Wolf's Property

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Wolf's Property Page 11

by Anne Marsh


  She shrieks and pushes back, taking what she needs. Fucking glorious. She’s amazing, and I work her clit, stroking and moving because I can’t go slow, can’t wait, and I need her with me. I won’t leave her behind. So it’s not until she’s gasping my name and I feel the first hard shudders beneath my fingers that I let go. Give her everything I’ve got as she wraps me tight and holds on.

  And afterward? Guess I’m not done then, either, because I want to brush my lips over her hair, want to whisper all that stupid shit bottled up in my heart. Instead, I roll away and slap her on the ass. “You gotta go.”

  I’d make the move to leave, but my knee’s on fucking fire and I’m not sure I can stand up. Fucking appropriate that she put me on my knees, though.

  She turns her head to look at me. “You don’t have anything to say to me?”

  She deserves so much better. “You want to do that again? Then get your pretty ass over here.”

  I fist my dick. She needs to go. Now. Before I get too comfortable with being on my knees. Before I go soft and tell her all these feelings stirring shit up in my heart. This is sex—nothing more. Some day, probably sooner rather than later, I’m gonna have a challenger I can’t take come after me. If she’s my mate, she goes down with me.

  “Ware?” She whispers my name, her gaze dropping straight to my dick. I don’t want to let her get away, but it’s that or hurt her.

  And Marly doesn’t get hurt on my watch.

  “Sex, pretty girl. That’s what this is.”

  She sits up, wincing a little. Not sure if it’s because I took her ass or because of what I said. I’m a nasty bastard, because I didn’t even bother to strip her down. Just fucking fisted her skirt, yanked it up, and shoved inside her. Okay, she came plenty hard, so she can’t have complaints there, but she wants more and that’s all I’ve got.

  “I love you,” she says. Doesn’t whisper it—she shouts the words loud enough to be heard down on the street, but it doesn’t matter. Those words detonate in my head, my heart, and she’s gotta go now. The words are part of the more I don’t have.

  “And I love fucking you,” I growl. “So come back over here and I’ll give you that. Love isn’t something I do—I’m not that kind of wolf and we both know it. My pack has my loyalty and I fight for them. They’re my brothers and my family. Don’t have room for more.”

  She keeps staring at me as if she can make me be someone different. My dick’s throbbing, my balls gotta be turning blue, and she has to go now before I get stupid ideas about keeping her.

  “Sex is all I’ve got for you.” I drag my hand up my dick. “Take it or leave it. You want to walk, you know where the door is.”

  “Asshole,” she snarls, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. It takes a fucking act of God not to drag her beneath me and show her exactly what she means to me. She’s not wrong, however, about the asshole bit. I’m the blue ribbon prizewinner. She watches me drag my fist up and then down my dick like she’s not quite sure about her exit strategy, though.

  “Asshole,” I prompt, because we gotta get this over with.

  She snarls and shoves off the bed. Shoves her skirt down.

  “I want you to fight for me,” she says from the door, and then she’s gone.

  WARE

  I’m fucked.

  Or more accurately: I’m unfucked, fucking lonely, and really, really fucking stupid. That’s a whole lot of fucks.

  Two days after I drive Marly away, I’m almost certain I’ve made a colossal mistake. After a week without her, I’m certain. My loft is empty. I haven’t changed the sheets because they smell like her. I’m also still wearing the T-shirt she borrowed from me because the cotton holds her scent. It fades a little more each day, though, my scent erasing hers. I could Ziploc it, but that would just be sad.

  I don’t do relationships.

  I don’t have feelings.

  You think Karma’s laughing at me? You wouldn’t be wrong. I’m the badass biker who tears up the roads on the back of his Harley, raining down pack justice on Baton Rouge’s paranormal residents. I ride fast, I hit hard, and I never, ever flinch.

