by Amy Pennza
Nope. Still there.
He smiled. “Okay?”
“I’ve been better,” she said without thinking.
He laughed—the kind of robust sound that told her she’d caught him off guard. Oh, he was handsome.
And close. Fine lines crinkled around his eyes. Sunlight from the big living room windows played over his hair, glinting off the lighter strands buried among the dirty blond. At some point, he’d moved his hand from her back to the side of her chair. Now the inside of his wrist pressed against her thigh, and her knees were close enough to his abs to feel the heat from his body.
Despite her embarrassment, a smile tugged at her mouth. His laugh was contagious. After a second, she gave in and grinned.
Remy caught his breath. “You’re beautiful.”
“I’m not.” The denial jumped from her mouth like it was spring-loaded. Heat rushed up her neck and into her cheeks. She dropped her gaze to her lap, where her hands lay useless. There was nowhere to go, not with him crouched before her.
Somehow, though, she didn’t feel trapped at all. The realization was so startling, she looked up—
—and caught the hot admiration in his eyes.
He lifted a hand and brushed her hair over her shoulder. Then he cupped her jaw, his thumb along her cheekbone. “Are too,” he said, his voice reverent. “You are a beautiful creature, Sophie Gregory.”
Any reply she might have made stuck in her throat. His eyes held her captive, and the dining room around them seemed to disappear. It was a chore to drag in breaths. Heat crept from his hand down her neck and into her breasts, lifting her nipples against the cotton of her shirt.
His shirt.
She wore his clothes in his house, and she was surrounded by him. Drowning in him.
His gaze dipped to her mouth. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered. “And I’d love to kiss you.”
Her throat went dry. “You would?”
Slowly, he leaned in. Lemon and peppermint flooded her senses. Lips almost touching hers, he said, “Yes, chère. More than anything.”
This had to be what trying to breathe under water felt like.
“And,” he said, his breath mingling with hers, “unless you say no, I think I’m going to.”
* * *
Remy had never wanted to kiss a woman so much in his life.
And if he had to judge, Sophie wanted it just as bad. Her soft brown eyes were heavy-lidded, and her breaths fluttered over his hand.
But it was her tight little nipples that gave her away.
As soon as he’d touched her cheek, the shadowed peaks had risen under her shirt.
His shirt.
Oh yeah, that thought was good enough to send another pump of blood shooting straight to his cock. She was in his house and wearing his clothes. Shapeless and utilitarian as they were, the sweats and T-shirt couldn’t conceal her curves.
And she had no idea.
How could such a gorgeous woman be so oblivious to her charms? Her skin was like silk under his hand, and the urge to slide it down her neck—to explore every part of her—was almost more than he could stand.
But he couldn’t do that yet. Not without her consent. She’d been hurt, and he’d cut off his hand before he trespassed where he wasn’t wanted.
Just when he was ready to drop his arm and back off, she pressed her lips against his.
Victory surged through him, the spike of adrenaline making his heart pound. He licked the seam of her lips. She made a soft sound and opened her mouth, granting him access.
Slow with her. The warning drifted through his brain, and he couldn’t tell whether it came from him or the wolf. Either way, obedience was hardly a chore. If any woman was made to be savored, it was Sophie. He lifted his other hand and cupped her face, holding her in the lightest embrace. He rubbed his thumbs over her cheekbones as he moved his tongue lightly against hers, testing her reaction.
She sighed—a satisfied, feminine sound that sent more blood surging to his cock.
How long had he dreamed of kissing her? How many nights had he spent nursing a drink or flipping channels while well-rounded curves and big brown eyes haunted his thoughts?
Too damn many.
He twirled his tongue against hers, tasting sugar and maple syrup. Her mouth was hot, her lips as soft and full as they looked. The faint sent of vanilla teased his nose. He deepened the kiss and slid his hands into her hair, stroking the silky strands back from her ears.
She moaned, the sound vibrating against his lips.
It was the encouragement he needed.
