A kernel of hope bloomed. If she didn’t find a way to strangle the menace before it took hold, it would spread like ivy and choke out her good sense. Good sense she seemed to have less and less of whenever Brice was around.
* * *
“I need to use the ladies’ room.” The simmer in Cassie’s eyes cooled.
“Just one more dance.” Brice rehooked Cassie’s arms around his neck.
During their first dance, she’d been overly self-conscious, so Brice took her face into his hands and ordered her to block out everyone around them. To focus on him, then the music. Two songs later, she giggled when she misstepped, and her skin glowed. He wanted to believe the flush came from the excitement of being with him rather than the exertion.
That’s how it was for him, at least. They could be doing yoga in an ice pond and his heart would pound, his skin would tingle and his cock would be just as hard.
In a matter of days, he’d grown to crave Cassie’s company. Whenever he looked at her, a feeling of rightness settled in his bones. Her sharp wit and dry humor enchanted him, and that stubborn streak of hers fairly matched his own. Mostly he loved the warm, soft feel of her in his arms, especially when she wiggled against him in her sleep. Those unguarded moments were the highlights of his day.
Now that the music tempo slowed and he had the opportunity to hold her close, he wasn’t about to let her run for cover. Savoring every second of the crazy, maddening feel of her in his arms, he sensed the tethers of the mate-bond stitching together their souls. He could have stayed entwined with her forever.
Except the song ended and Cassie pulled away. “Meet you at the table.”
Then she was gone.
“Cheer up.” Tristan Durrance slapped him on the back. “The lady only went to powder her nose. She hasn’t left you at the pound.”
Brice stared into the face of his brother’s best friend and swallowed bitter regret. He didn’t care about titles or position. Only whether or not Tristan could forgive him for Mason’s death.
Tristan draped his arm over Brice’s shoulders, steering him to the booth. “I heard about Granny. You have my sympathies.”
Brice accepted the condolence with a quick nod.
“You know what happened to Rafe, right?” Tristan’s happy-go-lucky expression faltered.
“I do now.” Even though Rafe insisted Brice’s presence wouldn’t have helped him get over the loss, Brice knew he’d failed his friend. “Adam didn’t tell me when it happened. Among other things.”
“I figured as much. Hell, we all knew something wasn’t right.” Tristan stretched his arm over the back of the booth. “You were in a bad state when Adam took you away.”
Though Tristan’s soulful eyes fixed on him, Brice knew the older wolfan’s other senses were scoping the increased bustle of the restaurant. A pack sentinel was always on duty, even when he wasn’t.
“Mason’s dead because of me. Everyone should hate me.” For chrissakes, Brice sure hated himself.
“Mason loved you more than anything. He would be proud of the way you fought and survived. We all are.” The sincerity in Tristan’s tone mocked Brice’s shame.
“I howled in a moment of weakness, and the rogues found us.”
“You almost lost your leg in a steel trap. I don’t know any wolfan who wouldn’t have howled. Your reaction was normal, Brice. Quit feeling sorry for yourself and give this pack what we want.”
A golf-ball-sized knot of tension formed at the base of Brice’s skull. He’d brought Cassie to Taylor’s to relax and have fun. Tristan’s dose of reality put a damper on the evening.
“What does the pack want, Tristan?”
“You, home and happy. You are the heart of Walker’s Run, and Mason took great care to foster you. Don’t waste his efforts.”
“Foster me for what?”
“Gavin should’ve told you a long time ago.” Tristan’s expression hardened. “Mason abdicated the Alphaship when you were born. You are and have always been our Alpha-in-Waiting.”
The words bounced in Brice’s head like a box of Ping-Pong balls dumped on a game table. His head spun, and it wasn’t from the two beers he’d drunk earlier. “Mason was eight when I was born. He wasn’t old enough to abdicate.”
“Not officially, but your parents knew.” Tristan leaned his arms on the table, his hands relaxed and open. “Mason planned to tell you the day he took you hunting.”
