Wild Hunger

by Suzanne Wright

  Busy working on her sculpture, she’d let it go, especially since immersing herself in her work stopped her from thinking about the messes in her life. It had been almost two weeks since Iris’s funeral. Though the grief had lost its cutting edge, it still hurt to think of her and—

  Frankie nearly tripped again. “Fuck, Trick, you need to take this thing off before I fall flat on my face.” Her wolf was embarrassed on Frankie’s behalf.

  “Not yet,” he said, words vibrating with humor.

  “Asshole.” Grinding her teeth, she kept walking—well, stomping. It felt like forever before he finally brought her to a halt.

  “Don’t move from this spot, and do not take off the blindfold.”

  Planting her hands on her hips, she impatiently drummed her fingers. “Fine.” There was the sound of metal screeching, like a roll-up door was being lifted. Then Trick was behind her, gently guiding her forward and inside . . . something. Before she could wonder at the slight draft or investigate the scents, the blindfold fell away.

  “Surprise,” Trick whispered into her ear.

  Frankie’s mouth dropped open, and her arms slipped to her sides. The building was pretty much a replica of the studio attached to her house—same layout, same amount of space, same high ceiling and ventilation system. He’d even ensured that there was a patch outside for her to work on. And she feared she was going to cry.

  She turned to him, knowing she had to look dazed. Words failed her, and all that came out of her mouth was, “How?”

  “The Mercury Pack Alpha, Nick, has a lot of contacts. One is an architect who runs a firm—they revamped the Mercury Pack’s main lodge, built all the lodges that are scattered around Nick’s territory, and then recently constructed his pack’s motel. I told them what I wanted, and they built the studio. I was impressed by how fast they did it.”

  “That’s why you haven’t been pushing me to come here during the daytime lately,” she realized. “You said it was so that I could work on my sculpture, but it was because you didn’t want me to hear the construction work.”

  He nodded. “That was also why we didn’t go on any more runs in our wolf forms around here.” They’d done it near her house instead. Trick stood back, mouth curved, as she wandered around the large space, touching things with a proprietary edge and leaving her scent everywhere. “So are you happy with it?”

  A short, spontaneous laugh popped out of her. “How can I not be?” She crossed to him and looped her arms around his neck. “I really didn’t expect you to do this.” Her voice cracked. “I figured I’d just keep using the studio at my house.”

  Trick smoothed his hands up and down her back. “This territory is your home. I want you to have everything you need for when you officially move here.”

  She bit her lip. “Thank you.”

  Smiling at the way her eyes sparkled, he said, “You’re welcome.”

  Struggling to explain how fucking amazed and grateful she was, Frankie said, “I feel all warm and fuzzy inside.” Like she’d had a few too many glasses of wine. “You’re the shit, Trick Hardy.”

  He laughed, pleased to see her happy. His wolf was smug about their being the cause of that happiness. “How long before the hellhorse is complete?”

  “Another couple of days.”

  Good, thought Trick. Once it was done and it could be safely moved, he intended to press the matter of her moving to pack territory. “I take it you’ll be working on it some more today.” Which he fully supported. The sooner it was done the better.

  “I have to head down to the salvage yard first. It’s a great place to get scrap metal. Before that, though, I’ll need to go to the house and get the van I keep parked at the back of the studio.”

  If he didn’t have an important meeting to attend, he’d go with her. Hearing her talk about sculpting, Trick had become unexpectedly fascinated by it. He was interested in every step of her process, but he couldn’t be there for this one. “I want to sketch you while you work one day.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “I don’t let people watch me while I work.”

  “Which is why I’ll come up with a clever bribe.”

  “Bribe?”

  “I know what my baby likes.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah.” Wrapping his arms tight around her, he lifted her off her feet and kissed her. The taste of her swam through him, invigorating and marking him and filling every empty space. They were her spaces to fill. She was born for him. His other half. Better half.

  “Well, I don’t respond to bribes.”

