Bad Wolf (A Breed MC Book Book 5)

by Anne Marsh

  I point to the oven. “You can eat that and ignore the fuck out of me.”

  She shakes her head.

  “Or you can give me a chance and I’ll find you something better.”

  She opens her mouth. Here it comes. I’m familiar with the speech about how I suck, I’m living down to expectations, and/or I’m the biggest regret my hook-up’s ever had. And it’s not like I’ve done anything to inspire confidence in Rain. In a few short hours, I’ve lied to her, dragged her out a window, tied her up, untied her, and marooned her in the bayou with a big, nasty stranger. I should apologize and let her go, but I’m all in and I suck at apologizing anyhow. It requires me to actually care and I ran out of fucks to give years ago. So I give her my best, panty-melting grin and wait for her to lay into me.

  “You’re incredible.”

  That’s not a compliment, in case you were wondering.

  “True story.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Tick tock, sweetheart.”

  “You really don’t care that you kidnapped me, do you?”

  You’d think Dickish Ex would have taught Rain a few things about just how low men can go, but she actually sounds surprised.

  Might as well tell her the truth.

  “Not at all.”

  “And you’re not worried about going to jail?”

  And once again…

  “Nope.”

  “And you’re still planning on asking me to deliver Keelie Sue’s baby?” Her eyes spark. Her hands do an angry flutter-dance as she tries to get her shit under control.

  “Here’s how I see it.” I lean back against the counter. “You’re nice. I’m not. You’re gonna look after Keelie Sue because it’s the right thing to do and she needs you. And even if you weren’t such a nice girl, you’d do it because otherwise she’s stuck with me and we both know I’m gonna fuck it up. Royally.”

  She shakes her head. “You better be providing one hell of a dinner.”

  She makes a shooing motion at me.

  I think my mouth may fall open.

  “Dinner,” she enunciates slowly. “Ooooone chance. Go.”

  I go.

  I end up raiding the neighbor’s house. She’s about two million years old, owns an equally ancient shotgun, and she cooks in her spare time. Since she makes Methuselah look young, she has a lot of spare time. I’ve run by her place more than once, drawn by my nose. Rabbit’s awesome, but Mrs. Miller makes the best pie ever. Usually, I stop in and flirt a little. Chat her up. She’s lonely and she likes looking at my pretty face. Sometimes, though, I just sneak in and liberate whatever smells best, which is what I do tonight. On my way back out, I check out the leaky sink I fixed on my last visit to make sure my repair’s holding. I need to get to her toilet this week and I make a note that her porch has a rotten board on the southern edge. If she falls and breaks a hip, I’ll be pie-free and unhappy about it.

  Even in my human form, it’s a quick ten-minute jog back to my place. The advantage of not going furry, however, is that I’m still wearing pants when I step inside. I’m already pushing my luck with Rain. Walking around with my junk out and proud isn’t gonna endear me any.

  We pop my dinner party cherry and eat at the big formal table. This works out better than it sounds because we don’t do the stupid king and queen thing you see in the movies, with his and her ends. Instead we cozy up together. Partly, this is because I have a limited supply of plates (one) and silverware (one fork, two spoons, a shit-ton of knives). I slap dinner on the plate, set it down between us, and wait for her to dive in.

  The rabbit looks good. Its skin is crispy golden, with little rivers of juice running all over. That part’s for me. The rest of it, however, is for her. There’s a bowl of green salad, a half-dozen dark purple tomatoes, a selection of cheeses, and a box of Triscuits. I’ve also got some kind of berry pie. When I stab the crust with my knife, blue leaks out. It’s a pretty impressive spread, if I do say so myself. Rain, however, is less than impressed.

  Or maybe she just knows me already, which makes me fight back a grin. Never smile like a smart ass when your pack member is chewing you out.

  She levels A Look at me. “Where did you get this from?”

  She’s so onto me.

  And because she’s downright adorable, I settle for a wink. “Grocery fairies.”

  She doesn’t believe me for obvious reasons. I spear a tomato with the fork and lift it to her mouth.

  She snatches it out of my hand, which is part disappointment, part expected. Rain’s fierce, but she’s not a wolf, and she’s most definitely not my wolf. Even if I kind of wish she were.

