Hayden’s Haven

by Cohen, Julie K.

“Delilah,” she said, without thinking. That was stupid of her, but it almost felt like a relief too. A show of trust perhaps. . . no, she couldn’t trust him. That would be stupid, and she had made enough stupid choices lately.

  A slight grin suffused his face as he lowered his hand to help her rise.

  She should have run, but instead, she accepted his hand and let him pull her to her feet.

  “What happened with the white wolves? Did you head-butt them as well?”

  The blood had stopped running, and his nose had already turned black and blue. She almost reached out to touch his nose, but instead quickly reached for her own temple. The spot was tender, but probably as bruised as his nose.

  “I got away. That’s all that matters.”

  “One wolf got close enough to bite and claw you, deep.” A single finger traced the outline of a bite mark. It made no sense how such a light tough could feel so damn good…

  “And yet you still got away,” he added. “How?”

  “I nearly got away from you,” she pointed out, the need to shout rising within her. He doubted her. Just like everyone in her pack.

  “True, but you were against five, or so you claim.”

  “Claim?” she bit back, before she realized what he was doing. Ooh, he was good. Pushing her buttons in a way that made her talk, spill information. “I’m not a liar, shifter.” She didn’t have much else going for her in this world, but that was the one thing she could be proud of. She wasn’t a liar.

  “The name’s Frank,” he said, with a slight tilt of his head.

  “You think I want to exchange pleasantries with you?”

  There was a slight uptick to the corners of his mouth. “Why not? It’s less painful than what we’ve been doing.”

  Delilah could kick herself for even wanting to laugh, but despite the hard lines of his face, he had a certain appeal to him. Rustic, intense. . . honest?

  “If I answer your questions, will you let me leave?”

  “Depends on where you’re going.”

  “The state road. I’ve had enough of the wolves here.”

  There was a low growl in him, and then he leaned in really close, his nose practically caressing her skin along the side of her neck all the way to her ear. Oh, God, she was going to melt right there. Resisting the urge to tilt her head again, offering him her neck was getting absurdly hard, especially as her damn wolf pushed her to scent him as he’d done to her earlier.

  Before Delilah realized it, she had turned her head enough to scent along his cheek. Her own cheeks warmed at the intimate nature of the act. Scenting was too personal, meant to be between mates or lovers, and she had no desire to be either to him.

  Her damn wolf had other ideas, as she pulled in a lungful of air, taking in as much of the shifter’s scent as she could. So much for subtlety. Delilah was going to have a long talk with her wolf one day soon. As soon as she got away from this shifter.

  On the other hand, her wolf had been right to take in his scent. Delilah recognized it now. The shifter was a guard along the border of the silver wolf’s territory. The pack she had been warned about. The people in Devil’s Peak were wary about the shifters in the region and they had gone out of their way to caution her about the alphas in particular, saying they were crazy, unpredictable.

  Frank pulled what was left of her sweatshirt over her shoulder, careful not to touch her wounds. “You won’t trespass on my territory again. Are we clear, Delilah?”

  Ooooh, the way he said her name, in that deep voice, slow and careful as if he were dragging out each syllable with his tongue, as he would drag his tongue over her. . . She clenched her thighs as she pulled back. This effect he was having on her was just plain wrong.

  A slight grin surfaced on his face.

  Fuck! He knew she was aroused. “I’m simply looking for a place to rest and heal.”

  His grin widened. “I have a place for you to heal if you’d like.”

  “I doubt you’d let me have any rest.”

  “Maybe not at first.” That dour smile of his turned into a definite, if not over-confident grin. “You’d leave quite refreshed, I assure you.”

  She clenched harder because her damn body was for some reason siding with her wolf.

  “Which pack are you from?” he asked, the grin quickly gone as he returned to business.

  She shook her head. If he thought she was going to spill her life story because he had tied her sweatshirt back on—the clothing he had shredded—he was crazy. Except everything about him was smart, controlled, and careful.

