by Anne Marsh
I fucked up right there.
“I woke up in what I later learned was the back room of the Lucky Ten.”
“Had you been there before?”
Gianna shakes her head. “No. I’d driven past it, and I recognized the name from multiple court proceedings over the past two years.”
Lucky Ten is a dive bar in one of Baton Rouge’s seediest neighborhoods. It stinks of wolf piss and worse. Rough and violent are the adjectives that best describe even the most casual drinkers there, and some really nasty arms- and sex-trafficking goes down in the back rooms. Luc had made the case that the Breed was also selling to the vampires on the down-low. Since vampires and werewolves are mortal enemies, that particular relationship doesn’t make either Luc or me happy. We both know trouble when we see it.
It’s not the kind of place a woman like Gianna belongs. Fuck me, but it’s not the kind of place any woman belongs. The Breed’s females are either pass-arounds the males share for sex, or they’re prostitutes the pack whores out as moneymakers. Maybe I should have put an end to their presence in my city years ago, even if it meant all-out war and the possibility of exposure. The risks of attacking had outweighed the benefits though, and I’m pretty sure Luc felt the same way. Neither of us would chance getting our brothers killed in an iffy cause.
While Gianna finishes answering questions, I go outside to recon the building and its exits. I gave my testimony earlier, so the judge doesn’t need me. Gianna does, however, even if she hasn’t admitted it yet. The proof lounges right there across the street from me in the form of two big, rough-looking males straddling Harleys. The leather kuttes they wear over their T-shirts proclaim their membership in a motorcycle club, and even without seeing the patches I know that MC is the Breed. The stink of their wolves is all too clear, and that’s before the wolf on the left flashes me the bird. Normally my response would be to cross the street and arrest their sorry asses. There are rules and laws that are meant to be obeyed in the human world, and these two live to cross lines. They’re the kind of males who perform a fucking touchdown dance as they cross said line before doubling back for a repeat violation just to make a point. Problem is, I have Gianna in that courtroom, and the best thing I can do to keep her safe is to act like the sheriff I am. As pack Alpha, I’m the voice of God in the werewolf world, but my sheriff’s badge gives me the right to act in the human world as well, which means added protection for Gianna.
So I just incline my head, letting the wolves know that I’m watching them, and then head back inside, because Gianna isn’t facing trouble down without me at her side. Or better yet, her front. If she’d let me, I’d stand between her and any shit life decides to throw at her.
Inside, the judge has wrapped up proceedings, and Gianna is already standing at the prosecuting attorney’s table, arguing in a low voice with the two older men in suits sitting there.
“Paid administrative leave,” the fat one in the dark suit announces loudly enough that I would hear him even without my wolf’s sensitive hearing. “You go on paid administrative leave, and we put you in protective custody.”
He isn’t asking, he’s telling, and Gianna stiffens very slightly, although the pleasant smile on her face doesn’t fade one bit. If she ever looks at me that way, I’m in trouble. She doesn’t like what she’s just heard, but she’s pushed her reaction down deep and is plotting next steps. She fights as hard as any wolf, but she does it with words and logic.
She’s sexy as hell when she’s kicking ass.
“You can’t prosecute cases while this trial is going on,” the smaller of the two men added. His gaze flicks to the larger man to double-check his words. He smells like drugstore cologne and the cheeseburger he had for lunch. Definitely the Beta.
“The case could last months,” Gianna points out.
“It’s a conflict of interest,” the fat man continues, as if she hadn’t spoken a word. “You think of it as a little vacation, honey. You enjoy the downtime.”
The idiot actually reaches out as if he intends to pat her arm. Fortunately for him, he stops short of actual contact. Gianna does her ice princess shield thing, the expression in her eyes cold, cold, cold. She doesn’t want a paycheck for doing nothing, and she definitely doesn’t welcome her boss’s patronizing words, but she nods her head after a long moment.
“The motorcycle club might come after you again, and we don’t want that.” The fat man shifts uneasily, as if he subconsciously recognizes Gianna as an Alpha.
