They circled, snarling and jolting toward each other as if playing chicken. The black one feinted toward Dane and, in a David versus Goliath moment, the silver wolf leaped toward it and dragged it down with her teeth at its throat.
Okay, not her dad.
The element of surprise worked for only a second before the black wolf had flung her on her back and stood above her, growling.
Dane pulled the shotgun to his shoulder. “Vanessa, get clear of my shot!”
Both wolves turned and in a classic “mind your own business” statement, roared at him.
He dropped the shotgun, rolling his eyes. Fine. Apparently, this was mythical creature territory. The showdown had become a staring contest. Just when he was feeling proud that his wolf was holding her own, she lay at the feet of the black wolf and twisted her head to the side, baring her neck.
He yanked the shotgun back up. Pack or no pack, he’d shoot the black wolf if it so much as leaned toward her. The black wolf lifted its charcoal eyes and stared at him. Dane felt like it was looking inside him, searching for every dark thought he’d ever had. Finally, it snuffled what sounded like an insult, and leaned down and nudged the she-wolf with its muzzle. Then it was gone, loping off toward the forest.
The silver wolf lay there, halfway between the woods and his porch. At the edge of the cleared yard, the black wolf turned back and stared between them, then jerked its head, motioning for the silver to follow.
“Are you kidding me?” Dane asked. He stared at Vanessa. What the hell? She wasn’t really going to put up with this, was she? That black wolf had tried to kill her.
The she-wolf stood and swung her gaze between them. The black wolf was gone a moment later.
“Vanessa?” He knew it was her. He knew it was. It was the only way any of this made sense. He propped the shotgun against the porch. “Vanessa, I’m not an idiot. I know what I saw, and I know it’s you.” He held up his hands to show they were empty. “Look. Come inside. I’ll make dinner.” He pulled his shirt off and dropped it on the porch. “See, you can even dress for it.” He grabbed the gun by the barrel and backed away. “I’ll go inside.”
When he had, Dane couldn’t help watching through the gauzy curtain to see what she’d do.
The gray wolf turned and sprinted back into the woods.
Oh, to hell with it. So much for being certain. Lucifer was right. Apparently neither the wolf nor the woman was about to be tamed.
Not that Lucifer had said that.
Not that animals could speak.
No, they could change back and forth from human to wolf, but speak? Hell no.
“I am losing my mind.”
He left the shirt out—just in case she changed her mind—but as the minutes ticked by, his temper ramped up with them. He had no idea what that power struggle had been about, but he knew whom she’d chosen in the end. There was really no reason he was still cleaning, still vacuuming. She’d chosen.
Not that they had anything in common anyway. She was a wolf part of the time—apparently—and he still wasn’t sure he believed in werewolves, despite what he kept seeing and thinking.
And they really weren’t anything to each other. They hadn’t even known each other twenty-four hours ago. He hadn’t met her in town so clearly, they didn’t run in the same circles. He smirked and slung the dirty rag he’d been scrubbing with into the hamper. She ran in a pack.
The only thing that made him think they could be together was this weird attraction he had for her, and that probably meant he needed to go over to the next town and hit on some woman in a produce section or something. He was desperate—that’s all it was. Maybe he could try online dating. It wouldn’t be too much of a commute to Seattle if it meant he could find someone in his species at least.
He’d already vacuumed and was staring in his fridge when a car’s engine thrummed in the distance. There weren’t many houses this way since his house and the land around it were government-owned. It sounded like a small car—like a girl’s car, probably a lithe little blonde.
If she’d come back, maybe he’d misjudged her. Maybe she’d just felt like getting dressed. Maybe she was still trying to act like she wasn’t a wolf. Stubborn. She was stubborn.
He pulled out the salmon fillets. She was part wolf—she probably liked fish.
“I do not snore!” Slam! The windows all rattled with the force of her entry back into his life.
He smiled as he stared down, but wiped it from his face when she appeared in his kitchen.
