Filthy Wolf

by Liza Street

Shaking her head, she said, “How do you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Say something that pisses me off, in such a sexy way.”

  He laughed—he couldn’t help it.

  “There you go again,” she said. “Pissing me off.”

  “C’mere, Jessica.”

  Her eyes widened. He could easily get lost in those chocolate depths. She took one step toward him, then another.

  “You look so pretty in my shirt,” he whispered, reaching forward to touch the edge of the collar where it met her skin.

  “I—” She didn’t finish the sentence, her breath hitching.

  “You what?”

  “I…I don’t know.”

  “Tell me you don’t want me to touch you.” He couldn’t keep the raw need from his voice.

  Her eyes flashed, and she placed one of her hands over his, holding it against her neck and bringing it to her nape, where he’d gripped her yesterday. She took his other arm and brought it to her waist. “I want you to touch me, Marcus.”

  Whatever she wanted, he would give her. Even if it wasn’t good for her in the end.

  He was just selfish enough for that.

  11

  Marcus’s kiss was soft. It asked permission, much the way he had with his words. And when she gave permission, opening her mouth to him and allowing the kiss to deepen, he took more. His tongue dipped into her mouth, warm and sensuous. He tasted like the woods, sharp and clean. When he gently pulled back so they could breathe, Jessica couldn’t help her whimper of dismay.

  “More?” he asked, his voice gruff.

  “Yes. More.”

  This time he squeezed the back of her neck, holding her in place so he could ravage her mouth. She gasped into the kiss and curled her hands around his shoulders. This kiss—his mouth, his lips—short-circuited her brain. Thinking was impossible. All was sensation. Taste—fresh forest. Scent—moss and male musk. Touch—the rough hairs on his arms, the firm press of his lips against hers. Sound—their heavy breathing, the pounding of her heart.

  She couldn’t remember ever wanting a man like she wanted Marcus. His muscles rippled beneath her touch, his lips moved against her mouth in a command. He adjusted his grip on her neck, tilting her head back, and trailed kisses down her throat. She shivered, not because she was cold, but because her body didn’t know how to handle all of this pleasure.

  He let go of her neck to slide his hand down between her breasts over the shirt. When he reached the hem, he paused.

  “Yes,” Jessica whispered. “Take it off.”

  She felt his lips moving as he grinned against the hollow of her throat.

  “You’re eager, aren’t you?”

  “Have you seen you?” she asked. “Of course I’m eager. Ravish me, muscle man.”

  “Gladly.”

  He left the shirt on her, but unfastened her jean shorts. When his hot fingers dipped below the waistband of her panties, she couldn’t help the wanton moan that escaped her throat. Yes—this would ease the tension that had been building between them for two days.

  “I’m going to take care of you,” he whispered against her neck before nipping her ear, then licking away the sting.

  “Yes,” she said.

  He slid his fingers against her folds, which were already slick with her arousal. “You’re going to come on my fingers, Jessica. Do you want to come?”

  “Yes.” Her entire body felt alight with need. His dirty talk was doing it for her. That, and his scorching touch and wicked kisses.

  He pressed one finger inside of her and she clenched around him, squeezing and rocking her hips back and forth to get friction from the heel of his hand against her clit. She couldn’t think, couldn’t speak—she could only move, lost in her need of his touch.

  “You’re squeezing me so tight,” Marcus whispered, rubbing his scratchy whiskers against her neck. “Fuck, Jessica. You feel so good.”

  The low rumble of his voice and the slide of his fingers combined with the sting of his teeth and whiskers catapulted her into heights she hadn’t thought possible. She cried out and he continued pumping his finger inside of her, drawing more pleasure from her while she came down from the high.

  He leaned back slightly and pulled his hand from her panties.

  Then he licked his fingers.

  She couldn’t take her eyes off of him, off the way his tongue lapped up her arousal.

  “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever done,” he said, his gray eyes dark with lust.

  “We can do it again,” Jessica breathed. “Anytime.”

  Hell, they could do it again right now. She wanted more than his fingers, though.

