Soft Shatter (Wolven Moon Book 1)

by Dany Rae Miller

  She smiles up at me. “See.”

  I scowl with sound effects. “Is it my fault you’re a tiny thing?”

  She raises an eyebrow in challenge.

  “Fine, my lady.” I bow and take a giant step back. “Happy?”

  “You’re still going to kick my ass,” she laughs.

  “I really like the sound of your laugh.” I grin. “But kicking is not what I’d like to do to your ass.” I waggle my eyebrows.

  Her jaw drops. “Oh, I never.”

  “You should. You’d like it.” I chuckle at her shocked expression. “Step aside, Shavone.”

  Once she moves, I quickly plant one dart in the red bullseye, one in the green outer bull and one in a triple twenty. I pull our darts and hand her hers.

  We play one game — which I win by a landslide even standing farther back. We’re about to start another when Cherie appears at Shav’s side.

  “Hey, we’re going,” Cherie says.

  I turn and glance from her to Nash behind her.

  “Oh?” Shavone sets her darts down. “I’ll go with you. I need to get started packing anyway.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Cherie grins. “I badgered Nash into driving me back to Jesse’s.” Suddenly, I like this girl.

  Though Nash leaving me and Shav alone was part of the plan, I didn’t think he’d follow through after I attached to her.

  An alpha glare in his narrowed eyes, he sends me an unspoken message that I get loud and clear. Fuck him. It’s his fault Shavone isn’t mated to him. He pussyfooted around — how he was able to control himself, I’ll never know. I won’t — I can’t. I’m going for it now. Now.

  “I’ll make sure Shavone gets home safe.”

  She shakes her head. “I live a block away. I walked here. I can walk home.”

  Nash rubs the back of his head, ruffling his hair. That’s his about to go wolf signal. A nasty growl for me, his eyes soften when he looks at Shavone. “It’s dark now, baby. You let Ben take care of you.”

  Oh, I’ll take care of her alright. I try to hide my grin.

  My cousin purses his lips, his eyes go from me to Shavone and back to me. “You know what I meant. Safe being the operative word, Ben.”

  I laugh. “I won’t do anything to her that she doesn’t want me to do.”

  Nash narrows his eyes at me. Grabbing my collar, he pulls me aside for a private discussion. “Listen up, asshole,” he growls low. “This is about getting her to move into the mansion. That’s it.”

  “Fuck you.” I cock my head. “You know I can’t help how my wolf feels about her.” The irate pain in his eyes is sad — fuck, I pity the idiot. Nevertheless, I can’t turn this off. “I’m sorry, cuz. I didn’t plan this. But I’ll be goddamn if I walk away.” I stare at Shavone. I’d mow down my own cousin for her. I’d mow down anyone for her.

  “I’m not rolling over and going away, either,” he snarls. “You want a fight, you got one.” He lets go of my shirt with a little shove.

  “Is everything okay?” Shavone’s gaze flits between Nash and me.

  “Fine.” Nash grumbles and brushes past her.

  What a prick. He doesn’t even see the hurt in her eyes, and she has no clue why he’s being such an ass.

  chapter eleven

  IT’S A NICE Colorado summer night. But even with Ben’s hoodie around my waist, I’m cold. Watching Nash drive away with Cherie, I rub the goosebumps on my arms. Maybe it isn’t the temperature that’s making me shiver. Nash is constantly angry with me. I hate that.

  “Here.” Ben stops me. He unties the sleeves from around my waist and helps me put the hoodie on the correct way.

  My fingertips barely reach below the elbow of the sleeves and the hem touches my calves. “Thank you, Sir Benjamin.” I flop the sleeves at him.

  He bows deeply. “At your service, my lady.”

  I smile.

  “Which direction is your place?”

  “A block that way.” I point west.

  “Only a block? We’ll walk then. I’ll come back for my car.” Ben digs inside the left sleeve for my hand and clasps it with his right. “Are you warm enough?”

  “Uh, huh,” I murmur with a nod.

  We stroll at a leisurely pace, both of us quiet. Every so often, Ben gently squeezes my hand or lightly caresses my knuckles with his thumb.

  “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “What?”

  “With Nash. He’s just being an asshole.”