She held up the shirt. “You left this outside.” She didn’t set it down. She kept it in her hand. It was cute that she was still playing this game.
And since they were still playing this denial game…
“I saved the video of you snoring. I can play it for you again.”
He loved that her eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms and jutted out a hip. Her arms were wrapped around his shirt—he loved that too.
Holding up the salmon on the cutting board, he asked, “Do wolves like fish?”
“I suppose so, but you’re the one who seems to think he’s seeing them.” A blush crept up her cheeks as she uttered the lie, and she looked less hostile and a bit unsure.
He took out teriyaki sauce and liberally sprinkled it on the fillets.
Vanessa cleared her throat and took a step back.
He glanced up. “What?”
“Was that for me?” She was biting her lower lip in a way that wasn’t helping keep him on the opposite side of the kitchen counter. It was astounding that they’d slept in the same bed, and he was pretty sure they had a future, but he’d yet to kiss her—to sample that full lip she kept biting.
“No, I thought I’d eat in front of you. It’s how I treat all my guests.”
She nodded. “I’m allergic to that.”
“Salmon?”
Rolling her eyes, she groaned. “No, not salmon, you idiot. I would have told you if I was allergic to salmon. I’m allergic to sesame seeds. That teriyaki sauce has sesame seeds in it.”
“You’re allergic to sesame seeds? Who’s allergic to sesame seeds?”
She glanced at the door.
“Hold on!” He held up his hands. “Okay. If I wash this off, will that be enough?”
She grimaced and glanced toward the door again.
He rinsed off the fish and dropped it in Lucifer’s bowl at his feet. “Sit!” He pointed at the stool she stood beside. “I have another. I was thawing out two fillets so I could have leftovers.”
“You didn’t have to…” She gestured at the floor where the bowl was. She sighed, and her shoulders slumped so pathetically.
He leaned down and grabbed the bowl. “Lucifer is spitting mad about being locked downstairs. This’ll keep him happy for a little while anyway.” With his free hand, he grabbed a pad of paper and pencil and set them on the counter in front of her. He pushed her down. “Sit down and write out all your allergies so I can avoid drugging you to get you into my bed.”
She snorted a laugh and sat.
Lucifer was only slightly mollified by the peace offering—despite the salmon’s being longer than the cat’s body.
When he got back upstairs, Vanessa was still writing. Wow. She appeared to be allergic to everything. It was oddly endearing—he probably needed more sleep if he thought that. When he glanced over her shoulder at the list, she froze and turned toward him and inhaled.
“I’m sorry, my hands probably smell like…” he started to say and then she moaned—a moan that went straight to his libido. A woman shouldn’t moan like that. All of his good intentions—to go slowly, find out more about her, wait until she trusted him—nearly went out the window with that deep, low, incredibly sexy moan. He cleared his throat. “You must really like salmon.”
She turned back to the list, and he watched her hand clench the pencil with enough force it bent and splintered on one side before she loosened her hold. “Something like that.”
And they needed
to be on opposite sides of the counter again, or he’d pull her across it and make her moan herself hoarse. On the other side, he pulled out a new cutting board and put the other salmon fillet on it. “Okay. While you’re filling that out, we’ll play allergic or not. Lemon?”
“Not.” She didn’t look up. She just kept scribbling. He might need to make copies and laminate them.
“Pepper?”
“Like cayenne or black pepper?”
“Black. Why? Are you allergic to cayenne pepper?” Laminate it and carry it with him—everywhere. He might need to have her quiz him on it periodically.
“No. Neither.”
“Oh.” Then why had she mentioned it? It derailed his train of thought, and he stood there staring at the light pink fillet in front of him. Women were a lot of work. This one came with a lot of baggage. Weird baggage. Allergic baggage. Then again, she had a body made for sin and moaned like a sinner. Even if this was just lust that burned itself out… Besides, how often did you get to hook up with a werewolf?