  We take turns with the fork until Rain’s consumed most of the salad and decimated the cheese and crackers. I nudge the pie dish toward her.

  She makes a face. “I totally shouldn’t.”

  “Should.” I nudge her pretty pink lips with the pie-laden fork. “You know you want it, baby.”

  “Fang.” She says my name in that kind of accusing, bad dog way, but that’s a mistake. See, she has to open her mouth to get my name out and I pop the fork in.

  She chews on her pie and I swear my neighbor’s been baking in the aphrodisiacs. Rain’s face softens, the corners of her mouth curving up as I slip the empty fork free. There’s a little streak of berry juice on her lower lip. All I have to do is lean in and I could lick her clean. Or, better yet, I could paint her everywhere until she’s sticky sweet with a different kind of juice. Christ, she’s gorgeous. She’s…

  Talking.

  I do my best to pay attention. Apparently, she hasn’t moved on from our earlier conversation about the merits of eating or not eating pie.

  “Shouldn’t.” She waves a hand down her body. I’m happy to look, but I definitely don’t see a problem. I arch a brow and wait. She’ll tell me what’s wrong and then I’ll fix it.

  “I’m tubby.” She makes a face as she says this.

  “Why the fuck would you think that?” From where I’m sitting, my thigh pressed against hers, she’s downright awesome. Only thing better would be naked pie.

  “The scale. My doctor. My ex. Not that he’s generally right about much.” She makes another face. “But this time? Yeah. Too many late nights working, too many vending machine dinners.”

  I shrug. “You look great. And you deserve pie.”

  Her cheeks turn pink. “It’s important to be healthy.”

  Honestly, I wouldn’t know the first thing about healthy habits. I generally avoid them like the plague, plus my wolf gives me a big advantage in the healing and regeneration department. My ass is never gonna show the effects, even if I consume a tractor-trailer load of pies. But that’s not the point. Rain looks great, but even if I didn’t like what I saw, that’s my problem, not hers. She shouldn’t be re-decorating her body to make me or any other dick happy—which is what she’s really talking about, not this health crap.

  I shove the fork into the pie, load it up, and chow down. I’m not much for sweets, unless you count pussy cream, but pie is an exception. The pink in her cheeks deepens as I chew. I’m not sure what she’s thinking, but it’s probably not complimentary.

  “You want a taste?” I toss the fork onto the table, lean over, set my arms around her, and brush my mouth across hers. Not doing the momma bird thing—because gross—but teasing her.

  I lick the seam of her mouth, where her lips are tight and closed. Judging me. FYI? I don’t react well to being told things are off-limits. It makes me remember unpleasant things, like being a small wolf-cub tied up in a bitter old man’s yard, watching through the window as he has himself a roast chicken dinner. I press a small kiss against the corner of her mouth. I don’t want to remember those bad things and kissing Rain is better than a Magic Eraser.

  Rain’s breath catches, her fingers curling in her lap. She doesn’t move.

  I lean closer, and for a second I think about not playing with her, but then she lifts her chin, her eyes searching my face as if she’s looking for a green light
. Her hands come up, tracing my arms and the tense muscles there. A shiver runs through me, and I move in.

  I kiss her soft, warm, pie-sweet mouth with mine. She exhales, opening for me, and I do it again. I trace the sweet curve of her bottom lip with my tongue because I need to taste her so badly. My right hand’s cupping her head, fingers sifting through her pretty hair, angling her for my kiss.

  She parts her lips, and I’m in. I forget everything but her. She makes husky little noises, whimpering, groaning, demanding, and I want to do, be whatever, whomever she wants. She tastes like fucking heaven. Her hands pull at my arms, dragging me closer, and I’m doing some tugging and lifting of my own because her tits end up pressed against my chest. I hold her tight and kiss her.

  Kiss her.

  And kiss her.

  The hand not pinning her to me goes exploring, drawing little patterns over her arm, her side, the skin beneath her shirt. I skate my fingertips up. Rain shifts uneasily. Too much, too soon.

  I pull back because I’m still working on Rehabilitated Me and I won’t undo all my good work. “Eat your pie.”

