“Do you have Tommy Knocker Maple Nut?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll have that.”
The waiter leaves.
“Are you trying to get me drunk?” She grins at me.
“I’d order the entire bottle if that were the case. I just want you to get out of your funk and have a good time tonight.”
The smile disappears and she swallows hard.
“Fuck. Tell me what he did.”
She tilts her head. “I don’t want to tell you.”
“Tell me. Let me help.”
She closes her eyes and sighs.
“Aw, Shavone. What are you afraid of?”
Shit. Two big fat tears fall from her eyes.
“Hey.” I lean forward. I cup her face and wipe away the drops. “Goddamn it. I’m going to have to rip Nash’s head off, aren’t I?”
She snickers a little, but shakes her head no.
The waiter comes with our drinks, setting Shavone’s down first. She immediately picks up a glass and slurps half of it.
“If the wine doesn’t meet your approval, miss, I can get you something else.”
“Oh, it’s excellent,” she says and licks her bottom lip. “Thank you for the recommendation.”
The man bows slightly. “Would you like to order now?”
“Yes, we’ll start with the flatbread appetizer,” I say.
For entrées, I opt for the buffalo stroganoff and she gets some gourmet salad. The waiter goes away. Shavone slams back the rest of that first glass of wine and reaches for the second.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I stay her hand. “Slow down. I want you relaxed on our date not drunk.”
She pouts. I lean over and bite that bottom lip. She giggles.
“What happened between you and Nash today?”
She closes her eyes.
I kiss the corner of her mouth. “Spill, kitten.” I kiss her again. “Or I’ll just keep kissing you until you do.”
She kisses me back for a few seconds, then, pulls away with a conflicted look on her face. “You saw Nash’s odd behavior yesterday morning.”
“Odd behavior?”
She nods. “Hitting on me. Last night, it was just more of the same. This afternoon, he took it to an extreme.” She snorts.
I narrow my eyes. I know Nash’s wolf is obsessed with Shavone, but he wouldn’t let him hurt her, would he?
“How extreme? He didn’t force himself” —
She cuts me off. “No! Of course, not. No. Nash isn’t a rapist for god’s sake.”
Whew. That’s a relief. “So, he’s coming on strong.” I relax a bit. “What’s the problem?”
“It’s out of character. In all the time I’ve known Nash, he’s never been like this with me.”
The swallow of beer in my mouth tries to go down the wrong pipe. I cough it out, clear my throat. He’s never hit on her before? I call bullshit. “I think you, Miss Shavone, are pulling my leg.”
“How so?”
“Nash has to have hit on you before.”
“Never.”
The man is an alpha and he’s had a thing for her for years. What the fuck? I drink a few sips of beer. “That settles it for me. He’s a bigger idiot than I thought. Look. He wants you. That’s obvious.”
She raises her eyebrows. “I don’t think it’s so obvious.”
“Don’t tell me a smart girl like you has self-esteem issues?”
The waiter brings the appetizer.
“Excuse me,” I say to him. “In your opinion which woman in this dining room right now is the most attractive?”
“Your date, sir.” The waiter doesn’t hesitate. He blushes and sets the table down in the center of the table.
“See,” I say say to her.
The waiter glances at Shav before he goes away, his face beet red.
“Of course he’d say that. He wants a tip.” She laughs — the first real laugh of the evening.
“Finally.” I grin. “No more puss face.”
“Puss face?”
“You’ve had puss face before we even left the house.” I lean in and hold her other hand.
“I’m sorry. My brain will keep at this until it finds a solution. It’s a stubborn flaw in me.”
“Okay. Let’s hash it out completely so we can get on with our evening.” I smile. Any other woman would be stripped naked lying spread eagle ready to fuck that alpha. I’ve seen them literally stand in line at the club. But this is Shav. She makes love.
“I think Nash is playing me.”
“Why would he play you?”
Wrinkling her cute nose, she shakes her head. “I don’t know. To keep me away from you, or you away from me.”
“Okay. There might be some of that. He’s pissed as hell about me pursuing you, that’s for sure.”
