His sister shrugged. “I finally convinced Naomi it wasn’t the best idea.” She gave the DSLR camera around her neck a small shake.
Wes nodded. “I told her I’m not the most photogenic, but Naomi insisted.”
“I’ll make sure I catch your less snarly, scary angle,” Sierra teased.
To think that Wes Calhoun—Colt’s former enemy, of all people—was concerned about being photogenic. Oh, how the mighty had fallen.
Colt glanced back and forth between the two of them. “If Sierra’s taking photos, Maverick’s walking Maeve down the aisle, and Jacob’s giving Naomi away, who am I—?”
His question was immediately cut off by the echoing stomp of Maeve’s heel against the hardwood floor.
“Maverick,” Maeve chastised, “you were supposed to go over your reading with Wes weeks ago!”
Maverick sighed. “I’ve been busy running the pack, Maeve.”
“That’s no excuse,” she snapped before she released a long sigh. “You better make it good then. There’s no time now.”
Maeve’s attention shifted toward the piglet in her arms. Tucker had released the bottle he’d been suckling on and was grunting and sniffing at Maeve with his milk-damp snout.
“Tell me you’re not bringing that thing to the ceremony,” Maverick said.
Maeve frowned. “Of course not. But he needed to be fed and rocked to sleep beforehand. He can’t go to sleep without it.” She cooed at the wiggling pink beast in her arms.
Maverick swore. “He’s a damn pig, Maeve. He’s happiest in a pile of—”
“Enough, you two,” Sierra scolded. “I better see all of you in your places in the next five minutes so I can take pictures before the bride arrives, or it will be the end of you.” Sierra barked out the order, waving them toward the door.
In response, the whole group followed her lead, the packmaster included.
And to think their father had raised Colt to be the commander.
Maverick was shaking his head. “She’s still convinced there’s such a thing as a ‘teacup’ pig,” he grumbled at Colt as they moseyed out into the hall.
“You’ll be sorry when he stays all adorable and tiny and wants nothing to do with you,” Maeve shot back. Her voice was followed by a high-pitched, keening pig squeal.
“I doubt that,” Maverick said.
Colt grinned as he followed along behind them, but as they reached the door, he hesitated. He caught Wes by the shoulder and pegged his packmate with a hard stare. “You ready for this?”
Wes grinned. “Why wouldn’t I be?” He glanced at his boots and placed his hands on his hips, refusing to look at Colt. “But if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be—”
“Save it until after my speech.” Colt raised a hand. “Now, I’m only going to say this once, so listen close. I’m happy for you.” He slapped hands with Wes, pulling the other wolf into a hug.
“Soft doesn’t suit you.” Wes chuckled.
“Or you.” Colt grinned. “So we’re even.”
Colt broke the brotherly embrace between them as he clapped Wes on the shoulder. “Go get her, you mangy mongrel.”
He may not have been a true Grey Wolf, but Colt loved his crazy packmates all the same, and the thought of his true identity being exposed, of ever being forced to give them all up, to give up this life, knotted his insides. Even if that meant giving up a woman who crumbled the armor he’d placed around his heart.
Chapter 14
Ten minutes later, Colt was seriously regretting the preliminary nature of that thought. All the pack was in attendance. Hundreds of Grey Wolves sat in folding chairs decorated with white satin covers and yellow silk bows, waiting for the ceremony to begin. The wooden trellis under which they sat was decorated with twinkling lights and arrangements of gerbera daisies and sunflowers. The air bustled with anticipation.
Everyone appeared happy, content, excited. Everyone except the two men standing beside Colt. He stood next to Wes and Naomi’s brother, Jacob Evans, a hulking, human ex-Marine and cowboy, who from the scowl plastered across his face was every bit as thrilled with his sister’s pending nuptials as he was with the fact that her groom was a werewolf.
Wes didn’t look that much better.
“Apparently you didn’t succeed in talking her out of it,” Wes smirked.
