Bad Wolf (A Breed MC Book Book 5)

by Anne Marsh

  While Rain gets up and takes a rushed shower, I load her to-go cup with a cold can of Coke. Her kitchen’s way prettier than mine. It’s all white with white marble countertops and shiny silver handles. Kind of like a snowstorm and a fairy fucked and this was the result. Flowers everywhere because, like babies, Rain’s never met a flower she didn’t like. Thank fuck she doesn’t have time for pets or she’d probably be owned by a dozen cats.

  When Rain rushes in ten minutes later, dressed in scrubs and sneakers, I hand her the drink. The woman loves her caffeine. She drinks multiple cans a day, although she switches to diet after lunch. I’m amazed she ever gets to sleep at night.

  Since I’m not sure what to say, I go with what I’d say to one of my brothers. “Kick ass.”

  “Thanks.” She flashes me a smile, reaches up to press a kiss against my mouth, and flies out the door. I follow. Guess I’m gonna play the little lady and wave her off. It’s Saturday, I’ve met my editor’s deadlines, and Jace doesn’t have any club business for me. I’m thinking I’ll head down to the local plumbing supply store and see what I can do in the way of upgrading Rain’s bathtub. Given the way my dick and I feel about her, her pussy’s gonna keep on getting a major workout, so I should probably plan ahead.

  I’ve barely reached the front door when Rain comes flying back. “Problem?”

  She’s supposed to be halfway to the birthing center by now, so I’m guessing the answer is yes.

  Her gaze flicks up and down my body. I do look awesome. I’m rocking a half-buttoned pair of jeans and nothing else. My ink’s on full display.

  “Put some clothes on,” she hisses.

  That’s new.

  “My car won’t start.”

  Also new, but not so surprising given that her vehicle is big on being eco-friendly and there’s nothing safer for the environment than a car that doesn’t run.

  “You want me to fix it?”

  She thinks about my offer for a nanosecond and then shakes her head. “Later. I need to get to the birthing center now.”

  I nod. “And you want me to be your noble steed. Got it.”

  She knows me well enough to clarify. Otherwise, I’d totally offer her pony sex. “Take me to the clinic?”

  “Two minutes,” I tell her.

  I may tease her, but I also haul ass and yank on my boots, a T-shirt, and my cut. I rode my bike to Rain’s last night, so I’m actually not comfortable just handing over my keys. Not only is my bike my baby, but Rain’s never ridden before. I’m happy to teach her everything I know, but now is not the time.

  Plus, she asked me. You can wipe that smile off your face. I’m not a good guy. If I were an angel, the only thing I’d be using that halo for is opening beer cans. But this makes Rain happy, and happy Rain is gonna make me happy in bed. That’s how this works. Plus, I should check out her professional qualifications and this is my firsthand opportunity.

  When I go back out, she’s by my bike. I hand her the helmet. My head’s hard. I don’t need it, but I’m not taking chances with Rain. She shoves it on and waits impatiently until I’m straddling the bike before she slides on behind me. We’ve ridden together and she knows the drill. She puts on my leather jacket and then tightens her hands over my stomach. She’s not falling or getting hurt, not on my watch.

  We peel out of her driveway and I get her to the birthing center in record time. Since it’s Saturday, the parking lot is almost empty. There’s a minivan and a beater car parked right in front, and I pull up next to them. No parking underneath the berry tree for me today.

  Rain is off the bike almost before I stop. It’s amazing how she changes as she approaches the front door. One minute we’re lovers and I’m loving her, naked and flushed, and the next, she’s this put-together medical professional, calm and collected. Christ, her scrubs are hot.

  I follow her inside since she’s not sticking around to tell me not to. The waiting room is empty and Front Desk Gal is missing, probably off enjoying her Saturday. It’s pretty clear where the action is happening because childbirth makes more noise than my last fistfight. A slightly weedy-looking guy sporting a beat-up wedding band and a faceful of whiskery scruff hovers outside the doorway of the room from where the noise is emanating.

  He gives me a sickly look as I approach. “You having a baby too?”

  I’m not the kind of guy that others try to get friendly with, but he’s clearly willing to give it a shot. Or maybe misery just loves company.