  “That’s okay. I’m good at getting what I want. There’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

  Frankie’s brows snapped together. “Why would you want to learn even one way to skin a cat?”

  With a tired sigh, he just shook his head. “Forget it.”

  A few hours later, Trick was leaning against the SUV, watching as a red Chevy Camaro convertible pulled up. Why the guy had asked to meet in the parking lot outside a construction site, Trick had no idea. But he didn’t trust the fucker as far as he could throw him, which meant he hadn’t come alone. Marcus was in the SUV, concealed by the tinted windows.

  Within Trick, his wolf paced. He didn’t like the scents of metal, cement, sawdust, and burning plastic. Didn’t like the hammering, pounding, drilling, metal clanging on metal, or whir of a forklift. And he really didn’t want to be near the human who stepped out of the Camaro.

  Said human took two confident strides toward Trick, studying him from head to toe. He probably would have looked down his nose at Trick if he weren’t a good five inches shorter. The human might seem composed, but there was an unnatural stillness about him that told Trick he was fighting the urge to fidget.

  “You’re Patrick Hardy.” It was a statement that held a small note of accusation.

  Trick just looked at him blankly, letting the moment stretch out. He didn’t push away from the SUV; he just continued leaning against it, keeping his shoulders loose and his stance casual. “Yeah.”

  “I’m Brad Newman.”

  “I know.” Trick had met him several times as a child. Apart from the lines of age on his face, the guy hadn’t changed much. He’d e-mailed Trick the previous evening, wanting to arrange a meeting. It was mostly curiosity that had made Trick agree.

  Brad smoothed his tie. “Does Frankie know about this?” The question was posed casually, but it was clear that he was hoping the answer was no.

  Trick shook his head. “I didn’t see the need to bother her with it.” Not until he’d gotten it over with, anyway.

  “My father told me about the conversation you had with him at her house.”

  “Did he?”

  “He was raging. Even threw his glass across the room. My father doesn’t rage. Then he crumpled. Honestly crumpled—another thing he doesn’t do. I knew then that he wasn’t just angry about her having a relationship with a shifter, that there was something else. So I badgered him to tell me the rest.” Brad licked his lower lip. “He was upset because you made him face a few things. You made him see that both he and my mother let Frankie down in a number of ways. From what he told me, you seem to get her, which is something they never did.”

  “But he still won’t accept my place in her life,” Trick guessed.

  “No, he won’t. He’s as pissed at you as he is at himself. My mother doesn’t agree that they did anything wrong, so she’s giving him the cold shoulder now too.” Brad sighed. “Look, I love my niece. I want her to be happy. I do. However, given how the true mate thing worked out for my sister, I’m not convinced you will make Frankie happy. Especially when the whole situation is ripping my family apart.”

  “Your parents are choosing to let it rip the family apart. They could just let it be, for Frankie’s sake. They won’t.”

  “No, they won’t. That’s why I’m here.” Brad briefly averted his eyes. “I don’t agree that this is the right thing to do, but if I don’t do this for my mother, she’ll f
ind another way to ensure that it’s done.” He pulled something out of his pocket and held it out.

  Taking the small sheet of paper from him, Trick barely held back a growl.

  “That’s a check for fifty thousand dollars.”

  “I can read.”

  “It’s all yours . . . if you walk out of Frankie’s life and never return to it.”

  Seething, Trick stared the human right in the eyes as he carefully tore the check into tiny pieces. Some landed on the ground, others fluttered away with the cool breeze.

  Brad’s jaw hardened. “Then maybe this will change your mind.” He crossed to his car, reached into the open window, and pulled out a manila envelope.

  Trick took it with a bored sigh and slid out the thin file. Anger flared inside him as he read it. Apparently Brad had done a little fishing.

  “It wasn’t easy to find that information,” said Brad, the smugness in his voice making Trick’s wolf snap his teeth. “Once Frankie learns that, she’ll hate your ass. She’ll be long gone. If you walk away now, she never has to know. She’ll be upset with you for dumping her, sure, but at least she won’t hate you.”

