by Kyle, Celia
There was a sweet nostalgia drifting through her too—mixing with the dark turmoil. She’d left the house shortly after her parents’ memorial never to return, leaving these memories fresh and raw. Though she sensed that the longer she remained in the house, those memories would ease to bittersweet. Perhaps one day they may become simply sweet…
For now, she’d sleep on the couch downstairs. At least for the first night. Besides, she wasn’t sure she could make it up the stairs with her leg.
A heavy knock echoed through the house, the front door jarring in its frame, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. She jolted, and a tiny bolt of pain attacked her with the movement. The silence had settled on her like a heavy blanket, so she assumed any sound would have startled her, but this had been no little knock. Taking small, slow steps, she padded to the entryway. Which apparently wasn’t fast enough for her mysterious visitor since he decided to bang on the door again, the old wood creaking beneath his strength.
“Cool your jets, asshole,” Lucy mumbled as she peeked through the peephole.
Oh, damn.
The man on her front porch stood almost as tall as the door itself. She actually had to stoop a bit to see his face. Not that she minded her initial view—muscled chest and tight black t-shirt that accentuated all that muscle-y goodness. But that face…
He looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him. Regardless, her breath caught in her chest at his chiseled jaw, covered with two days’ worth of stubble. Just enough to make a girl swoon. She caught a glimpse of his eyes and she nearly did swoon then. Her parents had taken her on a cruise to Bermuda once and this man’s eyes matched the color of the Caribbean Sea perfectly. A lock of black hair swooped down across his brow in a perfect imitation of young Johnny Depp, though he clearly wasn’t trying to be someone he wasn’t. When he lifted his fist to pound on the door again—his bicep bulging nicely—Lucy’s senses returned.
Wrenching the door open, she glared up at him. “Would you mind not breaking my door down?”
The devastatingly hot dude on her doorstep glared right back at her. She had no idea what kind of beef he might have with her, but she wasn’t about to be glared at without giving as good as she got. Instead of his narrow-eyed stare remaining on hers, his attention drifted down her body. His focus paused on her cleavage before moving on to her sweats-covered hips, and all the way down to her pretty pink toenails. The return trip was even slower and something about the way he stared made her think of a wild predator—hungry and fierce.
Lucy cleared her throat and arched an eyebrow. “Well?”
He jerked back a little, almost as if she’d just insulted him. Then a veil dropped across his stormy eyes. “I’m Mason Blackwood.”
Lucy waited for him to explain why he’d almost knocked her door off its hinges, but he didn’t say anything else. He simply looked down at her expectantly, as if she was supposed to know who the hell he was and why she should care. The name sounded familiar…
“Okay… What can I do for you?”
“What happened to your leg?” His gaze flicked to the bloody spot that had grown since she’d last looked.
Dammit! It was just her luck to be caught in bloody sweatpants when a sizzling hot dude dropped by for a chat. Still, his demanding tone set her teeth on edge.
“How is that any of your business?” She crossed her arms over her chest.
His jaw worked as she waited. Tension radiated off him in waves and infected her, but he didn’t reply.
“I know gossip travels fast in a small town,” she huffed, “but usually folks talk behind your back. They don’t huff and puff and try to blow your house down.”
The guy’s lips twitched and he tightened his mouth, suppressing a smile at her sarcasm. That would have been a first. Most men were turned off by her “keepin’ it real” attitude. He opened his mouth to speak, but a loud buzz from the kitchen interrupted him.
“What was that?” he looked past her into the house, his body seeming to grow before her eyes.
What the everloving fuck?
“Not that it’s any of your business, Mr. Nosy Parker, but that was my oven telling me it’s time to pop my frozen lasagna in.”
Mason wrinkled his nose in a way that should have insulted her, but it only made her smile over his cuteness.
“You’re not eating that crap for dinner.”
The fuck?
Lucy stood there, completely gobsmacked. The guilt she already felt for ignoring her diet increased tenfold and fueled her outrage that some random hottie was judging her dining choices.
“Excuse me?” she finally managed to pushed through gritted teeth.