“No. We don’t,” she says drily. Anger rolls off her in waves, but her boss just beams at her like they’re all on the same shitty page and isn’t life great?
“We’ll set something up with the sheriff,” he declares. “You don’t have to worry. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“I can take care of myself,” she snaps. “I don’t need a man in uniform to do it for me.”
Her boss dithers and flaps—the male wouldn’t last a day in a pack—but she walks away from him, the conversation over. Gianna doesn’t look my way when she exits the courtroom, but she knows I’m here. I’d bet on it. No part of me—man or wolf—likes her ignoring me. But I force myself to wait a beat. She’s pissed off. She’s just been told that she can’t do her job. Now is absolutely not a good time for her.
Deliberately, I catch the eye of the fat man and nod. I’ll protect her.
She’s mine.
I follow her out of the courtroom, already decided. This is the last time she takes the lead while I trail around after her like a Beta pup. Once upon a time when she was still talking to me, she offered to spend a week with me, getting to know me. I’m not entirely sure if she planned on me accepting said offer, but I am. If she doesn’t want to plan our wedding, I’ll take those seven nights starting now.
Feudal? Oui. My pack is long-lived, although we aren’t as old yet as Luc’s. Too fucking bad. I’ve done plenty of living and I won’t apologize for not having been born in the Middle Ages. Gianna has biker wolves following her, hunting her gorgeous ass, and I don’t like it. And although I have eyes on her, I’ll bet Luc does too. Keeping her safe when she’s on the move could start a territory war neither of us wants. If I don’t piss off the Breed, I risk encroaching on Luc’s territory.
But that’s the thing. Luc might own the bayou, but he doesn’t own Gianna. She isn’t territory, even though we’ve admittedly both done our best to mark her. She can’t be forced or taken—she has to want to come to one of us. To both of us. Fuck, but things are messed up. I pick up the pace because I’m not losing her now.
It’s time to hunt.
Chapter Two
GIANNA
It’s hard to look at the defendant and not see an animal. Literally. Maybe it’s something in his eyes, the flat look that says he’ll go through me if that’s the way he can exit my courtroom. He made it clear that night in the biker bar that he doesn’t play by the rulebook, which is why he’s here. He’s also really, truly an animal. I watched him shift, watched his human form disappear in a sea of fur and claws. Life was a whole lot saner before I learned that werewolves exist and that a werewolf Alpha had decided I was his fated mate.
But if the defendant had been assigned to me, I’d have made him regret every broken rule. He made choices that he’ll pay for, but he’ll get his day in court and his chance to explain before the law comes down on him heavier than my stepdad’s belt. I love the law, with its safety and intricacies. The law is full of fight too, and that’s one more good thing to add to my mental list.
It doesn’t matter. The wolf who will be sitting in the defendant’s box has already won in many ways. I’ve just been sidelined from my job, told I’m not capable of doing it, and that I should let some man take over and protect me. I stand on my own two feet now, and that’s too important to give up for anyone—or any wolf.
“I know you’re not runnin’.”
A hand—a large, far-too-sexy hand—cups my elbow, halting my exit. Who knew a man’s hand could
be so damned sexy? It pisses me off too because I have a new no-werewolves policy for my personal life. I study Cruz’s hand, and there’s no way to tell looking at him now that he’s a werewolf, too. He could shift, just like that, and there’d be nothing I could do to stop him.
“I don’t run,” I tell him and pull away. I know he knows this—and that it drives him crazy. What is it about wolves and protective instincts? Cruz and Luc would bubble wrap me and hide me in a tower if they could get away with it. Cruz’s fingers come right back to tease, the rough pads rubbing lightly against my skin through the silk of my dress and my jacket. All the clothes in the world aren’t armor enough against the way he makes me feel. I was an idiot to think he’d read my text message about needing space and back off.
I push open the door to the fire stairs and step out onto the landing. The courtroom is on the second floor, and I’ve got energy to burn. The stairs look good right now, plus I’m too impatient to wait for the elevator. That won’t hurt Cruz’s feelings any. Like all the wolves I’ve met, he doesn’t like being enclosed. Sure enough, he’s right on my heels.
