by Sofia Grey
Had he stayed the night? No, she’d remember that.
All she wanted was to revive herself with some caffeine and aspirin. She didn’t want to be accosted by her brothers. Hugh strolled in first, a smirk on his face. “Morning, sis. You seen Dad yet?”
“No.” She busied herself spooning coffee grains into the pot, slow and precise. “It’s Saturday.” Their father was rarely home on a Saturday morning. “And what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be out looking at houses with Sharon.”
“It’s Sherron, you pipsqueak. You know she hates people pronouncing it wrong.”
Megan hid her smile. “Whatever. You know, for someone supposedly ‘in lurve,’ you’re not making much headway finding your own place. Twenty-seven years old and still mooching off Mum and Dad.”
“Says the girl so pissed that she had to be carried in from her cab.” Alex’s scathing voice made her cringe. “What the hell did you get up to last night?”
Why was the bloody coffee still not ready? She plunged anyway and poured the thin brew into the first mug that came to hand. Gah! It tasted feeble. “I went to Mighty Mike’s with Nessa and Lou.”
“What about Sasha?” Hugh cocked his head and stared at her. She felt like a bug under a microscope.
“What about him?” How did he know about Sasha?
“You went out to dinner with Phillip. You came home with Sasha. Unconscious, I might add.” Shit.
“I dumped Phillip.”
“Before or after Sasha beat him up?”
Angry now, she whirled round to speak to her brother, uncaring that the coffee splashed down her T-shirt. Alex leaned against the table, arms folded. It wasn’t fair that they tag-teamed her like this. “He didn’t…How do you know about that?”
“He rang Dad. All very dignified, he didn’t make a fuss, but he wanted to warn him in case the local journos caught wind of the story.”
Yeah, right. Megan wished she’d kneed Phillip in the bollocks too.
* * * *
Sasha picked up his cell phone and checked the time. Again. Come on, Jake. His Alpha was on the road somewhere and said he’d call back for a full update later. With the time difference, it was still early evening for Jake and it might be hours before he phoned. Meanwhile, Sasha had things to do. He needed to keep busy to avoid thinking about last night and the girl who might be his Mate. The idea was too scary to contemplate.
How had he entered her dream so easily?
If he was right, this whole maybe-Mate business was nothing more than a temporary urge brought on by something at the nightclub. The way to find out would be to see her again, see if the attraction was still as strong. His wolf rumbled its approval.
A sharp rap at the door heralded Dion’s arrival. His friend dangled a set of keys between his fingers and jingled them. “You sure you wanna borrow Bessie? We need her back tonight. We’ve a gig.”
“Thanks, dude.” Sasha took the keys and they bumped knuckles. Bessie might be an old and on-it’s-last-legs van, but it was a set of wheels he now had use of for the day. He could get back to Megan’s, if nothing else, to pick up his clothes. He’d left them underneath a dry bush and run home in wolf form, with his cell phone and wallet between his teeth. Her mansion sat atop a crest of land that overlooked the city and getting home had been easy, once Sasha oriented himself. It wasn’t so easy controlling his wolf’s urge to run back to Megan.
Dion settled himself at the tiny kitchen table. “So. Where are you going?” He gave Sasha an appraising look. “Don’t tell me you scored a date with her.”
He grinned in reply. “I didn’t.” He hadn’t. Not yet. “Where’s the gig?” Dion played bass in a local rock band and if Sasha went along to help with the kit, he usually got a few free beers. He also usually scored with the chicks from the audience, but he didn’t care about that tonight.
“It’s a big one.” Dion rubbed his hands together. “Mighty Mike’s, down by Cuba Street. As much beer as even you can swill, my friend.” Sasha’s phone finally burst into life with a raucous guitar solo and he grabbed it. Jake.
“Thanks, Dee. Call you later.” He ushered his friend out, closed the door and sank into one of the wooden chairs, then accepted the Facetime invitation. Jake’s face appeared moments later.
“Little cousin. How was the meet with the kiwi wolves?” Sasha couldn’t tell from his Alpha’s expression if he was angry or pleased.