  “I’m with the midwife,” I tell him.

  “Oh.” He nods and stares at me for a couple of seconds, maybe trying to imagine me and Rain in bed together. I give him a pass because baby-having is way less fun than baby-making. Judging from the sounds of things, he’s definitely a good nine months past the fun-having stage of things.

  “You’re not gonna go inside?” I jerk my head toward the closed door.

  “In a minute.” Baby daddy looks a little green. “They’re checking things out right now.”

  Yeah. I can imagine there are things that are better left unseen. On the other hand, that’s his mate in there. If it were me—no. Fucking hold on a minute. That’s never gonna be me. I’m not the kind of wolf who mates, let alone the kind who becomes a baby daddy.

  The door flies open and Rain strides out. She looks calm and collected. Baby daddy exhales visibly with relief. Rain’s the alpha of this pack and she’s taking charge of the situation.

  “Missy’s ready for you to come in now.” She pats baby daddy on the arm.

  “Okay.” His voice gets reedier. “Is she—”

  “Missy’s doing great,” Rain says. She radiates confidence. “But she’ll do even better with you by her side.”

  Baby daddy swallows but steps inside. I sort of make to follow him—fuck if I know why except that I like being near Rain—and she holds up a hand. “You stay outside.”

  A small smile plays at the corners of her mouth. I’m not sure, but I think she might think I’m fucking cute. I’ll have to disabuse her of that notion later.

  “I could be helpful,” I point out. I have no idea what I could do inside that room—it’s unlikely that anything needs killing or fucking—but I make the offer anyhow.

  Rain shakes her head. “There are so many things wrong with that statement that I don’t know where to start. Let’s start with these two words: patient confidentiality.”

  She thinks for a moment. “And these three words: trained medical professional.”

  Details.

  “If Missy were having her baby in a ditch or we were trapped in a cave, you’d let me help.”

  Outside of the bedroom, Rain isn’t the most imaginative person. The look on her face makes it clear that A) we’re in neither a ditch nor a cave and that B) Rain would totally trap me in a cave right now if she could.

  “I’ll see you later,” she says firmly.

  She goes back inside the birthing room, shutting the door firmly behind her. I value my balls and my dick in their natural, pristine, whole state, so I don’t open it. Even though I totally want to.

  “I’ll be right here if you need me,” I holler. Unfortunately, Missy is now making so much noise that I’m pretty sure no one hears me. I’ll bet Missy’s a screamer in bed because she holds nothing back. For a lady giving birth, she’s amazingly articulate. In the next hour, I learn all about Daniel’s sex life (I’m assuming Daniel is her Mr. and baby daddy), how said sex life is over (bad luck, chump), and exactly what Missy’s body is doing. She likes to catalog her symptoms out loud and some of the things I read in What to Expect When You’re Expecting suddenly make horrible sense.

  Rain’s voice reaches me now and then, calm and patient. The nurse-person assisting her comes and goes, fetching stuff. I catch a quick glimpse of the room before I can remind myself to not look. I’d expected a sterile hospital room, maybe something with a table and lots of beeping equipment. Instead, Rain has made a peaceful, quiet den for Missy and her mate. There’s a queen-sized bed with
soft sheets, muted lights, some kind of music, and candles. Missy’s in a tub in a corner of the room and Daniel’s climbed in behind her, supporting her against his chest as she arches into another contraction.

  And… childbirth’s still the grossest, most horrifying thing I’ve ever seen. Honestly, I’m not sure my dick can handle going anywhere near Rain now that I’ve seen what can come out of a woman. It’s like trying to piss a prize-winning watermelon out your weiner. But it’s something else, too. I have to admit that. Rain’s amazing. She cares for that woman in the birthing pool, just like my brothers look out for me and for each other. I want this level for Keelie Sue. There’s something happening in there and it’s… special.

  Childbirth is traumatic. Not sure how Danny boy’s making out—or if he’s ever making out again—but I’m not sure how I feel about sticking my dick anywhere it can make babies. When I point this out to Rain, she just laughs at me and counters with something high-school obvious. There’s a whole lot of places I can go that won’t grow babies. At this rate, we’re gonna wear my dick out. After I come on her boobs, her stomach, and (my new favorite) between the cheeks of her ass since she still won’t let me in the back door, I’m feeling a whole lot better about pussies and penises and potential baby-making.

