Sorcha's Wolf

by Billi Jean

  Sorcha softened against him and from their bond, he felt a fresh stab of sorrow. “I will call you. Every day, okay?”

  “Well, maybe not that often,” Trouble exclaimed and tossed them both a grin. “Behave and try not to wake the neighbours.”

  With that, she disappeared and his mate curled into his arms. “She’s going to have a hard time.”

  “She will be fine.” He doubted the woman had ever had difficulty in her life. Except as soon as he thought it, he knew that Trouble had lived through worse than his witch. “But we will support her, eh?”

  Sorcha tipped her head and gazed at him in that way he knew meant he’d done something wonderful. She didn’t squeal. She pulled him down and kissed him so thoroughly, sending him new ways to love her through their inner link he barely had the sense to test her readiness. With a low groan, he buried himself inside her warm, silky tight body. Once seated, he brushed her hair out off her face and kissed her warm lips once more before meeting her loving gaze.

  “I love you, Sorcha.”

  Tears shimmered in her emerald eyes, but she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and tilted her head on the bed to look at up at him with a brilliant smile. Could she be more beautiful, he wondered, but knew she couldn’t. She was everything he’d always wanted, but had never thought to have. His mate.

  “Oh, Alex, say that again and again.”

  He kissed her lips quickly and pressed himself deeper so he could feel her clench around him. “Ah, my witch, always, forever…again and again,” he whispered holding onto his dream with both hands. She laughed as he’d known she would, then brushed his hair back to press a kiss to his temple.

  “Say it right,” she demanded on a lovely moan.

  “I love you, Sorcha.”

  “Oh, Alex. I love you too. You’re my dream. You always were.”

  “Ah, sweet, you’re my life, aren’t you? Now. Always. Forever.”

  Also available from Total-E-Bound Publishing:

  Love’s Command: Safe in His Arms

  Billi Jean

  Excerpt

  Chapter One

  Mac practically ran down the luxurious hotel hallway. He slowed to a fast walk when an old couple came out of their room, but each step brought him closer to where he needed to be.

  Near Mandy.

  He still couldn’t believe Lacey had given him Mandy’s room number. Clearly Lacey was all about everyone being happy now that she was here, in Hawaii and getting married. Him chomping at the bit to get hold of Mandy must have been the key to convincing her he wasn’t going to blow this chance. Not with Mandy this close. That or she really believed Ace could kick his ass if he hurt Mandy, but still, he was seconds from seeing Mandy again.

  Shit freaked him out. He was supposed to be one of the toughest, meanest guys out there, but the reality of it was he’d let Ace kick his ass if he hurt Mandy again.

  He slowed down and saw the room across from hers first, ‘four-five-six-two’, then hers.

  Fuck. He froze. After five years, that door was all that kept him from the one woman on this planet who owned his heart. He rubbed his hand through his hair and back over his neck.

  Buck up, asshole, and face her.

  He reached up and knocked on Mandy’s door, and waited, keeping in mind everything Lacey had said about Mandy needing time and his own promise to go slow. She’d been in Africa. Africa for nearly the entire five years. Helping victims of the wars there.

  His heartbeat raced and he raised his hand to knock again when he saw the doorknob twist downward. A second later, Mandy stood there with a grin, already saying, “Hey, I thought—”

  She cut off with a soft ‘Oh’ and backed up. Her big grey eyes rounded out. He couldn’t take in the details of her quickly enough. She seemed to soak him in, too. He watched her swallow, feeling suddenly dry-throated as well. How was it possible she was more beautiful now than she’d been five years ago?

  “Hello, sugar. Miss me?”

  She blinked, then seemed to realise he was pushing her back into her room because she tried to stop him with a hand on his chest. He used it to pull her into his arms, letting the door close behind them. Sensations too wild to make sense of rushed him. Both her hands were on his chest burning through the material of his T-shirt. Her pink lips were inches from his, open in shock, sure, but, still, they were right there. He soaked her up. Her grey eyes caught him, stealing his breath like a sucker punch to the gut. With a little hiss, she narrowed her gaze, hiding the flash of emotion he’d not had time to decipher with an angry glare.

