by Ruby Dixon
And I’m fragile about that sort of thing. I’m an all-or-nothing kind of girl, and I’m not good at casual. I’m good at being owned. From what I’ve seen of Chance, he’s not into relationships. So if he wants a regular sex partner? He’s just going to have to look elsewhere. I can’t be with someone and not get mentally involved. The wolf in me craves the alpha’s command. I’ll become too much for someone too fast, and I don’t know if I can take a second rejection.
Better to be solo. Lonely hurts far less than rejection.
“But…” Adelaide hesitates. “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with hooking up with a guy for fun. More power to you. But…Chance Eddington? He’s so hairy.”
I shiver at the thought. Yeah, he was. He was bearded and rough and had big hands that held me like I was the daintiest thing ever, and I get turned on just thinking about them. “He’s coming in for a makeover at some point,” I tell her. “He just needs some trimming.”
“Are you going to see him again?” Adelaide asks.
I shake my head and pull a few combs out of the sterilizing solution. “I don’t think so.”
The salon door chimes, saving me from more questioning. Adelaide looks disappointed and hurries away to greet her new client. I turn back to my workstation, straightening pomades and glosses. I really want Adelaide to leave me alone, but she’s my new boss so I can’t exactly tell her to go away. Her curiosity is picking at a fresh wound, though, and the wolf in me is feeling the need to escape again.
I can’t escape Pine Falls, though. I just got here.
“Hey, Maddie?” Adelaide’s voice is faint, even though she’s just two rooms over. “Could you come here, please?”
I set down a bottle of hairspray and head in. Has one of my appointments come in early? I don’t mind shuffling my schedule but—
What I see in the main foyer of the spa stops me in my tracks. It’s Chance. He looks good enough to eat, his shaggy hair falling around his face and that big scratchy beard making me think dirty thoughts. He’s wearing a big blue plaid shirt and jeans, and his boots are muddy. That’s not what makes me stop, though. There’s a dead deer with him on the floor at his feet.
Poor Adelaide looks as if she’s about to faint. I step forward and give her a gentle shove toward the reception desk, where there’s a stool. “Can I help you?” I ask Chance.
He tilts that big whiskered chin at the deer. “Brought you some venison. You said you liked it.”
Oh. So I did. I lick my lips and stare at the dead deer on the floor. It looks obscenely out of place in the chi-chi spa. “It’s a kind offer, but I don’t have a way of dressing it, I’m afraid.”
He grunts. “I’ll dress it for you then.” Just like that, he hefts it back up, slinging the tied legs over one massive shoulder, and leaves.
I look at Adelaide, who’s gaping at the now-empty door. I hear a heavy thump in the bed of Chance’s truck, and then he drives off.
“What on earth do you suppose that was about?” Adelaide whispers.
I bite my lip. “I told him I like venison.” I mean, his fingers were in my pussy at the moment and I’d have probably told him I liked anything, but it’s kind of…sweet.
Adelaide’s hands flutter girlishly. “Can you smell it?”
“Just light a candle,” I tell her. “Maybe vanilla.” I go to the supply closet to get the mop out. Chance left a lot of tracks in the doorway, and I suspect Adelaide’s not going to be up to cleaning after him. When I come back, she’s lit a candle, is drinking a tall glass of lemon water, and looks relieved that I’ve gotten the mop and bucket. Lord, she’s a fragile thing for a woman mated to a were-bear. I guess her honey never brings her ‘treats’.
And then my cheeks flush. Is this what this is?
It’s near the end of the work day and I’m sweeping up cuttings around my chair when Chance returns to the spa. I look up and he’s standing in my doorway, in a new shirt, and he smells like fresh soap, like he just got out of the shower. It makes my mouth water, and not for venison.
“You want the antlers?”
“No.”
“Hide?”
“No.”
He grunts and then jerks his head toward the parking lot. “Got a cooler full for you. Cut and ready to go.”
