Operation Wolf: Eli (Wolf Elite Book 2)

by Sedona Venez

  Holy shit!

  “So, you can’t die?” I asked, my lips quivering.

  “If I’m shot, the bullet hole will close up within the hour unless I’m starved and I don’t have any access to meat. I can’t really get sick anymore, and alcohol and drugs don’t work on me. I’m faster and stronger, and as you can see, I can call on my inner beast when needed. But, yes, I can still be killed.”

  “So, you’re in control most of the time?” I asked, needing to know the answer to this question. “Like, your beast won’t unexpectedly come out and want to hurt me?”

  Eli chuckled, and this time, the sound was genuine. “No. The only time my beast assumes control is during the full moon when I’m forced to change, and even then, I’m in the background, and I can somewhat control it. Besides, my animal likes you . . . a lot.” He paused for a moment. “So, please don’t be afraid of me.”

  I blinked. “I’m sorry I acted the way I did earlier, but this just seems so . . . unbelievable.” It wasn’t my proudest moment when I had gone all bitch-mode and rebuffed him.

  Eli nodded, smiling a little. “I know, and don’t be sorry. You’re actually taking it all rather well.” He chuckled again, his eyes brightening.

  “Can you change for me again?” I blurted.

  “What?”

  “I want to see you change again,” I confessed. “I think if I see it while you’re not trying to kill anyone, maybe I’ll get used to it and not be so frightened the next time it happens.”

  “I try not to make a habit of changing and killing people,” Eli said gruffly. “And what if someone busts in here?”

  I gestured to the large private space. “There’s a huge metal door preventing anyone from seeing or getting in here, and those thick-ass drapes can be closed.”

  He scowled. “Okay, I guess it’s likely that I’ll have to do it again before this is all over. So, yes, I’ll do it for you.”

  I sat back, holding my breath in anticipation. Eli stood up and double-checked that the floor-to-ceiling metal door was locked. Then he stormed over to the windows and drew the drapes closed. Now, we were in complete privacy.

  He sat down and rolled his neck and shoulders. “Are you sure?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I answered, my eyes wide. “Show me your beast.”

  He nodded and closed his eyes. I suddenly heard a popping sound and then gasped as fur sprouted along Eli’s face and arms. His fingernails elongated into claws, his jaw stretched to accommodate lengthening teeth, and then his eyelids popped open, revealing gold eyes with brown irises and black pupils that weren’t quite like a cat but definitely more oval than round.

  “Your eyes,” I breathed, leaning forward and abruptly forgetting about the razor-sharp teeth and claws that hovered inches from my face. “They’re beautiful.”

  A low growl issued from his throat, and I jumped back, but Eli made no move toward me. Looking into his eyes again, I had the peculiar feeling it wasn’t Eli who stared at me, but someone else entirely, someone majestic and powerful. A force of nature to be reckoned with.

  I needed to feel his features underneath my fingers. “Can I touch you?” I inquired, tentatively reaching a hand out.

  Eli inclined his head, and I placed my hand against his jawline, sifting my fingers through the brown fur there. It was soft and silky, which surprised me. I’d thought it would feel more like a beard, coarse and rough and scratchy. Another growl issued from Eli’s throat, and I tensed. But it continued on, and I realized it wasn’t really a growl but more like a deep purr.

  “Do you like that?” I asked with a smile, scratching him with my fingers like I would the underside of a cat’s jaw.

  The purring increased, and I couldn’t help but giggle at the absurdity of the situation. Here I was, scratching a half man, half wolf like he was some kind of pet.

  Abruptly, the fangs and fur were gone, and it was Eli again, his eyes blue once more, but soft, like forget-me-nots basking in the summer sun. “I’ve never felt him so calm before,” he said softly, wonder in his voice. “My wolf really does like you.”

  “He’s pretty likable himself,” I answered, realizing I meant the words. Once I’d gotten used to Eli’s wolf, I’d felt no fear but rather a sort of strange kinship with him.