“Oh, god, I’m sorry.” She gets angry all over again.
“Stop apologizing. Most of this isn’t your fault.”
“But some is?”
I shrug and tilt my head. “Your scent, you can’t help. But strutting into that bar on those heels and in that dress?”
She grimaces, embarrassed.
“I’m glad Nash and I sent those Native wolves packing. You wouldn’t have been safe with them.”
She rolls her eyes. “Oh, brother.”
“Hey,” I bark. “Tempting a wolf is a whole different thing than a human man. You understand that, don’t you?”
Apparently she doesn’t understand that. She frowns, her eyes dart back and forth between mine. “I’m sorry. I was on a mission.”
“A mission?” Come on, spit it out, girl. Tell me the truth.
“I wanted information about my sister, Valerie. Her boyfriend is a Native. You know. I know you do. Nash must have told you that I’m looking for her.”
“Yeah, he did. She ran away with her wolf.”
“That’s crap. It’s not like Val to sneak off in the middle of the night the way she did.” Shavone’s eyes well up, again. “Or at least not tell me where she is. I have no way of contacting her at all.” She reaches for that second glass of wine before I can stop her — taking a healthy sip.
“Aw, kitten.” I wish I could tell her the truth. Seeing how stubborn she is, I know it’s not a good idea. She’d head south right into a nest of hunters.
“I know she’s in trouble.” Shav shakes her head. “Nash doesn’t believe me. He’d rather scare off Native wolves than help me investigate.”
I lean further forward. “As he should.” I keep my tone of voice soft. “You have no idea how nasty some wolves can be. Nash and I want to keep it that way.”
“Oh, so you’re on his side?” Her anger flares.
I touch her chin. “I’m on sweet, innocent Shavonne's side. I like her. I like her a lot.” I kiss behind her ear and whisper there. “I’m on the side of keeping her alive.”
She gasps.
“This is serious shit.” I want to be as honest as I can. “Now we’re going to stop talking about witches and wolves in public. Do you understand?”
She nods.
“We can talk more at home,” I add. I’ll find some way to convince her that Val is safe.
“Promise?” She whispers.
“From the bottom of my heart.” Oh so lightly, I kiss her lips. “As for Nash, put your fears about him away. I know him well enough to know he wouldn’t mess with your head unless he was serious.”
“You think?”
“I’m positive.” Damn, girl, he loves you.
Swirling the wine in the glass, she takes a small sip. “I wish I could be as certain as you.”
Fuck. Tell her and ease her mind, or keep quiet and up my odds to make her mine? I sigh. “The next time he comes on to you, throw yourself at him.”
Her jaw drops open. “You want me to do that?”
“Only if you make sure I’m in the room when you do.” I smirk. “I want to watch.”
“That’s kind of kinky.” She blushes and grins back.
Holy hell. Is that a glimmer in her eyes?
“You like that kind of kink, kitten?” I ask.
Please say yes.
Whoa. Look at that smile. She bites her bottom lip and bats her eyelashes. “Perhaps I would. I haven’t had any real life experience with it.” So cute, her cheeks flush a bright red.
Not in real life, but that blush. Maybe she’s had fantasies?
Oh, cousin. Wait until you hear this.
I smile. She presses her thighs together. Son. Of. A. Bitch.
“Want to try it? We can arrange an experience for you if you want.”
“Perhaps,” she whispers so low only my wolf hears it. He is at full attention and so is my dick. Instantly at full attention. I shift in my chair.
“It’s getting very fucking hot in here.” I joke and guzzle some beer.
Giggling, she looks everywhere but at me, her mouth twisted in a shy smile. She shifts in her seat, giving me a whiff of her essence.
Fuck me.
When she glances back at me, I know she sees my wolf’s eyes. And she doesn’t back down. In fact, her scent multiplies. I suck in some air, scoot my chair right next to hers. “Well, well, well. Innocent Miss Shavone.” Touching her face, I lick my lips, forcing my wolf down. “You are just full of surprises.”
“I told you I wasn’t a prude. I’m not, I’m” — I cut her off.