  I snort. “He’s been an asshole for years.”

  Ben laughs. “He’s an idiot, too.”

  I don’t know what he means by that. Ben nods to himself, and says no more.

  Before I know it, we’re approaching my tiny cottage. There’s a for sale sign out front with a bold red ‘sold’ sticker placed diagonally over it.

  “Are you moving?” Ben indicates the sign.

  “Whether I want to or not.” I grimace. “The new owners want to live in it themselves. I came back from a long weekend in the Springs to an eviction notice in my mailbox.”

  “That sucks,” he says and I nod in agreement.

  We step onto the wide porch and stand in front of my door.

  “Thank you for walking me home, Ben.” I smile and lean in to plant a chaste kiss on the corner of his chin.

  He reacts, lowering his head to make mouth to mouth contact. Before I know it, his hard body pushes me against the door. Simultaneously, both his hands cradle either side of my head, his fingers tangling in my hair.

  Growling, he licks my lips and gently grips the bottom one between his teeth, lightly pulling. I gasp at the erotic sensation. His tongue takes advantage of the opening, expertly plunging into my mouth — exploring, tasting, demanding.

  Oh god, this man can kiss and, I allow myself to react, my tongue tentatively dancing with his. He groans and one of his hands slides to my behind pulling me against his obvious arousal.

  I break the kiss. Panting for oxygen, I rest my head back on the door. Wow.

  “Mmmmm,” he growls, both hands caress my buttocks. His lips move to my clavicle, then up my throat to my chin and jaw, nibbling his way to my earlobe that he gently takes between his teeth. The sensation resonates there. I moan.

  “Oh, kitten, your purr is such a sexy sound.” He lightly nips where shoulder and neck meet. “I want to taste all of you, Shavone. Invite me in.” His eyes sparkle with desire as he lowers his lips to mine, again.

  I turn my head, certain that I won’t have the willpower to resist another scorching kiss like that. He kisses along my jaw and throat.

  “Ben, I don’t do one-night stands,” I breathe.

  “Excellent. Let’s make it several nights, many, many nights. We can stay in bed for a week.” He nibbles on my other earlobe.

  Geez. Vacillating between willpower and desire is exhausting.

  “Mmmmm,” I murmur. “You should stop doing that.”

  He chuckles against my throat. “I don’t think so.”

  I grip his hair and pull his mouth away from my skin. “I can’t.” I look into his hooded eyes. “I don’t normally send mixed signals. I’m sorry.”

  “Shh.” He grazes my lips with his. “Don’t be sorry. I understand. I like the wicked four S combination of your personality.”

  “Four S?”

  “Uh, huh. Sweet yet smart, sexy yet shy.”

  I frown. “Shy? I don’t think I’m shy.”

  “Yeah. Maybe it’s gun-shy I’m thinking of.” He grazes his nose along mine. “Doesn’t matter. I like it. I like you.”

  “I like you, too, Ben.” I laugh.

  He grins. “I got that loud and clear, Miss Shavone.”

  Ben nuzzles behind my ear, kisses my neck and shoulder. “I want to see you again. Tomorrow.”

  I shake my head.

  “You don’t want to see me again? Why not?” Ben lifts his head and pins me with his eyes.

  Oh. There’s that self-doubt, again.

  “No, no. I do w
ant to see you again. It’s just — it can’t be tomorrow.” I sigh. “I’ve only got a few weeks to find a new place and move. Doing so on my budget will likely take all my time and focus.”

  That’s the truth. I’m a closeted witch. Roommates are out of the question. However, I want to live as close to campus as possible. With what I want to spend on rent, that’ll be a challenge.

  “I know the perfect place.” A secret smile spreads across Ben’s face. It’s contagious, making me smile, too.

  “Why do I get the feeling that it’s in your bed?”

  “Hmmm.” He presses his lips together in thought. “Not a bad idea. You’d like my bed, trust me.” He nuzzles my throat, again.

  “I’d bet on it, too.”

  “Stop.” He pulls my pelvis against him. “When you say shit like that, my dick gets even harder.”

  I blush.

  “See. You are shy.” He chuckles. “Not my bed, no, but it is a perfect little place for you not too far from here.”

