,” she shrugs back, inspecting her fingers for pruning.

“ ‘Someone like me’?” echoes Adrian.

“A cocky, arrogant, presumptuous, rich, know-it-all, handsome-”

“ ‘Handsome’?”

“Did I say handsome, oh! I meant vexatious.”

“Wow, I applaud your vocabulary. At least now I know my mate’s educated.”

“Ugh, don’t call me that!” groans Sam shivering slightly as she suddenly realises the water’s gone cold. Pulling the plug she slowly stands and wraps the fluffy, sky blue towel around her.

“Call you what? My mate?” curiously asks Ade.

“Yes, I am not...I’m not your mate...Don’t call me that, we aren’t...I don’t like you, okay? Let’s make that clear right now. I don’t like you and I’m only...I’m only tolerating you because you have my job at your fingertips,” she icily conveys, her entire face falling at that word. She replays the conversation and with horror realises they’ve actually been conversing for quite a while.

Adrian feels his heart sink slightly at that. He’d thought they were making at least some progress but it seems that’s not the case. She’s only being civil, or at least civil in her terms, because of her job.

“Your job is safe. I’m not going to complain,” he states in a detached tone.

“Wait. I didn’t-”

“It’s fine. I could use some more honesty, remember?”

Sam exhales softly and bites her lip in contemplation but says nothing.

“Goodnight, Princess,” he softly grins knowing it’d piss her off.

“I’m not a-! Don’t call me that!” cries Sam in protest but before she can say more, Ade’s laugh cuts her off and with a huff from Sam, she hangs up on him.

Sam sighs and tosses the phone onto the perfectly made bed, as she grabs a pair of lacy boxers. Slipping them on, she flings the towel into her laundry basket and crawls onto the silky cool sheets under her thin tog duvet. Her skin prickles in delight in response to the sensational cold caress of her satin bed. This is heaven, decides Sam, grasping her laptop and causing it to flatten her fluffed duvet beneath it. Booting it up, she takes a few minutes to quickly scan her Facebook profile, noting with slight disappointment that apart from a few pointless, rubbish statuses of ‘friends’, there’s nothing exciting happening. She goes to shut the machine down when a thrilling thought crosses her mind. Should she? No...she reasons. But then again...Sighing, Sam clicks onto Google and types in Adrian Carter. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting but it certainly did not contain the seemingly innocent letters, ‘B’, ‘D’, ‘S’, and ‘M’, which combined illicit slivers of strange sensual desire in Sam. Biting her lip, Sam’s cursor hovers over one of the article links as she deliberates whether she really wants to continue this search.

Will innocence be not more blissful than ignorance?

Curiosity, however, is a trait that is far too strong for Sam to deny and with a sigh, she forfeits the battle and with one tap she’s transformed to a world of knowledge.

The article is taken from a BDSM magazine, the name of which, Sam cares little for. Instead her eyes eagerly review the pixellated words. Reading further, realisation slowly dawns on Sam like a rising Sun. From what she can gather, Adrian Carter...is everything she’d thought him to be.

Except, maybe the whole BDSM thing. Oh and the fact, he runs a load of BDSM clubs. And what else?Oh yeah, he’s the eldest son of the Zac Carter.

Christ! Mentally puffs Sam.

How could she not have realised this? Carter. Duh! Clue number one, right there. Clue number two, should have been that huge ego of his and three must be his super possessiveness.

She didn’t want a mate, but a human mate wouldn’t have been too bad. A wolf, less so desirable. An Alpha wolf, the worst. And that had been as far as she’d got. She’d never even considered the possibility that her mate could and would be a fucking Carter.

So what? Pipes up another part of her mind. So what, if he’s some kind of elite werewolf, why does it matter? It’s not like she’s actually going to get with him. It’s not like she’s going to see him again, or talk to him again, or even...even think about him again. Nope. Not a chance. All that crap can stay in a weird alternate, parallel universe in which she’s some kind of rosy-cheeked, pie-baking, dress-wearing housewife, always eagerly waiting for the arrival of her respected husband.

Sam, shakes her head and goes to close the page when she accidently scrolls down instead. But there at the bottom, all her thoughts screech to a sudden stop and the hard beat of her heart seems to echo louder inside her. One thing is screamingly clear-the man is the most photogenic person, Sam’s ever known. He’s sat on a thick, black, leather couch, dressed in a stunning navy suit, hair glossy and eyes sparkling brighter as he laughs.

Possessed by some unknown force of nature, her hands take a mind of their own and type into Google Images, his name. Thousands of images load up, some irrelevant however most are completely relevant.

Sam flicks through the many covers of men’s magazines, a soft warmth pooling at her legs as she drinks in the pictures of his powerful image, usually donned in a fitted, beautiful, striking suit.

But just as she’s about to shut the laptop and call it a night, one picture catches her eye immediately. Clicking on it, the image is blown up on screen just as her heart seems to skip a beat. Instinctively a soft sigh leaves her lips, and she has to quickly bite that bottom lip to cease any more such girly, lusty sounds. But he really does look that hot! Argues Sam.

He stands tall and proud, his torso bare and muscular with a glossy sheen of sweat. His hair too has that dampness to it, yet those ringlets only look shinier and some even stick to his forehead. His bright eyes seem to be darker with a deep passionate lust that causes Sam to envy the woman he’s looking at like that. Lips are stretched into a small, sly smile that almost conveys that he knows exactly what he’s doing to a woman’s libido looking like that. His body is...Orgasmic would be an understatement: The tanned silky skin, the deep set muscles, the dark chest hairs-how could any straight women resist that! Sam squirms in the bed, the wetness at the junction of her legs increasing. But when her eyes drag down his hunky arms she nearly comes on the spot. In one of his clutched hands is a black flogger, in the other he clutches a transparent dildo-the naughty and the nice. As Sam’s eyes trail down the black trail of Adrian’s stomach, Sam nearly groans in annoyance. The view is blocked by the silhouette of some girl kneeling with her hands tied behind her back. Still, it doesn’t stop her lustfully dreaming about being that woman. Kneeling down, being tied up and pleasured. Her body squirms in excitement, cheering her on for the brilliant thought.

But Sam shakes her head. As much as she’d love to do that, and be that submissive woman...that’s just not her. She’s not...she can’t possibly allow a man to have that much power over her. To surrender so physically and emotionally to someone would require a lot of trust and Sam knows deep in her, she can’t do that. She can’t trust someone with her body like her.

Sighing, Sam shuts the laptop and wills her body to calm down. As she settles into bed and tries to get some sleep, that damned image of Adrian burns behind her closed eyelids.

Once again, Sam gives a small groan in knowledge that she’s not going to be getting much sleep tonight.