by Erica Woods
Lucien had already turned away from the window and was facing the other man. “Jason.”
Doing a quick sweep of the room, Jason’s gaze zeroed in on my face. “You okay, love?”
I nodded at the same time Lucien interjected, “Why wouldn’t she be?” There was a clear warning in his voice. A warning Jason didn’t seem to care for.
Gait loose yet predatory, Jason moved to my side and used a gentle touch under my chin to tilt my head back.
A warm flutter came alive in my chest when his amber eyes roamed over my face. They lingered on my lips, a slow smile spreading across his face.
“Hi,” he said simply, dragging an answering smile and a shy ‘Hi’ from me.
“Yes, hello.” Lucien’s sharp interruption cut through the warmth in my chest. Staring up at another man with an expression surely resembling moonstruck was not okay. In fact, it was abhorrent under the circumstances.
I took a step back, breaking the connection between us while a gnawing sensation ripped at my stomach.
“Now that we have all been properly introduced”—a hard note to that last word—“perhaps you can leave so I can finish what I started.”
Jason bared his teeth. “And what, exactly, was that?”
“I don’t believe that is any of your business.”
“It is if you are upsetting Hope.”
The temperature dropped several degrees as Lucien’s flat mask morphed into an arctic glare. “I was not,” he replied in a clipped tone. “And even if I was, should that not be Ruarc’s concern?”
Jason clenched his jaw and glared right back. “You know that’s not how it works.”
“H-how what works?” I asked.
Lucien ignored me. “Ah, but does she?”
Two hard gazes swung in my direction.
“Uhm . . . maybe we should go?” I eyed the door with longing, wanting to escape the underlying tension I couldn’t figure out.
One of these days I would have to sit down and find out everything I could about lycans and all their rules.
“Where are you going?” Lucien asked in a deceptively mild tone.
“Shopping.”
“Where?”
“Where do you think?” Each word short and clipped, Jason sounded completely unlike the man I’d come to know and . . . care for?
Something inside me clenched and loosened.
When the hell had that happened? My whole life I’d had no one. Had cared for no one. Well, no one except—
Don’t think about it.
With a desperation born from fear—fear of opening old wounds, fear of breaking down and crying in front of these men, fear of the shadowed thing that lived inside me—I switched gears and focused on the guys instead.
“I see.” Lucien was leaning back against the windowsill, one ankle crossed over the other in a relaxed manner. His face was carefully blank, but the pulse in his neck beat against his skin in an angry pattern, and his index finger was tapping against his thigh. “I believe I shall join you.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Jason said.
“Oh, but I insist.”
Jason took a step forward, sparking something predatory within the colder male. Although Lucien’s mouth remained pressed together in a firm line, something about him brought to mind the wild, petrifying smile that had stolen over his face after he’d torn Tim apart.
“Wait,” I squeaked. “Maybe . . . maybe we should all just go?”
A beat of silence, then Jason turning a heated glare on Lucien. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but if you don’t behave I will beat you until that perfect face of yours is nothing more than a bloody, distant memory.”
Instead of replying, Lucien treated Jason to a leisurely, unimpressed once over.
A low growl slipped past Jason’s lips.
“What should I bring?” My voice sounded too bright.
“Nothing, love,” Jason said, still watching Lucien. “Just bring your beautiful self.”
Lucien snorted.
Jason growled.
This would be fun.
44
HOPE
An hour later, our tense party entered the first store. Squashed between a supermarket and a bookstore, it was small and chaotic, a single room acting as the entire shop.
Heaps of colorful clothes were strewn on top of tables, hanging off racks, and folded casually on the shelves lining the walls. Everything existed without any particular order, jeans, dresses, sweaters, and shirts mingling everywhere.
I loved it.
The clothes were unique—made by a team of sisters who were among the small population who called this town their home, though their workshop, we were told, ran out of their garage.
A sweet lady in her late forties ran the shop itself. She was plump and beautiful with long, black hair hanging from a messy bun at the back of her head and a warm smile permanently etched into her face.
As soon as we walked into her store she descended upon us with a warm greeting, dragged me along to show me her favorite outfits—all a little too big for me, but as she so warmly put it, I would grow into them once I got some meat on my bones.
Rather than blush and mumble with shame, I actually felt my lips pull into a shy smile. It was impossible to take offense when she so clearly meant well.
She’d make a good mom.
The unexpected thought startled me into stillness.
“This one.” Jason passed me a deep blue dress with a black belt around the waist and pointed at the dressing room.
While Lucien had been standing stiff and uncomfortable by the door—making me wonder yet again why on earth he’d wanted to come—Jason had taken an active role in the whole shopping escapade. Not only did he hand me clothes he thought would look good on me, he also helped me say yes or no to Margaret, the store owner, who never ran out of clothes to bring me.
I imagined a sheen of gratitude lighting up my eyes every time he made a decision for me—especially because he seemed to somehow sense when I liked something and when I didn’t.
If he sometimes shot smug looks in Lucien’s direction, I pretended not to notice.
“You sure?” I frowned at the pretty dress. It was beautiful but when would I be able to wear it? It didn’t look like something you would wear around the house.