  “Trust me, I want nothing more than to do that over and over with you.” His eyes were intense, holding her in place just as effectively as his muscular arms. “But—”

  “But it’s not a good idea,” she said, disappointment flooding her heart.

  He sighed. “Yeah. I’m no good for you.”

  That old story. Again. It was feeling like one of those repetitive narratives her mom was always complaining that her dad would try to put into their plot outlines.

  She shook her head, fighting the pain of rejection through the bliss of satisfaction running through her body.

  “I should go,” he said.

  “Yeah. Okay.” She didn’t know what else there was to say about it. He’d made his feelings clear—more than once.

  He walked away, his jeans darker on the bottom, wet from his walk into the lake. His stride was slow and purposeful, his shoulders down. She could see the regret in his posture until he was out of sight.

  What was with this guy? She wanted him, he wanted her. Seemed easy enough for them to each take what they wanted. Second-guessing their desires at every turn was only serving to frustrate them both.

  Her jean shorts were still unbuttoned and unzipped, so she reached down and hurriedly fastened them. She would not cry, she would not be embarrassed, she would not admit to herself that this guy did it for her.

  But he elicited feelings in her that she’d never had before, for anyone.

  Her parents had paraded dozens of well-to-do, “nice,” eligible young men through their house. And all she wanted was Marcus.

  But if he couldn’t admit to himself what he wanted, then she wasn’t going to waste her time on him anymore.

  Even if it broke her heart.

  She went into the trailer and made herself a peanut butter and apple sandwich. It stuck to her throat, and the pain of swallowing was what caused her eyes to water, nothing else. Certainly not a strong, handsome man with gorgeous gray eyes who’d rocked her world and left her heartbroken afterward.

  Two taps on the side of the trailer made Jessica perk up. Had he seen some sense and come back? Another tap hit the trailer. It didn’t sound like a knock, more like a pebble or something. She slid the dingy curtains aside from the slatted jalousie window and peeked outside.

  A blond woman stood at the gravel line. She waved when she saw Jessica looking at her.

  Jessica set down the remains of her sandwich and hurried out the door.

  “Hi,” the woman said. She had on khaki shorts and a light green tank top. “I’m Caitlyn. I’m part of the informal welcoming committee.”

  Her wry smile showed humor, and it was clear that Caitlyn knew Jessica was trapped in here.

  Jessica smiled. “Hey, I’m Jessica. New resident.”

  “Do you need anything?” Caitlyn asked, pointing at the cabin behind her. “I have some extra food, and I could bring you clothes, tampons, whatever you might need.”

  “I’m okay for now, thanks,” Jessica said. “Hoping to get out of here soon, and I came in with a full backpack.”

  “Oh, nice.” Caitlyn hesitated at the gravel line, running the toe of her sandal along it. “Marcus probably told you that we’re trying to track down a witch to help you out.”

  “Yes, I appreciate that,” Jessica said. “My friend and I need to get out
of here. What is this place, really? Marcus said it’s like a prison for shapeshifters.” She gave a little laugh, because seriously. Shapeshifters?

  Caitlyn didn’t laugh. She didn’t even crack a smile. “He’s telling you the truth.”

  “He’s—no.” Jessica shook her head.

  Had everyone in this area lost their flipping minds? Then again, she was trapped in her by an invisible wall and she was waiting for a witch to free her, so…maybe the whole shapeshifter thing really wasn’t all that extraordinary.

  “I know it can be hard in there,” Caitlyn said in a gentle voice. “But some of the guys are really great. Marcus is one of the good ones.”

  Marcus was amazing.

  And Marcus could maybe turn into an animal.

  She tried to wrap her head around the idea, but it was preposterous.

  “It’s a lot, I know,” Caitlyn said. “I didn’t know anything about shifters when I got stuck in there, either.”

  “You got stuck in here?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Were you wandering around in the dark, drunk off tequila?” Jessica asked.

  The corner of Caitlyn’s lips twitched, then she laughed. “Sorry, sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing. It’s really not funny.”