He blinked forcefully. This was not a fetish. Probably. He didn’t want her like an addiction because she liked to bite…and play fetch. Probably.
Besides, when did he ever back down from a challenge?
Never.
That might be half of what was attracting him to her.
Nothing about her would ever be easy.
She looked up. “I’m not allergic to garlic, but…”
“But?”
“It smells really strong. On people’s skin.” She grinned. “And I sort of like the smell of…skin without garlic.”
Mmm. And that was why this was worth it. Even her smile made him want to drag her onto the counter and hear that moan again.
“Is that it or are werewolves like vampires?” he asked.
“I wouldn’t know.”
“How long are we playing this game?” Eventually, she’d have to admit she was a werewolf.
“The allergic or not game? I’m assuming until you cook that fish. Unless we’re then playing a game with raw fish.” Her grin widened. “I’ve played that game before. I won last time.”
“Was this in Reno too?” She’d mentioned something like that when she was in the cage, and it was hard to say whether she’d been kidding or not. He was leaning toward…not.
“Nope. I used to live near Portland. I was there until four years ago.” She tipped her head and looked wistful. “Reno was just a visit.”
“Did you keep the boa?”
She went back to her list, but he heard the sly smile in her voice as she said, “Maybe.”
He inhaled slowly. “Okay, so, no garlic.” It made sense that she’d have a great sense of smell. “What else is off-limits?”
She frowned at the filleted salmon. “Does it need anything else on it?”
Well, it only had lemon and pepper, but… They’d be eating very plainly, it seemed. Okay then. “I’ll go put this on the grill.”
She’d gone back to writing. She flipped the page. They might not be left with a lot of choices for meals when she was done.
When he came back in, she was hanging up her cell phone. And he knew from her apologetic glance at the grill where the salmon was cooking that she was about to take off. “Something has…come up. I have to go.”
“Work?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Sort of.”
“I don’t even know what you do.”
“I’m a receptionist.”
“So, it’s a receptionist emergency?” He managed to say it with a straight face.
He liked that she bluffed it out. He shouldn’t. “Yep. A big receptionist emergency.”
“I hear those are serious.”
“As a heart attack.”
“Do you work for a doctor? Because that might warrant that phrase.”
Vanessa tilted her head and smiled at him. “I work for a contractor.”
“Ahhh.” He leaned against the counter. This felt like progress—even if she was leaving. “What’s your last name?”
“Tucker.”
“What’s your favorite color?” Maybe if he kept asking her questions, she wouldn’t leave after all—for this receptionist emergency.
She tipped her head down, but her gaze slid to meet his…and the smile…the heat in her eyes—it was the gaze of the wolf from in front of his cabin earlier. It shouldn’t make his heart beat faster or make him crazy for her.
“Gray.”
“Gray?” That was an odd choice. He’d expected red or something vibrant.
She inhaled and closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the scent. Yeah, garlic would have to be off the menu if scents turned her on like that—her brown eyes were nearly black from her pupils’ dilation when she opened them. His brain snatched around for different questions, but all he could think about was how sweet she must taste.
A text came across on her phone, breaking into the moment. She shook her head as if she’d been in a daze and shot him a suspicious look. She knew he’d been stalling her. “I really do have to go.”
Once again, that strange certainty that she was his held him in place. She’d be back. He knew she’d be back. If she didn’t come back soon, he’d track down her phone number and ask her to return his shirt—the one clutched against her chest. She nodded and walked toward the front door.
“Vanessa?”
She turned.
“I like the way you smell, too.”
Her cheeks flushed, but he didn’t think it was a blush this time. For all her poise, she looked ready to attack. She spun away and a moment later, he heard the door shut—quietly. He almost preferred when she slammed it. There was something seriously wrong with him.
He walked to the back sliding glass door and stared at the smoke rising from the grill. The reflection of his face caught his attention. His gray eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled. Gray, huh?
She’d be back.
