The Werewolf Meets His Match (Nocturne Falls Book 2)

by Kristen Painter

  He didn’t usually, but he also didn’t usually have a woman waiting for him. Actually, he never had a woman waiting for him. “Do you want me to?”

  Her brows bent. “Of course. It is your house. And how else are we going to get to know each other? Besides, I’m making dinner.”

  “Right. Seven then.” That would give him time to swing by Howler’s and check on Bridget. Make sure she wasn’t freaking out over this marriage thing.

  “Seven. Good.”

  “I’ll call if something comes up.”

  Her mouth bunched to one side. “I was wondering…”

  He waited.

  “I could really use a run. This close to the full moon and all.” She shrugged. “You know how it is.”

  He did know. The wildness had been scratching at his skin, especially with an available female in such close proximity, and there was no better way to release that wildness than a run. Well, there was a better way, but he wasn’t going there with Ivy. Yet. “A run sounds great. After dinner.”

  She smiled, turning her already pretty face into something amazing. “Okay, good.”

  “See you later then.” For a split second, he thought he should kiss her goodbye, but that’s what couples did when they were comfortable with each other and that wasn’t a word either one of them could apply to this relationship. If this could even be called a relationship. Arrangement might be all it ever was. He hoped that wasn’t the case, but it was a possibility, especially in this kind of situation. With a small shake of his head, he went back to the car and got in. He sat for a minute, not going anywhere.

  There was a woman in his kitchen unpacking groceries, who was clearly planning on cooking him a meal. A woman who was not his sister.

  A woman who would be his wife in three days.

  His life had done a one-eighty and he was essentially powerless to stop it.

  The strangest part was, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. After all, this was what being next in line for alpha meant. Responsibility. Tradition. Sacrifice.

  He went to put his keys in the ignition and realized he must have left them on the kitchen counter. He went back inside.

  Ivy wasn’t in the kitchen, but he heard her voice coming from the living room. She sounded stressed. He peered around the corner. She was on the phone, pacing in front of the fireplace.

  “Yes, I’m here. In his house. I know I was supposed to text, but that’s not how things went.”

  He shouldn’t be eavesdropping. She was probably just checking in, letting someone know she had arrived. He started for the kitchen and his keys.

  “Let me talk to Charlie.”

  He stopped walking, the sound of another man’s name cutting through him. Of course there was another man. A woman like Ivy wouldn’t be unattached.

  Ivy sighed. “You have to let me talk to him at some point. He must miss me. At least tell him I love him.”

  Hank had never given it a thought, but it made so much sense. No wonder she’d tensed when he’d touched her. When he’d kissed her. And it explained why she seemed so torn about the whole thing.

  Her father was forcing her to marry Hank for the sake of the pack, Ivy’s wants and needs and emotions be damned.

  There was no way this would end well. Ivy would come to resent him, always seeing him as the man who’d cost her her happiness. It made Hank a little sad for both of them, and with that realization, he left.

  He’d heard all he needed to hear.

  Ivy hung up and sat on the couch, letting her head hang down as she dealt with the emotions running through her. She wanted to cry and scream and break things, but none of that was going to change anything. Besides, she needed to focus her energy on making this situation work so that she and Charlie would never have to go through this again.

  There were two options. Marry Hank, satisfy her father’s demands, then take Charlie and run. And pray that her father didn’t care enough about either one of them to bother looking.

  Or maybe she could get Hank to fall for her, to really love her. Then, after he learned the truth, he might take pity on them and let them stay.

  At the very least, he might not make them go back to Tennessee. Back to Clemens Kincaid.

  That’s all she really wanted for her and Charlie. Freedom from the tyranny of her father. But getting that freedom was going to come at Hank’s expense, no matter which route she chose.

  She closed her eyes and inhaled, then blew out the breath slowly and opened her eyes again. She could at least give life with Hank a shot. He seemed like a decent man. Maybe he’d understand.

