She tipped forward and rested her head on his shoulder while she wrapped her arms around his midsection. “I’m a pacifist.”
It made him laugh and look over his shoulder again…which she took advantage of and captured his mouth with hers. He should have pulled away—gotten up and walked away. Instead he twisted and grabbed her, pulling her onto his lap. They kissed in long, wet, openmouthed kisses that increased his pulse to a velocity that sprinting through the woods in Lycan form had never accomplished.
Mine.
No.
He twisted his fists in the back of her shirt to keep them in place. She was Dane’s kin. Not Jordan’s mate. He couldn’t allow this go beyond that point of no return.
Even as his heart pounded, her soft moans as they kissed silenced the beast in him. The rage and vengeance quieted. The guilt slipped to a background noise. The need to prove his power was assuaged. Those soft sounds of pleasure were the music soothing the savage monster.
He was at peace, and it didn’t feel as foreign as it should have considering how rarely this occurred.
Finally, she pulled back and asked, with her mouth wet and red from kissing, “The scent-match?”
“The scent-match is something Lycans—that’s what I am—experience when they meet their mate. Their mate’s scent becomes intoxicating, and they’re meant to be with that person. Usually, it’s a fellow Lycan.” He winced. “My last scent-match was with a fellow Lycan.”
She’d been smiling up until that last bit, but there were reasons—good reasons—why they shouldn’t be together, and he wasn’t going to build up this fantasy for her and lead her on. He cared about her. It was more than the scent-match—he was already strangely devoted to this vixen of a girl.
Vanessa had thrown herself in front of him the first time he’d tried to kill Dane. He’d throw himself under a bus for Christa, and it wasn’t just instinct—there was something there. She was tenacious and funny, and she was thin but in a waiflike way, not a starving supermodel sort of way. There was some good, honest, hot-as-hell attraction there—which he’d never be acting on.
Well, not again, anyway.
So he wasn’t about to let her believe in a fairy tale about a scent-match.
“Oh, so it’s just like a sign of attraction?” she asked.
“No, it’s a sign of compatibility—and for most scent-matches, it’s something that will last forever, and they’ll only want to be with that individual.”
“But it didn’t last forever for you…and this previous scent-match?”
“She’s dead.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Her sweet bow-shaped mouth puckered as her nose wrinkled.
“Your brother killed her.”
Her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open. “That’s why you tried to kill him!”
He shrugged. It’d been instinctual and not rational. “She’d already murdered two people and was trying to kill Vanessa. Your brother was right to kill her.”
Her gaze finally dropped from his, and she stared at his chin while chewing on her lip thoughtfully. “So, you must have cared about her a lot if you’re still grieving for her—and you tried to kill my brother over her.”
This was where it got tricky. “I didn’t know her. I’d said…maybe a dozen words to her the entire time we’d known each other.”
She went still in his arms.
“It was instinct to try to save her because I’d scent-matched with her, but that’s what the scent-match is—it’s instinct—it’s our nature siding against our rational mind. And that’s why I don’t trust it. There are realities it can’t overcome. My previous scent-match hated Lycans and being a Lycan. I’m Alpha of the Glacier pack—the leader. It would never have worked. Now, there’s you: you’re human, your brother and I have this history, and…I’m not the mate you deserve.”
Her head snapped up, and she scowled at him. It was so sudden that he nearly dropped her from surprise.
“That’s a load of crap—a bunch of lame excuses.”
With a matching scowl, he stood up, turned, and dropped her on the bed. “Also, I don’t want to deal with this again.” Something had to burst this rosy bubble of hers. He finally felt like an Alpha again today, and nothing was going to control him. Not again. If he could make her see that—see that the scent-match was wrong—they’d both work on staying apart, living their lives.
She held his gaze again, glare for glare. “I’ll accept that my brother is an issue, but you could be the pope, and he’d still question if you were good enough for his baby sister. He’s insanely overprotective. I thought my prom date was going to run for it while I went to grab my coat.”