  “Oh?” Now he’s got my attention. “How far?”

  “Three or four miles.”

  “That’s doable. I can ride my bike to class on nice days.”

  “Yep.” He nods once deeply. “It’s straight down University Boulevard in Cherry Hills.”

  I laugh. Is he for real? “I can’t afford Cherry Hills.”

  “This place you can. Your portion of the property would be small and very cheap. Kiss me goodnight and I’ll give you the details.”

  “But I already kissed you goodnight.”

  “Again,” he smiles, running his nose along mine. “Kiss me again, Shavone.”

  “That’s extortion,” I tease.

  “Uh, huh,” he murmurs and slides his mouth back on mine and I don’t stop him.

  This kiss is gentler, tender. No grinding or pushing. Just a sweet getting to know you play of tongues. The first kiss went straight to lust. This one, while arousing in its own way, touches me somewhere in my chest.

  Oh. This is nice.

  The hair at the nape of his neck is soft twirled in my fingers. I kiss him back.

  I feel him getting aroused, again, but he pulls away before I make him back off.

  “Oh, kitten,” he says, kissing my cheek. “You taste like heaven. Smell like an angel.” He nuzzles my hair, again. “I’m so glad you kiss on the first date.”

  “Oh my. This wasn’t even a date. You haven’t even bought me dinner.” I playfully cover my forehead with the back of my hand. “Oh my. I’m a floozy.” I faux faint.

  He chuckles. “Not even close, my lady.” Getting a more serious look, he caresses my cheek with his fingertips.

  “What?” I smile at him, take in his boyish grin.

  He shakes his head. I continue to look at him, expectantly, waiting for him to say what’s on his mind.

  “It’s been quite a night.” His grin broadens. “You’re totally unexpected, Shavone.”

  I raise an eyebrow. What an odd way to put it.

  “I’m glad Nash dragged me out for a beer.”

  “He had to drag you? You don’t like going out?” Sounds like Nash had to coerce Ben to help him wreck my date with Tomas.

  “I used to like it. When I was younger.”

  I laugh. “Oh, you’re so old now.”

  He chuckles.

  “How old are you?” I ask.

  “Twenty-nine.”

  Same age as Nash.

  “How old are you, Shavone?”

  “I just turned twenty-two.” I draw the discussion back to him. “So, why don’t you like going out anymore?”

  Ben sighs deeply. “It’s depressing. Watching desperate people desperately trying to hook up with even more desperate people.”

  “Nothing wrong with that. Connection is what we all want and need, deep down.”

  “I know, Dr. Gentil,” he teases me, “but club people are an interesting breed.”

  That’s odd. A club owner who hates the club scene?

  “Don’t some people just go out to listen to music and dance?” I ask.

  “Some clubs, maybe.” He shrugs, playing with a lock of my hair.

  He rests his big hand on the crook of my shoulder. His fingers caresses the nape of my neck, his thumb does the same to my chin. “What about you? Do you like going out?”

  “I prefer concerts, live music rather than DJ type clubs. But,” I sigh. “I don’t do either very often right now, being a broke undergrad and all.”

  “What? No line of rich college boys to use and abuse?” Ben smirks.

  Consciously, I know he’s joking. Even so, I react, push at his chest to make him move away. Ever since Dillon, I’ve been accused of being a gold digger. Typically remarks like that don’t offended me. It cuts tonight, though. Wasn’t I going to use Tomas?

  Shit.

  With an uncomfortable look on his face, Ben steps back. “I didn’t mean” — he shoves his hands in his pockets, frowns — “you’re beautiful. I can’t imagine why they don’t” — his voice trails off when he sees me fumble for the zipper on his giant hoodie. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

  “No, I’m sorry.” I soften my expression and my voice. “I get what you meant.” I unzip the jacket.

  “Forgive me, my lady.” He grips both sides of the hoodie preventing me from taking it off. “I screwed that up.”

  That uncertain expression flickers lightning fast across his eyes. For a split second, he looks so vulnerable. Wow. This is strange.

  “Screwed up what? Kissing?” I grin playfully at him. “Your kissing skills are excellent.”

  “Yeah?”

  I nod.