  Jessica shrugged and let herself smile. “Really, it kind of is. I mean, except for everything else.”

  “Some of the other guys tricked me into crossing the line,” Caitlyn said, sobering from her laughter. “Alleman purposefully injured himself so I went in to help. Then Mathers grabbed me.”

  “Wow.” Jessica’s chest tightened with dread, her body reacting to Caitlyn’s story. “That’s terrible.”

  “It was.”

  “But…you’re not in here now,” Jessica said. “Obviously.”

  “No, we were able to get out.”

  “Did you contact the witch?”

  “We did—”

  “Caitlyn,” a man called from the cabin. “Your boss is on the phone.”

  “Oh!” Caitlyn gave Jessica an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I forgot I had a telephone meeting scheduled. We’ll talk later? And let me know if you need anything. Just give a shout.”

  “Okay, thank you,” Jessica said.

  Caitlyn gave her a little wave and then jogged over to the little cabin.

  So it was possible to get out of here. The witch had helped Caitlyn, so the chances were high she would also help Jessica and Blythe.

  Comforting herself with that notion, Jessica started toward the trailer to try to find something, anything to do. She got sidetracked by a damp area of earth near some fir trees. A different variety of plants grew around it—it must have been a spring, but it didn’t lead anywhere. She mentally surveyed her discoveries.

  There was a bright side to everything, and Jessica had just found the bright side to this strange turn her life had taken.

  Here, she could look at plants to her heart’s content, and she wasn’t struggling to write a chapter that Chaole wouldn’t hate.

  12

  Marcus spent the day walking the woods between his cabin and the camp trailer. Jessica’s scent clung to him. The sighing of the breeze through tree branches reminded him of the way she’d sighed when he held her. He couldn’t get the image of her brown eyes locked on his out of his mind.

  He had hated—hated—leaving her side.

  Throughout the rest of the morning, he prowled in circuits, making sure no other shifters were interested in the camp trailer. No one approached, and he mostly heard shouts and cheers from the direction of the dump.

  If people were distracted with fighting, maybe now would be a good time to sneak in and snag one of those crystals Grant had mentioned.

  On his next loop toward the western side of the Junkyard, Marcus didn’t turn around at the pond. Instead, he kept going until he reached the scattering of rusted vehicles and other mechanical detritus. Just past them was the old quarry. He sniffed the air. This was Derrick Alleman’s area. Damien Buenevista lived around here, too, and Stetson Krom. Alleman was not a good guy. Buenevista—Marcus had no idea, as he’d barely seen the guy more than a couple of times. And Stetson? He was all right. Didn’t talk much. Read a lot of books, or pretended to, at least.

  None of them seemed to be around, so Marcus darted forward.

  “What are you doing here, One-hand?” a voice called.

  Shit. Marcus kept his stance casual as he looked over his shoulder at the mountain lion shifter who leaned against a stack of flattened cars. Derrick Alleman—the last guy he wanted to see.

  “Just wanted to look at the quarry,” Marcus said. “Maybe pick up a rock or two.”

  “It’s rude to run through my back yard.”

  Marcus kept his retort to himself. This was hardly a back yard. It was a dump in both name and appearance. He could even see plastic food wrappers half-buried in the ground. Everyone else bagged up their trash to send out when new food came in, or buried their compostable garbage. Alleman was a slob, letting his den look like this.

  Marcus kicked at a half-empty jar of jelly, the remaining contents rotten inside, coated in mold. “Sorry about that. I figured you’d be at the fights with everyone else. Didn’t want to disturb you.”

  Alleman stood up straighter. “You joining the fights, Bylund? You seemed intent on that pretty redhead a couple nights ago.”

  “I don’t think so.” Marcus started forward.

  “Nah, seriously, man. If you don’t think it’ll be fair, I’ll fight you with a hand tied behind my back.” He chortled at the idea. “Get it?”

  “Yeah, you’re a real comedian,” Marcus said.

  “Don’t fuck with me. Why are you going to the quarry?”

  “I want a rock.”