“Sweet as can be and a sizzling temptress at the same time.” I kiss her lightly, nuzzle her throat and inhale. “Fuck. I’m hard as steel right now,” I whisper for her ears only.
Pleased and a bit flustered, she looks at her fingers in her lap.
I laugh and sit back. “I bet Nash doesn’t have a clue about this side of his little Shav.”
Smile gone, her eyes widen. “He’d be appalled.”
I shake my head. These two have been dancing around one another for years. “Oh, no, Miss Shavone. I’ll lay odds right now that he’d be as turned on as I am.”
She sips wine and thinks about that with a frown.
“Relax, okay? Nash is interested. I know for a fact that he is and it’s sincere.”
She grimaces.
“Trust me. I know.” I pick at the label on the beer bottle. She didn’t say she wants him or me, or admit flat out that she fantasized about a watching kink.
chapter twenty-seven
BEN GRINS. “TELL me more about this experience you’d like to have, Shavone.”
“That’s personal.” My face must be flushed fuchsia.
“Is it just watching or is it watching and touching?” He wags his eyebrows.
“Oh my god.” I shade my eyes with my hands.
He lifts just one hand, partially, to peek at my eyes. His grin broadens salaciously. “C’mon. Tell me. Do you have any participants in mind? Sure hope I’m a candidate.”
I nod slightly. I cannot believe I’m discussing my fantasy, in public, with Ben.
“Oh, right on.” He chuckles for a second, then sits up straighter and pinches his chin in thought. “I think I’m beginning to see what’s goin’ on your sweet yet sexy mind.”
Our food arrives, thank god. The waiter smiles at me shyly as he places plates in front of us.
“Thank you,” I murmur and dig in. After a moment of watching me eat, Ben picks up his fork.
“What do you think?” I ask after he’s had a few bites.
“I think I need to put ice in my pants.”
I giggle. “I meant the food.”
“Oh.” Ben shakes his head and looks at his plate. “There’s food?”
I giggle again. “Thank you.”
“For what? I haven’t done anything — yet.” He smiles.
“For relieving me of my puss face.”
“You need to stop talking. Every word out of your mouth has sexual context now.”
After dinner, I stop at the ladies room on our way out of the restaurant. Dinner took longer than expected and we’re late getting to The Fillmore.
A general admission theater, seats are first come first serve. It’s right around the corner from the restaurant and we hurry. We walk through the doors at just five minutes before the show. I expect to be sitting back by the door. But no.
Ben clasps my hand and with a quick word to an usher, we’re lead down the aisle right to the front. The main area, where hardcore fans typically stand shoulder to shoulder and bounce to music, has been roped off. Set up with tiny cocktail tables, it looks like a vintage nightclub. And, of course, our table is centered to the stage. The usher removes the reserved sign and departs.
My jaw drops. Ben grins, pleased with himself, as he holds a chair for me. I sit and crook my finger. He leans down so I can speak into his ear. “It pays to date double-oh-seven.” I kiss his cheek.
With a wink, Ben situates his chair so he’s slightly behind and to the side of me. A waiter places two glasses of wine on our table and disappears just as the lights go down and Miss Rae takes the stage.
Throughout the first three songs, Ben rests his hand on the crux of my shoulder, his thumb stroking the bare right side of my throat. It’s distracting because the movement isn’t in rhythm to the music. It’s a nervous tick. Apparently, instead of enjoying the concert, he’s thinking hard about something. I feel his phone vibrate in his jacket pocket.
“Excuse me,” Ben whispers in my ear. “I’ll be right back.” He kisses where he’d been stroking, then stands to go.
He’s gone for quite awhile and returns as Corinne sings about putting records on, one of my favorite songs. He grins at my swaying shoulders.
“Is everything alright?” I murmur into his ear.
“Everything is perfect.” He smiles like he has a giant secret.
“Are you sure?”
He leans forward to whisper in my ear. “Oh, yeah.” Kissing me lightly on the earlobe, he sits back — his nervous stroking gone.
“She was really good, wasn’t she?” I slide into the car talking about the concert.
“She was. I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Ben closes my door and walks around to the driver’s side.