  Maybe.

  And if he didn’t, running was still an option.

  Her mind made up, she stood, tucked her phone in her pocket and went back to the kitchen to lose herself in the chores of putting the rest of the groceries away and baking a cake.

  The oven had just come up to temperature when Hank charged through the front door, nearly scaring the daylights out of her. She jumped, jerking the mixer out of the bowl and splattering chocolate cake batter over herself and half the kitchen. He’d barely been gone an hour. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

  He looked stern. Not that that was so unusual. “We need to talk.”

  “Apparently.” She put the mixer down, leaned against the counter and crossed her arms. She couldn’t imagine what was wrong, but a small twitch of concern settled in her belly. “What’s got you all worked up?”

  “You. This…arrangement.”

  And there it was. She nodded. “Just hit you, did it? Blew your mind with a moment of, Oh crap, I’m marrying a Kincaid?” She sighed. “I feel ya. I really do.”

  “No.” He huffed out a breath, big bad wolf style. “I know you’re in love with another man. I can’t marry a woman who’s going to resent me and make my life miserable for something I can’t help, so we need to work this out now.”

  She stared at him, wondering how he’d come to that conclusion. “Um…what?”

  “Are you saying you’re not in love with someone else?”

  “I’m saying there’s no other man, and I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He growled, his eyes sparking gold. “Do not lie to me. I hate lies. I heard you on the phone. Heard you asking for Charlie.”

  “Calm down, Merrow.” She frowned, but her stomach rolled with a greater anxiety. The secret she’d been sworn to keep was on the verge of surfacing and it was very clearly too soon. Duty or not, Hank probably didn’t like her enough at this point to forgive her for the whole thing. “For someone who hates lies, you sure have no problem eavesdropping, huh?”

  That took the vinegar out of him. “Just tell me the truth. What am I getting into?”

  She closed her eyes for a moment and took a breath. She could tell him the truth without revealing everything. It was the only way to hang on to her hope for a better life. The only way she might avoid her father’s wrath and a lifetime of looking over her shoulder. She tensed in anticipation of his reaction. “Charlie is my son.”

  Hank’s shoulders dropped and his face went slack, the frustration draining away. “You have a kid? Where is he?”

  “At my parents.” Anger had begun to simmer down deep. A little of it was because Hank was judging her for something he’d only overheard, but the bulk of her anger remained directed at her father for using Charlie as a pawn. And for being such a crappy human being.

  A few beats passed before he spoke. “Why didn’t you say something? That’s an important detail, don’t you think?”

  Her anger hit a boiling point but Clemens wasn’t there for her to lash out at, so Hank got the brunt of it. “My son is more than a detail and I didn’t tell you yet because we’ve barely learned each other’s first names. Maybe I was going to tell you at dinner.” She wasn’t. “Ever consider that?”

  “No,” he muttered.

  He didn’t deserve her ire, but she couldn’t stop herself. There was too much built up emotion in her and it needed an out
let. “I get that you think your job makes you above the law but eavesdropping is a pretty crappy way to start out a new relationship.”

  So was withholding information, but what choice did she have? “Maybe it’s stupid to think this can work. We don’t know each other at all. I’m not sure we can even like each other. I need some air.”

  “Ivy.”

  She stormed out of the kitchen with no idea where she was going. Wasn’t like the place belonged to her.

  She ended up in the garage, next to her motorcycle. She wanted to leave even though she knew she couldn’t. She had to stay here and see this thing through, but hearing Charlie referred to as a detail, like he was just one more box to be checked off, really riled her. Like the way Clemens had referred to her precious Charlie as a “weapon of mass humiliation”.

  She sighed and wrapped her arms around herself. She missed Charlie so much. She just wanted to pull him close and bury her nose in his hair and smell his sweet little boy smell.

  Hank stomped down the garage steps. “Ivy—”

  “What?” She whipped around, knowing her eyes must be gilded with the storm of emotions inside her.

