An unfamiliar scent brought her head up from the water. Two large, black wolves stood deep in the trees on the other side of the bubbling stream that tapered off the waterfall. They made no move to come down and drink. She studied them, trying to see them better, but they were almost hidden by the undergrowth.
And they were staring at her.
She stared back, her hackles lifting out of instinct. She remembered what Hank had said about the shifters here not being hard-liners and forced herself to relax. The wolves made no moves, just watched. Were they waiting for her and Hank to be done drinking?
The wind shifted and Hank’s head came up. She looked at him, then toward the two wolves, but they were gone.
Had she imagined them? No. Their scents had been real. Maybe they’d disappeared so quickly because they’d recognized Hank. She stared into the woods, trying to find them again, but all she saw were trees painted silver with moonlight.
Teeth nipped her left flank. She yipped and jumped away. Hank stood there, jaw open, tongue lolling out, laughing wolf-style.
She rammed her head into his shoulder and danced away, woofing. He followed after her. She took off, weaving through trees, leaping fallen logs, barreling through thickets of shrubs. He caught her quickly, and she realized that her ability to pace him earlier had only been because he’d allowed it.
He tackled her, knocking her to the ground and standing over her. He nuzzled her neck the way she’d done to him earlier, nipping playfully and snorting in clear amusement. In human form, Hank wasn’t nearly this playful. Maybe he felt freer as his wolf. Whatever, she liked this side of him.
A lot.
Her nose was full of his scent, and her body came alive with the need to act on those pheromones. Instead, she put her paws on his chest and shoved him off, scampering away with a challenging bark. He came after her, catching her immediately and taking her to the ground again.
This time he touched his nose to hers and whined softly.
He was courting her, wolf-style.
And it was working.
If they’d been in human form, she would have jumped him. As it was, she was barely holding on to decent behavior. She got to her feet and shook her head. He bowed on his front legs and shook his head, too, flicking his ears back.
He understood.
He took off in a gentle trot, then stopped and looked back at her. She joined him, and he started up again.
They stayed side by side until they returned to his house, then he shook himself back into his human form.
She did the same, the excitement of the run electric in her blood. Like all shifters, their clothes and pelts exchanged places when they shifted unless they’d started out in nothing but skin. When she was alone in familiar woods that was her first option. But being naked with Hank? That wasn’t a bridge she was ready to cross. Not when she’d started this run. Now, with the night air draping her like silk, being naked with Hank seemed like a grand idea.
She tipped her head back and inhaled deeply, trying to rid herself of the throbbing need pushing her closer and closer to action. Action that would take her down a path there would be no returning from. She sighed. “That was a great run.”
He grunted affirmatively.
She glanced at him.
From the smoldering gold in his eyes, he needed something more.
Her.
Hank only barely kept himself from lunging at her. “Go inside.”
“Aren’t you coming with me?”
“Not yet.” He shouldn’t have played with her like that. Being so close to her in wolf form had only aroused an unquenchable need. He’d known that was a risk and yet, he’d done it anyway. Running with her, going wolf with her, had made denying that side of himself impossible. She was too large a temptation. And he’d given in. He just hadn’t bargained on how strong his desire for her would be. “I need to run.”
She shook her head, the slightest hint of gold dancing in her eyes. “We just ran.”
“It wasn’t enough.” Actually, it had been too much. Too much inhaling her scent and sharing her space combined with the pull of the moon and the power of the night. He ached with wanting her. Ached to claim her as his mate, right then and there.
But that was too much, too soon. He didn’t make rash decisions. About anything. There was a right way and a wrong way to do things, and he always chose the right way.
That was what any good alpha would do.
Her eyes flashed gold, and she took a step toward him, hips swaying with the kind of deliberate movement that told him she understood exactly what he was feeling. “And if you don’t run?”
He swallowed, fists tight at his sides. “I won’t sleep.”
She swayed closer. “Maybe I won’t sleep either.”
He did the impossible and backed up. No matter what he was feeling, this decision was hers to make. “I want you, Ivy.” Understatement of the year. “I think you can tell. But it’s too soon. I think you know that, too.”
She took another step toward him, head lowering as she took a breath. “What I know is the moon is making me crazy.” Her eyes went full gold, and she massaged the back of her neck. “I feel like I’m in heat around you. Which isn’t a bad thing, considering we’re about to be married.”
He stopped retreating, mesmerized by the play of moonlight on the curves of her body. Someday, when they were married, they were going to do the run the right way. Clothes-free. The thought caused his fists to press hard against his thighs. Breathing normally became a concentrated effort. Standing there without making a move became a timed event. Another minute and his reserve would be gone. She deserved to know that. “My control is almost shot.”
She came closer still. “Control is overrated.”
The muscles in his jaw twitched. Desire owned him. Somehow, he made rational words come out of his mouth. “We should get to know each other better.”
An inch, maybe two separated them. She didn’t touch him, maybe because she knew that if she did, that would be the end of this conversation. She tipped her head back and stared into his eyes. “What better way to get to know each other could there be than giving in to the moon’s pull?”