How ironic for his brother to die on the day he planned to abdicate the Alphaship.
The timing of the revelation seemed too convenient, too orchestrated.
“My dad put you up to this.” Brice directed no anger toward Tristan. A sentinel had a duty to carry out the Alpha’s wishes. Tristan had merely been ensnared in Brice’s father’s latest manipulation ploy. “What’s he playing me for now?”
“This isn’t an Alpha game.” Tristan’s features sharpened. Baring his clenched teeth, he took on the look of a really pissed wolf. “You are our Alpha-in-Waiting. The future of the pack rests with you.”
“Maybe the pack should consider alternatives to the tradition of Alpha succession. Everyone says I’m more Foster than Walker.”
“Only in coloring.”
Brice’s stomach, churning ever since Tristan had greeted him, precariously rolled and dipped. He laced his fingers behind his head to cradle his skull as he pointed his nose upward.
Where the hell was Cassie?
The myriad of smells was annoyingly bereft of Cassie’s scent; however, the singular feminine fragrance that overwhelmed his senses raised his hackles a second too late.
“What the fuck?” Brice tangled with the octopus-like arms of the woman who fell into his lap. She peppered his face with ardent kisses, and her strong, heady scent scalded his nose with each breath.
“Enough, Victoria.” Brice attempted to extricate himself politely. If not for the growing number of spectators, he would’ve dumped her on the floor.
Her underhanded attempt to trap him in a mateship had stripped away any respect he once had for her. After their last encounter, he awoke in her bed disoriented and with a killer headache. Victoria sprawled beside him, buck naked. The air was heavy with the scent of sex and not one used condom in sight.
He had no memory of the entire evening and suspected that she’d dosed his drink with the hope of convincing him to claim her.
He’d checked her twice for bite marks. Finding none, he dressed and hightailed it to his apartment.
Afterward, Victoria made it clear that she expected a mateship. Brice, on the other hand, would chew off his cock before he climbed back into Victoria Phalen’s bed.
Chapter 22
In the few minutes Cassie had been in the restroom, Taylor’s occupancy had swelled beyond capacity. She wedged between people gathered around the bar.
“Well, hello.” Vincent Hadler’s arm slithered around her waist to pull her from the crowd.
A sickening sensation crawled Cassie’s skin. “I’m here with someone.”
“He’s busy. Why don’t you keep me company instead?” Though she suspected Vince was wolfan, his smile reminded Cassie of a hyena. Comical and dangerous.
“I don’t socialize with resort guests.” More irritated than afraid, Cassie unhooked his arm from her hip.
“From what I’ve seen, you don’t socialize at all.” He laughed harshly against her ear. “But since you’re out tonight, I insist on a drink and a dance.”
“I don’t drink.” Her attempt to sidestep him failed.
“All right, let’s skip straight to a dance. I’ve got better moves than that Walker boy.” Hadler’s lips puckered as if he’d swallowed something sour.
“Not interested. If you’ll excuse me, Brice is waiting for me.”
“Don’t bet on
it.” Hadler jerked Cassie against his body.
Fear and disgust rippled through her. She couldn’t see Brice through the crowd, so he probably couldn’t see her. So much for him being there when she needed him.
She would handle Vincent Hadler, alone.
He wouldn’t be the first man she’d dropped to the floor for his unwanted attention. Imogene’s suitors weren’t always interested only in Imogene.
“Let me go.” Cassie had trained her voice to sound braver than she felt.
“Not until we’ve had that dance.” From his suggestive tone, Cassie knew he wasn’t talking about a twirl on the dance floor.
He drew her closer, rubbing his nose in her hair. “You smell delicious.”
Cassie thanked him with a hard thrust of her knee to his groin. He doubled over.
“I’m not on the menu.” Shaking, Cassie pushed her way through the throng to find Brice and a gorgeous blonde female fatale locked at the lips.