  He held his hands up. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have eavesdropped. And your son is definitely more than a detail. But you should have said something.”

  “Again, you were one meal away from finding out.” She hated lying to Hank, but protecting Charlie and preserving the sliver of hope that she could make a better life for her son meant more. And what was she going to do? Tell Hank her father had sworn her to secrecy? That her father was trying to pawn off his unwanted grandchild onto another pack?

  Hank raked a hand through his hair. “How old is…Charlie?”

  “Just turned seven.”

  Hank nodded. “Just had his first moon, did he?”

  “Last month. His birthday’s May fifth.” That wasn’t adding to the lie, just answering in the vaguest way she knew how.

  His eyes narrowed. “Does that date have anything to do with the five tattooed on your wrist?”

  She smiled a little, feeling bad for dumping her anger on him. “You’re pretty perceptive.”

  He shrugged, his broad shoulders pulling at his uniform in the most distracting way. Heaven help her, he was unfairly beautiful. “It’s my job.”

  A moment of silence passed before he spoke again. “You understand why my knowing about your son is such a big deal, right?”

  She understood. Too well. And there lay the crux of the whole thing. “Because if we marry, you have to take him as your firstborn. Unless you have another kid I don’t know about.”

  He shook his head.

  She put into words what she knew he must be thinking about. “I can understand if finding out about Charlie makes you want to back out of the deal. A lot of men, especially those in line to be alpha, would demand their firstborn be a child of their own blood.”

  “I’m not most men. And I’m not backing out.” He gave her a very serious look. “But you can’t keep anything from me. If this is going to work, even on the most basic level, we have to be honest with each other.”

  She hesitated, then nodded. “I agree, but again, that comes down to trust and right now…I don’t trust you yet. Just like I’m sure you don’t trust me. And until we get to that point, you can’t expect me to just go spilling my guts to you.”

  He rested one hand on his holstered duty weapon. “No. You’re right. If this is going to work, then we—I—have to work at it. Anything worth having is worth working for.”

  Her brows rose. “You think this truce is that important?”

  “I think you are.”

  She swallowed while her insides did a weird, fluttery thing. “Oh.”

  “Starting tonight, I’m going to work on showing you that.”

  “How?”

  His eyes narrowed a little. Like he’d figured something out. “I’m going to woo you.”

  He was going to woo her. That was unexpected. She thought about how she could make him fall for her so hard that the truth about Charlie wouldn’t change a thing. She’d just give his wooing right back to him. She lifted her chin and stared right back at him. “I like the sound of that.”

  “Good.” His thick brows knit in seeming concern. “Just because you’re a sure thing, you shouldn’t be treated like one. I don’t want you to feel like I’m taking this arranged marriage for granted. I’m not always so good with words but this way I can show you.”

  She put her hands on her hips and cocked one out to the side. “I like that you’re willing to put in some effort to romance me. Do I get to make requests?”

  “Sure.” He made a face. “Like what exactly?”

  “I don’t know yet. But don’t worry, I’m not going to ask you to carve my name on the hood of your GTO.”

  He cringed. “Is that a thing?”

  “No, and I would never want you to do something that sacrilegious as proof of your affections.”

  “That’s a relief.” He smiled. A half-smile, but the corners of his mouth were going in the right direction so she wasn’t going to nitpick. “So…romance. And wooing. And pursuing. Not exactly my area of expertise, but…” He shrugged and seemed deep in thought. “I was an Army Ranger, I’m sure I can figure this out.”

  She held out her hand. “Then it’s a deal.”

  “What’s a deal?”

  “You woo me, I’ll trust you. And together we’ll figure this marriage thing out.”

  “And finally have peace between our families. Agreed.” He took her hand, but instead of shaking it, he pulled her toward him, causing her to lean into him. “You have little spots of chocolate batter all over you, you know.”