Actually, who was he kidding. He didn’t need any encouragement to take things further with Sophie. His dick pressed so hard against his jeans, it felt ready to burst. He cupped his left hand around the back of her head and deepened the kiss, sucking on her hot little tongue like he’d wanted to since the moment he saw her.
She shuddered, and a wicked smile curved in his brain.
He sucked harder.
She moaned.
Harder.
Another moan.
Someone pounded on the door.
Sophie broke contact with a gasp. “Oh my god!”
His wolf was instantly alert, the beast’s instincts smothering the desire like someone throwing ash on a fire. He shot to his feet and faced the door, ready to defend his home and his female.
Before he could stop to consider why his wolf thought of Sophie as theirs, he saw what she’d obviously already seen. Dom and three Hunters stood on the other side of the living room window, the looks on their faces making it clear they knew exactly what he and Sophie had been doing.
“Remy,” Max said from the other side of the door. “Open up.”
Remy looked at Sophie over his shoulder. She’d stood and now stared at the door, a mix of fear and what looked like resignation in her eyes.
Max’s voice was a growl. “We need to talk.”
9
Was this what a heart attack felt like?
Sophie put her palm against her throat, where her pulse pounded like a drumbeat. On the other side of the window, the Hunters flanking Dom stared at her, recognition in their gazes. She didn’t know them, but it was no surprise they knew her.
She was her father’s heir, even if misogynistic werewolf rules meant she could never take over his territory. Of course they knew who she was.
They also knew she just kissed Remy Arsenault.
Holy crap, she kissed Remy Arsenault.
Heat scorched her face. She folded her arms so she wouldn’t press her palms against her cheeks. Immediately, the Hunters dropped their gazes to her chest.
She flung her arms back to her sides.
“It’s okay,” Remy told her. He must have mistaken her gesture for fear. Most men only saw breasts as potential playthings—the bigger the better. They had no idea how much of an inconvenience boobs really were.
“Remy.” Max’s voice took on an impatient edge. The Alpha wasn’t going to wait much longer for them to open the door.
Remy gave her a reassuring look, then went to the door and opened it. Max shouldered inside, Dom and the Hunters on his heels.
The Alpha’s gaze landed on Sophie—and she knew right away why he was considered the most powerful Alpha on the continent. Maxime Simard wasn’t as tall as Remy or as muscular as Dom, but he was unquestionably the most powerful wolf in the room. Menace coiled around his broad shoulders like a snake observing its prey. He wore his black hair brushed back from a broad, unlined forehead. Like most werewolves, his age was indeterminable, but Sophie remembered reading he was in his late thirties. Most packs kept detailed dossiers on unmated wolves. Matchmaking was practically the species’ national pastime. As a result, Sophie had seen plenty of photos of Max.
Seeing him in person, however, was an altogether different experience.
His eyes—a pale, arresting blue—searched her face. At the same moment, power licked over her skin, its touch like static electricity.
�
�Are you all right?” he asked.
“Y-yes.” Too late, she remembered the manners drilled into her as a child. “Alpha,” she added.
“You’re welcome in my territory.”
It was a ritualistic statement—something Alphas said to signify they didn’t perceive an intruder as a threat. And she was an intruder. Any wolf, regardless of rank, who wished to enter a territory other than their own required permission from the Alpha. It didn’t matter that she was unconscious when Remy brought her to New York last night. The minute she crossed the border, she was in violation of the law.
In one sentence, Max had let her know he wasn’t going to retaliate, but he also wasn’t about to forget how she arrived.
He turned his attention to Remy. “In the past half hour, I’ve received phone calls from both Samuel Gregory and Hamish Benton.”
Sophie’s stomach did a queasy flip. If she wasn’t wary of attracting attention, she’d lean backwards so she could brace herself against the table. As it was, she had to settle for unlocking her knees so she didn’t pass out. She remembered that much, at least, from her few training sessions as a teenager.
Remy looked merely curious. “They say anything interesting?”