“Yeah, the meet. Not so good. They gave me crap about you mating with a non-shifter and it kinda went downhill from there. I had a girl with me though, and that didn’t help, so I’m waiting for them to arrange another meet.”
“Yeah, I heard.”
Sasha cringed inwardly. “You talked to Connor?”
“Yeah.” There was a long silence and Sasha tried to think of something intelligent to say. He settled for honesty.
“I fucked it up.” He could feel the weight of Jake’s disappointment and his stomach cramped.
“Don’t beat yourself up. I think Connor is a naturally suspicious bastard, and that’s not a bad thing. He wasn’t impressed with your timekeeping, but he liked your girl and you earned some respect from looking after her.” Jake gave him a half-smile. “What’s the story there? You arrived late, spattered with fresh blood—human—and it put them on edge.”
“It’s a long story, can I tell you another time? I’m supposed to be going out soon and there’s something I wanted to ask you about first.”
Sasha outlined his concerns about the shifters at the club, their wild behavior in front of humans, and Lou’s story of wolves being seen in the mountains. As he predicted, Jake took him seriously.
“You’re being careful where you run, I hope?”
“Of course. It’s not easy finding wild spaces here without hunters. This damn country is full of people shooting the wildlife. You name it, if it moves, they friggin’ shoot it.”
“Weird. So much free space, and yet so little to roam in.”
“Yeah, at least in this part of the country. Maybe that’s why they go wild at the club, to let off steam?”
“Maybe.” Jake frowned and scratched his chin. “I’m half tempted to ask you to go back there, talk to a few wolves and see what they know. With a pack so large, Connor might be stretching himself too far.”
“Sure. I’m going back there tonight anyway.” Sasha gave his Alpha a confident grin. “Listening to gossip in a crowded bar? I can do that.”
*
To Megan’s surprise, Hugh gave her Sasha’s phone number as she stormed back to the sanctuary of her room. “I’m not saying you should see him again, but he’s got balls. I liked that.” He recounted her arrival the night before and then winked. “If he fucks you about, we’ll break his legs. It’s that simple.”
Should she call him? What would she say? Sorry I passed out on you last night and by the way, I apologize for my brothers threatening you. Nope, she didn’t like that option. Maybe a text would be better. She stared out of the window and groped for inspiration. His jacket. She could arrange to meet, to give him back his jacket. Perfect.
Megan perched on the edge of her bed, phone in one hand, Sasha’s jacket in the other. The leather was soft, old and battered. It looked much worn and loved. He’d want it back. She thought a moment longer, composed the text in her head, and then tapped it out.
Hi. Thx for bringing me home last night. You left yr jacket. I can meet u in town later and bring it back? Let me know. Megan
He might still be in bed. She imagined how he’d look, all sleepy and rumpled, soft hair sliding across his forehead, and cheeks shadowed with scruff. He turned me down. He’s not interested. Had she dreamed the part where he said he wanted to see her again?
A soft beep had her clutching the phone, too nervous to look straight away.
Good morning gorgeous. Wanna meet for lunch? I can pick u up.
Ha! Megan laughed aloud and flopped back onto the bed, phone pressed against her heart. He already has picked me up
.
Yes pls. What time? U sure u want to see my bros again? Sorry they gave you a hard time :-/
He replied instantly.
Noon ok? Your bros are looking out for u. I respect that.
Noon. Two hours away. She went in search of Hugh and Alex, and found them tinkering with Hugh’s car in the garage. “Boys, I’m seeing Sasha for lunch. He’s picking me up and I’m asking you, please, play nicely. Okay?” Identical skeptical expressions met her little speech. “I can hurt you in ways you haven’t even dreamed of. The things I could tell Sherron and Jilly.” She gave them an innocent smile and beat a hasty retreat back to her room. What the hell was she going to wear? Whatever she chose, it’d have sexy lingerie underneath. Just in case.