  He was rock hard and smelled like the woods on a rainy evening. She sucked in a breath, inhaling more of his intoxicating scent. What had he said? Something about the cake batter. “I hope you like chocolate.”

  “I love it.” His mouth found her jaw.

  She closed her eyes and leaned into him a little more. He didn’t budge. “I’m…so…oh…glad.”

  His mouth went lower, nibbling off the chocolate splatters as he went until he worked his way back to her lips and kissed her properly. The sweetness of the batter lingered on his tongue as it slid over hers. She moaned softly.

  It had been a long, long time since she’d been this thoroughly kissed or had this much man to cling to. A long damn time.

  Her body surged with need, fueled by the impending full moon. Judging by the grip of his hands and the possessiveness of his mouth on hers, he was feeling the same thing. When he broke the kiss, they were both panting.

  “I should go back to the station.” He pulled her along with him as he shuffled backward toward the steps, eyes golden and driving her mad.

  She nodded and pointed toward the kitchen as she went along. “And I should get that cake in the oven.”

  “I’ll, uh, see you at seven.” He walked them up the stairs and back into the house.

  “For dinner.”

  “For dinner,” he repeated as he finally let go of her with one more quick kiss.

  But even as he headed out to the squad car, she had a feeling dinner wasn’t all that was on the menu.

  “I said I’d woo her, which she seemed to like. But…” Hank propped himself on the edge of Bridget’s desk in the tiny closet of a room she called Howler’s office. “I don’t have a clue where to start.”

  Bridget snickered. “You’re such a man.”

  “Which is why I’m here. Can you help me or not?” He raised his brows to punctuate the questions.

  “Of course I can help you. I’m a bartender. It’s practically like being a relationship therapist. Also, in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a woman. I know what works and what doesn’t. What’s the plan for tonight?”

  “She’s making dinner and then I said we’d go out for a run.”

  Bridget’s brows shot up. “Hello. A little romp in the woods three nights away from a full moon
? You know where that’s going to lead.”

  “We’re not having sex.” Hormones ran especially high close to a full moon, but they needed to burn off the building energy or it was only going to get worse. Granted, sometimes a good run was like foreplay, but this was strictly going to be about releasing excess energy. “Not tonight. Not tomorrow night. Maybe not even for a while after we’re married. It has to be when she’s ready.”

  “That’s really sweet, Hank, but you know as well as I do what a run can do to you. Sure, it burns off energy. But it can also fill you with a whole ’nother kind.”

  “I know. But jumping into the physical side of things isn’t the best way to start a relationship that’s going to end up in marriage. Is it?”

  Bridget shrugged. “Again, you are such a man.”

  Why were women so confusing? “Are you saying I should sleep with her?”

  “Do you want to?”

  “Yes, but that’s not the point.” The thought of Ivy beneath him, stripped bare, and his to pleasure filled him with such bone deep desire that he almost needed to sit down.

  “If that’s not the point, why did your eyes change color?” Bridget shook her head. “Dude, you’ve got it bad. I’m a little surprised. I didn’t think you of all people would go in for the criminal element.”

  “She’s not a criminal.” Irritation edged his voice. “Stop calling her that.”

  Bridget’s brows seemed permanently stuck in the air. “You’re defending a Kincaid?”

  “A Kincaid who’s about to be my wife. You befriended her. Why are you giving me such a hard time?”

  “I’m not giving you a hard time, just curious why you’re all into her. And I befriended her because you know what they say, keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

  “I’m ‘into her’ because I’m about to be married to her and better to like her than not, don’t you think? Why don’t you trust her?”

  “Do you?”

  He exhaled. “She’s alone in my house right now. I’m trying to think positively.” He lifted his hand. “I do trust her. Until she gives me a reason not to. Cut her some slack. I get the sense she hasn’t had an easy life with Clemens Kincaid as a father.” He cleared his throat. “Or as a single mother.”