Conal laughed, and her scent seemed to invade his skull. Oh God, she smells like sex. Not the raunchy reek he associated with Siobhan and her collar and that fucking spiked whip. No, this was a different scent, reminiscent of dark, snowy pine forests and clean fur. How the hell all that added up to sex, Conal had no idea.
Her eyes met his and he fell into their endless dark. And just like that, his erection was back. What is wrong with me? Conal jerked his eyes away from hers and picked up his glass. At least the tabletop hid the evidence pushing insistently against his fly. He cleared his throat. “So, were you more Scully or Mulder?”
“Definitely more Scully. My folks were all about education as the best way to remain in the middle class. They’re college professors and academics -- coauthored a book on Jim Crow and the Black diaspora.” A note of obvious pride warmed her voice. “Anyway, I read everything I could get my hands on about the FBI. The Bureau wants people with college degrees and real-life experience, so I got a bachelor’s in criminal justice and served five years as a cop in DC. It worked, too. I was hired at the FBI about ten years ago.”
“Your parents must have been proud.”
She shook her head. “I think they were a bit disappointed, to tell the truth. My brother’s a doctor, and they thought I should go into medicine or law. Plus, there’s the way Hoover treated MLK. Made them skeptical of the Bureau as a career choice.” Helena shrugged. “But I’m bullheaded, and I decided to be the change I wanted to see in the world.”
Conal’s erection was not going away. In fact, he thought Helena’s velvet voice was making it worse. He considered remembering how he’d spent his afternoon again, but Conal suspected she’d find the smell of terror even more offensive.
* * *
The intoxicating scent of Conal’s arousal was driving Helena crazy. So much for Sidhe being immune to werewolf pheromones. Given that and the five years since she’d gotten laid, it was all she could do not to dive for his seductive mouth. Which, arousal or no, would probably send him screaming, considering what werewolves had done to him just hours ago.
She should never have agreed to this lunatic plan. Pretending to be lovers was going to strain her fraying control to the breaking point. True, their obvious mutual lust would probably add believability to the whirlwind romance thing. Unfortunately, there was just no way in hell Helena could keep her hands off him. Especially not if it took a while before Siobhan lost her shit and came after them.
Helena eyed him a little resentfully through the haze of lust. Considering Conal’s reputation as a player, she’d assumed he’d be all over her. Damn shame. That would solve both our problems. She’d finally get laid, which would reduce the hormones to a level she could deal with. At least, according to Miranda Justice, who’d been born a werewolf and ought to know.
Conal was either afraid of her, had an inconvenient conscience, or a fear of sexual harassment suits. She was going to have to take the bull by the horns and come clean. With a sigh, Helena sat back in her chair and tossed her fork down. “This isn’t going to work.”
Conal looked up, and she was surprised to see shame in his eyes. “I’m sorry about staring. I’m not usually that guy, especially when it comes to women I’m working with.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me.”
So it was scruples. Good to know. “It’s not you…”
“‘It’s me’?” he finished dryly.
“No, it’s not you,” Essus snapped, glaring at her from the perch at Conal’s elbow, his gaze fierce and yellow. God, that bird looked even more pissed than usual. “It’s definitely her.”
When Conal frowned at his friend, Helena sighed. “Do you know anything about the Burning Moon?”
“I know very little about werewolves in general. The only Direkind I’ve met are you, Miranda, and Justice.”
Jesus, this was uncomfortable. Like explaining the Birds and Bees to a grown man. “Female werewolves go into the equivalent of heat once a year. For a month, we produce pheromones that affect any man in range.” She reconsidered. “Well, except for males who already have psychic bonds to other women.”
At that, Essus spread his wings and prepared to take off. “You don’t need me for this conversation. I’m going to find somewhere else to be.”
“You want to take Liam with you?” Conal asked, a dry smile tilting his mouth.
“Forget it,” Liam said coldly. “And no, I don’t particularly care about who rubs what on whom. Though if it improves Helena’s mood, you have my blessing. I’m still not leaving her without a weapon.”
“Werewolf,” she reminded him.
“So are the assholes who want to kill you. If it makes you feel any better, I plan to scan the perimeter while you…”
“Lalalalalala!” Essus sang, leaping off the perch to go soaring out of the room. Helena had to bite back a laugh.
“He’s easily embarrassed,” Conal said, a little apologetically.
“Which is amazing, considering your reputation,” Liam observed.
“Liam, didn’t you say something about scanning for werewolves?” Helena snapped, feeling her face heat. If not for all the melanin, she’d be the color of a cherry tomato.
“I will be so glad when Bitch Moon is over.” And then, blessedly, he fell silent.
Helena inhaled a relieved breath. “All right, I feel him casting a shield. We’re as alone as we’re going to get.” She tried to gather her thoughts -- and the courage to have this conversation. Clearing her throat, she started again. “The point is the Burning Moon’s effect on the men around me is pretty… obvious.”
“No kidding.” Conal sat back in his chair, glancing at his lap and wincing. “The minute we’re in public, there are going to be pics of my bulging trousers all over the Internet.”
“Well, it’s not like you have anything to be ashamed of…” Helena snapped her mouth closed and hauled her eyes away from the bulge behind his fly. It looked thicker than her wrist… She cleared her throat and tried to come up with another suggestion. “We could get another werewolf to guard you.”
“Who wouldn’t have her own personal death god.” He hesitated. “Maybe Maeve would give me a potion to keep anything from… coming up.”
The words came out of her mouth without stopping off at her brain. “That would be a real shame.” Conal blinked. Helena licked her dry lips and took the leap. “There is an alternative, however.” Oh God, she’d just trotted out her FBI voice.
Conal heard it. His lips twitched, even as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I’m all ears.” Another shift. “Among other things.”
The dry humor in the tone gave her courage. “We could just give in to the hormones.” Helena swallowed as he stared at her, eyes widening. Taking a deep breath, she continued, “I’m told that once you do, it backs off.”
The wave of lust that rolled over his face left her feeling breathless. She could’ve sworn his eyes glowed. “No more embarrassing bulges?”
“I don’t know if I’d go that far, but at least it wouldn’t be…”