Bad Wolf (A Breed MC Book Book 5)

by Anne Marsh

  Two miles into our ride, I risk a quick look over the seat back. She’s lost the blanket entirely and now she’s either performing a downward dog or trying to work her phone out of the back pocket of her pants. Loosening the blanket wrap was clearly a mistake, as was failing to search her. I don’t usually make stupid mistakes like that. I pull over, reach over, and flip her over so her nose is pushed up against the seat. It’s the wolfie version of the naughty corner. Her eyes get wide as they peep up at me, like she knows exactly how much trouble she’s in.

  I grin down at her. She’s so busted. “Naughty, naughty.”

  And since she’s conveniently ass-up, I land a nice, sharp smack on the curvy real estate I’m admiring. It’s a love tap, nothing more. I promise. She squeals anyhow.

  I lean down, getting all in her space. “You want me to kiss it better?”

  She sucks in an indignant breath or tries to. Since I’ve got her mouth duct-taped shut, she sort of snorts through her nose. She’s so fucking cute. I’m pretty sure she knows I’d like to eat her up--and she doesn’t mind. When I inhale, I can smell her arousal. It’s a soft tease of scent filling up the barely there space between us. She thinks it’s a secret because she doesn’t know about my wolf, but I know.

  Since we’re playing good cop and the bad girl (or hey—I am), I work the phone out of her pocket and toss it into her purse on the front seat before I pat her down. You know. Just in case she’s hiding a distress flare or a machine gun or something equally lethal and disturbing beneath the thin layer of pink cotton. I come up empty, though, so I flip her back over and look her in the eyes.

  “Promise you’ll help me and I’ll let you sit up front,” I offer. “We don’t have to do this the hard way.”

  She gives a baby growl, bringing her knees up. I think she might be going for my balls in her imagination, but her range of motion’s all jacked up by her current position. Too bad, so sad.

  I pull back.

  I’d rather spend the rest of my day looking at her and kissing shit better, but instead I turn around and get busy driving. Pretty sure she won’t let me within a mile of her pussy now.

  Pack wolves have free run of the Breed MC clubhouse, but most of us maintain a private bolt hole on the side. Cushioning’s not just a dating strategy—a wolf’s gotta have a place to run to when shit hits the fan or there are just too many goddamned furries barking orders and trying to run shit. Since I like my alone time more than most, I invested a few years ago in thirty waterfront acres. Normally I’d ride out on my bike, taking the dirt roads at a hundred miles an hour because the only way to ride is fast. Now, however, I’m stuck driving in this truck. I stick to the posted speed limits and obey the traffic laws. Once I get home, step two in my might plan is to convince Rain to help me out with my Keelie Sue problem. I debated driving her straight to the clubhouse, but I’m not sure even my charm would be enough to win her over in a handful of miles. Plus, the ladies are hosting a baby shower tomorrow—and even if there’s not gonna be water and soapy, naked women, that still seems like the perfect time to deliver my gift.

  Forty minutes into our staid fucking drive, urban sprawl gives way to bayou and the road disintegrates into a dirt track. I look behind me periodically to check on Rain because bouncing her brains around in her head isn’t going to get me what I want. Plus, my girl is proving ambitious in the escape department, and I don’t need the hassle of her trying to bash my skull in from behind.

  I crank the radio up high and sing along to fill the silence. Not that Rain’s gonna be able to do much talking—I’ve got her gagged and tied since she’s still not seeing shit my way despite my explaining that all I need are her baby doctoring skills and nothing else. I don’t want to kill her, fuck her, or hurt her any—I just need her help. Okay, so that’s partly not true. I ignore my dick, which clearly wants to fuck her. It’ll have to go without. So instead of doing any one of a dozen different, dirty things, I belt out the chorus to the country song blaring out of my speakers. I’ve got big speakers too—the whole truck vibrates and shakes to the beat.

  The indignant groan from behind my seat is still plenty loud.