  She looks more than a little speechless, but she takes the fork and jabs it into the crust. She might be doing a little mental substitution, so I slide the knife away. Just in case. And then while she’s distracted by sugar, I show her pictures of Keelie Sue and her ultrasound on my phone (the shots where Keelie Sue Junior hadn’t shifted into a baby werewolf, complete with tail) and pepper her with stories about how Keelie Sue is fucking amazing and totally deserves this baby.

  She sets down the fork. There’s still most of a pie left, so I’ll save that for her for breakfast. Fruit totally counts as a breakfast food. “Fang,” she says.

  She packs a world of shit into my name, some of it good, some of it not so good.

  “Sleep on it,” I suggest. “Keelie Sue’s good people even if I’m not.”

  The soft skin between her eyes crinkles as if she’s thinking of disagreeing with me. I want—

  It doesn’t matter what I want.

  This is about Keelie Sue, about doing the right thing for once in my goddamned, fucked up, self-centered life.

  I hold out my hand. “Bed time.”

  Rain does an awesome impression of a fire truck. Her blush turns her face bright scarlet. Makes me wonder how far down that blush goes, if it extends over her tits and down to her panties. I’d be happy to strip her and check, but I need to focus on the greater good. Fucking Rain won’t win her over to Keelie Sue’s cause.

  “Naughty.” I flick her nose with my finger. “Somebody’s thinking dirty thoughts about me.”

  “Am not.”

  “Are too, but think away. I’m happy to make your night.”

  I lace my fingers through hers and draw her down the hall after me. I can’t help thinking that she’s a little too nice for her own good. She’s way out here in the bayou with me, we’ve kissed, and she just has my word that I won’t hurt her. She’s not thinking about all the ways I could take advantage of her. The dirty, nasty, orgasmic acts I could perform on her. I tried to touch her boobs and she got nervous.

  Still, she doesn’t pull her fingers away from mine. She doesn’t hold my hand back either, but she lets me lead and my wolf fucking loves that. When I get to the end of the hallway, I nudge the door open with my foot and tug her in.

  “Got the fucking Waldorf Astoria here for you. It doesn’t get better than this.”

  “You bring a lot of girls here?” She looks around like she’s either looking for a spare fuck bunny or maybe some Lysol.

  And the funny thing is that I don’t. I’ve never screwed anyone here because it’s my place, where I get to be me. But I don’t want her to read anything into that.

  “You’re the first.” I blow her a kiss.

  “Uh-huh.” I don’t think she believes me.

  Don’t care.

  “Bathroom.” I point to the left. “Bed. You ask nicely, I’ll loan you my toothbrush.”

  “Ewwww.” She makes a face. “That’s so unhygienic.”

  We just shared a fork and a kiss, even if there was no tongue, so I don’t see what the big deal is.

  “You a virgin, Rain?”

  Turns out her face can get redder. “None of your business,” she splutters.

  “Because you know where a guy puts his dick? What he does with it? That’s some dirty shit right there—my toothbrush has nothing on that.”

  She mutters something super uncomplimentary about my intelligence and I grin and wave her into the bathroom. “Ladies first.”

  She disappears for a goddamned long time, too. Probably trying the windows and wondering why she’s decided to give me a chance. That’s okay. She’s not squeezing out the window unless she can shapeshift into a chipmunk, and as to why she’s sticking by me… we’re back to that nice business again. I can practically feel her concern for Keelie Sue.

  Unless of course she’s playing me. I consider that possibility for a few seconds. Maybe the nice thing is just a really brilliant act and she’s magically escaping my entirely undungeon-like bathroom right now. I should totally check. Make sure she’s going nowhere.

  I shove the door open hard enough that it bounces off the wall and leaves a mark I’ll have to fix. Wait. Stupid fuck. Reformed me is supposed to stop and think before he acts—because what if Rain had been standing too close to the door and I pulled my Rambo number? All that wood bouncing off her soft, pretty skin? I could have hurt her.

  And I… don’t like thinking about that.

  It’s not like I’m gonna give her a party favor bag when she leaves, but I definitely don’t want her to leave bruised. Or hurting, scared, or anything but pleased. And yes, I’ve got a million ideas on how to please her.

  Which, from the angry expression on her face, is the exact opposite of what I’m doing right now. She’s nowhere near the door. Or the window. Or even doing bathroom things.