“No.” The answer from Jacob made it clear he wasn’t interested in discussing the matter further, especially not with Wes. From what Colt had heard, Naomi’s revelation of Wes’s true nature to her brother several weeks ago hadn’t gone well.
“If you ruin this for her, I’ll gut you myself,” Wes grumbled.
Jacob’s lip curled in response. If looks could kill…
In Wes’s defense, he had tried to get Jacob to like him. Well, as much as Wes Calhoun cared that anyone liked him.
Colt raked a hand through his hair. Just what he needed. To break up a brawl between the groom and the bride’s brother all of five minutes before the bride arrived. Why had he ever agreed to be best man?
“Take your place,” he muttered to Wes. One rough shove between the shoulders, and he was urging Wes down the aisle. Best to separate him from Jacob while they were both still breathing. Colt cued Blaze to hit the music.
Pachelbel’s “Canon” pumped through the speaker system, and Colt gestured Maeve and Maverick down the aisle. But then he saw her.
Belle was standing arm in arm with Maeve on the opposite side of the aisle while Sierra snapped pictures of the two of them. The flashing strobe of the camera lit her creamy skin from within, highlighting the pale-pink blush of her cheeks, and for a moment, she was so breathtaking, Colt couldn’t bring himself to look away.
What was it about this woman that tore to shreds all the walls he’d erected to protect himself? Every time he looked at her, a deep ache filled his chest, a longing he hadn’t felt before. One night should have been enough, but it wasn’t. It would never be. Not with her.
He sighed. She’d been here less than twenty-four hours, and already Maeve, Sierra, and Naomi had pulled her into their ragtag group of females. They were all troublemakers, the whole lot of them.
Colt stalked toward her without a thought about who was watching. As he reached her, her eyes grew wide, and she let out a little eep noise that reminded him far too much of what she did when the prickle of his beard tickled between her thighs.
“What are you doing?” he growled. He placed his hand on her lower back and guided her away from Maeve and Sierra. The other two women stared after them curiously. “What part of lie low don’t you understand?” he whispered.
Belle’s lips cinched into that familiar pucker. “I tried, but if you don’t understand how this happened, apparently you don’t know Maeve or your own sister.” She scowled at him.
He did know them, and he wasn’t in the least bit surprised they’d railroaded her.
“Try to keep your distance from me then.”
“More romantic words have never been spoken.” She huffed. “But that’ll prove difficult.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Because we’re walking down the aisle together.”
Which meant he’d also have to dance with her at the reception.
This reeked of a setup.
Colt shot a glance toward Maeve and Sierra. Immediately, Maeve grabbed Maverick’s arm and headed down the aisle with him, leading the start of the wedding party, but his sister only smiled a cheeky grin as if to say sorry, not sorry, before she snapped a shot of Colt and Belle. The flash left multicolored dots swimming through Colt’s vision. When he got Maeve and Sierra alone, he’d give each of them a proper dressing-down about the consequences of meddling in people’s love lives.
“I think that’s our cue.” Belle nodded toward the aisle.
With no other choice, Colt extended his arm toward her. As Belle�
��s hand wrapped around the bulk of his bicep, even through the suit coat, his body immediately responded to her touch. He’d been with plenty of women, but never before had his wolf responded so eagerly. All it took was one brush of her hand, and he was ready to throw her over his shoulder like a caveman and carry her off into the nearby woods.
It was damn unnerving.
Colt led her forward, but when they reached the start of the aisle, Wes and the other members of the bridal party waiting for them at the end, Belle clutched his arm with all her strength and attempted to spin him in the opposite direction.
Colt refused to budge. “What are you doing?” He kept his voice low as they made their way down the aisle.
Belle’s eyes were the size of saucers. “No one told me the groom was Wes Calhoun,” she whispered.
Of course, she would recognize Wes. During the first few months she’d been with the Wild Eight, he would have been her packmaster. Colt’s gaze shot toward the groom. Wes’s eyes flicked from Belle to Colt, and he cocked a single what the fuck brow.