  “I’m a lone wolf, and that’s all I’m saying on the subject.”

  “Say my name, Delilah. Address me by name.”

  Frank. His name was Frank, and it had been right there on the tip of her tongue, ready to spill forth because he demanded it. Fuck. She wasn’t going to play his mind-control games, no matter how much she wanted to say his name out loud, to roll it between her lips, to roll him between her lips. Oh, yes, she wanted to caress the name and more, to understand who he was and why he was having this effect on her.

  Frank reached forward, and for a moment she thought he was going to touch her cheek, but his hand lightly touched the skin around the jagged claw mark on her shoulder. His touch felt really nice, gentle, so unlike other males who grabbed and tried to take without even asking. She had gone too long without the caring touch of another, of someone she could trust.

  Delilah stepped back. She couldn’t trust him. He was just another male shifter, which meant he was not to be trusted. Except deep down, she did. It made no sense. Just like the way he kept breathing her scent in. Why was he doing that?

  She needed to leave, escape him before she let her guard down further and began exploring what it was about him that intrigued her so.

  “May I go, shifter?” she asked, forcing a civil tone. She had appeared weak enough in front of him.

  “The name’s Frank,” he repeated.

  “I know. You told me already. Twice.”

  “Say it. Call me by my name, Delilah.”

  Her heart sped up and her nipples tightened. Thank God she still had her bra on.

  Another step closer and he put his finger under her chin and tipped her head back. The honey flecks in his eyes seemed to pulse with the throbbing between her thighs.

  “Say it, Delilah.”

  “Frank,” Delilah said, trying really hard not to lick her lips. Hell, she was horny. She needed to get away from the shifter with the broad shoulders, chiseled muscles, and short dark-blond hair she had the urge to run her fingers through.

  Frank’s eyes narrowed and focused on her mouth. She was sure this shifter would be way more than she could handle. Oh, she really needed to leave, now, before she got herself into another situation that was over her head.

  * * *

  FRANK

  How he had ended up with a broken nose and bruises over his legs and stomach, Frank still wasn’t sure, but right now he was fighting a raging hard-on. The sexy female with the fiery red hair and bright green eyes was standing before him with a challenge in her eyes that made him want to wrestle her to the ground and relieve the pressure of his cock by sinking deep into her lovely flesh.

  She had nearly bested him. Very few males, let alone females, could claim that. She certainly had some good moves. What she lacked in strength, she had made up for in tenacity and sheer determination. He would even venture a guess that she’d had some formal training.

  Training and spitfire attitude aside, she smelled delicious. As in he’d really like to lick her everywhere. He couldn’t recall the last time he could say that about a female. Any female.

  “I did as you asked, shifter. Will you let me go?” she asked.

  “Shifter? You have an aversion to my name already? Or just me? Usually, that doesn’t happen until a shifter gets to know me.”

  “I know enough.”

  Yes, she was eager to escape him. The fear he had scented initially had disappeared, but s
he was clearly nervous around him. Given what she had been through, she had reason to be. Going up against white wolves—five of them no less—she was fucking lucky to have made it out alive and relatively intact.

  His eyes fell to the deep claw marks. The blood had stopped flowing, but her soft delicate skin was still red and raw around the marks. . . marks that ran deep from her shoulder down her slender arm to her palm. That had been no accidental clawing during a wolf-on-wolf battle. The cuts had been deeper than necessary to subdue, especially a female. Frank knew exactly what had happened, even if she wouldn’t tell him. The only way female shifters avoided rape was to maintain their wolf form. The male who’d cut her had intentionally tortured her to force her to shift to human form.

  Delilah had held out. For a while.

  Five fucking white wolves. What the hell were Hayden and Callen doing down there that such an attack had happened? Didn’t they have any control over that pack yet?

  “Would you like me to escort you to the road?” Frank asked.

  A flash of surprise crossed her lovely face before she schooled her emotions. The way she had tipped her chin back, causing her thick tresses to slide back from her face and reveal the subtle rosy hue infusing her cheeks stirred him more than it should.

