Dark Wolf Rising

by Rhyannon Byrd

  Her question stopped him dead in his tracks. “That woman needs to learn to keep her mouth shut,” he muttered.

  “Eric, just tell me. Please.”

  Needing a drink to go with this particular conversation, he turned and padded into the kitchen. A moment later, he came back into the room and handed her a beer, taking a long sip from his own bottle as he paced a few feet away, staring out the front window. After taking another swallow of the icy brew, he cleared his throat, then said, “I’m not exactly known around here for being the gentlest of lovers.”

  “Oh.”

  Tension pulsed through his body like a ramped-up, gnawing ache, but he forced out his explanation, his fingers gripping the bottle so tightly he was surprised it didn’t shatter. “It’s because of my bloodline. My family and I are what our race calls dark wolves, meaning our blood is purer than most. Because of that, we’re considered the highest of the pack hierarchy. It also means that we’re stronger and more dominant than the other males.” He ground his jaw, then shoved out the rest. “And when it comes to sex, our more visceral natures are often difficult to control.”

  “Oh,” she said again, and he could practically hear her thinking it through. “That’s why you never get involved with human women, isn’t it?”

  He nodded, hyper-aware of every inch of her body as she came to stand beside him.

  “And so Crissy was implying that you’re dangerous to me?” she asked, setting her beer down on the window ledge.

  The sound surging up from his chest was rough and thick...somehow damaged. But then, it was a kind of physical pain, to be so close to something that he wanted this badly and not be able to touch it.

  “Eric?” He could feel the warmth of her gaze against the side of his face.

  With a hard swallow, he said, “I could be, if I lost control. That’s what I was trying to tell you this afternoon.”

  Her response was soft. “Well, I still think it’s ridiculous.”

  “Is it?” he growled, turning and locking his gaze with hers.

  “It is.” A small smile flirted with her lips. “You’ve never hurt me, Eric.”

  His voice was almost a snarl. “We haven’t had sex yet, either.”

  Her head tilted just a bit to the side, her eyes watchful and bright. “Are you worried?”

  “No.” He gave a stiff shake of his head. “I won’t allow myself to lose control with you.”

  Lifting her brows, she asked, “Then why are we arguing?”

  A few seconds went by, and then he felt the tension in his coiled muscles slowly draining away. He snorted and gave her a lopsided grin. “Hell if I know.”

  She laughed, the sexy sound rolling down his spine like a lick of flame, making him burn. He wanted her so badly he couldn’t see straight, his hunger like another living, animal thing in his body, keeping company with the wolf. It punched against his skin, starved for the feel and the taste of her.

  God, there were so many ways he could screw this up. He could make a mistake, a stupid miscalculation. Or even just open his big mouth and say the wrong thing, which would be nothing new. He was an ace at pissing people off.

  But, damn it, he wanted to make this work. Wanted her time with him to be something she would look back on later and...hell, he didn’t know. Think of fondly? What a crock of shit. He didn’t want to be a bloody memory.

  You don’t have to be...

  No! He knew damn well that he couldn’t give in to temptation. As time went on, it would be too difficult to keep himself balanced on that razor’s edge of control. Without the power of a blood bond tying them together, the odds were too great that he’d topple off. Especially given the wolf’s need for submission, and her reluctance to give it to him. He might last a week or a month, but no way in hell could he go forever without needing her complete surrender. Without needing to sink his fangs into her tender flesh and take her blood into his body. Without needing to drive her wild with the darker, more carnal pleasures he wanted to give her again and again, until she was lost in them. Lost in him.

  Damn it, he wanted to take her, here and now, but one look outside the window told him it was too risky. Finishing off his beer, he wiped his hand over his mouth and said, “It’s getting dark out. We should get going.”

  “What happens after dark?”

  “Nothing, usually. I’m just paranoid where you’re concerned,” he admitted with a frown, wondering when this woman had become so bloody important to him.

  She looked out the window for a moment, then brought her sparkling gaze back to his. “You don’t need to be so worried. I won’t run screaming if I see something scary. I mean, I’m pretty tough. I watch Dexter every week and don’t even have to close my eyes.”

  “That is pretty tough,” he agreed, going along with her playful tone. “But you’ll be happy to know that we’re not all psychotic serial killers here.”

  “Psychotic?” she gasped, pretending to be offended. “Don’t bad-mouth Dex, you jerk. I happen to think he’s a swell guy.”

  Eric gave her a cocky smirk. “You would.”

  “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Shaking his head, he said, “Just that you’re strange, Chelse.” And funny and sexy and incredibly wonderful. “I mean, we’re talking seriously abnormal.”

  “And this from a werewolf?” She was laughing as she shot him a threatening scowl, then grabbed a pillow from his sofa and threw it at him. He ducked to avoid the soft missile, a goofy grin on his face and a kinda warm feeling in the pit of his stomach as he turned to go and collect his things.

  Eric didn’t know what that warm feeling meant—but he was starting to suspect it might be something remarkably close to happiness.