  I’m just glad werewolves don’t breed easy.

  And the funny thing is, even if we weren’t banging like storm shutters in the rain, I’d enjoy spending time with Rain. Not only is she hot as fuck in bed, but she’s a lot of fun even when she’s fully dressed. She’s got a mouth on her, she’s confident, and yet she’s also strangely sweet. Sure, I still don’t understand what spills out of her mouth half the time, but trying to figure it out is also fun.

  The weeks after my assist at the birthing center speed by on fast forward. And while I’m not big on words, being more of an action man, I’m learning to compromise. Take this weekend, for instance. I’ve taken Rain out on the bayou for a little fishing and a few cold beers. After I do all of the work catching the dinner she’s not gonna eat because apparently fish have faces and feelings too, I let us float aimlessly along the bayou. She lies next to me on the sun-warmed floor of the boat, staring up at the canopy of trees and Spanish moss floating past us. Her fingers are laced with mine and occasionally she gives them a tug when there’s something she thinks I should see.

  Ordinarily, I’d want more action. The best adjectives to describe wham, bam, thank you ma’am are speedy, satisfying, and one-and-done. Not sure that last’s an adjective, but you get the point. I don’t slow my roll and I don’t hang around when my dick’s not getting any loving. I hate when girls get clingy and start talking about an us and future plans. I don’t think about tomorrow, let alone next week, next month, or next date.

  Somehow Rain’s different though. Our fingers fit together, our hands touching, her skin brushing against mine. It feels good. Not orgasmic good, although I’d be willing to give it a shot if that was what Rain wanted. But just good. Right. Peaceful.

  She turns her head, switching her gaze from the trees to me. “You want another beer?”

  I stashed a six-pack in the cooler and we’ve both had one. “I’m good.”

  I don’t need the chemical rush when I’ve got Rain, plus beer’s not gonna help my driving any. Not as if I’m worried about getting pulled over for driving under the influence, but I’m not about to risk Rain’s safety.

  “Great,” she sighs.

  I laugh. “Was that a test? You wondering if I’m gonna have problems stopping at one? Because there’s only one thing I’m addicted too, sweetheart, and it’s you.”

  Rain shifts her gaze back to the trees. “Maybe.”

  “Did I pass?” If she’s testing me, I want an A.

  A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. “Yeah.”

  I feel the need to be completely honest, which is strange. Still, I go with it. “Because I have to admit that I’ve had my share of nights where I’ve drunk more than I should. Club likes to party. It’s no big deal.”

  Her fingers tighten on mine. “But not every night.”

  “Nope,” I agree. “Got better things to occupy my time. Shit’s fun, but it’d be like having cake for breakfast seven days a week. Cake’s gonna be stale by the weekend and I’ll end up fat and gassy.”

  She doesn’t laugh. Instead, she gives a little shrug. Her eyes might get glassy too. “Dave liked cake. He liked cake a lot.”

  “He drank.” It’s a statement, not a question. I smelled the guy when he showed up in Rain’s driveway.

  “Always.” Her face is sad. “Drinking came first. He started as soon as he was done with work. When he finished one beer, he’d open the next. Sometimes, he added whiskey. And then sometimes he’d go out or he’d tell me he had to work late. I have crazy hours, so I didn’t question it at first. He’s good at his job.”

  I raise her hand to my mouth and brush a kiss over the back of her fingers. Not sure what to say. And maybe I don’t have to find any words. Maybe just being here with her is enough because she gives a little sigh and squeezes my fingers again.

  “I guess I just need to hear that you’re not going to do that.”

  “No drinking,” I agree.

  “No secrets,” she counters.

  I pull her on top of me, so she’s looking at me instead of the trees. “You got secrets, baby?”

  She shrugs. “I’m not that interesting.”

  Is she right?

  Not a chance.