I blink at him. So he brought me a deer, and when I said I didn’t have any place for it, he went home and butchered it for me? That’s a determined man. Determined…for something I don’t want to give. I steel my resolve and gesture at my salon chair. “You ready for that makeover, then?”
I expect him to balk, but Chance just heads to my chair and thumps into it, big legs sprawling in front of him. I know he’s a were-bear and they’re made big, but even so, he dominates the tiny salon room. When I hesitate, he gestures at his face. “Go ahead. Do whatever you want.”
“That’s a lot of trust,” I tease him, pulling a cape off a hook and then tucking it around his shoulders. “You sure you want to go there?”
“We made a deal,” he points out. His gaze is locked on me like I’m his prey.
Oh. So we did. Sex for a makeover. I guess I’d better pull my end. I swallow hard, full of conflicting emotions at the reminder that it wasn’t me he wanted, just sex. Maybe all these stupid, weird feelings I’m having are just me being silly.
I skip shampooing him—too intimate!—and spritz his hair to wet it down instead. It’s thick and lustrous despite the shaggy length, and I feel conflicted about cutting it. I play with it for a few minutes, running my hands through his hair and trying to decide how I want him to look.
He shifts in the seat uncomfortably, and as I glance in the mirror, his jaw clenches. “You gonna just fuck with my hair all day or you gonna actually cut it?” Chance’s tone is sour, and I’m taken aback. Then I glance down and see the hard-on tenting the front of the cape. Oh.
“I’m just deciding what I want to do to you,” I say, and there’s a husky note in my voice that I shouldn’t let creep in, but I do. I lean forward to grab a comb and make sure my breasts brush against him as I do. Then I begin to cut.
I cut long hanks of hair off the sides, then shave it a little at the back of the neck. I leave it longer on top and add a bit of product to hold it in place. The end result is a sexy, bold swoop of hair that looks breathtaking on him and takes his appearance from ‘hobo mountain man’ to ‘utterly delicious lumberjack’. I trim his beard just a little and then add a bit of beard oil to make it softer and shinier. He smells wonderful by the time I’m done, and he looks perfectly edible. God, he’s hot. I resist the urge to possessively drag my fingers through his hair one last time. “All done.”
He peers in the mirror at the finished product and then grunts, touching his hair. “Ain’t gonna look like this when I do it.”
“You can stop by and I’ll gel you in the morning if you want.”Really, it’s a public service for women everywhere if I do, I tell myself. “Until you get the hang of it.”
Chance turns and looks over at me. He steps a little closer. “Or you could just do it for me when you wake up in the morning.”
“When I wake up in the morning?” I echo, not following. Then a hot blush steals over my face as I realize what he’s talking about. He means after I roll out of his bed.
I ignore him and yank the cape off his shoulders so hard the snaps sound like gunshots. “Just stop it, Chance. “
The man clearly does not know wolves very well. If he did, he’d know that we’re loyal above all else. As in, we’re excessively clingy. Unless he wants me—all of me—he’s setting me up for heartbreak, and I don’t have time for that shit.
Chapter Eight
Chance
I curl my fists in frustration. What the hell does she want? I spent three hours tracking just the right buck for her. Not too young but not so old that the meat would be tough and leathery. I dragged the carcass here in front of her human pack and laid the trophy at her feet. She looked at me as if I was crazy.
When that didn�
�t work, I slapped my ass into this tiny thing she calls a chair and let her rub goo all over me. Not saying it didn’t feel like a damned miracle, her soft fingers smoothing over my rough skin and through my scalp.
And yeah, I can see I look a lot less scary now, although I’m still reserving judgment on my haircut. I look like one of those guys wearing makeup on the cover of magazines in the checkout aisle.
I build shit. I don’t stand around smiling and sucking in my gut for pictures. But…if this is what she wants. If slathering shit in my hair will keep her, then I’ll do it five times a day if that’s what it takes.