  Chapter Twelve

  By the time they reached the Alley, late afternoon had given way to early evening, darkening the sky as long, indigo-hued shadows spread through the forest. While Eric grabbed his bag from the back of the truck, Chelsea took a deep breath of the pine-scented air, enjoying the way it filled her lungs.

  “Come on, you two!” Jeremy shouted from his front porch. “We’re having dinner here tonight. It’s almost ready.”

  Eric ran the clothes he’d brought back with them up to his cabin, and then they joined everyone in Jeremy and Jillian’s living room, where extra chairs had been put out to accommodate the crowd. It was the first time that Chelsea had met Michaela’s husband, and the first time she’d seen all the Runners together in the same place. With the exception of Carla Reyes, they should have been a formidable sight, considering their battle-honed bodies and rugged looks—but it was hard to be intimidated by a group who smiled and laughed as much as they did.

  The meal turned out to be a loud, festive affair, with everyone joking and sharing stories. While she and Eric had been gone, they’d all pitched in to make barbecue chicken, three different kinds of salad, sautéed zucchini and fresh baked bread. Chelsea’s mouth was watering from the scrumptious smells by the time the food was laid out buffet style on the massive dining-room table, the roughhewn pine a perfect fit for the rustic, luxurious cabin.

  “Where’s Casey?” she asked, taking a seat beside Eric on one of the two leather sofas. She balanced her loaded plate on her lap, her glass of chilled white wine sitting beside his Corona on the low coffee table. Michaela sat on the other sofa with Brody, who had his thick, auburn hair pulled back from his scarred face with a band. They were a striking couple, the tenderness the big guy felt for his wife shining in his green eyes every time he looked at her.

  Taking a seat in the chair to her right, Carla answered Chelsea’s question. “Her parents came and picked her up while you were in Shadow Peak.”

  She couldn’t stop a worried frown from settling between her brows. “She isn’t going back to her husband, is she?”

  “If
she does,” Cian murmured, “I think Eric made it pretty clear what will happen to him if he ever lays a finger on Casey again.”

  “And if he survived that first pounding,” his partner drawled, “I’m sure you told him that he’d be dealing with you next. Am I right?”

  A slow smile curved Cian’s mouth. “Let’s just say he knows we’re watching him.”

  Chelsea didn’t know what it was, but there was something a little different about the sexy Irishman. Something that was even a little darker, and maybe even a little deadlier, than the others, and she made a mental note to ask Eric about him later.

  Looking at Eric, Wyatt asked, “How was Elise?”

  While he told everyone what had happened with Glenn Farrow, explaining that he wanted to have some protection set up for his sister at her home, Chelsea couldn’t help but watch him from the corner of her eye. Even in a room full of outrageously good-looking men, he really was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. She loved the way the tendons in his strong throat worked when he tilted his beer bottle up to his mouth and swallowed. Loved watching his forearms as he set the bottle back down on the table, remembering how the muscles and sinew had flexed beneath his golden skin that afternoon when he’d been working her with his fingers. It’d been so erotic. So impossibly...

  “Chelse, are you okay?”

  His deep voice pulled her back to the moment and she blinked, managing a quick nod as she reached for her wineglass, her face feeling like it was on fire. She didn’t know what would happen when they left and went back to his cabin together. Did he think they were going to pick up right where they’d left off that afternoon? Did she want them to?

  Seriously? I might be out of my depths here, but I’ve never wanted anything more.

  It was hard to admit, but she’d been so wrong about him, her first impression completely off base. Yeah, he was tough and rough and as alpha as they came. But he was a good man, a good friend, a good brother. She’d seen how he was with Elise, supportive without being controlling. And he had a great sense of humor, holding his own with his friends whenever they started ribbing him.

  Most surprisingly, though, was the fact that she didn’t care he was a Lycan from a dark wolf bloodline. She didn’t even care that they hadn’t known each other for all that long. They’d already been through more together than she’d ever shared with any other man. She might not be the kind of woman who could ever completely surrender to a relationship, opening herself up to disappointment and heartbreak. But for the first time in her life, Chelsea felt the wild, uncontrollable need for connection with a man, and she was going to take it.

  No matter what happened, she was going to grab on to this unbelievable experience with both hands...and enjoy every moment of it that she could.

  * * *

  While the room buzzed with conversation, Eric found himself having a hard time focusing on anything apart from the woman sitting at his side, enjoying watching the way she interacted with his friends. He’d expected her to shy away from Brody, seeing as how he was massive and scarred. Granted, Brody wore an easy smile these days, his expression that of a man who had more than his fair share of happiness. Still, he would have thought a human female would find the Runner intimidating, but Chelsea didn’t avoid him. She smiled and laughed with the auburn-haired giant, seeming to like him even more than the other pretty-faced Runners. Was it because she sensed the vulnerability beneath Brody’s gruff exterior? He wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. She was always studying people, trying to figure them out.

  Looking back on Friday night, he didn’t know how he’d thought her only attraction was her looks. There was so much more to it than that. He enjoyed talking to her, just being close to her, as if it was where he was meant to be. And watching her interact with his sister and standing up to the others in town had been like a slap upside the head. She was so much more than just a beautiful face and body. She was fiery hot, brimming with passion, ready to fight for what she thought was right. Even though she didn’t quite trust him, she’d stood up for him. Even in the face of a town that had to terrify her, she’d held her chin high, shoulders back, ready to take them on because they’d dared to insult him.

