by BA Tortuga
Yeah and the moon was coming, soon. “I’ll go grab a burger.”
“Have supper with me before you go.” He held up a hand when she opened her mouth. “That’s all I ask. Then you can leave.”
She frowned. It never worked like that. Never. Everyone wanted something. Everyone. “I have your word?”
“You do.” He held out his hand, big and square and calloused.
Wendy wasn’t interested in taking it.
Not at all.
“Come on, huh? Shake on it.” He was damn persuasive. Part of his job, she guessed.
“Uh-huh.” Her hand landed in his, a jolt of pure electricity shooting up her arm, the touch sending all her bells and whistles to ringing. Fucker. He held her hand for a moment, thumb drawing a circle on her palm, then let go.
“So, steak or hamburgers?” He finally stopped blocking the door, heading downstairs.
She followed, eyes taking in everything. The house was two stories, a log cabin, huge for a single male. It was neat, though, clean. It also smelled as if a group of males had just left.
“Your bodyguards deem me safe enough?”
“My what?” He glanced back, then stopped, politely waiting for her to catch up. “My lieutenants, you mean.”
“Whatever.” She didn’t play by their rules. Bossy assholes.
“Well, if they were my bodyguards, they’d be here protecting me from grumpy cops.” He chuckled. “I think steaks.”
“I’m grumpy because you jumped my ass.” Not to mention that she had a fucking problem with Jack running around attacking people and getting her in trouble.
“No, I didn’t. I wasn’t sure if you were a threat and I had to make sure you’d be all right. You are trespassing on my lands.” He sighed, rolling his head on his neck.
“I don’t care much for the laws of the pack. I pay taxes, I have a place in town. I’m not bound to report to you.”
She got a soft, rumbling growl in response. “The wolves report so we can protect one another. It’s not as if we live in a friendly universe.”
“I’m fine. Let me do my job. I’ll get rid of him for you.” Wendy tried her death glare on him.
He raised a brow at her. “How about you tell me about him instead?” He pulled out a pair of steaks, which made her mouth water just looking at them.
“You saw him. I’ll hunt him down and send him on.” Then she’d move on. Fucking males. Hunting her.
“No. I mean tell me how you know him.” Brett pulled out a crusty baguette and a box of salad mix.
Yeah, as if she could do that. It was bad enough that he was here because of her. Wendy’d be damned if she admitted to something as ridiculous as being stalked by the ex.
Brett glanced at her, raising a brow. “Well?”
“What does it matter, man?” What the fuck was wrong with her? Why the fuck wasn’t she just lying to the man?
“Because you’re part of my pack now. I need to know what he has against you.”
A low growl bubbled up inside her, deep and rough. “I’m not pack.”
“You’re in my city.” He straightened, his arms crossing over his chest.
“I’m not pack. I’m a cop. Boulder isn’t your city.”
He just stared at her, dark eyes serious, steady. Then he shrugged. “You don’t want to tell me, I’ll figure it out. But make no mistake, this town is my territory. You want to chop cucumbers?”
“Sure.” At least then she’d have a knife in her hand.
She chopped tomatoes, cucumbers, radishes, the easy action relaxing her. She got the salad going, he got the bread in the oven. There was an indoor grill thingee on his stove.
The scent as the beef hit the grate was stunningly good and she couldn’t stop her growl.
“Yeah. Been a long day, huh? So where did you move here from?”
“Outside Canon City.” She’d still be there if it hadn’t been for Jack too.
“Yeah?” He gave her an evil grin. “Did you work at the prison?”
“At the beginning, sure. It’s hard for our kind to break in.”
“Yeah.” He tilted his head. “Yeah, I guess so. Especially a female.” He didn’t touch the steaks, letting them sear well. That showed some patience.
She tossed the salad. “You’ve got a good-sized pack here. A lot to handle during the moon.”
“Mostly they police themselves.” Chuckling, Brett pulled out dressings and steak sauce. “I’m pretty lucky.”
This all seemed so…normal. Not at all as if he’d for all intents and purposes kidnapped her. This was insane. This whole thing. “Handy for me.”