Cassie’s get-real talk in the bathroom had been a bunch of hooey. The sight of him kissing another woman cut her to the quick. A void opened in Cassie’s chest and sucked out her heart.
“The ladies’ room is empty. You can finish in there.” She clamped her lips to keep her dinner from landing on the table.
The woman dragged her slutty mouth from Brice’s lips. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m wondering the same about you.” Cassie resisted the urge to storm away. She had no right to be jealous.
Roommates, she reminded herself.
Yeah?
Well, hell. Being roommates sucked.
Brice pushed the woman to her feet and scrambled up beside her. “Victoria Phalen, this is Cassidy Albright.” Using the back of his hand, he rubbed the wetness of Victoria’s kisses from his guilty face. “We’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t slobber all over me.”
“I’d appreciate it, too.” The tawny-haired man at their booth stood.
From the mischievous twinkle in his dark chocolate eyes and the infectious smile that was almost too much to take in, Cassie immediately recognized Maico’s most talked-about bachelor. Although from Tristan Durrance’s reputation, she would’ve expected him to be the one making out in public rather than Brice.
“I’m all for PDA, but damn, that was painful to watch. You didn’t enjoy that one bit, did you, kiddo?” Tristan gave Brice a sympathetic look that chilled when his gaze passed to Victoria.
“Not in the least.” Brice nudged Cassie into the booth, although all she wanted to do was find a ride home.
Tristan retook his seat and turned his high-powered smile on Cassie.
“Victoria, I meant what I said in Atlanta.” Brice rubbed his temple.
“You’ll come around.” Victoria’s tapered brows lifted in perfect twin arcs. “You can’t fight fate. Christmas isn’t too far away, and we have a wedding to plan.” She sauntered to the bar, stomping on Cassie’s heart each step of the way.
Knowing Brice would eventually marry someone as sophisticated as Victoria was one thing. Having the reality of it shoved in Cassie’s face stung to high heaven.
“I can explain.” Brice slid beside Cassie, crowding her with his overwhelming presence.
“Your affairs are not my business.” She reached across the table. “Hi, I’m Cassie Albright.”
“Tristan Durrance, at your service.” He gave her fingers a gentle shake. “I’m a great fan of your pies.”
“Really?” She repaid his tact in changing the conversation with a grateful smile.
“Yep. The first one cost me a chomp in the ass when Rafe caught me polishing off one you gave him.” Tristan draped his arms over the top of his seat. “The last one cost me sixty-five bucks at the Fourth of July charity auction. Both were worth the price.”
“Thanks.” Pride tempered the ache in Cassie’s chest.
“Ever thought about going into the pie business?” The tip of Tristan’s tongue peeked between his lips and slid across the seam of his mouth in a manner that said he’d be her first customer if she did.
She gave a throaty laugh. “I love baking because it reminds me of the good times with my mom. If I had to make pies for a living, it would ruin the memories.”
“Well, if you ever need a taste tester, I’m available.” Something beyond their table stole Tristan’s attention. “I’ve got to run, love. I look forward to seeing you again.” He tipped his head toward Brice, then slipped out of the booth to disappear into the crowd.
“There’s nothing between me and Victoria,” Brice blurted.
“Like I said, your affairs aren’t my business.” Cassie choked on the lump constricting her throat. “Take me home. I want to forget this night ever happened.”
Chapter 23
Home was the last place Brice wanted to take Cassie. He turned onto a worn trail that cut through the heart of the co-op’s wolf sanctuary. A half mile in, a sentinel opened the gate for them to enter.
Brice engaged the four-wheel drive and followed the dirt path up the mountain. The truck bounced over the rough terrain, jostling them despite the seat belts. Cassie maintained a two-fisted death grip on the armrest, her mouth pulled tight.
Moonlight dappled the woods in a silvery mist, though Brice was too annoyed to enjoy its serenity. Judging from Cassie’s glazed stare, she didn’t appreciate the evening beauty, either.