  She was...well, incredible, and he’d have to be a blind, senseless fool not to be head over ass for her. The more time he spent with her, the more desperate he became for the whole damn package. For every complicated, stubborn, at times aggravating inch of her.

  Taking another long swallow of his cold beer, he realized that there were so many things he wanted to ask her about, so many aspects of her life that were still a mystery to him. He still didn’t know her favorite foods...or movies...or what she liked to do for fun, and it drove him crazy. He wanted to know it all, damn it. Everything.

  From the moment he’d set eyes on her, Eric had been telling himself he needed to keep his distance. But he couldn’t do it. He was drawn to her, like a force of gravity—one that was about more than mere lust, though the physical hunger he felt for her was stronger than any he’d ever known. But he liked her, too. Respected her. God knew she was obstinate, but she was fiercely loyal to those she cared about. And she enjoyed laughing, the sexy, husky sound always warming his blood. With all the baggage she carried from her childhood, he hadn’t expected her to have such a wonderful sense of humor, but then he was hardly traveling light. And maybe that was the point of a relationship, of getting close to someone, since it meant that you were no longer alone. That you could ease the other’s burdens, carrying the load together.

  At least until they had to go their separate ways.

  His wolf chuffed at the thought, the beast growing a little more restless every time he shoved that inevitable conclusion in its face. But there wasn’t any way around it. She wasn’t meant to be theirs, which meant they didn’t get to keep her.

  The thought had Eric draining the last of his beer. As he leaned forward to set the empty bottle on the table, Michaela smiled at him and Chelsea, and said, “I love the story of how you two met.”

  Beside him, Chelsea sat up a little straighter and blushed.

  Jillian grinned. “Is it true that he asked you to leave and you flipped him off?”

  Chelsea slid him a laughing look, then shifted her gaze back to Jillian. “It’s true,” she replied, lips twitching with humor. “I pulled a gun on him, too. But in my defense, he was being really annoying.”

  “Sounds like Eric,” Jeremy drawled, chuckling when Eric flipped him off.

  “He also had red lipstick smeared all over the side of his mouth,” she added, her blue eyes bright with amusement as she glanced his way again.

  “Thanks,” he muttered drily, while the whole group roared with laughter.

  “Aside from the lipstick part,” Torrance said, “it reminds me a bit of mine and Mason’s beginning.”

  Jeremy grinned as he looked at Chelsea and explained. “Mase got one whiff of her in a crowded café down in Covington and panicked. Big-time.”

  “What’d he do?”

  “He tripped her while she was carrying a tray of food,” Jeremy said completely deadpan, while Mason turned a little red in the face, muttering something under his breath about faithless friends.

  “Are you serious?” Chelsea asked, sounding as if she thought the Runner might be pulling her leg.

  Jeremy laughed. “Swear to God. It was the funniest damn thing I’ve ever seen.”

  Eric wondered if Jillian and the others had told Chelsea about the mating bond and how a Lycan recognized his mate through scent. If they had, she didn’t remark on it, and he wasn’t about to bring it up himself. If she asked him about what effects her scent had on him, he wouldn’t have a clue what to say. How did he explain the strange reaction he had to her? The way her scent affected him in a way that no other ever had, and yet, wasn’t something that called to him as his?

 
Best just to leave that particular can of worms closed, so that it didn’t blow up in his face.

  Everyone helped clean up after coffee and a mouthwatering batch of homemade brownies that Carla had brought over, and then they finally said good-night.

  “Did you have a good time tonight?” he asked as he and Chelsea made their way up the sloping glade.

  A soft smile touched her lips. “You know I did. This place is great.” The wind surged, and as she caught her long hair over her shoulder to keep it in place, she added, “I don’t know why you don’t just stay here permanently.”

  Eric pushed his hands in his pockets. “As tempting as the idea is, I can’t run away from the problems in the pack, Chelse. That’s not the answer.”

  “But you belong here,” she argued, looking impossibly beautiful in the silvery glow of moonlight. “Sooner or later, the Lycans in Shadow Peak are going to realize what a righteous guy you are. And when that time comes, you can help bridge the gap between the Alley and the pack. Until then, nothing is going to be right here, Eric. And your pack will never know balance.”

  “What about Elise? I can’t just leave her up there on her own.”

  “Bring her here to live, too. Not just for visits. It would do her good to be around friends, in a place where she felt comfortable.”

  “Maybe,” he murmured, but in his mind he could see it so clearly. Elise would be able to find a sense of peace in the Alley that she’d likely never have in Shadow Peak. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of the idea before, except that his heart and mind were still having a hard time accepting everything that had happened. He was still trying to function within a framework that no longer existed, but it probably was time to make a change—and he had the remarkable woman walking beside him to thank for the idea.

  Unable to stop himself, Eric suddenly swung her up into his arms, holding her against his chest. Then he lowered his head and took her mouth in a blistering kiss that was hungry and deep and invasive, making it clear just how badly he wanted her.