“Hey, you have enough psychos to worry about.” Brett finally flipped the steaks. “For example, this guy you won’t talk about…”
“He’s an ex, okay? I’ll fucking deal with him.” She’d been dealing with the crazy fucker since she was fifteen, hadn’t she?
Brett’s eyes flashed bright gold and she knew it wasn’t a trick of the light. That was pure, pissed-off male. “I have no doubt you can handle him. You don’t have to do it by yourself. Plates are in that cupboard there.”
“It’s not your issue.” She grabbed plates, plopping them on the counter. “It’s mine. I’m not your pack.”
His shoulders drew up, but he was relaxed and smiling when he turned to slide the steaks on plates. “Those need to rest. Want to help me pick a wine?”
The clenched teeth sort of belied his pleasant expression, but overall she thought he did a good job of trying not to look furious. Alphas hated to be challenged.
“I don’t know anything about wine.” She was a beer girl. “All I know is red is for red meat.”
“Red then.” He pulled out a bottle, which looked small in his huge lumberjack hands.
“Cool.” She watched him use the corkscrew with a sort of dazed fascination.
“I’m not a connoisseur or anything. Mainly I keep wine to impress women. That and the smell of beer makes me sneeze.” That evil twinkle was back in his eye when she looked up.
“How’s that impressing women thing working for you, man?” She didn’t see the place overrun by ladies.
“About as well as you dumping your ex, I guess.”
Oh man, that was bitchy. If the steaks didn’t smell amazing, she’d go. She’d also seen chocolate eclairs in the fridge. She’d fucking earned one of those.
“Who says I dumped him?” She had, in a matter of speaking. It had been more that they’d tied it up in the bedroom and he’d gotten pissed that she could kick his ass.
“Oh, honey. No man has this kind of rage over one he let go. Only a woman who shamed him could make him so foolish.” Steak, salad, bread—it all looked so pretty on the plate he made her. Why were the talented ones always asses?
“Good thing I’ve sworn off men, then.” She looked at the steak knife. She could probably slit his throat.
“Don’t even think about it. You’d rather have that steak than my blood.” He led her to the table before pouring wine.
“You sure about that?” The steak smelled heavenly and the wine…it made her nose tingle.
“I am.” He waited for her to get settled before sitting. “Tell me what you think.”
“It smells different.” She sipped it, the flavor making her want to twitch her tail.
“Yeah. I like it.” He just sort of…stared at her. It was unnerving.
She put on her interrogation room face and stared right back. He didn’t really break first; he just started eating.
She dropped her eyes, devouring the steak, the pit in her stomach huge, energy burned away by running and stress. The steak was so thick and juicy and just perfectly rare. She might have to be nice to him for at least a few moments on account of the meat.
“Thank you for the food.” The wine warmed her right up, cheeks flushing with heat as the spicy drink mingled with the blood perfectly. It was almost a pale imitation of the hunt.
“No problem. I like to cook.” Brett crunched
the last of his bread. “At least tell me enough about him to have my men keep an eye out.”
“His name is Jack Oliver. He’s strong, sly. He failed his trials, lived on the outskirts.” A James Dean type with tattoos and leather and a wild streak. Pure adrenaline for a girl looking for trouble.
Brett grimaced. “Ah. The bad boy. You want dessert?”
God, yes. Those éclairs were calling her name. “I’ve already eaten a steak the size of my head.”
“Mmmhmm. I have some éclairs, though.” He got them out of the fridge and she vibrated, trying not to just tear them out of his hands.
“Oh, that’s cheating, man.” They made her mouth water.
“Why? I’m not making them a trade or anything.” He grinned. “I thought about it, but I think you need chocolate.”
“Yeah, yeah.” They smelled heavenly. “Hand ‘em over.”
He handed over the container without comment except, “Coffee or milk?”
“Coffee with cream?” She put the box on the table and helped, cleaning dishes as he made the richest, most delicious coffee she’d ever smelled. Wendy figured she could get an award for her restraint. Those éclairs were ten pounds of amazingness.