  “Knock,” she demands. “It’s what polite people do.”

  She’s not actually doing anything that requires privacy. She’s just sitting on the side of the tub, arms wrapped around herself. I smell toothpaste, but my brush is dry. And when I lift her hand to my mouth, I catch a whiff of mint. Just to make sure, I wrap my fingers around hers and lick. What she tastes like is easy to figure out, but my best theory about what she’s feeling is harder. And why the fuck do I care if she’s sad or shit?

  “Come on,” I say a little too gruffly.

  I take her hand again because I like doing that. Be happy to hold onto other parts of her too, if I’m being honest, but I need to prioritize. Look but don’t touch, at least until Keelie Sue’s safe and squared away. This time her fingers curl around mine, like maybe she needs to hang onto something or someone, too. Or maybe that’s just my fucked up imagination, the same one that’s considering suggesting my ass or my dick as a convenient handle. Not that I need anyone to lead me around.

  Instead I take her straight to the bed. Lights are off because I’ve got wolf eyes and can see just fine in the dark. Rain doesn’t and can’t, but she follows me out of the bright of the bathroom, reaching behind her to kill the light switch. Guess she doesn’t want to waste energy. And then she lets me tow her through the darkness.

  “Get in.” I pat the mattress with my free hand.

  “Fang.” She sort of sighs my name, but it’s not a happy sound. Not the kind of breathless whisper-moan my girl should be making when my dick’s deep inside her and she’s about to come. She’s thinking about other, less pleasant shit. “Tell me why.”

  “You want me to explain the meaning of the universe or you want a bedtime story?”

  “Kidnapping’s wrong,” she says instead of answering my question.

  “But it got me what I wanted,” I point out. “We’ve been over this.”

  She’s silent for a moment, but I can hear her thinking. I let go of her hand because otherwise I’ve got to crawl over her to get in, and there’s no way I’m not sleeping by
her side tonight. She’d be out that door in a flash, and I can’t let her go yet. Plus, my wolf thinks we belong there, curled up against her, and while my wolf’s got plenty of fucked up ideas, I’m kind of on board with this one. If I don’t like it, I can move, right?

  I saunter around the bed. Not sure her eyes have adjusted to the dark yet, but I can feel her watching me, trying to figure me out. When I reach the other side of the bed, I toe off my boots, shove my knife under my pillow, and shuck my shirt. Usually, I’d lose the pants too, but I don’t want Rain thinking I’m about to make a move on her. Sure, I’d love to, but my dick doesn’t crash the party. I won’t go where I’m not invited.

  Mostly.

  I drop onto the bed. I weigh a shit-ton more than Rain, so the mattress goes down on my side and she rolls straight into my side. I wrap an arm around her because I don’t want her falling off the bed or anything. She tenses, but fuck me, I kept my jeans on. It’s not like my dick’s not gonna accidentally end up in her pussy, but she clearly needs a distraction.

  “Are you gonna have me arrested?” Am I worried about that? Not at all. She’s got no proof and my pretty face is like a get-out-of-jail-free card. Any human cops she drags into this will think I brought her home, we fucked, and now she’s pissed off at me for dumping her ass. My pack’s another story, but I’m working on a plan for them, too.

  “Can I leave? Right now?” She answers my question with one of her own.

  “Sure.” I slide my free arm beneath my head and stare up at my ceiling. I’d rather be looking at her face as she bounces up and down on my dick rather than paint and beams, but life’s not perfect.

  Christ, I really want to fuck her. She’s the prettiest, sassiest, smartest woman I’ve met, and I want her mouth all over my dick. Licking me up, down, all around. Our kiss earlier was amazing, so of course I want more. Lots, lots more.

  She slides down and out of the bed, and then walks around and stands there, staring down at me. See, this is one of those tests women like to give, a pop quiz in male-female relations. She wants to make a point about being independent and not being my toy, and that’s fine with me. I need her happy, and I need her willing or she won’t be any use at all to Keelie Sue. So I force myself to lie there in the bed, relaxed when I really want to pounce on her and pull her beneath me. She’s small enough that she wouldn’t stand a chance against someone as big as me, and then I could—