Xavier's Desire

by Meg Ripley

  He caught up to her quickly, his long, determined strides overtaking hers. “I’m going to take a stab in the dark and guess you’re not in Las Vegas on a pleasure jaunt.”

  “Why is that? Because I’m not falling at your feet as so many other women do? Certainly, any woman with pleasure on her mind must jump at the opportunity to spend the night with the infamous Noah Hunter.”

  “But I’m not wrong, am I?”

  “No, you’re not wrong; I’m here on…business. You’re also stalking me, Mr. Hunter.”

  “I’m walking beside you, not behind you. Remember? Not stalking.”

  “Well, thank goodness for the clarification. Tell me, are you always this persistent?”

  That brought him up short. The fact was no, he wasn’t. Then again, no one had ever appealed to him on so many levels, from the innate to the intellectual. Still, if he was using the least bit of common sense, he’d be getting far away from this woman who seemed to possess some strange sway over him.

  “What business are you in, Claire?” he asked, not wanting to think about why the hell he wasn’t putting an end to this foolish pursuit, and needing to think about something other than the way her glossy lips glistened in the sun; how the rise and fall of her chest pressed her breasts enticingly against the V-cut bodice of her dress.

  “I don’t see why it’s relevant, but if you must know, I’m an archaeologist.”

  Suddenly, it clicked. He knew he’d heard her name before, when he’d made a hefty purchase from the British Museum a year prior. But when he’d heard the name back then, he’d never imagined Claire Thomas would be a twenty-something beauty who got more interesting by the minute. “You’re a rather accomplished woman for someone so young, are you not?”

  Her steps slowed as suspicion flickered in her eyes, but she covered it up quickly. “Oh well, when other children were playing with dolls and building blocks, I was exploring Megalithic temples and deciphering stone tablets.”

  “Sounds like you had an interesting childhood.”

  She was silent then, and he was beginning to think he’d turned down the wrong conversation road. He really should accept that he was sunk and abandon this ship, but he wasn’t going to do that. He wanted her, not just her body—though he certainly had every intention of getting his hands on that—but something more, something that had never mattered to him before.

  As long as they were two consenting adults having a good time, ‘something more’ had never made a difference to him, but it did now. He wanted the woman beneath this cool exterior because she was more than just a nice set of tits and a pair of great legs. He had a feeling Claire Thomas was unforgettable, worth every bit of effort it took to get her.

  “Look, I don’t know you, and you don’t know me, but I think it would be a shame to miss out on an opportunity to get to know one another. I would very much like the chance to get to know you, Claire. Have dinner with me this evening.”

  She stopped walking altogether and looked up at him. He wasn’t even going to guess at what she was thinking, given how wrong he’d been up to this point. He was never wrong like this. After spending so much time amongst them, he could read them almost as clearly as if they spoke their thoughts aloud. And yet this woman was an enigma that had him guessing wrong at every turn.

  “Alright, Noah, one dinner; but only if you agree to find some other toy with which to amuse yourself thereafter.”

  She was a very well-spoken woman for one from a generation that seemed to spend more time texting in acronyms and emoji than speaking in polished English. Why that mattered to him, he didn’t know, but he found he liked that this beauty was an intelligent woman.

  “I think any man who thought of you as nothing more than a toy is a fool. But alright, if you want nothing to do with me after, I won’t bother you again.”

  “Fair enough,” she conceded.

  He reached out and clasped her hand in agreement, more for an excuse to touch her in some way than to formally seal the deal. But he’d barely felt the soft skin of the palm of her hand when she pulled away abruptly, though not before he’d seen blatant lust blaze hot in her eyes.

  Or had he felt it? Strange, but he’d swear it wasn’t only his own desire that had coursed through his veins, it was hers.

  And fear; her fear. A fear of her own response to him?

  How it was possible for him to feel what she felt, he didn’t know. But as irrational as it was, it left him without a doubt in his mind that Claire Thomas wanted him as much as he wanted her, so much that it scared her. If he could get her to let her guard down just a little that night, the result would be cataclysmic.