Colt shrugged. Leaning back toward Belle, he whispered. “It’ll be fine. He’s harmless.”
The longer Belle stared at Wes, the more the color drained from her face.
“You’ve spent the night with me, Belle. You’ve braved worse than a wedding with Wes Calhoun as the groom.” With that final word to her, they parted. Belle took her place behind Maeve, and Colt stood next to Wes.
“Don’t ask,” he mumbled when Wes looked at him.
Everyone stood, rising in expectation of the bride.
And then…they waited.
Eventually, Blaze had to pause the music. Wes appeared to be more anxious by the second, starting to pace at the altar, and Belle was so pale at this point that she could pass out at any moment.
Colt leaned across the aisle toward Maeve. “I thought you said she was going to be on time.”
Maeve shook her head. “She said she was going to be. I don’t know what—”
The sound of a horse’s pounding hooves broke the silence. Everyone turned toward the noise. Naomi rode up on Black Jack, Wes’s ornery beast of a horse, looking every bit the country cowgirl bride. The hem of her white dress was speckled with mud, and she was wearing her bright-red cowgirl boots.
She dismounted, hopping down from the massive beast with a thud, before she plastered a large smile on her face. “Sorry I’m late,” she announced. “This asshole decided to break out of his pen at the last minute.” She cast a sidelong glance toward Black Jack, who gave a sneering huff.
Hooking her arm on Jacob’s, Naomi grinned. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
* * *
At least she didn’t have to wear heels. Belle crossed her legs at the ankles, thankful for the comfort of the crafted brown-leather cowgirl boots she was wearing. She’d been trying to imagine all the ways the evening could possibly be worse, but at this point, the heels were about all she could think of.
Following the sunset ceremony, the wedding party and guests had been led to an outdoor reception area for dinner and dancing. A wide garden trellis covered in hundreds of glittering lights lit up the night and the dance floor. Tables with white linen tablecloths and bouquets of giant yellow sunflowers provided seating.
Belle slumped down in her chair and tried to shrink behind the table’s centerpiece, but she knew she was failing—miserably. Every time she moved, the halter neckline of the too-tight bridesmaid’s dress pushed the large expanse of her cleavage forward, placing her breasts front and center.
As if she’d needed any help in that department.
Though Naomi, Maeve, and Sierra had insisted the dress’s empire waist and flowing material would accommodate Belle’s ample curves, that had only accounted for her lower half. And considering her already large breasts were a bit fuller of late, the effect was only exaggerated.
If it hadn’t been her newfound friend’s wedding night and if the females of the Grey Wolf Pack weren’t so persuasive, she might have strangled all of them.
In any case, she prayed everyone was too focused on the bride and groom on the dance floor to notice her. Her eyes fell to the groom in question, and her stomach turned.
The groom.
As if she could have forgotten. She shrank even lower behind the centerpiece. Grabbing her champagne glass, she longed to down the bubbly contents in one large gulp, but she couldn’t. Belle had been shocked enough to be walking down the aisle arm in arm with Colt, who was apparently Sierra’s older brother. But when she’d laid eyes on Wes Calhoun, nefarious supernatural outlaw and former packmaster of the Wild Eight, now Grey Wolf second-in-command and Naomi’s newlywed husband, she’d nearly fainted. It’d been years since she’d last seen the former packmaster in the flesh. He’d left the Wild Eight only a handful of months after she’d fallen headfirst into Wyatt’s trap, but they had met on more than one occasion.
She only hoped she wasn’t significant enough for him to remember her. She’d only been Wyatt’s girlfriend at that point, not their official physician yet. She hadn’t been worried about Colt giving her true identity away, but seeing the Grey Wolf second-in-command was a different matter entirely.
When the bride and groom’s dance ended, a chorus of cheers and wolf whistles broke out among the guests as Wes pulled Naomi into a deep kiss so heated that it caused Belle to blush. Seizing the moment of distraction, Belle dashed out of her chair, bringing the champagne glass with her. With any luck, she could leave the party without being noticed, head back to the temporary cabin they’d assigned her, and wait until the party was over. Maybe then she could skate beneath attention.