  Trick returned the file to the envelope and tossed it at Brad’s feet. “Your source either didn’t know the entire story or decided to spice it up a little with some fiction. Either way, it makes no difference.”

  “It would make a difference to Frankie, if she found out.”

  “She already knows.”

  Brad paused, nostrils flaring. “Knows that she’s not your true mate? That you walked away from your true mate years ago and that she tried to kill herself because of it?”

  “I don’t explain myself to people, but I’ll give you a little info, since you’re Frankie’s uncle. Jana wasn’t my true mate; she was an emotionally unbalanced juvenile with a crush. Nothing more, nothing less. If you want to believe differently, that’s on you. But Frankie knows the truth; that’s all that matters to me.” Trick flicked a dismissive look at the manila envelope. “All this was a waste of my time and yours.”

  “Do you care for her? Because if you do, you owe my parents.”

  Trick couldn’t believe his fucking ears. “Say that again,” he rumbled.

  Brad drew back. “You should be thankful to them. They raised her to be the person she is today. They cared for her, kept her safe, ensured she got a good education, and—”

  “Lied to her all her life,” Trick finished. “They also made her feel like she didn’t quite measure up to their expectations. And considering they ripped Frankie’s paternal family apart by cutting them from her life, you could say they had this coming.”

  Brad’s eyes narrowed. “You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. I don’t like that sides have formed. I want Frankie to have all the people she cares for in her life. You and your parents are the ones who are stopping that from happening, not me. And for what? It’s not like we’ll expect any of you to step on our territory or welcome the pack into your lives. But if you and your parents want to be in her life, you all need to jump down from your high horses. So fuck them, fuck you, and fuck your bribe.”

  Brad’s eyes flickered. “It was my mother who—”

  “Your mother might know you’re here, but she didn’t ask you to write that check. You’re laying the blame on her in case I tell Frankie what happened here today.”

  “If you tell her, she’ll be pissed that you came without her.”

  “Yes, she will. But there will be no lies between me and my mate. I won’t keep this from her, even though I know it will hurt her. Like I told your father, you’re all driving her away with the shit you’re pulling. I think she’d have expected this kind of thing from your parents, but not from you. You’ve just sincerely fucked yourself over.” With that, Trick hopped into the SUV and sharply twisted the keys in the ignition. “Motherfucking motherfucker.”

  Marcus blew out a breath. “Hell, Trick, I don’t know how you didn’t kick the shit out of the bastard.”

  Trick reversed out of the space and drove out of the lot. “It was hard not to, but it’ll hurt Frankie bad enough to hear that her uncle tried bribing me. It would hurt her even more to hear that her mate and her uncle then came to blows.”

  Marcus inclined his head. “You did the right thing. If you’d left a single blemish on him, he’d have gone crying to her with a bullshit story that made him a victim and you the villain.”

  “I’d have left more than a blemish on him,” Trick rumbled. He’d have delivered some serious pain on the asshole.

  After a long moment, Marcus said, “Hey, did she tell you that she and I had a little talk?”

  Although Trick knew that his friend was changing the subject to help Trick cool his anger, he went with it. “She mentioned it. Reassured me that there’d be no awkwardness between you and her.”

  “Some females wouldn’t accept our past so easy. They’d let jealousy eat them up. She obviously has enough confidence in you and what you feel for her to not worry about whoever came before her. That’s good. And it means you’ve done the right thing by not pushing her. Winning her trust and moving at her pace was what she needed. But I’m sensing that it’s getting harder for you not to push.”

  “If you’re sensing it, she’ll be sensing it too.” She hadn’t said a word about it, though.

  “Probably. You won’t have to hold out much longer, Trick. I’ve watched her with you. Watched her gradually soften. She used to frown at the way you constantly touched her. Now she leans into it. She never used to touch you back, but now she does. She’s also started to relax around the rest of the pack, but she doesn’t smile at us or talk as openly with us as she does with you. And if you’re not in the room with her, she’s uncomfortable.”