  Eli chuckled quietly. “That’s not what most people would say,” he said.

  I frowned at the odd note in his voice. It sounded as if he were in pain . . . the pain of rejection, I realized.

  And why wouldn’t he be? If I woke up one day and found that I wasn’t human anymore, wouldn’t I, too, be hurt if people began to fear or hate me?

  I imagined it would be tough for him to get close to anyone, especially a woman. And he was right to be afraid of being snubbed. I, myself, had reacted badly to the knowledge, and I’d grown up with him my whole life.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, feeling ashamed. “I’m sure I made you feel horrible. Forgive me.”

  “You don’t need to apologize,” he murmured, his breath warm on my face.

  His lips were only inches from mine.

  “It’s only natural that you were afraid of me. Most people are afraid of wolves and with good reason. They’re ruthless killing machines when agitated. Just look at how things have gone since I kidnapped you. I . . .”

  Instinctively, I leaned in and closed the gap between us with my lips. I hated the bitter note in Eli’s voice, and though I knew kissing him was a very bad idea, I couldn’t help my desire to ease a little of his pain. A spark of pleasure lit inside me at the feel of his soft lips, but they were frozen. Undaunted, I continued to kiss him until he responded, brushing his lips against mine in return. He quickly warmed up, pressing forward but making sure to be careful with my ribs. His tongue tested the seam of my lips in a way that quickened my breath. Opening my mouth, I let him in and then moaned as he swept his wicked tongue over mine, hot, wet, and demanding.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d tasted something so good, so decadent . . . so right.

  Suddenly, it was all over, Eli collapsing back onto his own seat and breathing hard. “That was . . .” He swallowed. “I’ll be right back,” he said abruptly. Then he was gone.

  A lump formed in my throat as he slid the compartment door closed behind him.

  What the fuck did I do wrong?

  I’d thought he was enjoying the kiss as much as I was by the way he responded to me, but clearly, I was wrong. He’d practically run from the room, as if my kiss were poison.

  Maybe it’s better this way.

  I blinked back the tears threatening to fall. I wiped my mouth against the back of my hand, wishing I had something to get the taste of him out of my mouth, but there was nothing to drink inside the compartment.

  Guess I should have asked for that hot chocolate, after all.

  Gingerly, I stood up, opening the drapes and trying to lose myself in the starry night sky and dim silhouettes of rolling hills that lay beyond the glass pane. But all I could see were beautiful gold eyes that glowed in the lamplight and soft brown fur that felt like silk against my hand.

  Fuck, Eli . . .

  CHAPTER 12

  Eli

  THE NEXT TWO DAYS were spent mostly in uncomfortable silence with my attempts at small talk stilted and awkward and Olivia’s responses either cold or monosyllabic. I couldn’t really blame her, not after the way I’d spurned her when she reached out to me with that sweet, achingly gentle kiss. One I hadn’t deserved, no matter what she thought. I wished with every fiber of my being that I could have hauled her onto my lap and had my way with her right there. But she was injured, and there was no telling what might happen if my wolf got a little too carried away while making love to her.

  Besides, it was probably better that we kept our distance from one another. More than likely, we were going to have to part ways again, and there was no point in forming attachments that would only lead to a broken heart . . . mine.

  Forming attachments? Who am I kidding?
I am way past being attached to her. I am Mr. Obsessed.

  I suppressed a sigh. My behavior toward Olivia would almost be considered possessive if not for the fact that, until this, I’d never once tried to encroach on her personal life. Certainly, at the very least, it was obsessive.

  “Why get caught up on one woman?” Hunter’s voice rang in my ears, the remnants of some long-ago conversation—one I hadn’t been the subject of. Nevertheless, the words had stuck. “There are plenty of fish in the sea, and they’re all happy to throw themselves at me. No skin off my back if one of them decides they’d rather stay with the flock.”

  “School,” Jordan corrected Hunter dryly. “A group of fish is a school, not a flock.”

  “Whatever,” Hunter said dismissively. “They all taste good once I get them in my mouth.”