  “Mac, let me go!”

  Grinning, he tightened his arms around her wiggling little body. “Damn, baby, the least you could do is say hello before you fall into my arms.”

  She froze and rolled her eyes. “Give me a break.”

  “We need to talk, huh?” he asked, slowly relaxing his arms. She quickly stepped away. When she reached the patio windows, she reached up nervously and tucked her shorter curls off her face, turning to the side when she did so she didn’t have to face him. He could see her pulse thundering along the slender column of her neck from where he stood two feet from her. Her body was tight, stress showing in the way she clenched her hands together and in the lines of stiff posture.

  He did this to her?

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, turning with her arms crossed under her lush breasts to face him. “Wolf, Lacey is waiting for me.”

  She never called him Wolf. She always called him Mac. Shit pissed him off.

  “Mac.”

  She squinted at him. “What?”

  “Don’t call me Wolf. It’s Mac,” he murmured. “It’s always been Mac.”

  “Okay,” she drawled, dragging the two syllables out with such sarcasm he felt his body tighten with the challenge.

  “We need to talk,” he said. He watched the tension in her shoulders tighten. She scanned the room with an impatient look. She was going to argue with him. Mandy never, ever fought anyone. She avoided confrontations. She got around people, managed the hell out of them, but she never directly argued with anyone.

  After a second of turning her back on him, she faced him. “Talk? Why should I? Besides, give me a break! You can’t just barge in here and make demands. Now—” She took a deep breath, adding to the battle he had controlling his reactions by practically taunting him with her barely covered breasts in some kind of hot bikini top, and continued, “If you don’t mind, I’d like to go. Lacey is waiting and I know you don’t want Ace up here.”

  She thought she could scare him off with Ace? He settled against the wall and lifted a shoulder.

  “Ace doesn’t scare me, Mandy. And you aren’t leaving this room, not until you tell me what I want. Like where you’ve been, why you hid, and how you hid for the past five years. You and I are going to talk, sugar. Now.” As he spoke, he couldn’t stay still and ended up stalking towards her, letting some of his anger show in his face. She surprised him again by standing her ground, her fists tight at her hips but she faced him down.

  “Oh yeah? Well, you’re in for a surprise, Mac, it sucks to want. I should know, right?” The way she said his name, with enough sour sarcasm to curdle milk, had him drawing up to a complete stop. “Now, we can talk later, but right now, no, not possible,” she said in a rush.

  He backed her up by simply walking towards her. She landed in a chair by the bed, breathing hard, her fists tight, clearly wanting to hit him. He squatted down in front of her and carefully took one of her hands. “Look, Mandy, we’re going to start this over, okay? You’re going to tell me what I want to know—”

  “No, I’m not. I’m not one of your missions, Wolf.”

  “Mac.”

  He didn’t know why, but he always wanted Mandy to call him Mac. Never Wolf. Wolf was a killer. She had once loved Mac, loved him enough to see beyond the killer.

  She huffed out a breath and looked away from him, but not quick enough to hide the tears shimmering in her eyes
.

  “Whatever,” she whispered.

  He loosened his hand on hers and rocked back on the balls of his feet to give her some space. If she cried, he’d be lost. He’d cut out his own damn heart if it would make it better. He’d kick anyone’s ass that made her cry, but how would he get in a fist fight with himself?

  “Mandy, come on, sugar, look at me. Talk to me.”

  Still not looking at him, she tossed her sun-bleached hair off her face and exhaled. Her hair was lighter than he’d ever seen it before. She’d cut it, too. The long, golden curls had once reached past her shoulder blades, but he found himself liking this new style more than the old. He had a clear view of her face, slender throat and the delicate line of her jaw. The longer bangs hid her expression at times, but the way she anchored her hair behind her ear sent an odd nip of pain to his heart.