“Gianna.” He says my name, the word low and rough. Sometimes—most of the time—he’s such a closed book that it drives me crazy. It’s hard to get a read on Cruz, on what he’s really thinking. He just stares out at the world, all calm and composed. He’s Mr. In Charge, and I really can’t afford to let him take charge of me.
Even if the sex would be amazing.
I turn around—see, no running—and gaze up at him. And up and up, because Cruz Jones is no small man. He’s pushing six foot four, with broad shoulders that fill out his sheriff’s uniform and fill up the space around me. His dark hair is cropped close to his head, his jaw already rough with stubble and begging for my fingertips. Touching him was such a pleasure, and our one night together was nowhere near enough to get him out of my system. He smells good too, like heat and male and an outdoorsy sunshine-and-pine scent that has my body sitting up and taking notice. Now that I’m this close to Cruz, mine is a steady drumbeat in my head and in my blood. I want him. I’ve always wanted him, and we both know it. The wanting complicates things though, and I’d planned on making my life simpler.
Hence the break-up text message.
While I look and drool, he’s already moving, his large body crowding mine backward. My back brushes the wall.
“What do you want?” I ask instead of telling him to move the hell away from me. It’s not a good negotiating tactic. Now he knows I’m willing to bargain. The problem is, my whole body comes alive around Cruz, because the man is a genius when it comes to knowing how to give me exactly what I’m craving. My girl parts are practically begging that he demand dirty, filthy, wonderful sex and that I put out on the spot. Except I’m still in the courthouse, where even the cameras have cameras, and nothing could be more unprofessional.
“You broke up with me by text,” he says calmly, despite the tension in his big body. “The morning after you agreed to marry me. And you want to know what I want?”
He braces a hand over my head and leans in.
That’s how I know that I’m not in charge here and probably never have been. It’s heaven. It’s hell.
Because Cruz has clearly decided what he wants—and it’s me.
CRUZ
Backing Gianna against the wall isn’t like me. Anyone could step into the stairwell and spot us, plus there are likely to be cameras too. It’s a fucking courthouse—and all I can think about is protecting her. Fucking her. My brain is on a one-track repeating loop, demanding my body get closer and start touching.
“I kinda thought we had a relationship, what with us getting together and the yes that came out of your mouth when I asked you to marry us.”
The words come out low and rough. Probably not the sweetest thing I could have said.
She opens her mouth and then hesitates. My mood has been pissy as hell this last month, but it’s better now that I’m close to her. That’s fucked up too, but it’s the truth. We had sex and then she ran from me. If I scared her, I’ll unscare her.
Somehow.
If she’s decided our night together was a mistake, I’ll fix that, too.
“We rushed into things,” she says quickly, her voice cool and calm. She gives me a tight smile, one that doesn’t reach her eyes. She makes a half-hearted attempt to slide away from me, but we both know I’m not letting her go that easily.
“Nuh-uh,” I say and press a finger against her mouth. “You got scared and ran, shug.”
She makes a face. Oui. She’s busted and we both know it. The problem with dating wolves is that we’re hard to shake. You run, and we chase. Christ, I’ve got no problem with hunting her, pinning her to the ground, and showing her just how bad I can be.
“You still seein’ Luc?” Fuck. Even I can hear the growl in my voice.
Her hand flies to her neck. She’s got her engagement ring on a chain around her neck. I reach down and hook the fragile links with my finger.
“Did you break up with him, too?”
I’m not sure if it’s better or worse if she and Luc are still together. She stares up at me—okay, she glares at me, clearly aware that I’m about to lose control—but I don’t step away.
Instead, I move even closer. My fingers rest against her throat where her pulse beats madly beneath the damned ring.
“No more werewolves,” she announces. “That’s my new motto. I can have T-shirts made if you prefer.”
“You told me you loved me.”
“And now I’m recanting,” she snaps. “Fangs and fur should not be part of a girl’s happily ever after.”