I glare at the floor, wishing I had more experience with women. I don’t know what she wants, and I don’t know what will win her over. In the old days, I could just drag her off and no one would bat an eye. She’s got my scent on her and that’s enough to keep the predators away today, but when it wears off, the other shifters in this area will be beating a path to her door, and some of them are going to know what they’re doing with this wooing business.
Maddie bustles around me, sweeping up the evidence that she’d worked me over and binning it in a nearby trash can. She’s treating me like I’m just another customer, like I didn’t have my tongue, fingers, and dick up her pussy for hours last night. Like I didn’t claim her as mine.
I’ve got a couple of choices here. I can walk out that door and try to forget Maddie, or I can remind her who marked her last night.
A couple of years ago, I’d gotten angry with Dad and yelled at him for trying to kill himself. He’d told me nothing was worth living for anymore. I’d lost my temper and raged at him and at the whole damn mate business and how it wasn’t worth it. He hasn’t seen a sober day since Mom died, but in that moment he looked at me with such fierce lucidity I wondered if he’d been faking it all these years. “Son, you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” he’d said in a low, tobacco-ruined voice. “Even if it meant not feeling this endless godawful pain, I wouldn’t trade even one day with my mate.”
I stormed off the porch and sat inside my truck so I wouldn’t say something I’d regret, but as I look at Maddie’s bent head, I get it. Shutting my eyes, I try to envision a future without her. All I see is a bleak, dark, and endless winter. I made her feel good in bed. Real good. So I just gotta remind her of that.
I’m not going to spend another day without her, even if it means taking her by force. My eyes snap open, and I survey the room. The customers are watching every move I make. Pine Falls is a small town, and the winters can be long. Might as well give them something real juicy to talk about.
I stomp over to the counter and pull out all the cash in my wallet. I’d done a small job for Houston Wilkins, a shifter two towns over, and he’d paid me in cash. I lay all two grand out on the marble surface. “Is this enough to cover Maddie’s wages for the day?”
The counter girl shoots a wide-eyed glance over to the owner, Adelaide, who gives me a thorough look. My pretty-boy makeover must have convinced her I’m a safe bet, because she gives me a firm nod.
“Great.” I stalk back to Maddie, who’s still standing by her chair, sweeping up the last vestiges of my haircut and shave, and dropping it in the trash. Kind of like her memories of last night.
I bend down and toss her over my shoulder. With a brusque nod to the gaping patrons, the wide-eyed counter girl, and the smug face of the owner, I carry Maddie out of the salon.
She beats at me with her tiny fists and yells about how I should let her down and what the hell I’m doing.
I pop open the passenger door to the truck and shove her squirming body inside. “I’m taking you home.” She pushes at me, but I outweigh her by a good hundred pounds, maybe more. Leaning across, I find the seat belt buckle and fasten her in.
“You let me go,” she demands. Her hands fumble with the buckle, but I shut the door and lock it and keep locking it every time she tries to unlock the door.
I hurry around to the driver’s side door and climb inside, keeping the lock button on the key fob depressed. Once inside the cab, I clamp one hand around her thigh and use the other to engage the drive shaft and get the damn truck into gear.
She sits silently on her side of the truck as we rumble toward home.
“What’s it going to take to get you to stay, Maddie?” I ask as I steer down the long gravel road that leads up to the house.
“Something you can’t give,” she retorts. Her arms are crossed.
Fuck. What could it be? I have some money. Maybe she doesn’t know that. Maybe she thinks that I’m broke as shit and can’t afford to feed her. “I’ve got plenty of money, and you know I can feed you. There’s more venison around here. Do you prefer a doe? I can catch that next time,” I offer.
She shifts in her seat and glares at me. “Are you making fun of me?”
“What? No!” I resist the urge to beat my head against the steering wheel. “I just don’t know what you want. You tell me and I’ll get it for you.”
“I’m tired of shifters,” she says, and her voice does sound resigned. “I’m tired of someone chasing me hard only to decide that they don’t want me after all.”