Mason backpedaled like a champ, his tone softening right along with his expression, which of course had Lucy melting into a gooey puddle.
Hotties made her weak. What could she say?
“I only meant that you’re injured. You need more protein to help your body heal.”
Gripping the doorjamb until her knuckles went white, Lucy did her best to maintain her composure in the face of his scorching hotness. His oddly sensitive hotness. She had no idea why the guy gave a rat’s ass about her, but his attention sent her body into a tizzy.
“I’m fine.” She heard the quaver in her voice and winced at the display of weakness. “I’m perfectly happy with my dinner plans, thank you very much. Now if there’s nothing else…”
She said it as if she needed reminding. A little childish, but it was empowering to put the hottie in his place.
“Mason.”
“Right. Mason. Anyway, thanks for your concern. Bye.” She said goodbye while her body simply wanted to say hello, come to momma.
Lucy’s body screamed for her to throw herself into his arms and cover his body with kisses. Unfortunately—fortunately?—the pain in her leg distracted her enough to keep her sanity in place.
As she slowly closed the door in Mason’s shocked face, it occurred to her he’d never given an explanation for his visit, but she’d committed herself to getting rid of him. Besides, if she had to look into those sea foam green eyes for one more second, her resolve would drain away and she’d happily become his sex slave.
That was the last thing she needed.
When the door clicked shut, Lucy closed her eyes and leaned against the frame, listening to his footsteps as he stomped off her porch. She tried to will her heart to slow, but it defied her. Her breathing defied her as well.
Pushing off with her good leg, Lucy prayed that by morning, the crazy day she’d just experienced would feel like a distant memory. Yeah, not happening. She was pretty sure she could look forward to a fantasy-filled night starring the one and only Mason Blackwood. Yum.
Chapter Six
Mason stared at the door. The closed door.
Closed.
In his face.
By his mate.
He waited a beat, half-expecting her to fling it wide and throw that luscious body of hers into his arms. He’d been utterly dazzled by her beauty and couldn’t wait to lay eyes—and much more—on her again. Soon.
Her blonde hair was cut into a stylish shaggy bob that somehow accentuated her full lips. He liked that she hadn’t been wearing a lot of makeup. Nothing but the thin layer of gloss on her lips that had made him harden in an instant. The oversized sweats she wore did nothing to hide her perky breasts, trim waist and well-rounded hips. As he recalled how they’d stretched against the soft material, Mason imagined holding onto those hips as he slammed into her over and over. Not stopping until she exploded, and he claimed her as his mate.
Perfect. Now his dick was hard as nails.
It didn’t help that her resistance turned him on even more than her beauty. No woman had ever denied him. Most pursued him relentlessly, willing to bow to his every whim. If he’d been a different kind of man, he could have easily taken advantage of those ladies. Instead, he’d treated his lovers with the respect they’d deserved.
Funny that when he’d final
ly found his mate, she’d all but rejected him. Not funny “ha-ha.” More like funny “fuck that.” Still, he admired her dignity and self-confidence. An alpha mate needed to be feisty. An alpha mate needed to be willing to stand up to him.
With a frustrated huff, Mason spun on his heel and stomped down the steps, doing his best to ignore the wolfish chuckles coming from the shrubs on either side of the porch. At the bottom step, he paused and gave a low warning growl to the sentries he’d brought along.
“Something funny?” He kept his voice low, not wanting Lucy thinking he was truly unbalanced.
Despite the ass kicking Mason had given Anders that morning, the man and his partner, Quinn, only laughed harder.
“Laugh it up, Tweedle-Dumb and Dumber,” Mason growled. “We’ll see who’s laughing in the morning when I spar with both of you at once. I’ll be kicking your asses. Again.”
Anders stopped laughing first, and then they both groaned and fell silent.
“Quinn, watch the front. Anders, the back. I’ll be back in fifteen.”
Fourteen minutes later, Mason was back on Lucy’s porch and staring at her door while he tried to figure out his next move. A human male would knock politely and wait until she invited him inside. He didn’t need his werewolf instincts to know she’d never welcome him. She’d slam the door in his face again and that assumed she opened it in the first place.