His body tightened, every fiber taut with need. His voice came out a gruff scrape. “Are you saying yes?”
She nodded. Her lids were heavy with desire as her lips parted. “Take me to bed, Hank.”
He was very good at following orders.
She’d lost her head to the full moon fever. Hard. Ivy stood at the living room windows, her gaze lost in the tangle of trees at the edge of Hank’s property line. Dawn was still minutes away, but she’d been unable to sleep.
She plucked at the hem of his borrowed t-shirt with her free hand, her other wrapped around a cup of coffee that wasn’t doing enough to perk her up. His scent surrounded her, not just on the t-shirt but on her skin. Every inhalation reminded her of the man she’d come here to marry. And deceive.
Steam curled up from her coffee cup. Her sigh pushed it away.
She hadn’t wanted to sleep with him—well, she had, but not like this. Not while she was still holding back the truth about Charlie. It felt wrong to give herself to Hank that way when she wasn’t being honest with him.
Couldn’t be honest with him.
Damn her father and his cruel, manipulative ways.
Now, when Hank found out, he’d think she’d slept with him in an attempt to snare him deeper in her web. And that might make him feel used. Might make him hate her.
He’d probably be right to.
She swallowed down a hard knot of pain and dropped her gaze to stare into her coffee. Hank was a good man. An amazing man. So much better than she could have ever hoped for. Better than she’d dreamed of. Funny how her father’s scheming had brought her Hank and would inevitability take him away.
She was going to get her heart broken, and this time, it wasn’t going to heal. Her life was so freaking unfair. She closed her eyes and took a breath. Enough w
allowing.
Self-pity was pointless. It wasn’t going to change anything. Better to focus on finding a way to fix things.
She could tell Hank the truth right now. Hank seemed like a trustworthy guy. But she’d trusted a man before, a man she’d had no reason to doubt, and been betrayed. What if she’d misjudged Hank? What if he used the information to get the Merrows out of their debt? Then there’d be no marriage at all. It would save the Merrows. But it would destroy her. Clemens would blame her for the whole thing falling apart.
Her and Charlie.
But Charlie would pay the price.
She bit back a sob. She couldn’t risk her son’s life for the sake of her own comfort.
“You okay?”
At the sound of Hank’s voice, she turned. He was more gorgeous than ever with the look of sleepy satisfaction on his handsome mug. “Did I wake you? I was trying to be quiet.”
He padded up to her, wearing nothing but pajama pants, and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I wish you had woken me up. But then you’d still be in bed.”
She smiled, unable to help herself. Gruff, serious Hank was anything but in bed. The man was an artist with his hands. Generous, giving, and wicked in the best possible ways. She hadn’t been so thoroughly shagged in…ever. “Sorry, I couldn’t sleep.” She lifted her cup. “I made coffee.”
“Something wrong?”
Everything. “Nothing. Just restless with the full moon so close, I guess.”
He lifted one hand to her chin and tipped her face toward him, then planted a soft, closed-mouth kiss on her lips. “Please don’t regret last night.”
She shook her head. “I don’t. I promise. Last night was amazing.”
He grinned. The smile lit his face so brightly it was like staring into the sun. “Damn straight it was. You hungry? I’m starving.”
“Sure, what do you want for breakfast?”
He made a face at her. “For you to sit down and enjoy your coffee while I fix it.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the kitchen.
She went along with him, balancing her cup to keep from spilling coffee on the hardwood floors. “You cook?”
He snorted. “No, but I can make breakfast.”
“Uh-huh.”
He looked at her. “Do you doubt me, woman?”
“I’m just saying it’s pretty hard to believe judging by the state of your refrigerator yesterday.” She liked this new playful side of him. It seemed he’d let his guard down. Like she was catching a glimpse of the man without the weight of sheriff and firstborn riding his shoulders.
No doubt that would change when he learned what her father had put her up to. She pushed that thought away and tried to focus on the present.
“You sit here.” He pointed at one of the bar stools at the raised breakfast bar.
She climbed into the chair. She’d been a child the last time someone had made breakfast for her.
He opened the fridge. “What’ll it be?”
She decided to go big, knowing she’d probably end up doing the cooking, but then she’d planned on that anyway. She thought about what she’d bought yesterday and based her choice on that. “Blueberry pancakes.”
“Good choice.”
“Really?”
He looked over his shoulder at her, his brows angled down in a victorious expression. “Thought you were going to trip me up with that, didn’t you?”
She laughed. “Yeah, I kinda did. Good thing I bought blueberries. Are they better than Mummy’s?”
He hesitated. “You won’t have to eat them in a holding cell.”
“Sold.”
He pulled the ingredients together and got to work, refusing to let her help. Once the ingredients were mixed, he pulled out the griddle, greased it and set it to heat up. Then he refilled her coffee, fixed himself a cup, and leaned against the counter facing her. “Tell me about your son.”
The lightness of the moment disappeared with those words. A wave of desperation went through her. She missed Charlie so much it hurt. She tried to cover by taking a sip of her coffee. She swallowed and chose her words carefully so she could stay truthful. “He’s a good kid. Quiet. A little on the shy side. Kinda small for his age.”