  A lone wolf. Delilah wasn’t used to receiving help or kindness from others, though he sensed it’s what she needed more than anything. Five years he had been in prison, without the gentle touch of a female’s body against his, or even the friendly squeeze or pat on the back he would get from Blade, Damien, Hayden, or Callen at the end of a mission. He knew better than most what it meant to go without a friendly touch.

  The yearning Frank had seen in her eyes had moved him in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. What to do about her. . . He’d heard the shakiness in her voice and seen the wariness in her eyes. She was more fragile than she looked, at least on the inside. He could let her go, as she wanted, and yet the very idea of her leaving didn’t sit well with him. Not at all.

  “The road’s not far, but it’s in white wolf territory.”

  She gave a slight nod. She knew, and she was scared, but she wasn’t letting it stop her. His type of shifter. . . Hell, what was he saying? What was he doing? She was a lone wolf. It wasn’t like she was staying or even coming back this way. Despite her arousal he’d scented, she wanted nothing to do with him.

  More than anything, lone wolves didn’t trust. It’s what often led them to leave a pack. They couldn’t trust the pack, or the pack couldn’t trust them. He wasn’t sure which way the trust pendulum swung with her, but whatever he did, he’d have to be careful how he dealt with her.

  “I found my way here, I can find my way back,” she said, straightening her stance.

  “A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed, Delilah.”

  He liked saying her name. It was as curvy and feminine as her and felt so very right on his tongue. She’d feel really good on his tongue.

  Hell, he needed to get his mind out of the gutter. The female had just been attacked not too long ago. The foul scents of three males still clung to her luscious body. Their scents on her were minimal, as if they’d grabbed her but not had the chance to do more. Nonetheless, he wouldn’t forget those scents. He would cross the males’ paths eventually, and then he would teach them what it meant to be vulnerable, to be attacked and terrified.

  “You’re right,” she said.

  Her admission surprised him. Maybe he had judged her too harshly. “Have you changed your mind then? It’s not a good idea to walk along the state route half-dressed as you are.”

  “And whose fault is that?”

  “You attacked me.”

  “I attacked you?” she said, her tone pitched high. “You were sneaking up on me.”

  That he was. Even so, he wouldn’t have hurt her, not that she could have known that. His eyes focused on the claw marks. They’d be gone, completely healed in a day or two. She had been right to attack first.

  “I’m a guard who was following a scent trail of a lone wolf who crossed into my territory. Several times over the past few days, in fact.”

  “Oh.”

  At least she understood what he was saying. She had been trespassing, after all. He was in the right to sneak up on her, or worse.

  “So, Delilah without a last name, if you won’t accept my help, then I suggest you get moving. The wolves who attacked you earlier have your scent. It won’t take them long to find your trail and follow you.”

  Her eyes widened again before a steel curtain drew over her face. She gave a slight but sincere nod. “Thank you, Frank.”

  The way his name rolled off of her lips did something unexpected and unnerving to Frank, like she had reached down and stroked his length with her cute pink tongue. Oh, how he’d gladly take her right there—if she were his, but she wasn’t, and she needed to leave. While he could take on five white wolves, it wasn’t his preference. He’d end up all torn up, which meant he’d have to explain to Damien what had happened, that he was in violation of the treaty by being on Drake’s side of the border.

  From here, it was only four miles to the road. Aside from the white wolves that had attacked her, this area was also heavily patrolled by Drake’s shifters because of how the road bisected his territory. They got the occasional human trespassing, which wasn’t a real concern, but the military could easily park their trucks on the state road and unload countless soldiers right into Drake’s territory. It was perhaps the easiest entry point of the three major wolf shifter packs in the area.