“So many artists don’t sound as good in person as they do digitally,” I say. “I think she was better in person, don’t you?”
“Uh, huh.” Ben is totally distracted.
Something is going on. He starts the car and instructs Hannah to play an old-school playlist. I fall silent and listen to Gladys Knight croon that this can’t have a happy ending.
The closer we get to the house, the tenser Ben gets. Instead of parking in the garage, he stops at the front door. Licking his lips, he glances sideways at me and gets out.
My door opens. “What’s going on, Ben?”
“I have a surprise for you.”
Why is he so nervous about it?
Inside, he undrapes his jacket from my shoulders and throws it on a stool at the breakfast bar. The music from the concert still in my ears, I half dance, half walk to the fridge and take out a bottle of cranberry juice.
“Want some?” I ask Ben holding up the bottle.
“I do.” Nash’s voice makes me jump.
Seated in an arm chair in the great room, it appears he’s been waiting for some time.
Ben’s gaze ricochets quickly from Nash to me, to Nash and back to me. Is this the surprise?
“Why are you here, Nash?”
The man flexes a massive bicep to reach for something on the side table. Cellophane crinkles as he lifts a bouquet of flowers.
Our eyes meet.
“I – ah” – Nash swallows hard – “I want to say I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
“This afternoon. For making you cry, making you mad – take your pick.” Staying seated he holds out the package. He seems so sincere.
“Go on, kitten. I’ll get the drinks,” Ben says.
I walk over to Nash. “Thank you.” I take the bouquet.
They’re authentic Calgary tulips. Their curly white petals so pretty, the flower so
fragrant. I bury my nose in the cone of paper. It smells happy, like spring. “White tulips are my favorite,” I murmur.
“I know.”
You do?
“You and your mom planted hundreds of them that one fall. Every spring after, you couldn’t stay away from them.”
He noticed that?
“Mom wouldn’t let me pick any of them.” I grin at the memory of Mom watching me like a hawk.
Nash returns the smile. “I bought you some groceries, too. Tea, berries and salad. The shit you like. I put them in your apartment.”
Unbidden my eyes well up at his thoughtfulness.
“Aw, don’t cry. Please.” He beseeches me. “I hate that I do that to you. I want you to be happy with me, like you are with” – his voice trails off and he glances at Ben who hands us each a glass of cranberry juice.
Like I am with Ben. Nash doesn’t have to say it.
Everyone is quiet, the tension thick and uncomfortable. I gulp most of the glass of the bright ruby liquid.
“Do you have something to tell me, baby?” Nash swallows nervously and shifts in the chair. Licking his lips, he and Ben exchange a knowing look.
Confused, I glance at Ben.
He winks. “Your secret is out, kitten.”
I gasp in a huge breath. “Oh my God. You told him about” — Oh, no. I close my eyes and feel my entire face heat. Nash is going to lock me in a tower and beat Ben to a pulp.
Ben swallows, takes the glass out of my hand and watches me cautiously. Nash’s body heat draws nearer behind me. His hands gently on my waist, he nuzzles the bare side of my neck.
“I’d rather hear it from you.” Nash nibbles on my shoulder. “Tell me, Shav. Tell us what you want us to do to you — and we’ll do it.”
What? My mind screams. My jaw drops. Should I pinch myself to be sure this isn’t another nocturnal fantasy?
Damn it, my nipples tighten. Ben’s gaze drops to them and when his eyes are on mine again, the look in them is as hot as anything I’ve ever seen — in real life or fantasy.
“I think she’d like her tits touched, cuz.”
“Would she now? I think I’d like to touch them.” His voice thick and deep, Nash slides his hands slowly up my ribcage, my breath hitching with every advancing inch. Finally, oh finally, Nash cups both my breasts.
“Yeah, baby,” he hisses. Gently, he massages them, capturing my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. “I’ve been dying to touch these.” His open palms rub back and forth over the peaks. “Your sweet little pearls belong in my mouth,” he rasps into my ear. “I want to suckle for hours and hours.” He steps closer so that his erection presses into my back.
Soft Shatter (Wolven Moon Book 1) Page 20