  I love it when she pays attention to me. I up my volume, even though I’m gonna have to be the first to admit that my super skills don’t extend to singing. When it’s karaoke night at the club, the boys like to compare me to a dying cat, which is harsh coming from a bunch of wolves. They’re not wrong, either. But it’s just me and the trees now (and my special package in the backseat) because we’ve hit bayou country. The highway’s just a cracked ribbon of black now, yellow paint peeling off the asphalt in visible strips the farther we go. Trees arch over the road until I’m almost driving through a tunnel of green. It’s pretty as fuck. If I were a poet, I’d write some kind of epic sonnet describing it, but I’m just a wolf so I drive and appreciate what I can. We rattle over one of those nameless tin bridges with a railing on one side and a short, sharp drop on the other, and I sing louder.

  The singer on the radio heads into the final chorus, letting the whole world know about his horse, his gun, and his girl. I feel him. The world was a simpler place when the only things that mattered were how hard you rode and how well you fought. Why bother with words when you can just kill anyone who gets in your way? Something tells me, however, that Rain’s more of a talk-it-out girl.

  I add a few bonus yippie-kay-yays as we round into the final stretch of our drive. We’re almost out of pavement. In another handful of moments, we’ll hit gravel and the point where the world sort of stops and living begins. I swear the air smells better already.

  Rain thumps the back of my seat. Hard. I feel her jab in my lower spine.

  “Knock knock, who’s there?” I carol the words as I lean back and look over the seat. It’s safer to keep my eyes on the road, but I’ve driven this way thousands of times and wolves heal fast. It’s how Jace was able to beat the shit out of me so well and yet leave no lasting trace. It’s not the best thing about being wolf, but it’s real fucking useful. Pop-Pop used to bring out his belt between his TV shows—he claimed tanning my hide was better than a commercial. Nice to know I had my uses.

  Rain smacks my seat again and makes another unintelligible noise. This kind of sucks that the entire burden of conversation is on me. How can anyone communicate effectively wearing duct tape? Since it’s served its purpose, I pull over. In the middle of yet another small bridge. If Rain bolts, she’s going for a swim and I’ll make her ask nicely before I fish her out.

  “You want this off?” I lean down, gripping her jaw carefully with my hand, and run my thumb over the edge of the tape.

  She nods, although from the expression on her face, the last thing she wants is to agree to anything I suggest. She’d still rather go for my balls. Possibly bite my thumb off. Sucks to be her because I’ve spent years avoiding teeth.

  I ease my finger underneath the edge of the tape. It’s stuck tighter than I like which is my fault. I’ll owe her one after this. The pink mark on her skin chafes me. “You gonna behave?”

  This time the look she gives me is patently disbelieving. Yeah. I wouldn’t be making me promises either. Whistling, I pop open the glove compartment. There’s not much in there, but the WD-40 is right where I left it.

  I reach over the seat and aim for her mouth. “Hold still.”

  It doesn’t matter how much I like gliding my fingers over her skin. Rain’s my prisoner now and that changes everything. What woman’s gonna date the man who hauled her through a window and gift-wrapped her with duct tape? My baby doctor’s a good woman who looks after other good women, easing their hurts, helping them through their pregnancies. I have neither a vagina nor a baby, so I’ve got nothing that interests her.

  She makes a sound as I smooth the WD-40 over her skin.

  “Not gonna hurt you,” I whisper roughly. “Let me help you, okay?”

  I have no interest in hurting her, not even in fun. I’m up for almost anything, but my sex life has neve
r included any of that BDSM shit. Being a dom is too much emotional investment and I could never be someone’s sub. Still, I pet her just a little, stroking my fingertips over her cheek. She’s so soft. I should shoot me for dragging her out here and scaring her.

  I should—

  She makes a different kind of sound, more needy, husky whimper, and suddenly I have a new favorite song I want to play over and over again. My pack might’ve been right. I might sometimes jump in over my head because now I’ve got no idea what I’m doing here. I’m helping Keelie Sue, I’m…

  Christ, Rain’s a small person. She barely hits my shoulder, but suddenly I’m not the one in charge anymore. Her little moan hangs in the air between us as I lift her up and over the seat, curling my arms beneath her legs and getting myself an armful of Rain. She’s curvy, but I’m a big ass bastard. She’s barely a mouthful for this wolf, more tapas plate than big roast turkey. Good thing I know how to savor my food.

  No.

  Bad wolf.