  Fair isn’t in the universe’s vocabulary. I don’t care how hard you try or don’t try—at some point she’s gonna hand you a bag of dog poo when you asked for candy. And then sometimes you end up with champagne in your glass instead of tap water. Rain’s the highest end, most expensive, abso-fucking-lutely amazing champagne and I in no way deserve her. I’m sure we’re in total agreement on that.

  Just in case she starts noticing that, I reach up and pull her head down to mine and get busy kissing her. Kissing I’m good at.

  “Here?” She giggles long minutes later.

  “You bet.” I don’t stop kissing her, though, and she must not mind because she kisses me right back, wrapping her arms around me and holding me tight.

  Our club hosts the best parties. Take tonight’s little get-together for instance. It’s two in the morning, the music’s blasting, and the beer is still cold as fuck. My brothers and packmates crowd the clubhouse, laughing and giving each other shit. A few pass-arounds dance up a storm in the center of the floor. The dress code is leather and short; the accessory of the hour is a hot pair of stripper heels. As a result, the pool tables in the back of the clubhouse are seeing plenty of action, and not just the cue stick kind. I’m sure this is how Rain gets some of her business.

  Rain.

  I tap my fingers on the bar. I’m in look-don’t-touch mode tonight, nursing a single beer, and she’s the reason why. I thought about inviting her but then I didn’t. The MC is dark and gritty. It sucks in some ways that I fit in here so well. I’m a straight-up killer and violence is practically my middle name. Before I got to know Rain, I wouldn’t have hesitated. I’d have brought her here, danced with her, fucked her up against a wall. And I’d have spoiled something special.

  I still want her here, but as one of the old ladies. Some of my brothers and packmates have old ladies now, and somehow they’ve made it work. Since inside intel would be good, I go looking for Ware. He’s recently mated—maybe he can shed some light on it.

  I find him leaning against the bar at the back of the clubhouse, watching the single brothers whoop it up on the dance floor.

  I hop up on the bar beside him. There’s probably a subtle way to approach this, but we’ve already established that I don’t do subtle. “You have an old lady.”

  Ware doesn’t look happy to discuss his mate. “Yeah.”

  My fingers tap out a quick rhythm on my thigh. “How’s that work?”

  His face darkens. “Are you fucking with me?”

  Th
is is the problem with my reputation. No one expects a serious question to come out of my mouth. Ordinarily, I’d roll with it and give him shit about his balls serving a lifetime sentence in pussy prison, but I actually want to hear his answer. So I man up and try again.

  “I’m not gonna fuck with you over that.”

  “Right.” He takes a swig from his bottle and stares at me over the rim.

  Fuck me. He’s going to demand an explanation. “I’ve got this thing with Rain.”

  He knows who she is. He was there when I gift-wrapped her and delivered her to the club, which is the kind of entrance that sticks in a guy’s head. Only thing better would have been Rain pulling a Marilyn Monroe and jumping out of a cake. Maybe wearing one of those star-spangled bikinis or nothing. Then I could lick the frosting off her, do some celebrating. I’ll have to suggest it for my birthday. I…

  “Focus,” Ware growls. “Tell me about this thing.”

  He says thing but what he really means is what the fuck have you done now and am I gonna have to fix it? It sucks that my packmate believes I can’t be up to any good with an awesome woman like Rain, but I’ll be honest. I’ve earned his distrust. I’m a fucking machine, screwing my way through the pass-arounds. And then there’s my royal fuck-up with Keelie Sue.

  “She had a guy problem. So to make shit up to her, I was helping out with her ex. She needed some pretty muscle to run him off and teach him a lesson.” I shrug. “I’m good at that. It was fun pretending to be her boyfriend. We weren’t supposed to be really seeing each other, but now I think we are.”

  Ware sets his bottle down with a loud click. “I thought Jace told you to stay the fuck away from her.”

  “He told me not to do anything she didn’t ask for. Rain has more requests than a DJ.”

  “You’re fucking her?” Ware sounds incredulous. I’m not sure if he’s more upset that I’ve violated Jace’s no-fly zone or if it’s that I’ve talked a pissed-off, classy woman like Rain into letting me into her bed. Either way, I don’t like Ware using that word. It feels… wrong. Or like it’s not enough. Pretty sure he reads the tension in my body right because he bristles.