“Oh, man. That’s gotta suck. Looks good anyway. Smells good, too.”
The short Hispanic teen sidled up close Brandon. Close enough that Diana felt sandwiched between the fevered heat that the werewolves emitted. Rick’s hot fingers brushed Diana’s back before making contact to lay a comforting hand on Brandon’s shoulder. The strange connection she’d felt with Brandon jumped to encompass Rick.
She felt weirded out by the whole experience, disorientated when Brandon yelped and jerked away. The connection she’d formed with the older boy earlier slammed shut.
Rick’s confusion echoed within her.
“Don’t touch me! Ever!” Brandon backed up until he bumped against the counter.
It took a moment to realize that he wasn’t yelling at her.
On Diana’s other side, Rick snarled.
Uh-oh. Diana had a flashback to the bloody kitchen fight.
“You better back down bro.” Rick started around her.
“Fuck off!” Brandon crouched. Either to run or fight, she didn’t know.
Rick growled, a real animal growl.
“Oh yeah? Wait till I really get my hands on you.”
Diana reacted without thinking. She put a hand out, taking a fist full of Rick’s tee shirt. The kid was shorter than she, slighter built, but strong. Very, very strong. She began to drag behind him as he stalked Brandon. She felt his fear as much as she felt Rick’s anger. The need to assert his dominance in pack order.
Enough was enough.
“Not in my house!”
She yanked hard, tipping her captive’s balance to gain his attention. Rick grasped her wrist in a painful hold. Thick reddish brown hair covered the back of the boy’s hand.
Normal nails curved into wicked claws that encircled her wrist.
Rick turned, his fanged snarl now for her.
Diana met the dark feral gaze with her own anger. She reached out with the connection she felt to all of the boys, tapping back into Brandon, as well, and absorbed their anger, frustration, and a great deal of humiliation. Following the link of hurt and pain, she gathered it to herself, trying desperately to ignore the horrible images that came attached to the emotions.
Diana reached for her own anger. No one does anger like a divorced woman.
Anger at her ex’s resentment. Discontent with her job. Life. Lost dreams. Sacrifices made for her children. Not just angry now, but pissed, Diana lashed out with the lava heat to punish.
Seconds after the confrontation began it was over.
Rick seemed to collapse upon himself. He barely stood, his head tilted at an odd angle, leaving him vulnerable. She realized it was his version of a submissive pose. Rick had given over to her.
He gulped air, shaking off the afterburn of adrenaline. The claws and hair receded as fast as they’d appeared.
Diana’s hand raised on its own accord. Lightly she ran her fingers up the side of the boy’s neck and into the thick silkiness of his hair, acknowledging the honor and respect she’d been given. She pulled his head down and placed a kiss on his forehead.
“It’s all right,” she whispered. “Everything’s going to be all right.”
Diana let Rick go. Dimly, in the outer workings of her brain, she knew there were others in the room. They weren’t important right now. The danger wasn’t quite past.
Brandon crouched into a ball in the corner of the cabinets. Murmuring, she eased up to him. He stared at her out of a furry face with wide, unfocused eyes. The previously shy boy snarled a mouth full of sharp teeth in her direction before hiding his head in his arms and knees.
“It’s okay, sweetie. It’s safe.”
Diana held out a hand.
“Shhh. Its okay.”
He snarled and curled into a tighter ball. A cornered animal will fight its way free.
She’d tried gentleness and failed. On to Plan B. As if she had any kind of plan A for werewolves freaking out in the kitchen.
“Brandon. Cut it out and come here.”
He looked up. Dark familiar eyes watched her warily.
“Now. Get a grip and move your furry butt over here.” Be strong. Be dominant.
She pointed to the spot in front of her, hoping her bluff worked.
It did. Brandon crawled to her feet, practically sitting on the top of her bare toes.
He looked up at her, neck bent to the side in obeisance. She bent down, ignoring the slide of her dress to mid-thigh. He tensed when the touch on his neck turned into an embrace.