  Alleman scratched his stomach. “Whatever. Maybe the rock’ll keep you company while the redhead warms my dick.”

  “You’re not going to win,” Marcus said.

  “The hell I’m not.”

  A roar of pain rose up from the center of the dump, and Alleman raised his eyebrows.

  “Everyone’s training,” Alleman said. “The big fight’ll be in two weeks. You want a chance at pussy, you better join in.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Inside, his gut churned. Jessica’s friend was okay for now, but how long would she stay that way? Once the fight took place, he doubted the Junkyard shifters would let something like Blythe’s metal pipe keep them at bay. They’d work together to help the winner claim his prize.

  Alleman gave Marcus a hard look, then turned and wandered in the direction of the fighting.

  Marcus hurried forward, not wanting to run into anyone else.

  The quarry was a dusty indentation in the earth that collected rainwater if the clouds emptied enough. Clear, white crystals dotted the rubble. Marcus quickly grabbed one of them and stuffed it into his pocket. It didn’t seem so special to him. But he wasn’t a witch, so what did he know? He’d take a closer look at it later, maybe, but right now he was feeling antsy after leaving Jessica for so long. He hadn’t planned on the interrogation from Alleman. Too much time had passed, and he’d feel better once he could resume his patrol around the camp trailer.

  Thunderclouds rolled overhead, and the wind picked up. Another mountain thunderstorm would start soon, maybe in a few hours. Marcus actually liked them, although the rumblings from the heavens caused a pang when he remembered how Marianne would only allow Marcus to be the one to comfort her during storms. Their mom couldn’t do the trick, nor her dad. She’d said only her wolf brother could help.

  He wondered whether his wolf nature seemed tougher to her, or whether she’d simply believed it took a monster to defeat a monster.

  The trailer came into view, and just in front of it, Jessica was pacing. She started when she saw Marcus, then she scowled and turned away. She darted around the other side of it. A second later, he heard the trailer door slamming shut.

  Well, he hadn’t expected the warmest of welcomes after the way he’d left her this morning,
but he also hadn’t expected to be so thoroughly dismissed.

  “Jessica?” He took big steps to reach the trailer faster.

  When he reached the door, he tried to tug it open.

  It was locked.

  “Dammit, Jessica, what’s going on? Let me in, now.”

  Her voice was muffled through the door. “Or, what, you’ll blow my house down?”

  “Is this about the shifter thing?” he asked, taken aback.

  The door opened, and Jessica stuck her head out. Her brown curls were in disarray and her brown eyes were narrowed in irritation.

  “No, it’s not about the quote unquote shifter thing. I don’t want to talk to you, Maximillian,” she said. “You come back here with your sexy swagger and your happy fingers and you expect me to just—to just swoon. Well, I’m not swooning.”

  He couldn’t keep his smile from forming. She was too fuckin’ cute.

  “It’s not a joke, Marshall.” She frowned.

  “Okay, okay.” He wiped the smile off his face. “I’m sorry. Tell me what this is about.”

  “I just did. I don’t like how you took off. And I’ve been alone for hours, with only one other person to talk to.”

  Alarm shot through him. “Wait—who did you talk to?”

  “Caitlyn.”

  He exhaled.

  She peered up at him. “I’m seriously going stir-crazy here, with no news, no connections to anyone else. Caitlyn was super nice, but she can’t stand at the gravel line forever.”

  “No, she can’t, and yes, you’re right.” He held out his hand. “Come here. I’ll tell you where I was, and everything I just found out.”

  They walked to a weathered log and sat down. Jessica pulled up one of her legs and propped her chin on it while she listened to Marcus talk. He spent the next hour listing all the guys he knew in the Junkyard—Jase Englender, Stetson Krom, Noah Ephraimson, Damien Buenevista, Derrick Alleman, Ronan Markowicz, Fred Barnum, and Beau Mollin. There were a few others who he didn’t know very well at all, but getting Jessica familiar with the rest was a good start.

  “So the guys to avoid are Buenevista, Alleman, Barnum, and Mollin,” Jessica said.