  When I first brought Marly home, my place echoed. I could inventory my shit on my fingers and have a spare middle finger to flip you off with. A couch, a TV, a bed, and a table. Who needs more than that? Then Marly showed up. She, apparently, collects stuff. When Big Dog dragged her off into the bayou, her landlord had shoved that stuff into a storage unit. Paying off the back rent and a little extra had liberated her crap, and she’d brought it over to my loft. Seeing as how I had the extra space. Suddenly I had pictures, books, and coffee mugs with ridiculous words on the side. My leather couch sprouted about a million teeny-tiny, completely useless pillows with tassels, and I could host the entire pack with the number of chairs Marly owned. Couldn’t move without hitting something. Now it’s all gone, just like her.

  I can buy shit of my own.

  If I wanted to.

  Furnishing a place is just a matter of time and wielding my AmEx. Eventually, it’ll surface to the top of my to do list and I’ll get the job down. Will fill in the holes she left behind when she moved her stuff out. I’m just busy. That’s all.

  Today, for example, I have to kick a drug dealer’s ass. Ordinarily, this would be the cherry on my sundae, but I haven’t smiled once since Jace, Blade, and I pulled up outside our target’s apartment building. My adrenaline rush has gone missing. I don’t care that Jace has handed me the perfect outlet for my… feelings in the form of the too-human piece of scum he drags outside and drops on the sidewalk. The dealer was warned not to sell in our territory—this is payback time. Even better, for shits and giggles, we decide to let the dealer run. Count to five and then go after him. Makes more of a point to the audience watching us from inside the building, too. None of them will fuck with us after today.

  Blade prowls along by my side and Jace is out in front of us watching the dealer run. We’re a posse of bad news. I don’t know why I don’t see his question coming.

  “You talk to Marly?” he asks.

  It’s a simple yes or no question (and the answer is no)

  “You don’t go after her,” I growl. Think I give a fuck that’s the pack enforcer I’m bitching to? You’re right. I’m all out of give-a-fucks. “She’s not going to out us. She’s not going to hurt a goddamned wolf.”

  I deserve to be hurt.

  I vent my frustration on the drug dealer we’re schooling. As soon as Jace counts five, I tear after the human, chase him into an alley, and bring him down. Pound him long and hard, splintering his ribs and then starting on his arms. Legs are next—bastard’s never gonna push his shit in our territory again. Before I can break every last bone in his body, though, Jace yanks at my arm with a curse.

  “Ease up,” he orders.

  I ignore his words and take aim at our dealer friend again. The pussy whimpers and curls into a ball on the ground at my feet. See? He’s still got some working bones left for me to break. The alley’s behind a hole-in-the-wall bar. Nothing scenic here—just bricks, dumpsters, and the days-old stink. Fits my mood just fine.

  Jace jerks hard, but it’s Blade who makes the point. Literally. Fucker whips out his knife and lays the edge against my throat.

  “You might wanna listen,” he growls in my ear. “Now.”

  Since I can smell the coppery scent of my own blood now, he’s got my attention. Rather be beating the shit out of our local low life, though.

  “I’m all ears,” I lie.

  Jace slams me back against the closest wall so hard an entire constellation of stars dance in front of my eyes.

  “Listen. To. Me.” He snaps out the words, laying his arm over my throat as Blade sheaths his knife. He waits until I tip my neck the barest inch in submission. I’m walking a fine line, pushing him. He fists his other hand in my T-shirt.

  “I can still smell Marly on you,” he snarls, his face close to mine.

  “Got a new law against that?


  He punches me hard in the jaw. My head flies back against the wall. No big deal. I’ve hurt worse. Like when I woke up and realized Marly wasn’t there and wasn’t ever coming back.

  “Marly’s not at your place,” he says.

  “Gold star for you.” I spit blood and am pleased when I hit my Alpha. Over his shoulder, I spot Blade moving in.

  Blade stands shoulder-to-shoulder with Jace. “You unclaiming her? She fair game now?”

  Fuck. I shove Jace off me and go for Blade. My fist connects with his face, his pounds my ribs, and then we’re grappling with each other, banging off the walls and the ground. My world narrows to Blade and the fight. The pain radiating through my body—fucker goes for my knee, too—only tightens my focus. It’s over too soon, though. Before I can do any serious damage, I end up on the ground with Blade sitting on my chest and Jace yanking my head back. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the drug dealer limp-running away. Coward.

  “Leave Marly alone,” I snarl.