  I knock her purse onto the floor, set her down on the seat beside me, and peel my arms away from her. She can thank me later for this act of supreme will power. She promptly scoots away from me until her back’s pressed against the door. I’m sure her fingers are feeling for the handle, but she pretends she’s sticking with me, and I go along with the fiction.

  My wolf perks up anyhow, like she’s choosing us, the stupid bastard. To distract myself, I paint the edges of the tape with the WD-40, easing the sticky shit away from her skin. It’s reddened but unbroken. By the time I’ve unstuck her, we’re face-to-face, kissing distance. Not that I kiss, but if I did… this would be the perfect position. But now I’ve got WD-40 all over her pretty face. I shrug off my vest, whip my T-shirt over my head, and wipe that shit off.

  “You’re insane.” She states her opinion calmly but she wriggles a little more urgently in the seat, her bound hands groping for the door handle. She’s never without a plan, this woman. I hit the child safety lock button and she gives me another baby growl. So fucking cute.

  “You go for me while I’m driving and we’ll end up in a ditch,” I point out while I get us back on the road. We’re almost to my place now. “Or we’ll be nose deep in the bayou. The gators are gonna hear us splash, and then we’ll be like the world’s biggest sushi bar. Bet I swim faster than you, too.”

  Not that I’d leave her behind, not after I went to this much trouble to fetch her. Not ever, my wolf suggests. I have to agree.

  She doesn’t yell, doesn’t scream. Nope. While I drive, she launches into a firm, angry, well-thought-out argument about why my ass is the dumbest ass she’s ever encountered (no argument there). How I can’t possibly think I’ll get away with kidnapping her (already have). How I’ll be spending the next twenty years atoning for my misdeeds in state prison (I’m more likely to end up in a zoo or a lab, but details). Thank fuck, I don’t smell fear.

  She’s still calmly tearing into me when I pull up in front of my house. I’m a big guy and I have a big place—three floors, a thousand square feet each with about a million windows so the light can pour inside and I can see whoever’s coming. There’s always someone gunning for me, so the view’s less of a luxury item than you’d think. But I’ve got trees and the bayou, just enough furniture so I can sit my ass on a couch or a bed depending on my mood, and a fridge big enough to hold the contents of an entire beer truck. It’s my place and it’s perfect just as it is.

  I kind of want to know what Rain thinks, though. It doesn’t make sense, but I’m sort of holding my breath, hoping she likes it. Not like I can redecorate if she doesn’t, but…

  What the fuck is wrong with me?

  She tips her head back and drinks in my scenery while I stare at her since I already know what my place looks like. “Is this Bluebeard’s lair?”

  Once again? She’s so cute.

  “Not the marrying type, sunshine.”

  I park, shove my keys in my pocket, and get out. It’s tempting to just leave her stashed on my front seat until the baby party at the clubhouse tomorrow, but then she definitely won’t help me. I don’t like having people in my personal space, but today’s a day for exceptions.

  I toss her over my shoulder, anchor her with a hand on her ass, and carry her toward the front door.

  “Hey,” she protests. “I’ve got legs. Two of them, both in working condition.”

  I shrug, bouncing her up and down on my shoulder because I like the breathless oomph she makes. “I’ve got this.”

  “Are you always a caveman?” She sounds incredulous.

  I’d like to say I’m not sure what kind of guy she hangs out with, but those stupid roses made it pretty clear. She dates guys with manners and money, guys who know how to work the rule book and probably own a dozen suits that visit the dry cleaner on a regular basis. I’ve got the cash, but everything else? Not a chance. Don’t have it, don’t want it, not in a million years. So she’s probably right. I’m her very own dire wolf, one of those prehistoric carnivores that hunted their way through North America a hundred thousand years ago. Since I can’t tell her that, I go with another truth.

  “I like carrying you.”

  I shove the front door open. I don’t bother locking up a goddamned thing out here—I don’t have any neighbors for miles, and anyone who tries to steal my stuff wouldn’t keep it for long.

  Rain grumbles something.

  “You should speak up,” I tell her. “Mumbling’s not helpful.”

  “Down.” She elongates that one poor syllable as if it’s my ears and not her diction that’s the problem here. Her stomach starts growling like it’s housing a pack of rabid wolves. Houston, we have a problem.

  “Hungry?”

  She smacks my ass with her hands.