His wolf howled at him to break that door down and hunt her through the house. Nothing should stand in the way of an alpha and his mate. Ever. His happy ass should be by Lucy’s side, not standing out on the porch like a dog begging be let in from the cold.
Mason huffed. He already knew his mate well enough to know she wouldn’t appreciate him bashing her door down. He decided on settling for a happy medium. He grabbed the doorknob and turned. Hard. Too hard, as he discovered when the knob twisted off in his hand.
Oops. I guess it’s open.
With an unconcerned shrug, he dropped the twisted bit of metal on the porch and eased the door open. Her scent hit him like a sledgehammer, soothing his wolf and allowing Mason to track her to the kitchen. She sat at the kitchen table, engrossed in her phone, hair falling around her face and caressing her cheeks. He wanted to tuck those strands behind her ear and feel the softness of her skin against his fingertips. He stood there and just watched her. At least until she caught sight of him from the corner of her eye.
Her bloodcurdling scream probably made the sentries wonder exactly what the hell Mason was doing, but he didn’t really have time to worry about them. Not when his mate reached for the knife block on the counter and whipped out the longest blade.
“What the fuck!” Yeah, she had a strong set of lungs.
Ignoring her, he stepped forward and placed the paper bag he’d brought onto the small kitchen table. He then went to the cupboards, opening and closing several until he found plates before hunting up utensils and napkins.
“I’m serious.” She jabbed at the air. “That’s it, I’m calling the cops.”
In her panic, Lucy had dropped her phone, the small bit of plastic and glass sliding across the tiled kitchen floor. Unwilling to get too close to him, but still anxious to clutch the device, she half-crouched in a vain effort to retrieve the phone. Her fingers wiggled, mere inches from her “salvation.” Mason chuckled and shook his head before he fished his cellphone out of his back pocket. He tossed it to her, and like a true alpha mate, her reflexes were so quick she caught it without so much as a fumble.
“In case you didn’t know, the number is 9-1-1.” Mason’s smile widened. “Tell ‘em Mason Blackwood is in your kitchen and you want to be assured the big bad wolf isn’t going to eat you.”
Mason snorted at his own joke because there was nothing he wanted to do more than taste his mate. To lie between her thighs and lick up all her sweet cream. She shot him an unamused glare but mostly ignored him and dialed quickly. He listened to her frantic—and pissed off—explanation of her “emergency” while he plated their food. His wolf drove him to care for her and its first step was making sure she was well fed. The deep rumbling voice on the other end of the phone could only belong to Jasper, a part-time 9-1-1 operator and full-time Blackwood pack wolf.
“Why the hell should I give a shit if he’s a park ranger?” Lucy demanded. At least her anger was directed at someone other than him. “My house isn’t in the fucking forest.”
Mason tried not to grin.
“Trust you?” she yelled into the phone. “I’m supposed to just ‘trust you’ that he’s a good guy? Even though he just broke into my house? Did I misdial and get the Mayor of Crazytown?”
Mason chuckled, and she shot him an irritated glare, which just had him smiling even wider. And why wouldn’t he be happy? He’d found his mate—in the nick of time, too. Now he was caring for her, as was his duty and privilege. In fact, he’d never felt so at peace in his life.
“Are you going to send some cops out here or am I going to have to protect myself with this big-ass knife?”
More rumbling from the phone, which seemed to at least ease Lucy’s fears, if not her anger. While setting the table, Mason made a mental note to give Jasper a bonus. Table as pretty as he could make it, he took the seat opposite the one Lucy had already claimed.
“Thanks for nothing, asshole!”
Lucy jabbed the face of the phone hard and that snarling glare was back on Mason. Her gaze shifted to the food, then Mason again, and back to the food. She took a deep breath and despite her anger, he knew he’d won this round. No one could resist this meaty goodness.
That’s right. Smells good, doesn’t it?
“And exactly what am I supposed to do with that?” She waved the knife at her full plate.