  The corner of my mouth curled up a little, and then the rest of the conversation faded back into the recesses of my mind along with that hint of a smile. Maybe such words were good enough for a playboy like Hunter, but as far as I was concerned, they fell on deaf ears. No matter how many women’s beds I’d lain in, none of them could possibly compare to Olivia. She was a dandelion among carpetweeds, a diamond among lumps of coal, a blazing star in the inky blackness of life.

  Well, that’s poetic. But it doesn’t do me any good if I insist on keeping her at arm’s length.

  I did let out a sigh this time, a tiny one, but it was enough for Olivia to briefly flick her eyes in my direction before returning them to her paperback. She’d bought several books at the first train stop, and she was already halfway through her third one, some fanciful-looking thing called The Princess Bride. Her hair gleamed softly in the sunlight shining through the windowpane, and there was color in her cheeks, a vast improvement from her pinched, pale face on the night of our escape. Now, she looked almost peaceful, nestled in her section of the compartment, content to lose herself in another world.

  “Is there any particular reason you’re staring at me?” she asked idly, turning the page.

  Because you’re gorgeous, and I can’t stop drinking you in. “I’ve got nothing better to do.”

  “Well, your ass should have bought a book or two instead of those silly magazines,” she said, indicating the stack next to me with a slight incline of her head.

  “They didn’t have any I liked.”

  She arched a perfectly manicured brow. “I saw a few mysteries on the racks. I thought you enjoyed those.”

  “I’d already read the ones they had,” I said tersely, even though inside, I warmed, secretly pleased that she remembered my literary preferences.

  Olivia shrugged. “There’s nothing wrong with rereading,” she said, apparently determined to be argumentative.

  I opened my mouth to respond, but the train whistle shrilled, and we both looked out the window to see that we were approaching the station. Relief and anticipation swept through me, followed by wariness, as I knew better than not to expect some kind of ambush like the one we’d gotten back in Alabama. Still, I was extremely glad to be getting off the train.

  “Is this where we’re staying?” Olivia asked, her slender hands pressed against the windowpane as she looked out at the city.

  Burlington, Vermont was a bustling port and a booming manufacturing center with steamboats sailing in from the Erie Canal and great smokestacks rising from industrial buildings.

  “It’s much nicer than Chicago,” she admitted, which was true.

  If one ignored the factories and steamboats spewing pollution everywhere, Burlington was a picturesque waterfront town that boasted some seriously beautiful Victorian architecture.

  “Yes,” I said, standing up and reaching for our luggage, which I’d stored in the wire racks above us. “A friend of mine has a cabin near here.”

  Olivia blinked. “A friend of yours is helping you with this . . . escape operation?” she asked, coming to her feet as well.

  I arched a brow at her sardonic tone. “He actually financed just about everything,” I admitted, opening up the compartment door so she could exit ahead of me. “One of my former squad members—and he’s quite wealthy, so it’s not exactly any skin off his back.”

  Olivia stared at me for a long moment. “That’s extremely generous of him,” she said quietly.

  “Yeah, well, I saved his life a few times, and vice versa,” I said, a little uncomfortable under her penetrating stare. “We’d do most anything for each other.”

  She nodded and then left, steady on her feet despite the long hours of sitting and her cracked ribs. I followed her out, wondering just what in the hell she was thinking.

  * * *

  “Horses,” she groaned not quite two hours later. “We have to take fucking horses.”

  “Just one horse,” I corrected absently, tugging on my mare’s reins to urge her to take the left fork on the trail. “The other one’s a mule, and he’s got our luggage.”

  “Remind me again why we couldn’t take a cab out into the boonies, which is apparently where you’re leading me,” Olivia demanded, leaning her head back against my chest so that her hair tickled my chin.

  “Because I didn’t want to have to kill another cab driver if he turned out to be in the Mafia,” I said patiently. “And because a rental car is a hell of a lot easier to track than a horse.”

  “I hate horses,” Olivia grumbled, shifting so that her bottom was pressed against my groin.