…
When she’d gone home after the confrontation at Dane’s place, Jordan had been back on her couch, watching the fight on TV again—and this time, he hadn’t bothered with clothes, but he had laid down the law. And she’d kept her eyes above his neck. And Dane would never appreciate it. Actually, he should probably never hear of it.
Jordan wasn’t happy that Dane knew of their existence—a fact patently obvious when he’d called her by name when she was in fur form. But humans were so intermixed into their bloodline that Jordan couldn’t argue. Much. If “her human” told anyone, his life was forfeit. If Jordan thought Dane wasn’t a worthy mate, his life was forfeit.
Dane wasn’t to know of pack business unless the Alpha approved. He wasn’t to know any other members of the pack until Dane proved he could keep their secret. And when most men uttered the promise “if he ever hurts you, I’ll kill him” it would have been an idle threat; not with Jordan.
She knew Dane wouldn’t tell anyone—she’d sensed it. Also, she was still hoping to keep that part of her separate—somehow. If they never spoke of it, that would certainly make it easier.
As for her mate being worthy, Jordan hadn’t said it, but the fact that Dane had stood his ground and even threatened an alpha wolf because she might be harmed… Well, most in their pack wouldn’t have stood up to Jordan in either form. And Dane had only known her a short amount of time. So, either he felt really strongly about her, or he was an Alpha in his own right—or both.
“He may be your mate, but I’m Alpha.”
She’d nodded submissively. Her second act of submission in a short amount of time. She didn’t know she was capable of such things—but she was when it came to Dane.
“No one harms him, though.” She’d fought for that. She’d been willing to die for that—which was insane, but even without fur, it was something she felt on a deep level that she couldn’t understand.
She barely knew him.
She wanted to crawl inside his skin, but she barely knew him.
“No one harms him unless it’s me, and h
e’s under our protection if he keeps my rules.” He’d shot her a glance. “Or if you want out—it’s the only way the scent-match can be broken. You wouldn’t be able to do it yourself. If you don’t want to be with him…”
“That’s not going to happen.” The sun would set. The moon would orbit the earth and pull on the tides and on the Lycan world. Seasons would happen…and she would want to be with Dane. She felt it as certain as her next heartbeat and her next breath.
It was freaking insane is what it was.
And she still wasn’t completely thrilled about it.
He’d shaken his head. “I’m surprised you picked a human mate.”
“Yeah. It wasn’t as optional as that. As soon as the allergy pills cleared out my sinuses, I was as good as matched.” Shaking her head at the memory, she’d added, “You can’t imagine how…addictive his scent is.”
“I guess I can’t.”
“If life is fair, you will—and it’ll be some brainless human female who wears a lot of perfume.”
He’d laughed at that, and then fixed her with a look. “Your human is the one who found Cheri’s car. This isn’t his business. I’m expecting a call from Travis so don’t go far and keep your phone on you. If this is a game, Cheri’s pushed it too far, and there’ll be repercussions with the pack.”
Even if she didn’t care for Cheri, she didn’t want to see a Lycan-sanctioned reprisal for an immature act. Women did odd things in relationships. She’d just done the oddest thing ever—in her entire life.
On his way out the door, Jordan had added, “Oh, yeah, and he gets rid of that cat. It’s spraying its scent everywhere. I can smell the beast for a mile, and I’m not allergic. It’s gone within the week or I kill it.”
She might have to tell Dane about that. Or not. That thing had nearly killed her. Her conscience kicked her. Okay, fine, she’d tell him.
Now they were meeting at the office. Cheri seemed to have disappeared. No record of her on flights. Her family and friends in her former pack hadn’t heard from her. She’d just vanished. Vanessa was the last to arrive, and Jordan shot her a look over the others’ heads. It was an uneasy truce between them, but she’d staked her claim to Dane.
“I figured we’d track her from her place and from where the car was found,” Jordan was saying now to those members of the pack assembled in the meeting room.
Past My Defenses (Taming the Pack series) (Entangled Ignite) Page 5