“Yeah, but I’m not the pope, and even if I’ve lived like a monk for the last two years, it doesn’t make up for the rest of it. I lived an indulgent and entitled life up until then. I had the power to command about seventy individuals. My needs were paramount. My word was law. If I wanted a female, she was mine, and it was seen as an honor I bestowed. My hubris, my ego, cost three Lycans their lives and almost killed Vanessa and your brother.”
Her glare had faded midway through his rant to something he could not face and didn’t want to name, so he turned away when he’d finished. It was so much easier when she was angry. He could tell himself she didn’t understand.
Jordan took deep breaths to calm himself—the wolf was clamoring for the change, and he’d suppressed the shift near the end, but she’d probably seen the creature behind his eyes. Hopefully, it scared her into keeping her distance.
“Maybe this is your chance to start again,” she said quietly.
It was like she had no self-preservation instinct. None at all.
“Some of us don’t deserve second chances at the cost of others, Christa. I’m sorry, but one of us has to be an adult and recognize that this thing between us—isn’t meant to be.”
Her sigh was more aggravated than accepting. “Quit being an ass, Jordan.”
He snorted a laugh that wasn’t humorous and had almost been a reflex. “Do you have any idea how many times your brother has said that?”
“One time too few. Okay, you go be an adult—and I guess that makes me a child, even though I graduated from college magna cum laude three years ago, so thank you for that. You choose to do whatever you want to…but as stupid and outrageous as it is, I felt something for you from the first moment—from when you walked in that hospital room with those balloons. I keep trying to figure out what the hell forever smells like because that’s what my brain keeps smelling whenever I’m around you. So maybe you’re my scent-match too—maybe it’s not just a Lycan thing. Maybe you’re the only person I’ll be compatible with for the rest of my life, but you’ve got a glorious pity party going, and I’m just going to leave you to that, because along with treating me like a child, you think you know what’ll make me happy better than I would, and I guess I don’t deserve the chance to choose.”
Then he heard the squeak of bedsprings just before pain exploded in the back of his head, and his shoe dropped to the ground beside him. “Did you really just throw my own shoe at me?” he asked, incredulously, while rubbing the back of his head. There was already a bump forming. She really had! She’d thrown his shoe at him!
“Oh, did you feel that? I thought you’d be too hardheaded.”
He turned in time to catch his second shoe. “Christa!”
Her eyes scanned around looking for something else to throw before settling on the lamp on the bedside table.
She wouldn’t.
He jumped forward and grabbed her around the waist just as she dove for it. That little hellion. This was insane. She was struggling and swinging punches like he’d trapped a Lycan—any moment now she’d probably bite him. He ducked a few wild kicks that would have crippled him despite her size. All while swearing enough to ensure he knew how she really felt. It was…just…just… Jordan sighed and rolled his eyes. It was probably just what he needed.
Just like that, the wolf w
on. Nothing like a violent challenge to convince his less furry side to mind its own business.
Grabbing her chin, Jordan forced her angry flashing eyes to meet his. She was so small he could pin her with one arm…which he kept wrapped around her as she kept struggling toward the lamp.
“Christa!”
“Shut up! I’m done talking!” It was so outrageously prickly that he smiled, but tried to suppress it.
“I’m not allowed to respond?”
“Not when you’re going to be a moron.”
Leaning in, he kissed her on her forehead, and she stopped struggling.
“I’m not a child!” she snarled. It was like he’d poked a caged wolf with a stick.
“No, I just figured you’d bite me if I tried for your mouth.”
Some of the anger left her eyes, but she watched him warily.
He cleared his throat. “I think you might be part Lycan—so I’m taking the fact that you’re human off the table as a complication.”
“Well…thanks…I appreciate that.” Her sarcasm was so beautifully laid down, he had to grin.