At the pinnacle, Brice killed the engine and set the emergency brake.
“If you wanted to get rid of me to be with your fiancée, you could’ve asked me to move out. Throwing me off a mountain is a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”
Cassie’s sarcasm didn’t rile Brice as much as her continued references to his fiancée. How many times did he have to explain that Victoria meant nothing to him?
“I want to show you something,” he said softly.
“I’m not up for sightseeing.” Cassie focused on the windshield rather than looking at him.
Too edgy to cajole her compliance, Brice clasped her arm and hauled Cassie out of the truck.
She dug the heels of her sandals into the ground. “I’m not going anywhere with you, except home to pack my suitcases.”
Undeterred, Brice picked her up and swung her over his shoulder.
“I. Am. Not. A. Rag. Doll. Brice. Walker. Put. Me. Down.” She punctuated each word with a punch to his backside.
The strikes weren’t forceful enough to make him comply, though it did seem funny—such a slight woman railing against his hulk, her feet kicking in the air amid a swirl of curse words that he hadn’t known she knew. The baritone of his laughter echoed through the woods, making it a symphony of hilarity.
Until she clamped her teeth on the back of his arm and he almost dropped her. His vision blurred, and the pain became lost in the surge of testosterone.
Cassie claimed me!
The wolf fought to make the claim official. The man struggled not to fuck things up.
“Settle down.” He smacked her rump.
“I used to think you were a nice guy.” She returned the smack. “The more I get to know you, the less I like you.”
“So, you admit that you do like me?” He smiled at her disgusted groan.
“Is that what you learned in law school? How to twist someone’s words into something she didn’t mean?”
“Truth is truth, Sunshine. You’d see it for what it is if you stopped running.” The words struck a chord. Hadn’t he been running, too? From his family, his friends, his pack? His destiny?
“What I see is spots in front of my eyes from all the blood rushing to my head.” Her voice waned.
“Relax.” Brice set Cassie on her feet and held her steady until she stopped swaying.
“Why am I here?” Shoulders straight and spine rigid, she crossed her ar
ms and arrowed her chin at him.
Brice turned her around. His heartbeat suspended for each second it took for the harsh suspicions weighting her brow to give way to round-eyed amazement.
Countless stars twinkled against the dark blue velvet of the night sky. A celestial glow cast by the waning moon colored the valley and shimmered over the winding river that had brought him home. To her.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “Where are we?”
“Walker’s Pointe.” Brice urged Cassie to sit on the soft moss where he’d spent rapturous hours listening to his brother recite the chronicles of Walker’s Run. “Legend has it that when my forefather, Abram Walker, came to this place, something settled in his blood and made it impossible for him to be happy anywhere else in the world. Every generation of Walkers has experienced the same calling.” Including Brice.
Walker’s Run was in his blood.
So was Cassie. Even now, a part of her circulated through him. Her bite had broken the skin, allowing her saliva to seep into the wound. Although her human bite wasn’t binding under wolfan law, Brice believed the instinctive act would strengthen and solidify a mate-bond. Until Cassie believed, he needed to exercise care not to rush her or he’d lose her.
“It must be wonderful to have such a strong sense of belonging.” Cassie pulled her knees to her chest.
Brice put his arm around her. “I came home to tell Granny that I planned to give it all up. I lost faith in my friends, in my family. In everything.”
“They never lost faith in you.”
“I’m learning that.”
“It must have been hard when you moved away.” Cassie relaxed against him.
“Even harder coming home.” Brice’s next breath sounded ragged.
Cassie’s small hand cupped his larger one. A warm, dizzying wave surged through the mate-bond. She had opened herself to give him comfort, and he’d take whatever she offered.
He brushed his cheek against Cassie’s hair. A soured milk smell clung to the strands. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and the muscles along his spine tightened. The scent reminded him of the one he picked up outside the cabin last night.
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