  “Like you’ve done?” Blade’s hard-eyed gaze taunts me. We both know how I’ve been spending my nights—keeping watch over Marly from a distance and making sure none of the pack gets too close or too fierce with her. “You wanna know what I could do with a sweet thing like her? Bet she’d taste like fucking candy.”

  That seals it. Blade’s a dead wolf. As soon I’m on my feet, he’s breathed his last.

  He laughs as if he doesn’t give a shit, shifting his weight downward so he’s parked on top of my bad knee. Pain manages to shoot up and down my leg, and for a moment I see stars.

  He doesn’t get to go after my Marly.

  Not yours, the suicidal, crazy pants voice in my head points out. You convinced her to leave. Blade rides my chest, his knife digging into my skin. Maybe this isn’t happening. Maybe it’s all a goddamned nightmare, because nothing’s gone right since I lost Marly.

  It’s your own fault.

  Hindsight’s a bitch.

  I buck beneath Blade and almost throw him off. He cuffs me hard with his knife-less hand, and then we’re rolling around in the dirt again, trading more blows. I land a few hard hits before Jace is pulling us apart, cursing and kicking.

  “Knock it off. That’s an order.”

  I almost refuse, but he’s my Alpha and I love my pack. And since I’ve already lost the woman I love, I can’t afford to lose anyone else. Shit. When my back hits the dirt, I stay down. Blade rolls off me cautiously. His face looks even less pretty than usual—he’s bleeding from the mouth and I’ve bruised his cheek good. Satisfaction roars through me. He doesn’t rush to get to his feet, either. Maybe I’m not too old to do some damage.

  “Stay away from her,” I growl.

  Blade turns his head to glare at me. “Do you claim her?”

  “You want to stick her with a broken down wolf?”

  “If that’s a no, I could claim her,” Blade says to Jace and I start to roll to my feet. Jace shoves me back down.

  “Simpler if you admit it,” he tells me. “You want her. And you want to kill Blade here for even thinking about touching her, let alone kissing her.”

  I do.

  “I’m cutting off any part of you that touches her,” I snap. “That’s a fucking promise.”

  Blade stacks his hands behind his head, somehow managing to look like he’s laid out on a bed and way more comfortable than me. Alleys suck for fighting. I’ve got boulders digging into my head and my ass, and my knee’s screaming louder than a little girl. But the biggest problem right now is in my head. My imagination eagerly supplies the pictures to go with Jace’s words. Blade kissing Marly. Fucking her. Holding her, sleeping with her, loving on her. It’s not even the sex part that gets me seeing red—although I don’t want to share her body, either. Nope. It’s the thought of her opening up her heart and letting him in. The thought of her having feelings for him.

  Fuck. Me.

  “Pretty sure we’re good with her.” The tip of Jace’s boot not-so-accidentally collides with my shoulder. “She’s kept her mouth shut so far, and she’s a good woman. She’s not the screw up in this scenario. That would be you. So admit that you love and go after her.”

  That was one order I’d be happy to take.

  WARE

  Marly’s car isn’t parked outside her new rental house, so I’m clear. Instead of getting something practical like a Toyota truck or one of those little Japanese imports, she’s gone all-out crazy and picked up a used Dodge Charger. The car is a beast, with an engine meant for racing underneath its hood. Not that she doesn’t deserve it, but the hidden need for speed is a surprise. Guess there are plenty of things I don’t know about her yet.

  Yet being the keyword because I plan to learn everything about Marly. You know, if she’ll let me.

  Blade swings off his bike. “Remind me why we’re here?”

  I’m here because I was an asshole and an idiot—Marly would probably tell me that kind of stupidity comes with penis territory. Can’t say as how I disagree with her right now.

  “Gardening,” I grunt. “We have four hours before Marly finishes work, and it’s her birthday.”

  True, her birthday was weeks ago, but she didn’t get a chance to celebrate it—this is the do-over. The do right. When I realized my idiocy in letting her walk out of my life and came up with the idea of flowers and re-celebrating her birthday, all I needed was an opportunity—so thank God she’s a librarian. She’s got regular hours, so I can predict her coming and going. She also gets to read the sexy books first before they go out on the shelves. And those skirts of hers… well, let’s just say I’ve got fantasies about taking her back in the stacks and doing her up against the books.