A second ticked by as Diana waited for a repeat of his outburst. Brandon relaxed into her, shaking as hard as Rick had been a moment ago. Smoothing his hair back, she let go.
Dear God. The thought hit her hard. They were just children. Very needy, very powerful children. Adam Weis had his job cut out for him and she didn’t envy him it.
Diana stood and faced the crowd in her kitchen.
Rick slouched exhausted into a chair. Mark appeared. His arm dropped over Rick’s shoulder.
“Bradley took the normals home. The Nazi Nerd had an asthma attack. Says he’s allergic to dogs.”
Reality had a surreal drunken quality. Getting upset was too much effort.
She’d actually come between two fighting werewolves and come out the acknowledged alpha. Wow.
Her thoughts were as fuzzy as Brandon’s face. And scattered, too.
“I need to sit down.”
A chair materialized behind her. Solicitous hands guided her down into it. A glass was pressed into her hands.
Brandon curled his body around her legs and laid his head in her lap. She could feel the points of his claws wrapped around her bare ankles, secure and unbreakable. Like the ties she felt forming, binding her to the pack whether she wanted to be a part of them or not.
Diana reached down to rub his back. He snuggled closer, a puppy rooting for reassurance. She took a big drink, thankful that someone had found the wine.
“I’m tellin’ ya, something’s gotta be done. He freaks all the time,” Rick said. His voice rose with an edge of hysteria. “What’s Adam gonna do when he finds out Brandon flipped out here.”
“Shut up, Fuckface,” Mark snapped. “You know you’re not supposed to touch him.”
“Watch your language.” Diana interrupted. “At least be creative if you’re going to insult each other.”
Barely noting the ‘Yes, Ma’ams’, she sorted through the overload of emotion. The horrible things she’d seen from the boys memories! She knew why no one touched Brandon and was glad the one who’d done that was dead.
Now, more than ever, she knew that she had no business with Adam or these kids.
She didn’t have the training to help someone through that kind of devastating abuse.
Power, psychic power and werewolf magic rolled through her. She felt the ferocity of a monsoon, feeling like her dreams of meeting Adam that first night in the park. Monsoons overwhelmed. They devastated. People drowned in all that raw power.
Diana gripped the thick hair under her fingers, wanting to be gone when the storm arrived. Diana was no coward. She’d survived marriage to Richard Ridley. She’d weather this storm.
“Brandon, change back if you can. The rest of you eat.” Her words were barely more than a murmur, lost in the power headed her way.
Diana waited, and in the meantime, she stroked the soft fur under her hand and tried to send reassurance out to the boys while they ate chicken, rolls, and salad with lots of Ranch dressing.
———
Adam steered much of the conversation around Tamara’s chosen profession as a dental hygienist. He let her chatter about office gossip, her friends, and the wolven boyfriend who had broken their pairing contract in favor of one that brought a multiplex mall into their town.
She pushed away her dessert plate and wiped delicately at her mouth. The cloth napkin twisted tight between her hands.
“Thank you, at least, for seeing me.” Her smile strained at the edges. “I know I’m not big bus
iness. But I’d really like a fresh start.”
Adam liked that Tamara was twenty-six and smart enough to have already lined up a couple of job interviews in the area. She didn’t have alpha potential, but he wasn’t looking for that.
The power flared in him, igniting his tenuous hold to his pack. He felt their individual presences and reached out instinctively to check on them.
Another presence, strong willed and dominant, met him partway. Not Tamara.
Her. He didn’t understand how a human, even a psychic, could travel the fabric and paths of his pack. He reached out, curious.
Power flared brighter as he touched, met, and merged with a member of the pack.
With Diana Ridley. Shock jolted him into a temporary retreat..
No. It couldn’t be. He hadn’t marked her like Mack. This could not happen. Not with a human female.
He blinked and came back to reality. Only seconds had passed.
Tamara’s sad eyes said that she knew she’d botched the interview. She hadn’t, and he liked the girl, so Adam tried to smile past the rush in his veins. The wolf howled in his head, ready for the hunt. He didn’t realize that he’d bared his teeth instead. He threw down his napkin and stood.