The Hunter on Dom’s left groaned.
Max walked forward until he and Remy were toe-to-toe. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a growl. “You get one warning. That’s it. A diplomatic crisis spanning three territories has landed on my doorstep, and it has your name all over it. I want to know why.”
Most Alphas could cloak their power to some extent. Sophie’s father explained it as a sort of defense mechanism. Without an ability to muffle their authority, no Alpha could go anywhere in secret. It was exactly the sort of thing enemies loved.
Max wasn’t muffling his authority now. If there had been enough oxygen in the room to suck in a breath, Sophie would have done it. As it was, the air felt too tight for comfort. Tendrils of electricity crackled over her skin, and her chest tightened.
Remy had to feel it, too. But he still met Max’s gaze—for a moment.
The tension ratcheted higher. She looked at Dom and the Hunters. They wouldn’t intervene. Max was their Alpha. No wolf would dare to get between an Alpha and his subordinate.
But Max wasn’t her Alpha, and that rule didn’t apply to her. Should she say something? Pretend to pass out? The way she felt, she could probably manage it without pretense.
Just as she worked up the nerve to speak out, Remy looked at Dom. The nonchalance he showed Max was gone. Now his face was hard, his green eyes sheened with blue.
“You told him, didn’t you?”
Dom folded his arms. “I didn’t have to. A human at a gas station on the Vermont-New York border called the police early this morning.” He flicked a look at Sophie. “Reported the biggest wolf he’s ever seen. He said it tried to attack him.”
“That’s not true,” Sophie said, outrage spiking her veins. “He held a gun on me!”
Max gave her his full attention. “It’s forbidden to show yourself to a human in wolf form.”
Instantly, she regretted speaking out. How did anyone in this pack get away with crossing this man? Under his pale gaze, it was hard to not feel like an insect pinned to a mat. She swallowed. “I know that. It was stupid to go inside the gas station in wolf form, but I couldn’t keep running…not without food.”
“And why were you running?” Max’s voice wasn’t harsh, but it wasn’t soft, either. This was an Alpha gathering intelligence. Still, it was a stark contrast to the gentleness Remy had shown her.
She looked at him now. He stared at the floor a little bit in front of his feet, his expression inscrutable, his body tense. Regret washed over her. She’d put him in a horrible position. If Max was like most Alphas, this could be bad for Remy. It was up to her to set the record straight—to convince Max that none of this was Remy’s fault. If he was guilty of anything, it was protecting her at all costs.
On the other hand, that meant confessing she sought his help through a telepathic cry that shouldn’t have been possible.
She glanced at the Hunters. Her father always said the safest way to keep a secret was to tell no one. If she blurted everything out, how long would it take until the whole New York Territory knew about it? They’d already seen her kissing Remy. At the thought, heat shot up her neck and into her cheeks.
Before she could will herself to melt into the floor, footsteps pounded up the cabin’s porch. The Hunters whirled toward the door, but Max waved them away.
“It’s Lizette.” In his thick French accent, her name sounded more like Leezette.
The door swung open, and a breathless Lizette stuck her head inside. “Oh good,” she said, her gaze bouncing from Remy to Max. “You haven’t killed anyone.”
Max’s body posture changed in an instant. He’d been rigid before. Now his shoulders softened as he crossed to Lizette and drew her all the way inside. In profile, his harsh face broke into a smile that transformed him from forbidding to handsome. He dropped a light kiss on her forehead, and his tone was teasing when he said, “I promised I wouldn’t kill anyone on the property, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” Lizette said, but her expression was grave. She licked her lips. “And I hope that promise extends to me?”
The Alpha laughed. “What are you talking about, petite?”
Lizette’s brow furrowed, and she looked between Max and Remy. “Oh… Dom didn’t tell you?”
Max followed her gaze. Some of the ease in his tone faded. “Tell me what?”
“Lizette healed Sophie,” Dom said in a flat voice. “Earlier today.”
