The music was thumping loudly inside. I wondered how long these things usually went on for.
“I’m not good at this stuff,” I admitted. Gesturing weakly at the entrance to the dance hall, I slumped a little where I sat.
“Spent more time with folks instead of hiding out behind Fynn, maybe it’d be easier.” Ansel had that look about him—Mr. Speculation.
“Suppose I could say the same for you, pack boy,” I quipped. Thinking about what Fynn and I got up to whenever I was in heat, it took everything I had not to give in to the heat threatening to flush my cheeks and flee. It crept up my neck and would have gone higher, had it been warmer than it was.
At Ansel’s arch look, I elaborated, his dark eyes drifting to my cheeks more than I was comfortable with, “You act like ladies only want one thing from you, and yet that’s all you seem to be willin’ to hand out. You attract what you claim to not want, all by your own doing. Maybe you oughta practice what you preach. Then maybe you’d start grabbing the right attention.”
“And that would be?” Dark eyebrows shot up.
“Whatever it is you’re trying to attract?”
“Who says I’m trying to attract anything?” After a moment, he added, “Or anyone?”
“How’s about you figure out what you want and go and get it and shut up about it then? Who says I honestly care?” I didn’t. Not really. The best thing about Ansel? I didn’t have to pretend with him, ever. I could tell him to go fuck himself all pretty like, queen of manners, and he could take it or leave it. There was no offense intended in that.
“Dance with me.”
“What?” Now, that, I wasn’t expecting.
“Come on, Roly.” His large mitt of a paw shot out, palm out, fingers curling, coaxing me to take his hand.
Eyeing his wide palm, then him, I leaned in to whisper, “Are one of them lady friends approaching or something?”
With a low growl rumbling his chest, his hand shot out and he gripped my wrist. Jerking me towards him roughly, sending me launching towards his chest to slap against him, we grunted on impact.
“Please goes a long way, Asshole,” I grumble-mumbled into his shirt, my face mashed against it.
“Can’t dance,” he admitted, as his arms wrapped around me loosely and his hands fell to my back and he began to sway.
“Then why did you ask me?” I peeled my face away from where it was practically molded to him to straighten to my full height, peering at him, and asked. Something I appreciated about Ansel? He was about six inches taller than me, the perfect height difference. I didn’t have to crane my neck to stare down at him or up. We could look each other in the eye.
“Your hair, you look different like this,” he informed me, eyeing my loose curls.
“I did the ends electric blue. The purple was fading. I needed a change.” My hand lifted and I fingered a springy lock. “I should say, Aunty B did it for me at Fluff N Dye. I like it. Going to keep with my natural hair, no more beating it into submission to get it away from my face. Loose ponytails and headbands from here on out.” I didn’t mean to sound defensive, stiffening, then start yammering about my hair like he gave a shit, but the man got my hackles up.
“Wasn’t saying anything bad, Roly.” His voice lowered, softening, chin dipping as he gave me a long, measuring look. “I just said it looked different.”
“You don’t like it. And don’t call me Roly, Ans-hole,” I blurted, eyes narrowing.
One of his hands slid up my back, a strange zing zipping through me as his rough hand slid up my spine, going right up my neck and into the back of my hair, burying in it. Practically massaging the back of my head, messing with my carefully done ‘do, he leaned in, bringing me closer to him, until our noses practically touched. “I like it. And make me.”
His challenge had my wolf clambering inside me to challenge him back. Bumping his chest with mine, a soft growl issuing from my throat, my fingers lifting to his chest to dig in warningly, I bared my teeth at him. “Ansel Gurgen, get your hand out of my hair before I remove it for you.” My eyes flashed, flushing with peridot. Ansel’s turned, swirling with gold and citrine, until they were turquoise rimmed with gold. “I can’t guarantee it’ll still be attached to you when I remove it.”
The thick fingers in my hair tightened. “Make me,” he taunted, his beast in his voice.
His snarl matched mine as we both let them free. It was a power struggle, whatever this was, our bodies brushing as we shifted restlessly. The way he leaned into me, I’d almost think he was toying with me, teasing, playing, readying to pounce, not snarling in my face like he might bite it off. He could try to tear my mug off, but hell if he’d walk away unharmed.
My claws slipped free and I raked them down his chest. Not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to gouge his shirt.
“Emmy,” Ansel muttered, his hand at my back fisting my shirt, and then his lips were crashing down on mine and my world turned on its head.
Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Oh shit. I was caught up in it, all of it, the heat of him pressing into me, the almost desperate way he kissed me, his hands clutching at me for dear life, like he never wanted to let go. The taste of him... A hungry growl tore from my throat. He swallowed it up, eating at my mouth. Wetness bathed my fingertips as my claws dug into his shoulders, burrowing into his skin through his layers of clothes. Our hips shifted as our chests rubbed. It was wanton, wild, nuts, and in the middle of fucking public, no less.
Our tongues met, dueling. I felt like I was on fire, wet with want and so much more. When we finally broke apart, reality came crashing back down, like a house being dropped on top of my loopy arse.
Shit. This was Ansel. Fucking Ansel.