“Your brother and my anticipated castration might render me a less-than-acceptable mate, but perhaps with surgery and practice, that won’t be as disabling as I’m anticipating.”
She smiled for a second, but only for a second, and then her eyes narrowed. “Yes, but none of that matters when you’re too busy clutching at your guilt like a security blanket.”
He held her gaze, knowing she wouldn’t be cowed…and that was what made her perfect. “I’ve finished with that.”
She went limp, so he let go of her, and she sat down on the bed beside him and straightened her clothes with all the regal elegance of a queen—and not the screaming harpy she’d been moments ago. “Have you?”
“Yes. Just now. Partly in the interest of self-preservation and also because this lamp you want to smash over my head is a Tiffany—an original, not a replica.”
She didn’t even glance at the lamp, but kept her eyes trained on his. It was incredible—even arousing. He’d never have guessed he’d feel the rush of the wolf inside from someone staring him down. “Original, huh?”
“Yes, I’m told it’s worth twenty-five thousand. It’s been in my family for three generations. There’s a small crack on the back that’s from me. I tipped it over when I shifted into a Lycan for the first time at age eleven.”
“Hmm.”
“So while it might be satisfying for you when you smash it over my hardheaded skull, my mother might hold it against you when you meet her.”
As cool as could be, Christa tilted her head. “Well, then, I won’t.” Her mouth twitched in a suppressed smile before she bit her lips. “And since you’re such a mama’s boy, when I meet her, I’ll watch my damn mouth and not tell her I saw you naked.”
There was no one like Christa. Not in this town. Not in this world. “I’d expect nothing less since you’re obviously so polite and well-behaved.” Except for all the times she wasn’t—which is what he looked forward to.
He leaned forward…slowly, just in case she went nuts on him again. But she leaned forward, too, and when their lips brushed, she murmured against his mouth, “Can you imagine if I wasn’t a pacifist?”
Chapter Five
It seemed she’d get further with him when he was asleep, because as soon as they started kissing, he stopped, raised his head, and looked toward the door.
“I should have ignored what you said about pancakes and kept going,” she murmured. Because, really, who didn’t like pancakes? And they’d get hungry afterward, and she could have discussed pancakes at length, but no, she’d had to be all noble and say, I don’t think you’re actually awake.
“What?” he asked, still staring at the door. “Excuse me, I need to get that.”
“Get what?”
“The phone.”
Oh, she hadn’t even heard it ringing. Dogs supposedly had good hearing, though, so maybe Lycans were like that too. She trailed behind him as he walked toward the study they’d been in last night. Lucifer had come and whispered a single, humble “meow” last night to get her attention, but he was probably due to go out again.
Jordan’s long legs and better health meant that he’d already answered the phone when she reached the door. With an easy grace, he scooped up Lucifer in his free arm, walked past her to the front door, and set him down with a firm look while pointing at the black cat with his index finger.
Her subdued cat was a pathetic thing to behold, and he slunk through the door, which Jordan closed behind him.
“Yeah, about that…” Jordan looked at her almost sheepishly as he walked back into the library. “Now isn’t a good time after all.”
She raised her eyebrows. Apparently she was cutting into his social life.
He cleared his throat before striding to go look out the window. “No, it’s nothing like that. I’m not in any danger.” He rubbed the back of his head with his free hand. “Well, not like what you’re worried about. I might have you hold on to Mom’s lamp for me.”
She refused to be cowed when he turned to frown at her.
He’d deserved it.
He grinned. “Uh-huh. That sort of trouble.” The smile dropped off his face. “Not a chance, Garret. Don’t think I’ve forgotten what happened ten years ago.” And he hung up.
“What happened ten years ago?” Christa asked.
“My brother thought it’d be funny to steal my…uhh…the woman I was with. I’d recently been made Alpha, and he was pissed at me for that. I nearly killed both of them before I reined it in.”
She had to let the beginning of that go. She knew there’d been other women. And there wasn’t a wife in the cellar. Hopefully.