  She inhaled sharply and the curve of her breasts rose enticingly against the white bikini top she wore. He could clearly see the rounded shape of her nipples under that fabric. His blood heated. Hell, he was a man—whether she wanted him right now or not, he wanted her. He fought with himself to keep his hands off her. This was Mandy. Mandy. He’d never meant to hurt her, but he had. He wasn’t adding to that by making any stupid moves.

  “Just tell me where you’ve been,” he finally managed.

  “I’ve been in Africa.”

  He knew that but still demanded, “And how did you do that?”

  She flashed him a confused frown and tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

  Finally, at least she was willing to start somewhere. He let out a deep breath he’d not known he’d been holding. “I mean, how did you get out of the US? I mean, how did you hide from me?”

  She narrowed her eyes again, but she stayed silent, letting him try to get his head on straight, but finally she gave him a look like he was insane and said, “I booked a flight, got on it, landed in London and went to Africa from there. I didn’t hide.”

  “Liar. You hid from me.”

  She laughed. “You’re the liar. You didn’t even look for me!”

  “What? Are you fucking kidding me? I used every means I could to find your pretty little ass. You hid.”

  Instead of saying anything, she simply stared at him. Fuck. Was she telling the truth? He’d traced her flight to Hawaii and discovered she’d used a fake ID. She was lying. Someone helped her get a new identity—to hide from him—and he wanted to know who.

  “How did you change your name?”

  “Change my name? What are you talking about?”

  She was pissed off now, clearly ready to tear his head off. But why? Her face had flushed again, and her grey eyes were bright with anger and hurt. She sounded like he’d let her down. Like he’d hurt her because he hadn’t been able to find her. He had looked for her. He’d never stopped looking for her.

  “Sugar, if I could have found you, I would have and you’d have been with me all this time, not wherever the fuck you’ve been. Trust me, Mandy.”

  “Oh, yeah, how could I forget, you never break a promise—”

  He cut her fit off merely by pressing closer and getting right in her face. “Who is Elisa Gonzales? Who the hell is that?”

  Mandy blinked quickly, realising Mac was serious. “That’s me, you idiot!”

  Mac stared at her in confusion. “How the hell is that you? I’ve known you since you were a kid, and no way is that your name.”

  She smirked just to see him tighten his jaw. Really, Mac had always been quick to anger, but he’d changed, in ways she couldn’t keep up with but, for some reason, thrilled her. Simply sparring with him like this was more than she’d ever dreamt she’d be able to do. He’d been absent from her life much longer than the five lonely years she’d been in Africa. Now, he’d practically torn her door down to get to her?

  If she wasn’t absolutely certain she’d not fallen asleep, she’d have believed this was some kind of dream.

  He snorted sexy as heck through his nose, and she went all tingly.

  No! No tingly. Anger. Anger is much, much better. He was a jerk to you!

  “Oh? Well, can you please tell the hospital where I was born ‘cause that—?”

  “Elisa?”

  She winced. That name was so not her. “Okay, so I don’t use that. Amanda is my middle name.”

  His brow lowered at the confession like she’d given him some lead he was now going to nail her for. She nearly smiled, but held it in.

  “And? Gonzales?”

  She stared at him for a bit before shrugging. “Yeah, so?”

  He rocked back and lowered his head, but kept his hazel eyes on hers. Sexy didn’t even begin to describe him.

  “You and Rob have different last names?”

  “Geez, didn’t you ever wonder why Sarge hated me? And you’re the best of the best?” she muttered. “My brother would be so proud.”

  He simply stared at her, his gaze flickering over her face, hair, then down to her lips until she wanted to lick her lips so badly she had to fist her hands on the chair arms to stop the urge from becoming reality. Out of sheer desperation she blurted, “I can’t believe you never knew that. How is that possible? I mean the best training in the world and you can’t find out what my real name is?”

  As she imagined he would, he jerked his head back and frowned at her. “Hey, wait one second there, sugar, I’m much better than that.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “So, you just left using your own ID. That’s how, but I want to know why.”