“Don’t want to be with you?” I echo in surprise. What in tarnation is she talking about? “Little wolf, I’m kidnapping you and taking you to my den. That’s about as opposite of not wanting you as it gets.”
“Fine, you want me now, but what about tomorrow or the next day? I don’t want to get involved with someone who’s going to throw me over for someone else.”
“Another woman? Why would I want another woman? I want you!”
“For how long?”
“For goddamn ever!”
“For—” She breaks off. We stare at each other. Our chests are heaving like we’ve just fought a fierce physical battle. “You don’t do mates, remember?”
“I…” I stick my tongue in the corner of my cheek. Fuck. I did say that. When she was first here, I was trying to remind myself not to get attached, but it was already too late. It was too late from the moment I walked into the bar.
Maddie huddles on her side of the cab seat, and I realize that no amount of words is really going to convince her of my intentions, but I’m putting forth both words and action today. I give her a firm nod. “You’re right. I said that because I’m a stupid man, and I was trying to avoid what happened to my dad. See, Mom was his true mate, and after she died, his spirit went with her. He hasn’t been the same since. I didn’t want a mate because I figured it was better to live without one than to suffer the loss. But having just the tiniest taste of you makes me realize that I don’t know nothing about life and living it. You probably don’t believe me, so I’m just going to show you what I mean.”
“Wait—” she calls out, but I’m out of the door and rounding her side of the truck. I pull her out and fling her over my shoulder.
She pounds on my back again. “You can’t keep tossing me around like I’m a bag of flour.”
“You know your safe word. Say it and I’ll take you back.” I hold my breath because even if she says it, I’m ignoring it. I’m not letting her go again. That was my first mistake, and I ain’t gonna repeat it.
Her fists of fury pause in mid-strike. “No,” she says softly, “I’m not saying that word.”
“Good,” I grunt. The relief I feel at her response makes me weak in the knees, and I almost stumble near the porch. It doesn’t get any easier when her hands stop making fists and start rubbing over my back and ass.
“What are you going to do with me?” she asks. Her voice doesn’t sound as hollow or tired anymore, and the slight scent of musk rises to fill my nose.
“I’m tying you up and keeping you in bed until you agree to be my mate.”
She shifts a little, and the musk scent gets stronger. I move faster, through the door and then up to the bedroom.
“And after I agree to that? Then what?”
I toss her down onto the bed and watch with satisfaction as her ample ches
t jiggles as she bounces on the mattress. I dig out some rope that I use for climbing and wrap it around her wrists. “Then I keep on keeping you, but you can go to work and shit so long as you come home to me every night.” I pause. “How many other men are you going to be doing this to?” I wave a finger in front of my face.
“After they see your transformation? The whole town, I’d guess,” she teases.
I frown. I don’t much like the idea of her rubbing all those other men. “You giving those rubdowns as part of every cut?” I force myself not to tie her too tight to the bed.
“No, I can have the shop assistant do that,” she admits. “I did it for you because I wanted you to feel good.”
“It felt too good.” I rub a hand across my aching dick. “I’ve had a hard-on since I sat in your chair. Don’t want you making other males feel like that.”
She hides a smile, and the band around my chest starts to ease. I fasten her wrists and feet to the bed.
“Hang on,” I tell her. Downstairs, I prepare a quick venison sandwich and bring it up along with a tall glass of milk.
“You’re going to eat in front of me?” she asks, torn between laughter and dismay.
“Nah, baby, this is for you.” I set the tray on the bed and then pull out my hunting knife. “We’ll buy you some new clothes, but around here, you wear nothing.” She doesn’t protest when I slice the clothes off. Instead, her eyes grow diamond bright, and the heady scent of her arousal fills the room. I take a deep drag, like a drug addict draining his pipe dry. My cock pulses behind the zipper of my pants, but I ignore it because there are more important things to do, like feed my mate and then make sure she comes so hard she can’t remember anything of her life before me.
“You really like your style?” she asks between bites of her sandwich.