Jason grinned. “Oh, I’m sure, love. Go on, try it.” He shooed me into the tiny dressing room at the back of the shop and closed the drapes.
Having already tried on four different pairs of jeans, several sweaters, and a bunch of shirts so soft I couldn’t stop myself from rubbing the fabric over my cheek, I knew the drill.
Once I’d shimmied into the dress, I took a deep breath and stepped out.
Not a sound.
Jason’s mouth dropped open, but he didn’t speak, his eyes heated as they dragged up my body. Finally, he smiled; a slow, appreciative grin that made me fiddle with the hem of my dress and cast a glance over at Lucien.
I had to swallow my disappointment at his blank look. His cold gaze swept over me like I was just another display in the store, before it landed on the wall behind me.
Jason stood. “You look beautiful, darling.”
Heat crept up my neck.
I was far from beautiful—and I knew it—but the way he looked at me, the glow in those amber eyes, the hungry curve of his lips . . . In that moment, he made me feel like maybe I was.
But only for a moment.
“Go change into the dark jeans and the top you liked so much, then we’ll gather up the rest and go find you some underwear.” With a lazy smile, Jason ushered me back and stood guard while I changed.
A few hours later my whole body ached and I’d happily chop off my feet if it meant never feeling this deep throb ever again.
Jason had ended up buying far more clothes than I was comfortable with. I’d been happy with one pair of jeans and two shirts, but even though I’d tried to tell him there was no way I could afford all of these cloth
es, he’d insisted we take everything I looked at twice. And when I’d mentioned money or that my work at their house hadn’t exactly started yet, he’d scoffed and pretended he couldn’t hear me.
To make matters worse, both men were carrying several shopping bags each, while I carried exactly zero. Every time I moved to grab one, one of them would snap it up before my brain registered they’d moved.
Lucien’s default setting—cold and unmoving—had been replaced by one I liked even less; a glowering mountain of ice who tracked my every movement with narrowed, thoughtful eyes.
Those eyes . . . they made me uncomfortably aware of myself. Enough that I kept tripping over my own feet. Only Jason’s quick reflexes saved me.
But despite this new development, not a single insult left Lucien’s perfectly shaped lips.
No derogatory marks.
No low sounds of disdain.
Not even a mocking snort.
He carried my bags without a word of complaint despite the—anger?—that made those cold eyes so heavy with consideration.
Thank the gods for Jason. He’d been all irresistible charm and playful flirtation. He’d made this whole experience fun, despite the thousands of outfits I’d tried on and the myriad of little decisions he’d tricked me into making.
“How about some Italian, love?” he asked, tugging on the hand he’d claimed after we left the last shop.
“Sure.” I gave him a shy smile before glancing back at Lucien’s stone-cold features, wondering why he always walked a few steps behind us. “If that’s okay with you?” I directed my question at Lucien.
Lucien stared at me, not saying a word. Then he gave a short nod and went back to scanning the crowd.
My shoulders slumped with defeat.
I didn’t get it. Why was he here if he didn’t want to interact with us at all?
A muttered curse pulled me from my glum thoughts. I glanced up, took in Jason’s locked jaw and tight shoulders, and followed his gaze to see what had caught his attention.
Then I stumbled.
It was a woman. A staggeringly beautiful woman.
Jason’s hand tightened around mine.
As if we’d practiced the movement a thousand times, we all came to a stop, waiting for her to spot us.
Jason’s made a sound, halfway between a growl and a groan, casting me a quick glance before fixing his attention back where it belonged.
A weird sensation in my stomach, like a nauseating yank that left me hollow.
The moment the woman saw Jason, her whole demeanor changed. Her face went from relaxed and smiling, to intently focused. She spun around, somehow not tripping over her high heels, and came prowling toward us.
Shiny locks of blond hair cascaded down her back; complementing her fair complexion and blood red lips. She was dressed in a tight-fitting, gorgeous dress that accentuated her curves, and a predatory smile played on her lips.
Her innate confidence was a thing of beauty.
She stopped when her ample breasts were a hairsbreadth away from brushing up against Jason’s arm. “Hi there, handsome.” With a flick of her hair, she reached out to place a hand on his chest.
Red flecks sparked in my vision and I almost swayed. An ugly, slimy feeling slithered through me as I imagined all the parts of Jason she’d already touched.
The feeling didn’t go away, even when Jason captured her wrist before she could make contact. It didn’t disappear when his pupils shrank, or when he ground his teeth together and took a step back.
All I could think about was their bodies together. The admiration he must have felt for her, his expression when he moved above her.
I was going to be sick.
“Jenny.” He inclined his head.
Ignoring me completely, Jenny moved with him, thrusting her shoulders back while giving him a practiced pout. “I’ve missed you. I haven’t seen you in ages.”
God, how I envied her easy confidence, the sexuality pouring off of her. I’d never be able to pull that off.
“I’ve been busy.”
She cocked her hip and lowered her voice, “Too busy for me?”
The hand enveloped by Jason’s big palm suddenly felt hot. Like holding a live coal.