“Too late to change your mind,” I say, suddenly in a much better mood. She’s running scared, but all I have to do is figure out why. And how to fix it.
My thighs brush hers, my chest pressing against her breasts beneath the dress. We’ve been dancing around this moment for months now, me watching her every time our paths cross and planning ways to get closer still. Right up until our one night in the bayou when she cut loose with Luc and me. That memory’s one of my favorites, although I intend to make more memories, preferably of the two of us. Without our werewolf third wheel. In bed.
Or up against this wall. Apparently, that works for me too.
“Hello,” she snaps. “Back off, big boy.”
I can’t hold back my grin. “Hello to you too.”
She slaps a hand on my chest and pushes. I let her. She can’t move me, and we both know it. “Move,” she demands.
I rest my forehead against hers. “I’ve got something to say.”
Taking charge isn’t always the best approach with Gianna. This fight has had two different sets of rules—his and hers. Luc’s and Gianna’s. Even if Gianna believes she’s put a temporary hold on her engagement to us, Luc isn’t going to hold back and wait. That bastard Alpha will fight for what he wants. Gianna doesn’t understand the brutality of the shifter world or the primal drive to mate. She’s so fucking human, and I love that about her. But she’s also curious and sensual as a cat. She’s been pulled into my world, and it isn’t fair, but there’s a price to be paid. Luc’s pack mates human women, and their dating practices blur the lines more than a little. Those boys hunt their brides, run them down in the bayou, and carry them off to bed. I’ve kept an eye on the Breauxs and I haven’t seen any signs that their women mind when all is said and done, but… oui. I’d like my yes up front and clear before I’m touching and tasting. In their eyes, that’s a weakness.
I lean into her.
I’m not above exploiting weaknesses, either. Gianna promised to let me have a week alone with her since she’d given Luc a week. It’s the kind of crazy, sweet thing a woman says when you push her or she’s naked or she’s feeling guilty because she can’t choose between two guys. But I accepted.
And now I’m collecting.
“Give me my week,” I say roughly. “You promised me seven nights. I want them now, starting tonight. You give me
that time, and then you still want to walk? Then I’ll believe you when you say our wedding’s off.”
Her eyes narrow and satisfaction roars through me. She’s not going to pretend she doesn’t know what I want. “Let me check my planner. Oh wait. I’m booked.”
She’s perfect. “I’ve got two words for you.”
She shoves her hand into my chest again, but I’m still not going anywhere. She’s got me for a lifetime, and I’m planning on that lifetime starting now. Her pissy mood is cute and sexy—and frustrating as hell. I want to protect her even more than I want to fuck her, but fortunately for me, I can do both.
“Protective custody,” I growl, watching the way her mouth tightens. “Seven nights. I can do both at the same time, but protective custody isn’t optional. You’re mine, one way or the other.”
She immediately goes on the offensive. “Do you really think the Breed is going to come after me?”
“They’re already here,” I say. “While you were wrapping things up inside the courtroom, I was outside.”
Her muttered curse says it all. Hell, I agree with her. There’s nothing fair about the way her life has been upended, changed completely by her run-in with wolves. The past doesn’t offer do-overs however, so all we can do is move forward. I’m just hoping it’s together.
“Let’s start over.” I watch her face cloud over at my words, the crease between her eyebrows deepening as she thinks. “Be friends.”
I don’t want her thinking, not right now. I want her feeling, turning liquid in my arms and against my mouth. These possessive urges aren’t part of my plan, but she’s so near me that I feel the heat coming off her body and I want to make her hotter, wetter, needier. I’m tied up in knots for her, and that’s not good. Still, I don’t stop myself from kissing her hello. It’s not a sweet, quick press-and-release either. I take her mouth deep and hard, my tongue straight past her lips, swallowing her gasp of surprise. I don’t know why she didn’t see me—us—coming, but I’m here now and I plan on being all she sees. It’s a fucking shame it took a werewolf attack and a court case to get us to this point, but Fate’s a bitch and I don’t have the blue moon card to play.