  Delilah stepped forward, the first time she had made any such move toward him, excluding when she had kicked, punched, and head-butted him—all without hesitation. Frank watched her closely, curious as to what she intended. He didn’t think she planned on attacking him. Then again, he wouldn’t mind another chance to pin her to the ground and press his body against hers. Hell, he was hard again, or was it still. . . it was difficult to know around her.

  Graceful fingers reached out and lightly touched the bridge of his broken nose. A fire spread from her touch, shooting down his spine and threaded through his arms, hands, and fingers. The need to touch her, to pull her hard against him and capture those shiny, plump lips and slide his tongue into her mouth nearly consumed him, but he controlled himself. Prison had taught him more control than anyone had the right to know.

  “I guess we got off on the wrong foot, huh?” she said, bright green eyes dancing, slowly caressing his face, but never going lower. He was naked, had been the entire time. Her eyes had never dipped lower than his chest, yet he could feel the heat there, the desire to go lower. She was cautious this one, as well she should be.

  He considered taking her back to his pack, but he had no real cause. A lone wolf crossing the border wasn’t unusual, and it wasn’t a reason to interrogate either. No, she wasn’t a threat, he was quite sure of that, though he didn’t want to let her leave.

  “Maybe next time you’ll greet me with a kiss instead of a kick,” he said.

  “There won’t be a next time.”

  Frank threaded his hand through her hair, gripping it rather roughly as he cupped the back of her head. Her eyes lifted to him in defiance. He was taking liberties with her, but she wasn’t exactly objecting, except with her eyes. The hard peaks of her nipples grazed his chest through her bra as he leaned in close. “We both know you’re coming back this way.”

  “You think you have me figured out, don’t you?”

  Frank brushed the pad of his thumb over her lower lip. Her breathing hitched, and part of him wondered if she feared him. He didn’t smell fear on her, but there was a hesitancy in her that didn’t belong there.

  “I’m not like the white wolves who attacked you.”

  “What makes you so different?”

  “I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want. . . unless you endanger my pack.”

  “What makes you think I’m a danger to anyone?”

  Her innocence routine w
asn’t fooling him, and she hadn’t denied that she was dangerous, which she most definitely was. The fact that she was able to take him on after she had been attacked instead of being curled up somewhere, unable to pull herself together, told him she had the type of resilience that was borne from necessity. Delilah was definitely dangerous, and she was hiding something. Her scent trail had crisscrossed the border for days now. Whatever she wanted, it was here, either in Damien’s or Drake’s pack.

  “Unlike you, I don’t play games,” Frank said as he bent forward and licked the side of her neck. God, she tasted as good as she smelled, and that was just her neck!

  “You did not just lick me,” she said, shoving both hands hard against his chest. He had expected her to push back, and he had locked one hand around her waist and the other behind her neck to keep her from escaping him.

  “Protection, Delilah,” he said, deadly serious. “Minimal at best. Unless you’d like my scent where it will send the right message to anyone foolish enough to touch you.”

  “I’m not some goddamn possession!”

  Hell, he knew that, but carrying a male’s scent often meant the difference between life and death in their world. The white wolves had no doubt scented that she was unmarked, unclaimed, not that that justified their actions in the least, but it may have emboldened them. Unprotected and unmated as she was, she remained a prime target. And she was planning to continue traipsing around the forest, in Drake’s territory no less.

  A sudden fear coursed through his veins. Those five wolves would be looking for her. They wouldn’t let her escape a second time.

  “I’m laying my claim on you so anyone else who gets close will think twice about touching you.”

  “You have no claim on me.”

  “I will.” Hell, he shouldn’t have said that. She wouldn’t react well even if it was the truth.

  “What does that mean?” she asked, her eyes narrowing, suspicion filling that lovely face that he wanted to see staring up at him while he drove his cock down her throat.

  “You return to my territory again and I’ll catch you,” he warned. It was the best he could do, be honest with her. “Only next time I’ll claim you, Delilah.” So help him, he’d never forced a female, but he couldn’t help himself right now; he meant every fucking word of what he was saying. His ability to resist her was fading fast.