  Gripping the hoodie, he pulls me closer, presses his lips to my forehead. “Don’t mind my stupid mouth. I’m not used to girls like you.”

  “Girls like me?” I cock my head to the side in a signal for him to explain.

  “Sweet.” Softly, he caresses my cheek with his knuckles. “Classy. Smart. One of those beautiful, untouchable girls.” He frowns. “Hell, you might even be a virgin for all I know.”

  I laugh. “I’m not. I have had sex. Sorry to burst your bubble.”

  Ben jerks his head back in mock disbelief. “You mean some idiot had his claws in you and let you get away?”

  Unbidden, tears come to my eyes.

  “Well, fuck. First I make you mad and then I make you cry.” He strokes my hair.

  I smile through a sniffle. “Not your fault. My, ah” — I breathe deep through a familiar ache — “my high school boyfriend became a Marine. He was killed in Afghanistan.”

  “Oh, Shavone.” Ben hugs me. “God, I’m so sorry. I forgot about Monbeau.”

  “You knew him?”

  “I knew of him, being a French wolf.”

  “Oh.” I nod.

  Pulling back a little, Ben cups my jaw and studies my face, concern on his.

  “I know. I should be over his death a little more by now.” I shake my head, truly feeling stupid for still mourning Dillon with such intensity after two years. Today has been crazy. Either my hormones or the last day of the Dark Moon is messing with my emotions.

  “Says who?” Ben strokes my cheek with his thumb. “Trust me. Every guy who’s been over there dreams of having a sweetheart like you miss them.”

  I try to smile. “You think?”

  “I know. And I’d bet the last dime I had that you were the best thing in his life.”

  He’s killing me. Ben the romantic. Who would’ve guessed it?

  With a chaste kiss on my cheek, Ben releases me and takes the key from my hand. “Be ready at eight o’clock tomorrow morning.”

  He unlocks my door.

  “For what?”

  “Breakfast and then I make good on my promise to show you the place in Cherry Hills.” He turns the door knob, pushes the door in. Flicking on the light, he steps in, takes a look around my small front room. “All clear.” He steps back out. “In you go.”

  I step inside. In the few seconds it takes for me to
turn around, he’s already off the porch, walking away backwards.

  “Better lock it. My wolf might get the upper hand.” He grins.

  Like a lock could keep out a wolf. “Oh, wait. Your hoodie.” I slide it off a shoulder.

  “Sleep in it and give it back later.”

  Oh.

  He grins broader and turns to walk briskly back to the bar.

  chapter twelve

  BEN’S MUSTANG IS gone from the bar, but it’s not parked in Shavone’s driveway either. Breathing a sigh of relief, I shut off my truck and get out. I call her number as I walk to the porch.

  “Hey.” She answers.

  “You alone.”

  “Yes.”

  Five seconds later, I’m letting myself in her front door. “Why the hell isn’t this locked?”

  On her knees on the floor, she’s surrounded by moving boxes. She looks up at me with sad eyes.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Aside from you hating me?”

  She thinks I hate her?

  “I could never hate you, baby.”

  “Good.” She grins.

  I wedge myself into a small arm chair.

  Face washed, wearing soft looking sweats and an old Broncos t-shirt, she looks so beautiful. Yeah, I like seeing her in sexy dresses and heels. I’m a man. But this fresh face of hers is the look I love the most. This is the real girl.

  Mademoiselle Gentil took in orphaned Shavone when she was just six. I was too young to know how important a witch Shav was. What I did know is that the shivering little girl, covered in mud and blood, was incredibly brave and incredibly sad. My wolf took notice and wanted to take that sadness away.

  But now? I’m upsetting her every single damn day. That is going to change.

  She waves at the photo boxes and albums in the living area. “I brought in boxes from my car to start packing and got distracted.” She picks up a stack of photos. “Thinking of Mom. Missing Val.”

  “Aw, Shav.”

  “Hey.” Her smile spreads ear to ear. “Remember this?” She gathers up a stack of loose photos.

  I slide to the floor to get a better look. I grin, too, resting my arm behind her on the chair seat and leaning in to see the photo better.

  The photos are of a fishing trip — it was supposed to be my father, me and my buddy, Kincade. Dad invited the Gentil females at the last minute.