  Now they were entering tricky territory. She’d just arrived, and so far, so good. No attacker would find her here, anyway. And if Mac didn’t know her last name… She discounted that as quickly as she’d thought it. Mac hadn’t known because he was too close to her, too into her world, since she’d been little. He’d assumed. Her attacker had known her number, where she’d worked, where she’d parked her car and what days she’d had school and what days she’d studied at the library. He’d even known what market she went to, and probably where she’d kept her hidden stash of Zingers at home. No way would he not know her real name. But would he be looking for her still? Why bother?

  “Mandy, come on, sugar,” Mac urged.

  Sugar. She loved that. He’d never called her anything but Mandy, or scaredy-cat. Not until the one and only night he’d shared her bed. Then he’d called her sugar in his deep, husky voice while he’d made love to her.

  She wanted to tell him everything when he looked at her like that. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t tell him that she’d left because he’d cheated on her and some lunatic would have killed him if she’d stayed.

  His phone buzzed, breaking the silent battle of wills. He pointed a finger in her face and got his phone out of his cargo shorts with his other hand. “You’re staying here. Right here in this room—”

  The complete jerk! Two minutes back in her life and he thought he could order her around like she was ten all over again? She had news for him—she’d not only grown up, she’d grown a backbone. “You can’t keep me in here. I’m supposed to meet Lacey for a swim—”

  “Too bad.” He stood and she got up too. Watching him, she frowned at the door but he caught her looking, flipped his phone open, and pointed a finger at her to stay.

  “Hey, what’s up?” he asked into the phone, then paused, grimacing and muttered, “Not much. Nah, gonna take a break. Maybe in a bit.”

  He turned away and said, “Yeah, I have.” Another pause and she moved an inch just to see what he’d do and he turned to watch her. How did he do that?

  “Yeah. Thanks, man, I’ll catch up with you later, Trigger.” He clipped his phone closed with a snap and set it on her table. With a heavy sigh, he anchored his fists on his hips and stared at her, his tanned face all business. Her heart skipped a beat at how handsome he was, then slowed at the long line of a scar running along his jaw and down his neck. Before she could ask him what had happened, he said, “Now, tell me. Tell me why you l
eft, Mandy.”

  She turned sideways and gazed at the surf crashing below them. What could she say? He’d done more damage than the attacker because her wounds had all healed, good as new, but her heart, her heart still ached for him. Talking to him now, all she wanted to do was throw her arms around him and demand he explain why he’d been such a jerk.

  He took a step towards her, and she fought the tears rising up. She could still remember how painful it’d been to walk into that bar and see the gorgeous brunette rubbing all over Mac. Now he barged in here and acted like all he had to do was say how sorry he was and she’d fall back into his arms, be the little girl that thought he hung the moon.

  No one hung the moon.

  “Mandy, just tell me. Come on—”

  “Why? Why did I leave?” Anger washed over her, stilling some of the hurt. The pain mixed with it, making her tremble. “How dare you ask me that? How dare you, Mac? You know damn good and well why I left, remember? Our mistake. Remember? The fucking mistake you said—”

  “Look, I was wrong that night. I tried to tell you that, to call, but you’d left by then and—”

  He’d been wrong that night? Now he realised that? Five years later?

  Doesn’t matter, Mandy. Does not matter. That lunatic could still be out there. Think, girl. Mac didn’t call you that night. If Mac didn’t call you to come to the club, you know it had to be one of the guys. If the guys are here, at the wedding, one of them could be the attacker. Think, think, girl.

  She steeled herself and faced him. “You made it clear you didn’t want me, Mac. Why would I wait around?”

  He stared at her with such a look of amazement that she rubbed her face to hide the fresh wash of tears. “You need to leave, I think you know how, or do you need me to fall asleep first, so you can sneak out?”

  “Fuck, Mandy, I told you we’d talk when I got back. I told you—”

  “You told me, all right. You made everything perfectly clear. You told me you didn’t want me!”