She slipped through the crowds of people to the edge of the reception area. As she reached the shadows of the surrounding night, she stopped and scanned the party as she unceremoniously poured the champagne into the grass.
Suddenly, a large hand grasped her wrist, pulling her into the darkness. Her small shriek of terror was drowned by the loud sounds of country music blaring as guests took to the dance floor. Her wolf eyes immediately adjusted to the darkness. Colt leaned over her, so close, it made her skin burn hot.
“Do you have something against champagne?” His wolf eyes flashed gold. “I believe you were looking for me.”
Wearing a dress Stetson and a well-fitted suit that highlighted the breadth of his shoulders and the lean muscles of his hips, he looked far too delicious for any woman’s good. But with his wolf eyes glowing liquid gold in the pale moonlight and the rim of his Stetson casting further shadow on his handsome features, showcasing just the hint of his wicked grin, she knew he was anything but a gentleman.
A reminder of all the things he’d done to her, the ways he’d made her moan, seared through her. She struggled to draw in a breath.
She wasn’t sure how he interpreted her silence, but he eased back, the shadows shifting until his face came into clear view. “I thought I told you to lie low, not make yourself noticeable. You’d been doing a decent job until tonight.”
“I was trying to do that until you decided to manhandle me. I was about to head to my cabin.” Her words were harsh, totally unlike her, but that was what he did to her, wasn’t it? He unleashed some sort of fire in her that she couldn’t even begin to understand.
The side of his mouth quirked in an unapologetic grin. They both knew he hadn’t manhandled her. Every time he touched her, there was a tenderness that belied his unyielding strength. The gentleness and restraint were so out of place with a hardened cowboy like him that it melted her insides to mush.
“How could anyone not notice you in that getup? You look stunning, Belle.” His eyes swept downward, lingering for a moment. The memory of his mouth on her breasts, the heat of his lips as he’d gently tugged on her nipples with his teeth, flashed through her mind, and she flushed.
He must have known what she was thinking, because his grin
widened.
“It was your friends’ idea. Naomi and Maeve can be very persuasive.” It was the only excuse she had to offer. “And your sister, Sierra, is no better.”
From the gleam of heat in his eyes, she had a sudden suspicion being good at persuasion was a common trait among the Grey Wolf pack.
“You looked very much at home among the Grey Wolves. You’re blending in well.”
She almost laughed. “Then I was doing a good job of acting, considering I was trying not to pass out or vomit on the groom’s shoes.” She shuddered. “You could have warned me Wes Calhoun was the new Grey Wolf second-in-command.”
“I didn’t think to, but don’t worry about Wes. He won’t give you away. I’ll see to it.”
“I thought you wanted me to stay away from you.”
“I didn’t say that was what I wanted. I said that was what you should do.” That mischievous grin crossed his lips. “If you know what’s good for you.”
Silence passed between them, awkward and full of tension.
“What do you want, Colt?”
He nodded toward the dance floor. The shadow cast from his Stetson hollowed his cheekbones further. “A dance with you. The wedding party is up next, and I intend to take full advantage of it.”
“I already told you I was leaving.” She didn’t think she could stand another second of him looking at her like that, like she was beautiful and worthwhile, not after what had passed between them in his apartment. Not with what she was hiding. Hurt seared through her. She pushed past him, heading out into the night.
“Belle,” he called after her.
There was something in the tone of his voice that stopped her in her tracks.
She felt him approach behind her, padding across the grass. The gentle spring breeze blew through her hair.
“I was harsh before. The way I treated you. It was…”
The muscles of Belle’s shoulders tightened as she fought not to turn toward him. She’d never heard him hesitate before.
“It was uncalled for,” he continued, “but you caught me off guard.” He paused again. “I’m sorry if I hurt you. I can’t say that wasn’t my intention. I thought it would make pushing you away easier, but it didn’t, and I regret it.”
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