  “We have so much in common,” I tell her, patting her scrub-covered butt gently. We need to address who’s in charge here. “Seems we both love a good spanking. And since I’m such a gentleman, I’ll let you have yours first.”

  She makes an outraged noise and tries to pitch herself off my shoulder. It’s a long way from my shoulder to the ground, so her attempt at flying is a real bad idea. I grab what I can before she can hurt herself. What starts out as a chivalrous move on my part, however, moves rapidly into porn territory because she’s wriggling like a fiend and somehow I end up palming her pussy. Swear to God it’s an accident even though I wouldn’t believe me, either.

  All that heat and temptation about blows my fucking mind. My dick starts twitching, the beast roaring to life beneath my jeans. I’m not supposed to fuck her, however. I need her to like me, to want to help me—and no matter how much fun my girls have when we’re naked and screwing, they usually end up mad afterward. It’s a gift.

  One Rain doesn’t want.

  I remove my hand and set her down quickly. We both pretend that just didn’t happen while she looks around, taking in her new surroundings. My house is amazing, so I give her a few minutes to appreciate its awesomeness. Not much furniture other than a few white and gray sofas I Amazoned and my drafting table with a million billion pencils and half-finished sketches, but the views are killer.

  “This is unbelievable,” she spits. “Untie me.”

  Somehow I don’t think she’s admiring my decorating skills.

  “You promise to stay put?”

  “Are you stupid?” It sounds like a genuine question.

  “Not most days.” Werewolves are long-lived, but in some ways we’re just like anyone else. If we don’t learn, we don’t last long.

  “You kidnapped me.” She frowns like it still doesn’t compute and maybe if she says it out loud—over and over and over again—she’ll finally be able to make sense of my actions. Good luck with that.

  “Borrowed.” I flash her a grin, trying to soften her up.

  She’s not buying what I’m selling. Her eyes narrow and her hands fly to her hips. “That implies you plan on returning me.”

  “I will. Scout’s honor.” I hold up two f
ingers.

  It seems like the right thing to say.

  “You’re incredible.”

  “I know.” I prowl a little closer. “I hear that all the time.”

  She makes that little growling sound and then she storms toward me. Rain’s fearless when she makes up her mind to go after something. She jams a finger into my chest like she’s trying to drill straight into my heart.

  “Kidnapping is illegal, you moron.”

  “Yes?” I’m not sure I understand the point she’s trying to make here.

  “What if one of my girls goes into labor tonight? Did you think of that?”

  I pat my pocket, where her phone and pager are currently residing. “Then we’ll work a deal out.”

  Those girls are just Keelie Sues who belong with someone else, so no, I don’t want to keep Rain from them. Not really.

  “Okay,” she says slowly. Her gaze slides straight from me to the door. She’s still got a hasty departure on her mind.

  “Tomorrow,” I add firmly. “I need you to meet Keelie Sue tomorrow, and then—”

  Something. Followed by something else.

  Yeah. I’ve got nothing. I should have thought this out better. I can keep her and stash her somewhere handy until Keelie Sue pops out her mini-me. There will be a nice, drug-filled, speedy round of pop-the-baby-out and then Keelie Sue, Jace, and the cub proceed to live happily ever after? There are more holes in that not-plan than a wheel of Swiss cheese.

  “You could have made a second appointment,” Rain says dryly. “Instead of committing a felony.”

  I shrug. “It’s not my first rodeo.”

  “You are Bluebeard.” She sounds part amused, part horrified. But here’s the thing. She’s not scared. I’d smell it if she were. I don’t know how or when she decided I was a bunny rabbit instead of the big, bad wolf. I’d suggest she find someone to help her with those trust issues, but by the time I’m done with her, she won’t trust anyone. I’m practically performing a public service here.

  I know you’re wondering if I make a habit of kidnapping women and committing felonies. The answer is no on the abduction front; I’m way more flexible on breaking human law, however. I’m a wolf, so I go after what or who I want, and if I’m strong enough to take it, it’s mine. Rain here hasn’t figured out yet that she’s just moved in with the big, bad wolf, but she will. She’s smart. If she were any other woman, on any other day, I’d have her naked and my dick inside her making her come. But today’s a special day, thanks to that new-leaf shit, so I restrain myself.