Chapter 8
Even empty, the van struggled up the hills out of Wellington, but Sasha made it to the outskirts of Megan’s place in plenty of time. First stop was the strip of native bush to collect his clothes, then up the fuck-me-it’s-miles-long private driveway to the house. It seemed even bigger in daylight and he sat and composed himself for a moment before he climbed out. A twinge of pain in his gut made him wince. He’d felt odd since that damned club. Had they slipped something into his solitary beer? His wolf sat alert and eager, scratching at him to go find her, taste her. Megan. He slammed the door shut on that trail of thought, but straightened his back and headed for the house.
The front door swung open when he was a few steps away. Yep, one of the Hellspawn brothers again. The one who’d taken his number.
“Back so soon?” The man cocked an eyebrow. “You didn’t believe me about the shotgun?”
Sasha stood his ground, even with his wolf growling fit to burst. “Thanks for passing on my number. I’m taking Megan to lunch.”
“In that rust-bucket? Jeez. Is it even legal?”
“It’s fine.” Sasha stared back, not giving an inch. “Should I wait here?”
“Hugh.” Megan appeared, shoving at the guy where he blocked the doorway. “I told you.” She glared at her brother and then turned her gaze onto Sasha. Dear God. Just the sight of her was enough to make him weak at the knees.
He drank in her appearance. A long and clingy striped dress outlined every delectable curve and a round neckline hinted at the cleavage that lay beneath. Glossy dark hair tumbled over one shoulder and as he stared, speechless with longing, she slid a pair of shades over her eyes and stepped forward. He pulled himself together, aware that his wolf whined, desperate for her touch. “Hey.” As greetings went, he sounded simpleminded, but her smile had that effect on him.
“Hey, yourself.” She glanced over her shoulder and Sasha followed her stare. “Seeing as we skipped the introductions last night, Hugh this is Sasha, and Sasha this is one of my brothers, Hugh.” She took another step closer and he inhaled her scent, the caramel and spice making his spine tingle and his head fuzzy. “You also met Alex, but we’ll save him for another time. Shall we go?”
Jesus, he’d be dribbling in a minute. “Yeah.”
She stopped. “Hang on, I forgot something.” Before he could get his tongue around any kind of speech, she turned and hurried back into the house. He stared helpless, only sharpening when Hugh advanced.
“You look after her, or you answer to us.”
Sasha felt a flicker of irritation. This was shaping up to be a perfect day apart from her asshole brother. “Just what do you have against me?”
Hugh stared at the van and then back at Sasha. “I want better for her.”
Megan’s reappearance prevented any further conversation. She carried Sasha’s jacket and with a smile, handed it to him. It was tempting to lift it to his nose and sniff, but he stopped himself. His jacket was drenched in her scent and it smelled like heaven.
*
Megan didn’t care that her brothers seemed to hate Sasha on sight. She didn’t care that the van he drove looked as though its next stop would be the scrap heap, and now she’d thought about it, she didn’t even mind that he’d turned her down last night. He was here now and looking so edible she hoped he’d be the dessert course.
“Nice wheels,” she deadpanned.
He snorted with laughter. “Bessie is a workhorse and I borrowed her from a mate. I don’t think she’s ever been described as ‘nice wheels’.”
“Bessie?”
“You don’t name your car?” He sounded surprised, but flashed her a teasing grin as he maneuvered onto the highway. “Dion’s in a band, the BB’s. He won’t tell me who the real Bessie is, but I have my suspicions.”
“His girlfriend?”
Sasha peeked over his sunglasses at her. “A fortune teller that told him he’d make it big one day.”
Megan giggled. “Sure you don’t have any Irish in you? Sounds like you’ve got the gift of the gab.”
“You know how to hurt a guy.” He didn’t sound upset. “You hungry?” His wolfish smile flashed at her and she placed a hand on her stomach to calm the butterflies.
“For lunch?”
He made an odd noise, almost a growl and then reached out for her hand. Linking their fingers together, he rested them on his thigh and she blinked. Oh boy. She’d really bitten off more than she could chew. His hand was warm and slightly rough, the fingers long and nails short. Working on a construction site must be a grubby job, but he obviously kept himself clean. It was hard not to imagine his strong hands peeling away her clothes, sliding up her thighs, cupping her breasts. She squirmed in the seat. Don’t be too easy.