  Shit. I’m lost in my own head thinking about her.

  “Uh-huh.” Blade saunters over toward the stack of boxes the gardening center dropped off a few minutes earlier. I haven’t had much time to refine my plan, so I’m kinda winging it. I need to do something big, though, something that will buy me enough time to get down on my knees and grovel. That’s Blade’s favorite part.

  I don’t bother with this flower shit, but Marly makes me want to be different. And since it’s not as if the pack has FTD on speed dial, I had to get creative. Cost a fortune too, although that’s not the point.

  Marly likes flowers. I know this because she always picks up those shrink-wrapped bunches the grocery store sells. Her face lights up when she takes the flowers out, and then she always spends way too many minutes arranging them. My kitchen had vases when she lived with me, along with a whole lot of other new shit. She never came back for her stuff—just sent a rent-a-guy with a van. I let him in, too, and even helped him tape up the fucking boxes. Thought that was what I wanted, her gone, when I should have been thinking about the way she smiles when she’s done shoving flowers into the vases. About the away she strokes the petals with her fingers. Among the many things I’ve never done, I’ve never brought her flowers. She bought her own.

  Yeah. That went right in the fuck up column. Don’t pass Go. Don’t collect two hundred dollars. I screwed up, and now I can only hope she’ll let me fix things between us.

  I thumb open the first box. It’s full of these little purple flowers. If flowers came dick-shaped, these kinda fit the bill. The gardening center lady babbled shit about the language of flowers to me, but I ignored her and the wad of cash I shoved in her direction shut her up fast. These flowers shouted fist me, but I’m a guy and what do I know? I mean, I’ll bet Marly’s head doesn’t run a pornographic slideshow when she looks at flowers. I officially suck.

  “Thought it was supposed to be a candle for each year.” Blade eyes his bike. He’s jonesing for a getaway, and I don’t blame him.

  He’s here because I called in a favor. You ever try planting two thousand fucking flower bulbs? I have the feeling I’ll be picking the dirt out from underneath my nails for weeks to come. Since I didn’t want to wait six weeks for the flowers to magically appear on their own, the gardening ce
nter chick convinced me to buy “forced bulbs.” Yeah. I don’t know what that means either, except that I have two thousand things that look like potatoes sprouting a stalk of blue. Smells pretty, looks good… so check and check.

  I drop the first box into Blade’s arms. “Start planting.”

  He looks in the box, and I swear he pales. Pussy. “You owe me.”

  “I’ve got you covered.” No way I tell him now that these flowers are “highly scented” according to the gardening center lady. We’re gonna smell like a pair of girls by the time we finish.

  We get busy digging. Problem is, you can’t just dig a hole and drop the suckers in. You have to not break off the flower when you transfer the bulb from its cardboard nest to the dirt. At least they don’t have thorns. And they are kinda pretty.

  “I’d tell you to get her a cake next time,” Blade grumbles. “But you’d probably want a four-story cake or something.”

  He’s not wrong. Marly didn’t get a birthday because she was stuck out in the bayou with Big Dog. I figure the other holidays were probably a pass too, so I’m planting her a field of fucking flowers. Just to cover all of my bases.

  Three hours later, we’re down to the last few bulbs. While Blade finishes up, I circle around the side of her house and go to work on her bedroom window. She needs better locks, which I’ll fix next, because I’m inside in under two minutes. I shove the window up, swing over the sill, and drop onto the floor. I’ve barely had time to look around when I hear Blade’s low whistle.

  “We’ve got a problem,” he calls, and then I hear it. The sound of a car approaching because today of all days, she’s home twenty minutes early. Fuck. Me. I was supposed to have time to break into her place and take a quick shower. The flower stink wasn’t necessarily a deal killer, but the dirt and the sweat? Yeah. I’m nowhere near as pretty as the flowers.

  I stand there looking out her window like a first-class idiot as she parks, gets out, and promptly freezes. My wolf kinda hopes she’ll run. Everything would be so much simpler if this was just a game of chase.

 

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