  I nearly groaned. She’d been squirming ever since we mounted the mare back in Burlington, which I knew was partially because of her unease around horses and partially because of her ribs. Not that I could fault her for the latter. I imagined it would be excruciating to ride a horse with broken ribs and had to be at least half as uncomfortable while riding with someone else to lean against. But damn, it certainly wasn’t making it any easier on me, having to ride the thing with an insistent hard-on.

  Guess if one of us isn’t going to be comfortable, neither of us is.

  “Do you remember what our story is?” I asked, trying to distract both of us from our situation.

  “My name is Samantha Degan, and you’re my husband, Todd,” Olivia repeated dutifully in a singsong voice.

  I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to laugh or wring her neck.

  “We’re distant relations of the Golden family that owns this property, and they’ve offered us their vacation home for the summer.” She dropped the tone and then continued in a more subdued voice, “Do you really think we’re going to end up staying here the whole summer?”

  “I’m not sure,” I admitted honestly. “Probably at least the summer until we can figure out a more concrete plan. The Outfit doesn’t really have much of a foothold here in Vermont though, so it’s one of the safest places we can be, short of leaving the country altogether.”

  “I am not leaving the country,” Olivia insisted. “And I refuse to remain in hiding forever. I have a life to get back to, Eli.”

  “I know that,” I said quietly, ignoring the pang in my chest reminding me that the life she was speaking of did not include me. “But, on the bright side, at least you won’t have to stop creating your art while you’re here.”

  Olivia instantly sat up straighter. “I won’t?”

  I shook my head. “One of Hunter’s uncles is an artist,” I said, “so the cabin has a studio there, fully equipped with paint, canvases, and brushes.” Or at least, that was what Hunter had told me when I asked about the place’s layout for logistical purposes.

  “Ooh. That’s the first good thing you’ve told me all week,” Olivia said excitedly. Then she sagged. “But I can’t use someone else’s studio. It wouldn’t be right.”

  “The studio doesn’t belong exclusively to his uncle,” I told her. “It’s available for anyone who wants to use it. Hunter told me that he’s dabbled in there a time or two, though he isn’t really a painter by any stretch of the imagination.” I held back a snicker at the image that filled my mind of Hunter standing in front of a canvas, cov
ered in paint. My friend had a great musical ear but the worst artistic eye I’d ever seen in my life.

  “Hmm. Well, I don’t know,” Olivia said dubiously even though she sounded a little less put out. “I guess we’ll have to see when we get there.”

  “Maybe we can see now,” I suggested as we finally emerged from the forest trail and into the backyard of what was clearly Hunter’s cabin.

  Olivia’s gasp mirrored my own feelings as I stared up at the huge structure, which looked more like a lodge than a cabin. Three stories tall, it was constructed entirely of logs, except for the bottom floor, which was covered with cobblestones, and the home featured a sloping rooftop shingled with gray slate.

  “Holy shit,” Olivia said. “This isn’t a cabin, it’s a mansion!”

  “Um, yeah, wow.”

  Hunter had already described the place to me, but seeing it was a whole other thing. The little kid inside me did a dance of excitement at the idea that we were going to stay in such a cool place. And though the pragmatic part of me warned this was not supposed to be a vacation, I still spurred the horse forward.

  “Come on, let’s go have a look at the back of the house!”

  The back was even more amazing, with a huge flagstone courtyard boasting a fire pit, grill, and wooden benches. Here, the cobblestone walls of the first floor were recessed beneath a balcony, which expanded all around the front of the house and across the second floor, supported by more logs. A staircase on the side of the house stretched from the courtyard to connect with the balcony, providing direct access to the second floor from the outside. Dormers jutted out from the main roof, and I knew if I were standing up there, I would have an amazing view of Lake Champlain and the private beach that lay before us.

  “On second thought,” I said slowly, the little kid winning out over the pragmatic adult, “why don’t you and I put our bags, mule, and horse away and go sit in the sand for a little while?”

  CHAPTER 13

  Olivia