  “I’ll see you this evening, Noah. Eight-o-clock?” she asked a little breathlessly, though she had already taken a step in the opposite direction.

  “Seven, and I’ll meet you outside your lobby.”

  She nodded, but before he could say anything else, she turned and started down the street, fumbling in her bag and pulling out a pair of gloves, which she tugged onto her hands with jagged movements.

  Was that why she’d recoiled from him? Was she a germaphobe? No, that couldn’t be it. She’d had her bare hands on a coffee cup from the café when he’d first spotted her. And she placed her hands on the table in front of her when she’d stood.

  Damn, could the woman possibly be more of a conundrum?

  Well, he was going to find out—unless she reneged on their agreement and he wound up alone outside her hotel lobby. He’d think it unlikely, but had learned in the space of a few minutes that there was no point in speculating what the exquisite Claire Thomas would or wouldn’t do.

  If you enjoyed this preview, you may download Hunter’s Desire HERE. Available with Kindle Unlimited.

  SNEAK PEEK OF MARKED BY WEREWOLVES: Packs Of The Pacific Northwest Series

  I never imagined the drama that would ensue once Dwight stepped into my life.

  All I wanted to do was to make a name for myself--to claim my little piece of the pie--and buy the neighborhood bar I’ve been working at for the last few years. Little did I know that I’d be attracting the Wolf Brotherhood into my life.

  They want to stake their claim on my bar, but just because they're the most feared werewolf biker pack in Portland doesn’t mean that I’ll just roll over and let them have what they want. Not without a fight.

  Well, I went a little too far one night and really pissed them off, and now Dwight has this twisted plan to stage my death to get the ‘Brotherhood off my back. He’s my maker, and my lover, so I should be able to trust him, but Dwight also happens to be a member of the ‘Brotherhood.

  Now my sister Sera is getting roped in on the drama, and they'd better not lay a finger on her. Rumor has it, she’s teamed up with a rival pack to get to the bottom of my “death.”

  They'll stop at nothing to take me out, but I'm tired of being their victim. The Wolf Brotherhood has no idea what's about to hit them.

  They've messed with the wrong bitch this time.

  PART ONE

  Claimed By The Wolf Brotherhood

  “Hey, Boss? There’s some guy outside who wants to talk to you.”

  Aiza Simpson sighed and pulled her attention away from her spreadsheets. It was difficult to shift her attention from the maddening minutia of numbers and formulas, but this was the third interruption in thirty minutes, and it was probably time to accept she would not be balancing the bar’s books that night.

  “What guy? And what does he want to talk about?”

  “A big guy.” Cyn demonstrated by holding a hand far above her head and then her palms wide apart, miming a very big guy indeed. “Biker.”

  “What does he want?”

  “He didn’t say. He just told me he wanted to talk to you. I told him you were busy and that he could talk to Chad instead, but he said he had to talk to you.”

  She had no desire to speak to a big biker, but this was the third night a man matching that description showed up after closing time, demand
ing to see Aiza. Clearly, this asshole was not going to take a hint. Maybe if she got the meeting out of the way, the stranger would leave her alone and she would actually get some work done.

  “Okay. Tell him I’ll be right out.”

  “Actually, I think right here is just fine.” A giant man clad in leather from head to toe pushed Cyn out of the way and filled the doorway. “Aiza Simpson, you’re not an easy woman to find.”

  “I didn’t know anyone was looking for me.”

  “Should I—” Cyn started.

  Aiza waved her away. “Go finish up for the night and get home.”

  “Sure thing.” She shot the stranger a suspicious look and then ducked past his shoulder and scurried from the office.

  “So, Mr.—”

  “Butch.”

  “Mr. Butch, what can I do for you? If you’re trying to book your band, you will need to speak with Chad. I don’t handle any of that.”