“Welcome to Anderson Pack, Tamara. I’ll take care of the details for your move later. Call me if you need anything.”
Adam turned his back, missing the absolute confusion and dawning delight on his newest member.
Chapter Nine
Adam drove blindly, daring the police to stop him. Fury warred with the wolf’s howls of triumph. He was not an animal to react solely on instinct. He was not a man to ignore what instinct told him. He was the dominant male. How had the human female invaded his pack bond? Such a thing was impossible. She was human.
Adam’s mother was a formidable psychic and she’d never developed a link to Paul’s pack. Paul had chosen Mara, a good strong, wolven female, to be his mate. Mara was the glue that held the Tarrant pack together, while Paul was the discipline that kept the pack strong.
As Alpha Canis, Adam would be the one to pick the Matra Canis. He would choose his own mate, even if the female had to carry out the binding ritual.
It was far past time he put Diana Ridley in her place.
The wolf leapt under his skin, excited. He was going to her. Yes, it was time she knew her place.
He pulled into the driveway, noting the beat up red Ranger pickup with the lettering, Born to be Wild, stenciled across the back window. Not very original, but what could you expect from a teenager who sprouted fur and howled at the moon?
Bradley had left out the small detail about where the study group was meeting tonight.
Adam jumped out of his truck, slamming the door behind him loud enough for satisfaction, but not hard enough to damage the vehicle.
He strode through the green front yard to the front door. He felt like ripping the door off the hinges, making his demands known. He pressed the doorbell and took a breath to calm down, listening to the chimes announce his presence.
What were his demands?
He counted them off in his head.
Number one, he was in charge.
Number two, as a member of this pack she would learn …. The door opened, breaking Adam’s concentration.
Diana Ridley stood in the doorway, clad in a soft bare armed shirtdress. The dress should have been modest. His eyes skimmed over her full breasts and hips, noting how material clung to her curves. Her bare toes were tipped in feminine pink polish. Arousal added to is irritation. She held a large glass of—he sniffed—berry wine.
He reached out and took the glass, dumping the contents in the flowers beside the door. “Alcohol impairs your judgment.”
She raised her eyebrows, her expression overly patient, as if he were the one lacking judgment. He pushed past her into the house, shoving the glass back into her hands. A shiver ran down his spine at her touch. His skin tingled with electric power that surged in her presence.
“Do please come in.”
Diana shut the door and followed the bristling man into the kitchen. She should have been surprised that he knew exactly where to go, but wasn’t. Forget the werewolf thing. He was a man. He was probably sniffing out food.
Now that he was here, her nervousness dissipated. She didn’t feel calm. She felt secure. She felt powerful. And best of all, she knew what he felt. Literally. Entwined into his little group, she felt all of their emotions.
She imagined the sensations would eventually grow maddening if they didn’t go away. But for now, she had an advantage, a key insight to how he felt.
He stopped suddenly in the kitchen. Diana moved around him. He reached out, grabbing her arm. Power pulsed between them. Hot molten lava that swamped her limbs.
“Hi, Mr. Weis!” Karen’s bright voice cut through the sensation. Adam dropped Diana’s arm. He muttered something low in return. Perhaps he’d finally registered the burn between them. She felt every scorching wave of fury that rolled off of him.
The boys looked on with guilty, stricken faces.
Diana took the long way to her seat. She made brief contact with each boy, touching a shoulder, ruffling Rick’s hair, asserting her place in her home.
“I’m so glad you could make it for dinner. Would you like tea, milk, or juice?”
She watched him, waiting for the right response—that of a civilized being in her home.
Adam watched Diana touch Brandon through a red haze, proclaiming the boy under her protection. He wanted to shake the woman until her teeth rattled.
What? Did she think to protect them from the monster?
How dare she take a stand for his boys against him! He reached out with his power, intending to do some rattling from a psychic standpoint. If she wanted to play in his pool, then by damn she’d get wet.