He handed her a cup, moving close, his hand touching hers.
That electricity hit her again, making her hand shake, coffee spill.
“You okay?” He eased her cup down, his hands all over her now. On her elbow, her hip, guiding her down into her chair.
“Yes. Yeah. I’m good.” Fuck, her nipples were hard as nails, her clit throbbed and she suddenly wanted to bite something.
Brett drew in a deep breath, scenting her. His pupils dilated. “You smell good, for sure.”
“Don’t. I’m not interested in playing.” God, she was a shitty liar.
“Mmm. I’m not interested in playing, honey. If you and I tie it up, you need to be prepared to stick around.”
“We won’t.” There was no way.
“You don’t think so?” He glanced pointedly at her chest. Which, of course, made her look at his crotch. Oh God.
“Stop it.” She was talking to both of them.
“Yeah.” He opened the container of éclairs and gave her one, sitting across the table. Yay. Distance.
Wendy focused on the cream and the chocolate and the flaky pastry and it actually worked. The éclair was better than any sex she’d ever had. She hummed and licked, nibbling around the edges, sucking her fingers clean.
A sip of the coffee completed the experience. It was dark and rich and mixed with the chocolate flavor still on her tongue. She might just die happy.
A soft whimper had her looking up. Brett stared at her, eyes alight. He held out another sweet. “Have one more. Please.”
“I don’t…” She licked the coffee off her lips.
“Oh, you do. You’re running on empty. The carbs will do you good.” He was…she could smell him and it should be gross. It wasn’t.
It was delicious.
“One more.” She took the pastry, dragged her fingers through the cream and sucked them dry.
When she was done, she looked at Brett to find him all but panting, cheeks flushed, his eyes glowing gold around the edges. He looked as if he wanted to eat her alive.
She wanted to straddle him, ride him into the ground. Hell, she wanted to bite him.
His eyes widened and he pushed up, hands on the table, broad chest working as if it was a bellows. “No biting, honey.”
Her eyes went wide. “What?”
No. No way had he heard her. No. Fucking. Way.
Brett just stared at her, his jaw set. “If anyone is biting, it will be me. The only reason I’m not taking you to bed right now is this whole thing with your ex.”
“That and I’m not interested.” See? This was why she wasn’t pack. “I’m heading home. Give me my stuff.”
“Not interested?” His voice lowered to a throaty growl. “I could strip you naked right here on the table and you’d beg for more.” Brett reached out, almost touching her, the heat from his hand maddeningly close.
“You fucking wish. I don’t beg.” She growled low, slapped his hand out of the way and got right in his face. “I’m not some little bitch looking to wiggle her rump in every male’s face. You fucking bother me again and I’ll have you arrested and held. We’ll see how well you do in general population during the moon.”
She half expected him to bite her, as furious as he looked. That probably would have been easier to handle than the kiss he planted on her, his hand sliding into her hair to hold her there.
A deep growl built in her chest, her nails dragging down Brett’s chest as the kiss made her fucking insane. It was electricity right to her spine. It jolted her, made her want to climb him as if he was a jungle gym and take what she needed. His grip was like iron, his chest hard as a rock.
Fuck, he was a wet dream brought to life. She snarled, both of them fighting, snapping into the kiss, hips grinding together. He reached down, cupping her pussy through her jeans, thumb rubbing her unerringly. Oh fuck yes. She’d lied. She wanted. She needed. Now.
He groaned into their kiss, the sound perfectly male and altogether too short, because it disappeared when his front door slammed open.
“Brett! Brett, one of the puppies fell, you need to come.”
“Fuck.” Brett pulled back, teeth baring in a grimace. “Susan, I swear to God. You have to keep those boys of yours under control.”
Wendy took the opportunity to run. Her pistol and badge wallet were there by the door and the night air felt good as she took off, jogging down the mountain into the darkness.
Asshole.
Hot, fucking asshole.
Chapter Three
Brett was going to kill something.