  While the latter made Trick feel kind of smug, it also saddened him that she hadn’t yet fully relaxed with the pack. He understood it would take a little time, though.

  “I like the way you are with her,” said Marcus. “And I have to say, I’m surprised, relieved, and impressed that she leans on you. A lot of females see that as a weakness. She seems to respect your need to take care of her, and she’s happy to let you do it—maybe because she’s never had anyone to lean on before and she’s not afraid to try it on for size. These are all good things that indicate that she’s happy with you and accepts that you’re her mate. She just needs to face whatever’s getting in the way of the bond, which I’m guessing is connected to the Newmans.”

  Trick’s hands clenched around the wheel. “She’s still hoping she can find a way to make them accept her decision to have the pack in her life.”

  “I don’t foresee that happening.”

  “Neither do I, but they won’t think that they should feel guilty about that. They’ve always made her feel like the bad guy, and I fucking hate that. Oh, she sees that she’s not the one being unreasonable, but it still makes her feel like shit.”

  “All you can do is exactly what you’ve been doing since you found her again—be there for her.” Marcus twisted his mouth. “We’re not far from her house. Why don’t we stop by and see her? I get that she’s busy, but it’s probably the only thing that will calm your ass down.”

  Totally true. “She might not be back from the salvage yard yet.”

  “Call her and find out.”

  Frankie had just finished hauling the scrap metal out of the van and into the studio when her cell phone rang. She lowered the music and snatched the phone from the shelf. Trick’s name flashed on the screen. “Yup?” she answered simply.

  “Hey, baby. You done at the salvage yard?”

  She frowned at the strained note in his voice. “Yeah, I’m back at the house. Where are you?”

  “About ten minutes away. I’ll be there soon to help you unload the stuff out of the van.”

  Damn, he was too sweet. “I’m already done with that. But you’re still welcome to come.”

  “I’ll be there soon,” he said, hi
s voice a little warmer this time.

  “Okay, I’ll—” The sound of a car engine made her turn. Seeing a blue Chevy Tahoe, she sighed. “Crap.”

  “What?”

  “Looks like Vance has decided to pay me a visit.”

  Trick swore. “Do not let him in the house. Pull down the fucking studio door and ignore the bastard. I’ll deal with him.”

  “I can handle him just fine myself.” She slowly walked out the side door as the car turned up the driveway that led to the studio. No way was she letting the bastard in her—“Wait, it’s not Vance,” she realized as she saw the license plate. Vance’s ended in “VCE.” “Motherfucker,” she spat, because the driver slammed their foot on the pedal and the tires screeched as the car zoomed right at her.

  “Frankie? Frankie!” yelled Trick.

  Without a thought she fled to the side door and turned into the studio, but the car followed her inside and screeched to a halt, clipping her leg hard enough to send her sprawling onto the concrete floor. Pain pounded up her leg and burned the heels of her hands. Grinding her teeth, she rolled onto her back. That was when the driver smoothly exited the car.

  He looked vaguely familiar. She hadn’t gotten a good look at the guy who’d attacked Trick in the restroom, but she suspected that this was him. Drake. Well, fuck.

  She clenched her fist. Where the hell was her phone? She’d dropped it when she fell, and she couldn’t see it anywhere. Dread hit her square in the chest.

  In retrospect, it had been stupid to run into the studio—she would never have been able to shut the metal door in time to keep the fucker out, but she hadn’t been thinking. She’d been too busy panicking. That panic flooded her now, pumping adrenaline through her veins. She braced herself on her elbows, wondering if he could hear the frantic beat of her heart—it thrashed in her ears, just as her wolf thrashed inside her with rage.

  He came toward her, whistling. “Hey, sweet girl. Fast runner, ain’t you? Just not fast enough. Now, why don’t I help you up?”

  Her claws sliced out and she swiped at him, slashing his face and drawing blood. He jerked back, as if shocked by the sight of her claws. Taking advantage of that, she slashed at him again.