“So was I.”
She raised her brows. “You were small for your age.”
“Almost dead last in the percentages.” He turned, ran his fingers under the tap then flicked the water onto the griddle. It sizzled, so he poured thick circles of batter onto it. More sizzling followed, sending up the most delicious aroma. He dropped big handfuls of berries into each one. “Until I hit puberty. Put on seventeen inches and forty-three pounds in a year and a half.”
“That’s crazy.”
“Hurt like a mother, too.”
“I’ll bet.” For the first time, hope for Charlie bloomed within her. “Kincaid men get their size early.”
Pancakes cooking and coffee in hand, he went back to leaning. He swallowed another sip of coffee. “Charlie’s dad still in the picture?”
All the inevitable questions. “No. He was for a little bit, but then he just up and left. Haven’t heard another word from him. Which I’m fine with. I don’t need the reminder.” Still, she’d thought Eric had been a different kind of man. But she’d been wrong. And might be again. She twisted her cup, turning it slowly until the handle was perpendicular to the edge of the granite.
“We don’t have to—”
“You have a right to know.” She blew out a small breath, feeling the old regrets tugging at her happiness as images of Eric filled her mind. “I met him the summer before my last year of college.”
“You went to college?” He held a hand up. “Sorry, didn’t mean that like it sounded.”
“No, I get it. Kincaids aren’t known for their academic prowess.” She smiled grimly. “I was determined not to be a typical Kincaid. Anyway, I thought I was in love and, long story short, he wasn’t. He disappeared before Charlie was born.”
“You ever try to track him down? Get support out of him?”
She shook her head. “And risk having to fight him for custody? Or see him happily married with kids and have him reject Charlie all over again? No, thanks. Really, I’d be fine never seeing him again.”
Hank nodded. “What about college?”
“I managed another semester, but it was a hard pregnancy.” She stared into her cup. “I always figured I’d go back and finish that one last semester, but it never happened.”
“Doesn’t mean it still couldn’t.”
She laughed. “Yeah, I suppose so.”
“What did you major in?”
“Business. I thought it would be a ticket out of Kincaid country. Instead, I ended up going to the local beauty school after Charlie was born and staying right where I was.” The weight of her broken dreams weighed heavy on her.
“Maybe I can be that ticket.”
He said it so quietly, she almost wasn’t sure she’d heard it. She looked up. “I didn’t mean to imply—”
“I know.” He took a long, thoughtful pause. “I like you, Ivy. And you’re going to be my wife. I want you to be happy. I want…us to be happy.”
She stared at him, not quite able to process that idea.
He turned back to the griddle and flipped the pancakes. “Why didn’t Charlie come with you?”
Because Clemens knew she would have run. “My father thought it would be easier for us to get to know each other without a kid underfoot.”
“And Charlie’s staying with his grandparents?”
“Mm-hmm.” Staying and being held hostage were two sides of the same coin when you were a Kincaid.
“You want to go get him?”
She froze at the thought of that confrontation. Hank and her father, her son caught in between and the truth being used like a weapon to beat her precious boy down even further. “No.”
Hank slanted his eyes at her. “It was just a suggestion.”
She made herself smile. And breat
he normally. “It’s a great one, but I want to make sure this whole thing is going to work out before I introduce him to you.”
That sounded like a weak excuse even to her but she wasn’t sure what else to say. School was out for the summer so she couldn’t use that.
Hank shrugged and went back to plating breakfast. “Whatever you think is best.”
Her shoulders dropped in relief. She slid out of her seat, done with the conversation. “I’ll set the table.”
“Good, because we’re ready to eat.”
She collected silverware, napkins and the syrup. “What time do you have to be at the station?”
“Half an hour.” He brought the plates over. “What are you going to do today?”
She set two places, then grabbed her coffee and sat at one of them. “I hadn’t thought about it.”
“You know how to get back into town.” He put a short stack of pancakes in front of her, then took his spot. “Why don’t you go explore? See the town you’re about to become a resident of. Nocturne Falls is anything but boring.”
“So I’ve heard.” The town was well known amongst supernaturals as the place to live if you wanted the most freedom to be yourself. Celebrating Halloween three hundred and sixty-five days a year made that possible.
“And if you stop by the station at noon, I might be able to break away for lunch.”
She grinned. “Are you making a date with me?”
“You’re the one who agreed to the wooing.” He winked at her as he carved up a forkful of pancake and stuffed it in his mouth.
That she had. “I’m glad you don’t think you’re off the hook for that after last night.”
He swallowed, his seriousness returning along with a hint of gold in his eyes. “If anything, last night showed me that making you happy is a very worthwhile endeavor. One I will be pursuing many, many more times.”
She did her best not to show how light-headed and swoony those words made her, but a little sound of pleasure escaped anyway. She covered with a bite of pancakes. More sounds of pleasure ensued. “These are really good.”
He preened. “I’m not without some skills.”
The Werewolf Meets His Match (Nocturne Falls Book 2) Page 8