Mason picked up a rib and bit off a hunk of barbecue sauce-slathered meat. “Eat. Hopefully you’ll enjoy it enough I’ll get to hear a sexy moan.”
“Perfect. You’re an intruder and a horn dog. What a winning combination,” she drawled.
She had no idea how close she was to the truth. With a smirk he grabbed her fork, scooped up some collard greens and held it out to her. “Eat. It’s good for you.”
“Said the man who broke into my house to force feed me.”
Mason popped the forkful of greens into his mouth instead and swallowed. “See? I’m not trying to poison you. You’re injured, and you need food high in protein and iron. Now sit.”
Lucy hesitated, but soon the smell of the food overrode her remaining resistance. She retook her seat and laid his phone on the table between them. “I thought chicken soup was supposed to heal all ills.”
Good, she seemed to be calming down. Getting all riled up was no good for her while she was injured. She favored her injured leg with every step, and he didn’t like that blood had seeped through her bandage a bit.
“I’d rather watch you eat my meat,” he smirked and gave her a wink.
Lucy’s cheeks blazed red. She snatched the fork from him and took a bite of the greens. Unfortunately, she denied him the moan he’d been hoping for.
“Why are you really here?” She picked up a rib and gnawed on it.
God, that’s hot.
“What do you mean?”
“I may not be familiar with every aspect of law enforcement, but I’m pretty sure a kid nearly getting run down in town by a clueless tourist doesn’t fall under the Forest Service’s jurisdiction.”
Mason chewed slowly as he tried to come up with a reasonable excuse. One that wouldn’t send her screaming for the door. “I was told a wild animal was involved and—”
Lucy interrupted him with a blast of noise that sounded as if he’d just guessed wrong on a game show. “Try again, Ranger Rick. The only animal was the fat cat the kid was trying to save. Cats aren’t exactly wild animals.”
Damn, she was impressive. Frustrating as hell, but impressive. She wasn’t about to let him slide on his line of bullshit. What surprised him even more was the fact he liked it. Thank God his cell phone rang as
she waited for his answer.
A big “NC” glowed on his screen. Normally, a call from the National Circle would elicit a grumble of irritation—as respected as the NC were, no alpha liked receiving a call from them—but under the circumstances, Mason had never been more relieved for an interruption.
“I have to take this.” He snared his phone and pushed to his feet. “Eat every last bite. Mine too, if you want. And throw out that nasty shit that’s in the oven.”
Lucy sputtered as he headed for the door, but he couldn’t resist one last look back. When he caught her gaze, he tipped her a wink. “See you in the morning, sunshine.”
Chapter Seven
The couch creaked as Lucy shifted her weight, searching for a more comfortable position. One that kept her leg elevated but didn’t make her joints scream at her for sleeping on one side all night. All in all, she’d slept maybe three hours and not a single one had been restful.
After tossing and turning well into the night, a certain sexy park ranger refusing to leave her mind, her exhausted body had taken charge. It’d dragged her into the depths of sleep. Almost before her eyes had closed, bizarre and beautiful dreams had consumed her.
She slunk through low bushes and tall grasses, the underbrush teasing her face and shoulders while her ears remained lifted and listening for signs of life. The urge to chase throbbed inside her, maybe even kill. If she’d been awake, she would have been appalled, but not in her dream world. In her land of make believe and exhaustion, the need to kill couldn’t have felt more natural.
All was silent save the crack of twigs snapping under her feet and a raven cawing from its perch high in the trees. The treetops swayed in the breeze, adding a rustle of leaves to the night music.
But the earthy smell of the forest startled her most. After her parents’ deaths, Lucy had avoided wooded areas. The sharp bite of pine reminded her too much of camping as a family. Yet in her dreams, that scent felt like… home.
She sensed another presence behind her and she whirled, ready to bite the head off whoever—whatever—had snuck up on her. It smelled like an animal—feral musk mixed with crisp morning dew—but when she turned to face the interloper her breath caught. A naked man stood before her, but not just any man.