What the hell was I doing? This other woman, this Jenny, clearly had some sort of claim on Jason, and here I was clinging to him like he was my boyfriend?
I yanked my hand free, pretending I didn’t notice the way Jason glanced down at me, looking almost surprised before his lips compressed into a grim line.
When he looked back at Jenny, nothing was left of the normal Jason-charm. He set his jaw and didn’t reply.
Pursing her lips, the beautiful, intimidating woman finally seemed to notice me. She flicked her gaze over my dull, brown hair, the new clothes clinging to a body that looked downright sickly, and the brand-new tennis shoes that went well with my new jeans. As she took in my shoes, her nose curled, and she looked away, dismissing me. “With her?”
A hot, uncomfortable feeling had me avert my eyes. I would have stepped away if not for Lucien’s hands coming to rest on my shoulders and pulling me back against his torso. The hard muscles beneath his suit jumped at the contact, but otherwise he gave no indication he felt weird about us being so close when he’d always made sure to keep his distance.
Meanwhile, everywhere we touched, my skin burned.
Jason scowled. “That is none of your business.”
“What happened to you?” Jenny demanded. Her eyes glided across every inch of his tall, powerful frame. “You used to be so . . . friendly.”
I almost choked on my next breath.
Why do you care? You’re with Ruarc, remember?
“Something amazing.”
I looked down at the floor and tried to concentrate on anything but their conversation and the strange, heated presence at my back.
My conscience was right. It shouldn’t matter to me what Jason had done—what he did with his time. It wasn’t like we were more than friends. I was with Ruarc, and despite the fight we’d had, he made me happy.
“Amazing? Really?”
A strangled growl marked the end of Jason’s patience. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him cross his arms over his chest and scowl. “It was nice seeing you, Jenny.”
“Wait,” she cried as Jason made a move to walk around her. She reached for his arm, shot me a venomous stare that froze on her face when, for the first time, she noticed Lucien.
She stared. And stared some more. Pretty blue eyes glazed over, and a sound very much like a low moan tore from her throat.
“What is it, Jenny?” Impatience rolled off Jason in waves.
Eyes never leaving Lucien, she purred, “Introduce me to your friend?”
Uhm, what?
They were not interchangeable toys she could trade out when it suited her.
Instead of chewing her out, Jason grinned. “This, Jenny, is Lucien.” He winked at Lucien and grabbed my wrist. “Come, love. Let’s give these two delightful creatures a moment alone, shall we?”
He dragged me a few feet away and turned us so we could see the scene unfolding.
“Should we . . . should we leave them alone?” It felt weird spying on Lucien like this. And the ugly feeling in my stomach kept intensifying, not abating, even though we’d left Jenny behind.
What’s wrong with you?
“Nah. Lucien won’t be long,” he said, still grinning. It wasn’t until he looked down at me, gaze briefly resting on my hunched shoulders and the hands that wouldn’t stop picking at my new shirt, that his smile fell. “Love,” he began, gently interlacing our fingers so I had to stop my nervous habit and look up at him, “I’ve never been in a real relationship. I haven’t really wanted to until now.”
“Jenny?” I blurted, probably looking as confused and aghast as I felt. He’d practically pushed her at Lucien.
“No, love. Not Jenny.”
I frowned. There was no one else around? The little street we’d
stopped on was right between a lingerie shop—a place I’d walked around in with a permanent blush staining my cheeks while Jason picked out this and that—and a cute looking cafe.
“But . . .” He couldn’t be talking about me. I was with Ruarc—which Jason knew. Besides, Jason was way, way too handsome for someone like me.
But so is Ruarc.
“Look at me, love,” Jason murmured, his eyes soft. The way he was smiling—with a good amount of self-deprecation—caught at something inside me.
He does that a lot.
The ironic twist to his mouth, the darkness he almost succeeded in hiding behind charming smiles and playful banter. And the mocking glimmer in his eyes that was never directed at anyone but himself.
Or was it just my imagination?
I hoped it was. If not, Jason could be in the kind of pain that left your soul dragging behind you; too tired to lift its feet and too numb to care about the wounds it collected along the way.
“Jenny . . . She meant nothing to me. That doesn’t sound very good,” he added when he noticed my raised brows. “But it’s the truth. I’ve spent the majority of my life focused on just having a good time, having fun, you know? But since I met you, things have changed.” He looked down at our joined hands. “My priorities have changed.”
I swallowed hard.
What . . . what did that mean?
An annoying flicker of wishful thinking ignited in my brain, chased away by doubt, self-loathing, and a huge heaping of guilt. What on earth was I doing? What was I thinking?
“—worth a million of you,” Lucien hissed, drawing me out of my own head and back into reality.
Caught up in Jason, I’d forgotten about Jenny. Based on her affronted expression and the loud huff of air she spat out, whatever had happened between her and Lucien couldn’t have been good.
Lucien’s cold mask had slipped, but what lay beneath this time was only fury. Fire lashed through his green eyes, complementing the slight flush decorating his sharp cheekbones. Contempt spilled from him in waves, almost like heat. And through the fury snapping in the air around him, he still managed to be the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.