His power met a wall of cool, calm confidence. A grim smile bloomed inside him.
An Alpha, bred by wolven and psychic, he could play power games with the big boys.
Psychics might have finesse that his kind lacked, but he was all punch. He pushed at her wall and found that it gave. He pushed harder, shoved his way past her flimsy defense.
Diana felt his arrogant attack. He was strong. Letting instinct take over, she accepted the intrusion and swamped him with her own power. She soaked his essence with her own. In her mind, she heard a wolf howl in triumph. Whatever she’d done was in the wolf’s favor.
Startled, Diana tried to pull back. The wolf would have none of it, claiming her as his own. Diana struggled to free herself from his psychic grip. He hung on, wild, elemental, powerful.
Too late, Diana recognized the wolf was true essence of Adam Weis not the psychic power he wielded. His essence held tight to hers. Too easily, the wolf pinned her.
Feral, gleaming eyes held her still while his power soaked into her, a psychic mating, finishing what she had unwittingly began, marking her as his.
Unbelievable pleasure shuddered through her mind, then her body. The world tilted on its axis.
Mortification swamped her and the realization that only seconds had passed instead of the hours it seemed her tête-à-tête with Adam had taken. She flushed in embarrassment, sucked in an unsteady breath while she straightened, barely hearing the room clear out. The boys murmured their appreciation as they scattered for the door.
“We’ve got school tomorrow. I guess me and the guys will head on out.” Bradley turned to Diana, full of deference. “Thank you for dinner. It was good.”
Vaguely, she heard Karen say her goodnights. Outside, she heard the stubborn r-rr of an engine before it finally turned over.
Karen poked her head back into the kitchen.
“Hey, maybe you guys should escape next time. Go to a decent restaurant or something while we hot dog it.”
Diana eyed her daughter’s over bright eyes while tapping into her excited emotions. Maybe Karen’s psychic abilities had picked up more than Diana had thought.
Super. Now, everyone kne
w she was a psychic slut.
“Good night, Karen.” Diana couldn’t believe her daughter was trying to set her up. She so did not need this.
“Maybe we will.” Adam let his eyes roam over Diana before flashing Karen a warm smile. “Dinner sounds like a great idea.”
“Now wait just a minute …,” Diana began.
“Super.” Karen steamrolled right over her mother’s objection. “Because she never gets out. Or dates.”
“I do too date!” Diana gasped, indignant. Her mouth and her brain took a vacation from one another. “I have one tomorrow night.”
Adam’s flare of emotion was as hot—hotter than his gaze. She reinforced her wall, trying to keep him firmly on the other side. So there, both of you, Diana thought. The attitude was childish, but there it was.
“Night all!” Karen called, waving breezily before disappearing to her room.
“You do not have a date.” Adam’s voice was hard. His silvery blue gaze piercing.
“It’s none of your business.”
“Oh, yes. It is my business.” Adam leaned over the table. His hot fury erupted once more, battering down her defenses. “It is time we talked.”
Talk? Ha! They needed space—the next state kind of space.
Diana jumped up, intending to get some of that space, when Adam’s hand shot out. He latched on to her wrist, forestalling her escape.
Upstairs, the loud blast of music heralded Karen’s bath time preparations.
“Come here.” Adam started around the table.
Diana pulled away easily, because he allowed her. She backed up, out of reach as he stalked her. The hunter and his prey.
Diana wasn’t afraid. She supposed she should be. Werewolves were supposed to be crazy monsters. She did feel threatened, though in a very feminine way. He was so very big. Her flight ended as she bumped into the refrigerator. His arms came up. He laid his palms on the door, caging her in. She had to crane her neck to look up into his face.
Diana’s mouth went dry. Her heart pumped out an erratic beat. Her limbs felt heavy. Breathing was an effort. But not with fear, with desire as she’d never felt it before.
She had to get away.
“Look ... I ... I was probably out of line.” She gulped a breath as his blond head descended. His gaze held her mesmerized. “I didn’t understand what ….”
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