Max stiffened. He dropped his hands from Lizette, then turned slowly toward Remy. His pale eyes blazed. “You involved my wife in this?”
The cabin walls seemed to compress, the structure almost groaning under the weight of the Alpha’s anger. Sophie had to fight not to sink to the ground.
If Lizette felt the awful pressure, she didn’t show it. Instead, she grabbed her husband’s arm. “Maxime, will you stop it? Your temper tantrum is totally unnecessary.”
Oh my gosh. Sophie held her breath.
But by some miracle, the tension faded. A familiar scent drifted under Sophie’s nose—something like honey overlaid with wildflowers. Max closed his eyes briefly and seemed to take a deep breath. “D’accord,” he said under his breath, almost like he was talking to himself. When he opened his eyes, his attention was all for Lizette. “I just can’t bear the thought of you in danger,” he said, his voice like gravel.
She cupped his jaw. “I’m not, and I wasn’t.”
Max leaned into her hand.
An ache bloomed in Sophie’s chest. Their love was almost tangible. She and the others might as well have not been in the room. In her borrowed sweats and too-large T-shirt, she was suddenly conscious of just how hopeless her situation was. If her father and Hamish had called Max, they knew she was here.
Which meant Asher knew, too.
She curled her toes against the smooth hardwood. Somehow, being barefoot made everything worse.
“Let’s discuss this in private,” Lizette said.
Sophie jerked her head up in time to see Max raise a questioning eyebrow at Remy.
“My bedroom is soundproof,” he said without looking at Sophie.
Max nodded. “Lead the way.”
10
As he climbed the stairs to the second floor, Remy tried not to think about the stricken look that had flashed across Sophie’s face when he told Max his bedroom was soundproof. He shouldn’t have looked at her in the first place. But some instinct had pushed him to see if the information bothered her.
Of course it did. He’d kissed her, and then he reminded her how many other women he’d kissed.
He’d kept his eyes off her from the moment Max started interrogating her about the incident at the gas station. It was the only way he’d managed to stop his wolf from tearing free of its bonds and forcing a Turn.
&
nbsp; Because the beast didn’t care one bit about Max being Alpha. Its only concern was that another male appeared to threaten Sophie.
Ours.
He stumbled over the top step and had to grab the railing to catch himself.
“Steady,” Dom murmured behind him.
Remy recovered and stopped on the small landing at the top of the stairs. Dom followed and stepped back so Sophie, Max, and Lizette could join them.
“You all right?” Dom asked beside him.
Out of habit, Remy answered mind-to-mind. “What do you think?” As soon as the thought left his brain, a sharp pain lanced his skull. He sucked in a breath.
Dom gave him an assessing look. “It’s too soon. The burnout isn’t healed yet.”
“Duh.”
Max gained the top step and stopped. Behind him, Lizette and Sophie paused on the stairs. Max’s gaze moved over Remy and Dom. He spoke in a voice so low, Remy had to strain to hear it. “For Sophie’s sake, I hope you two can put your differences aside.”
Differences? Remy glanced at Dom, whose face was predictably stoic. Max wasn’t lying about receiving calls from Hamish Benton and Samuel Gregory. That meant Dom had kept his word about giving Remy twenty-four hours to figure out how to handle Sophie’s situation. But Max’s reference to differences must mean Dom had mentioned their argument from the night before, when Remy had brought up Sabrina.
It was unlike Dom to voluntarily speak of his dead ex-fiancée. That he had meant Max must have pressed.
Damn nosy Alphas and their incessant need to control everyone and everything. It was one of the reasons Remy built the cabin.
Lizette poked her head around Max’s arm. “I hate to break up your secret meeting, boys, but we’re getting a little bored here.”
The way Max’s demeanor changed was almost comical. In an instant, he dropped his glowering look and transformed into an accommodating husband.
“Sorry, petite,” he said, turning and taking her hand. Once he helped her up the last step, he did the same for Sophie. She brushed past Remy with her head lowered, her hair slipping over her shoulder and obscuring her face.