“Your brother wanted to be Alpha?”
“No. Well, yes, but he’s not Lycan. It was more salt in that wound.”
“And you’ve never forgiven him for that?”
Jordan shrugged. “I have, I suppose. I understand why he did it. And he’d met her first. But we’re not a close family. My mother keeps trying, but…I can’t say she’s making much progress.” He glanced out the back window again. “I’d asked him to come stay with me, thinking maybe I could repair our relationship before it’s too late, but having him around now would just complicate everything, and this is already difficult enough.” He turned back to her, but his gaze was considering and not as hopeful and excited as she’d have preferred.
Tilting her head, she said, “You say the sweetest things. First, I’m trouble. Now, our relationship is a difficulty.” She glanced around pointedly. “What in here don’t you value should it suddenly attain terminal velocity? That statue over there looks cheap.” It didn’t. Nothing in the whole place looked cheap. It simply looked easier to throw at this head.
He picked the statue of a wolf off a side table, turning it so she could see the two kids underneath the wolf. “This one? It’s not cheap, but it’s not an antique. It’s a bronze reproduction of the Capitoline Wolf, which is said to be from the Middle Ages.” He pointed at the infants. “Romulus and Remus.” He snorted, setting it down. “My mother wanted to name my brothers Romulus and Remus. That would have been hell down the road.” He looked over her shoulder with a half smile before nodding toward the door. “Come,” he said as he passed by her.
She glared at his back. Okay, the commands weren’t going over well with her, but she was curious what he wanted to show her. Following him, she checked out the house as they headed through a kitchen and a great room. This was a mansion. Why did one person need so much space? They ended in a game room dominated by a pool table. He went to a trophy case and pulled out a ceramic blob the size of a football and threw it to her.
She caught it and held it up.
“What is it?”
“Hell if I know. My mother says I gave it to her for Mother’s Day when I was five. She says she knows what it is, but she won’t tell me. She gave it to me a couple years ago before they moved into a condo
and told me it was my turn to have it. I’ve considered breaking it so I don’t have to display it when she comes by. My brothers think it’s hilarious that I have that thing and that she asks me about it. I think she insists I have it out to keep me humble. So, yeah, I’d welcome that being thrown at me. Have at it.”
“Oh, so you’re going to ask me to break it, and then blame it on me?”
His grin was half boy and half wolf, and all Jordan. He thought he was so clever.
She stared down at the lump, running her hands along the curves and the point. Huh. Funny. Jordan was clever, but perhaps not creative—not just because this lump was a bit of a mess. He was five; this wasn’t bad for a five-year-old. No, he couldn’t see beyond the blobbishness of it.
“You’re smiling. Why are you smiling? Do you know what it is?”
She snorted a laugh. “Poetic.”
“Yeah, I was a real master of clay. What is it?” It annoyed him not to know everything. Dane was the same way.
She held it up, looking at him over the top of it. Only a man could fail to see what it was. “You don’t have any sisters, do you?”
“No.”
“It’s a heart. You’ve twisted it a bit and the point is all crooked, but that’s clearly what it is.” And he’d just given it to her. He’d given her his heart. It was so sappy that she felt the bile rise a bit in the back of her throat, even though her X chromosomes said “Aww.”
Jordan frowned. “And she’s making me display that? I’ve been telling everyone for years it’s a skull.”
Actually, it did sort of look like a skull. The indentations were right even if the shape was wrong.
“Why would a five-year-old give his mother a skull for Mother’s Day?”
“I don’t know. I’d given her a live snake the previous year. I’d had it in my sock drawer for two days. A skull seemed about right.”
“Maybe it’s both.” It was a heart, but his poor Alpha brain could never handle that. Besides, if a four-year-old gave a live snake, maybe the next step was a skull shaped like a heart. “What did you give her when you were six?”
This Weakness For You (Entangled Select Otherworld) (Taming the Pack) Page 6