  “It’s just Butch, and no ma’am, I’m not trying to book a band.”

  “Well, have a seat.” Aiza lowered herself to her chair, reminding herself that she owned the place and that this man could not intimidate her, even if he chose to remain standing, looming over her desk.

  “I’m here to talk about your taxes.” His voice was a low rumble that came from deep in his chest, and as he spoke, Aiza realized the left side of his mouth didn’t move. Puckered flesh marked a scar that stretched from his nose to his chin.

  “Taxes? You don’t look like someone who works for the Internal Revenue Service.”

  “I work for the Brotherhood.”

  Aiza’s mouth ran dry but she was careful to school her features, keeping her face completely calm. “Which brotherhood?”

  “The Wolf Brotherhood.”

  “I’ve already told your associates that I will not be part of that racket.”

  “If you don’t pay your taxes, how will we protect you and this lovely establishment?”

  “I don’t need protection. People come here because they’re looking for a good time. Your kind isn’t welcome here.”

  Butch came around to her side of the desk, the heels of his boots thumping against the wood floor. He stood so close she had to tilt her head back to see his face, but she refused to lean back or move away from his great bulk. “This town belongs to the Brotherhood. And so does everything in this town.”

  “This bar belongs to me. If that’s not clear to you, I’ll be happy to call the cops and press charges for trespassing.”

  “Trespassing? Who’s trespassing? I’m just here to have a little chat.” He glanced down at her desk and his hand shot out without warning, knocking her computer to the ground. “But if you want to call the cops, you’re welcome to.”

  “Nobody wants the cops involved. Just go tell your boss or your alpha or whatever that I’m not paying.”

  “Is that your final answer?”

  “It’s the only answer you’re ever gonna get from me.”

  “That’s a shame.” He hooked his hand under her desk and flipped it like it was made of cardboard. The resulting crash was loud enough to make her jump, and all she could do was pray that the heavy wood hadn’t landed directly on her laptop. Most of her information was backed up, but not the most recent updates to her spreadsheets.

  He walked out of the room without another word and she followed quickly behind him, wincing as glasses, bottles, and plates fell to the ground in his wake. Two of her waitresses yelped and jumped at the unexpected crashes, and Chad watched the destruction with a gaping mouth, looking even more like an idiot than usual.

  “Cyn, get this glass cleaned up. Chad, come back here and help me out.”

  He didn’t need to be told twice, thankfully. He silently helped her right the desk and watched as she gingerly picked the laptop up from the ground. One of the hinges was broken, but the screen came to life and nothing else appeared to be damaged.

  “How much did he want?” Chad asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know? Didn’t you ask?”

  “Why would I ask?” Aiza said, gathering up the receipts and invoices that had gone flying. “I’m not paying any amount.”

  “What do you mean, you’re not paying any amount?” Chad’s voice had an undeniable tremor. “Look, Aiza, I know you’re new to all this, but he’s going to come back. And when he does, he’s going to want more. And they’ll just keep coming back until they’ve taken everything.”

  “What are you saying? That I should just let them push me around and extort me? That I should write them a check? This isn’t Chicago in the 1920s, Chad, this is 2016. I don’t have to put up with that bullshit.”

  “It doesn’t matter if it’s 1916 or 2016. Men like that? They don’t take no for an answer.”

  “Go see if Cyn needs any help. Then you can both go home for the night.”

  Chad opened his mouth like he had another argument, but Aiza was done with the conversation. She turned her back on him and pretended to be absorbed by her paperwork, but she couldn’t see anything past the blurring of tears in her eyes. In the six months since she bought the controlling interest in Paul’s Tavern, she’d been insulted, cheated, lied to, and harassed. She’d lost ten pounds and any memory she’d ever had of a good night’s sleep. She no longer had personal days off, no longer had peaceful moments or pleasant dreams.