They were so close to the fucking moon that he could feel it pulling at his wolf, just as waves pulled the sand out from under your feet when you stood on the beach. No one had found Wendy, the hot cop’s, ex and goddamn it, he was horny.
Like, whoa, blue-balls horny.
He sighed, vaulting up the steps at Jordan and Shaw’s backwoods cabin. He needed to check in on them and their new girl before the moon actually hit them.
Their witchy girl was sunning herself on the porch, surrounded by soft blankets. Her eyes popped open, the new wolf vibrating under her skin, and a curious chirrup sounded.
“Shh.” He smiled, not baring his teeth. He needed her to know he wasn’t a threat.
She relaxed back, nostrils flaring, scenting him. “Sorry. Sorry, you startled me. You’re…our alpha?”
“I am. You’re Stephanie, huh? Nice to meet you.”
“Thank you.” She reached for him and her mates came barreling out together, all growls and teeth.
“No!” Brett barked it and Jordan and Shaw came to a screeching halt, rocking back and forth before Jordan chuckled.
“Hey, man. What’s up?”
Stephanie stood, moving into Jordan’s arms as if she was in a trance, completely caught in her body’s changes. Jordan rumbled softly, pulled her close.
Man, pheromones.
Brett bit back a grin. “Tell me things are going well here, at least.”
Shaw nodded. “Beautifully. We’re good. We are. She’s perfect.”
“She seems like a nice gal.” Brett grinned again. “Not like her friend at all.”
“Wendy’s fabulous. She’s tough and always has chocolate.” The words would have been more effective if Stephanie hadn’t been nuzzling Jordan’s throat.
“She’s a vicious, rabid cock tease who carries a gun.” He said it lightly, but he was only half joking. She was also sexy, brave and admirably tough.
“She had a bad breakup. She has scars.” Stephanie settled, hummed.
“Scars, huh?” He pondered that. “Physically?” Any bastard who had to beat a woman needed to be horsewhipped.
She nodded. “Wendy’s a cop. She’s tough.”
“That sucks,” Shaw murmured, rubbing hi
s arms. Shaw was always way more sensitive to shit.
Stephanie reached for Shaw too, drew him close and the three started rocking together, fingers petting and grooming. By the moon, those three were joined at the hip, already, mated and bound as if they’d been together for years. It would have been adorable if he wasn’t so annoyed, so itchy. They were sending out pheromones like whoa.
“No sign of the guy up here, right?”
“No.” Jordan bared his teeth. “He’d better stay the fuck away.”
“Hey, I agree. I just needed to check in.” And he needed a beer and a massage and to get laid…
“Mmm. Nice to meet you.” Stephanie pulled Shaw’s hand. “Inside, boys. Say goodbye.”
“Bye.” Shaw ran inside with her, laughing.
Brett shook his head at Jordan, who had always been a little more…settled. “You’re in trouble, man. Look, I know you’ll be busy on the moon, but keep an ear or an eye out. This guy’s a rogue and will strike when we’re all too busy to see it coming.”
“I will. I’ll protect them.” He’d never seen Jordan so…intense.
“Just don’t let her get in my way if I have to protect the pack.” A new shifter was always a danger their first moon. They hadn’t honed their instincts yet.
“You got it.” Jordan nodded, gave him a hard hug. “I’ll make sure she’s safe.”
“Be careful, man.” He’d leave them to it. Now that he knew they were going to make it, Brett had a few other folks to check on. Most particularly that EMT who’d been attacked. Brett had the sinking suspicion that, with as many bites as the human had taken, there’d be another new pack member, at the next full moon. Might as well see the guy with his own eyes.
Then he was going to go see a certain cop and, hell, he didn’t know. Lick her jaw. Buy her a beer. Fight with her. Drop to his knees and beg for a taste. Something.
That was really the only answer. She was the only who could scratch his itch.
* * * * *
“You sure you’re okay, Mike?” Wendy sat on Mike’s patio, nose twitching. Mike didn’t smell okay. The big guy smelled…off.
“Yeah. Yeah, girl. I’m just sore. Crazy shit, this whole thing.”