Drawing a quick breath, she took note of their route. North and away from the city. “Where are we going?”
“It’s a beautiful day. I thought we’d have a picnic.” He lifted her fingers to his mouth and dropped a casual kiss on the knuckles. Her heart skittered. “Do you like picnics, gorgeous wife-to-be?”
I’d like anything if you were there too. “You had my friends guessing last night. I’m sure they thought you were serious.”
“Can’t have that.” Another kiss grazed her hand. Was it hot in here? She struggled to catch her breath. “What did they mean about your father? Something about publicity.” Another kiss that threatened to make her melt. “Is he a film star?”
“A politician.” It came out as a squeak. “He wants to be prime minister one day.”
“Ah. So dating a lowly construction worker might not be what he planned for you.” Dating? He wanted more than just one day with her? She was so on board with that idea. She almost missed his next words. “Are you still seeing the other guy?”
Other guy? Her brain caught up slowly. “You mean Phillip? The guy in the restaurant?” Sasha nodded, eyes fixed on the road ahead. “I dumped him at the dinner table. That’s why he chased after me.” Now that she had the power of coherent speech, her mouth was running into overdrive. “His parents know my dad and everyone seemed to assume that we’d hit it off together.”
“And did you?”
“If I did, I wouldn’t be here now. With you.”
* * * *
Sasha took her to a quiet grassy area by the side of a large curving inlet, a short drive from the city. The sea was quiet today and the sheltered water calm and still; the only noise was bird song and the ever-present cicadas rasping in the trees. He snagged Megan’s hand as they walked away from the van, and the action felt very comfortable. His wolf felt so chilled out, it was practically asleep. “Where do you fancy?”
She pointed to an area of dappled sunlight. “It’s too hot to sit in the sun.” She’d already taken off her sandals and they dangled from her free hand.
“Good choice.” He dug into his backpack, produced a thin red blanket and with a flourish, laid it on the grass. “That’s the seating taken care of. Now for the feast.” Funds were low, but he’d been able to buy some crusty bread rolls, fresh ham and sliced cheese. With ripe peaches for dessert, it made an easy meal and he set it out carefully.
He turned to see her staring at the blanket, a curious look on her face. “This is weird,” she murmured.
“Too weird.”
Sasha looked back at the picnic. Nope, it looked fine to him. “I don’t understand. What’s wrong?”
She glanced at the shoes in her hand and then back at the blanket. “I dreamed about you last night.” Her words were soft and Sasha smiled inside. Fuck yeah, he remembered that dream too. He wished the cab had taken just a little longer to get to her house. Hang on, what did she just say?
“I was sitting on the blanket. This blanket. My shoes were on the grass.” Huh? She didn’t mean the dream about the club? He hastened to pay attention. “I don’t remember much more.” She hid a smile, her cheeks coloring as she looked at him. It seemed the quiet and demure Megan had hidden depths.
Sasha blew out a breath as he stared at her. God, he had to have her. And soon. He was half-hard just at her voice, but now thinking about her probably horny dream, his dick stiffened further. Thank heaven he wore loose fitting denims. He tried to ignore his hard-on and ask her a sensible question. “Do you, uh, have precognitive dreams often?”
She shrugged. “I have recurring dreams, but I’ve never had one that’s come true, not in so much detail.” Her free hand played with the ends of her hair and Sasha’s wolf whined. His beast needed to be closer, to touch her. Soon. He had another try at gathering his thoughts. Food. Serve the food.
“My beautiful wife-to-be. Lunch is served.” As a final touch, he’d made some lemonade using his mother’s recipe, and decanted it into a plastic water bottle. He unwrapped two glass tumblers and carefully poured some for her to try.
She sipped it cautiously. “It’s delicious. Did you make it?” He topped up her glass.
“I did. I’m not a complete imbecile in the kitchen.”
“Unlike my brothers. They’re useless with anything domestic.”
Sasha filled a bread roll for Megan and presented it to her. “My mother wanted to make sure we’d be capable of looking after ourselves when we left home. I’m no chef, but I can cook basic stuff, so I don’t have to rely on takeaways.”