  But all of it—the pain, inconvenience, sweat and tears—had been worth it. All she ever wanted was something she could call her own. Something she could build and nurture and hold up with pride. Every back-breaking minute of work proved her dreams were coming true—but now, every drop of blood and sacrifice she made could be wiped away by one piece of shit.

  No, not just one. A whole pack of them. A whole Brotherhood.

  “The shit Brotherhood,” she muttered under her breath. Well, if the shit brotherhood thought they could take everything away from her without a fight, they had another thing coming. She’d go down swinging. She’d scrap and spar and scuffle until she had no strength left, and then she would fight a little harder.

  First, she would need to prepare for their next meeting. She had no doubt Butch would return, as promised, and when he did, she would be ready for him. He might not take no for an answer, but a bullet would speak plenty loud, and it would get her message across, even to deaf ears.

  When she emerged from the office, the bar was empty and the shards of broken glass had been cleared from the floor. She circled the small space, running her fingers over the smooth, well-worn tables and chairs, straightening the frames on the wall, dusting the tops of the light fixtures with the rags she always kept tucked in her belt.

  “I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” Aiza vowed. “I don’t care what I have to do. Whatever it takes.”

  When she finalized the sale of the bar with Paul, he’d advised her to purchase a gun. Aiza had never been a fan of firearms, and she couldn’t imagine herself killing another human being—well, at least until that night. Now she took great pleasure in picturing Butch’s smirking face being torn apart by a well-timed bullet. She decided to look into getting a gun the next morning.

  After another walk-through to make sure that everything that should be off was off, everything that should be on was on, and everything else was clean and secure, Aiza left through the service door, careful to pull it shut behind her. It wasn’t raining, yet, but she could smell it in the air, and the sky was overcast, the heavy clouds colored orange by the city lights. Long after last call, the streets were deserted and the parking lot was empty—except for her little Honda.

  She’d crossed that parking lot by herself a thousand times before in the ten years since she started there as a dishwasher. She’d moved from dishwasher to waitress to bartender to manager to owner in that time, and every day of that journey had been punctuated by that very walk, but now she couldn’t quite bring herself to take the first step. She scanned to the left and then to the right, looking f
or any movement in the shadows, but she saw nothing. She heard nothing. Her senses told her the way was clear, but her instincts kept her by the door, screaming at her to go back inside, push the deadbolt, and call the cops.

  Aiza was just about to silence those instincts when she heard it: nails scraping over concrete. A whisper of a sound that would have been lost during the day, drowned out by traffic and voices. But in the night, Aiza heard it as clear as a bell. She barely had time to register the sound before the shadows shifted and something lunged from the darkness. Her instincts kicked in before her training, and the world seemed to move around her as she shifted from two legs to four.

  As a wolf, she was stronger, faster, and far more deadly, but the other wolf had a running start and hit her with enough force to drive her to the ground. She yelped and whipped her head around, her sharp teeth slashing through the air and finding just enough flesh to draw blood. It was the attacker’s turn to yelp as she tightened her jaw, biting down with all her strength, tearing fur and flesh from the lean wolf’s shoulder.

  They broke apart, snarling. As a human, Aiza might have noticed that her opponent was far too big for her to take down. As a human, she might have noted the copious scars, the wounds he wore as marks of pride, signaling every fight he’d won. But as a wolf, all Aiza knew was that she had to protect her territory. The wolf lunged forward and Aiza leapt in the air to meet him, not willing to give Butch so much as an inch. She went low, aiming for his underbelly, but his long claws snagged her face, tearing a deep hole through her cheek. That didn’t stop the trajectory of her attack, however, and her teeth sank into his stomach like hot knives through butter.

  Aiza growled, whipping her head from side to side, using the full force of her weight to tear through his guts. Butch’s howl was one of mingled pain and fury, but he somehow managed to wrap his jaws around her neck. At the first hint of pressure from those sharp points, Aiza released her hold and sprang back. Blood as black as oil poured from their open wounds, splattering across the parking lot like a gruesome Jackson Pollock painting.