We were both breathing heavily, panting. Our teeth were sharp, sharper than human, our wolves getting in on this. Licking my lips, I tasted the coppery tang of blood. Double fuck.
Suddenly panicked, I couldn’t get away from him fast enough. Arms falling to his sides as I pulled away, where he kept them, hands balling to fists, arms straining, as I stumbled backward blindly, he held himself perfectly still. Without a word, I took off, just ran off like some dumb assed, scared little kid and not a grown assed woman.
Ansel cursed, the sound long and loud in the garden. “Was it that bad?” he called after me.
My eyes bugged as I hit the dining hall, scrambling along the fringes of the partygoers, making my way as casually and totally not running away from the dude who just kissed the shit out of me, as possible, toward the double doors leading to the parking lot.
Avoiding Rowdy and his gang and anyone else that might smell Ansel on me, my cowardly buns slunk out of the mixer. Once in my car, panicked but trying not to have a full blown attack, I spotted a familiar peek of plaid and squeaked. Grabbing the lever to my seat, I jerked it, maybe a little too hard, and shot back. Trembling from head to toe, wondering when I’d become this insane, panicky person, and why, most importantly, Ansel had decided I would make a good belt notch, promising to never question why those shewolves flocked to him as they did, I gulped hard, the sound loud in the deafening silence as I laid there and played dead.
Maybe I should grab the blanket from the backseat and toss it over my head... No. Stupid. He’ll still see you, you lump.
“Emmy?” I heard him call, and cringed so hard I thought I might have pulled a muscle in my face.
“Emmy...? Roly? You out here?”
Fuck. Me. My heart was pounding so hard in my chest it hurt. I’d never been so glad to be parked in the back end of the lot in my life. Wondering at what I had clutched in my hand, I lifted it, gaping at the seat lever, the plastic chunk gleaming in the parking lot lights taunting me. Eventually the double doors opened and shut, and I shot up, seat still stuck permanently in a reclined position. Jamming my key into my ignition, I backed out and gunned it the hell out of there.
“You’re a chicken,” I muttered the whole way home, and yet my belly dipped whenever the what ifs, what may have become of
me, should I have faced him, scenarios, threatened to make my heart explode.
Chapter Four
“You’re avoiding me.”
Shrieking in surprise, I spun around. Fynn scowled down at me.
“Don’t scare me like that!” Straightening up, a stack of discounted books in my arms, I eyed my friend cautiously. Had Ansel told him? Did he know? Why was he giving me that look? Did that look mean he thought he might know that he knew something? Why am I being so paranoid?
“You’re avoiding me.” Apparently that bore repeating.
“Am I?”
He gave a jerky nod but stepped back to let me pass, taking the first five or six books off the top of my pile to follow after me to the register.
“Sorry.” What was the use of pretending I wasn’t? I most definitely was avoiding him. What if Ansel followed him again to one of our diner meetups? What then? What if Ansel confided in his brother, who was struggling with the repercussions of the shewolf heat combating naked aerobics we’d been secretly divulging in? What if Fynn told Ansel about us having sex? What if- Arghghghg!
Yes. I’d been avoiding Fynn.
Watching me closely, Fynn’s head tilted to the right. Slowly, his expression grew thoughtful. “Heard about the mixer.”
“Oh?” Don’t blush. Don’t you god damned blush, Em. My cheeks darkened, until my ears burned.
“Yeah.” His head bobbed in a nod. “Sorry it didn’t work out for ya.”
Oh, good god, he meant that it was a flop, not the, erm, other thing. Maybe he didn’t know? “It was like I had the plague,” I managed to say evenly.
“Fuckers. Their loss.”
“I had no wingman,” I pointed out.
“I’m sorry.” And now I felt like shit, because he looked so god damned contrite all of a sudden. Fynn, contrite? Guilt, it was more like, for ditching me, but I couldn’t blame him. Our precarious predicament was fucking odd all around.
“I get it,” I said quickly, but that look remained.
“I’ve been a bad friend.”
Not nearly as shitty as me, for suckin’ face with your brother and kinda dry humping him in a clam pissing cherub statued garden, even if he did initiate it, but, hey, who’s keeping tabs?
“The next one, huh?” he said with that easy, carefree way of his.
“Uh, what? Oh. Oh, yeah. Yeah, for sure.” I wouldn’t be going to another. Ever. I’d die a shriveled up old shrew, thinking about that insane lip lock with Ans-hole. Gaaaaahhh-ar, stop thinking about him, Em!
I didn’t even want to contemplate my potential options or lack thereof when it came to my next heat, though the memory of that kiss with Asshole could probably bolster me a lil while.
“You okay?” Fynn said suddenly, dragging me back to the present.
“Hmm?” I blinked, realizing belatedly he must’ve been saying something while I daydreamed about how hot that smooch was with the pack’s third. The urge to fan myself was strong. Resist, woman. Resist!
“I said Ansel went.”
“I- He was working it.”
Fynn grinned and snorted. We were at the counter now, and he set my books on the counter. “Is that what they’re calling it now? Rowdy’s been teasing him endlessly about the stick he shoulda brought to chase the ladies away.”
Somehow, I didn’t find the shewolves fawning over him quite so comical anymore.
“Funny, right? Go to a mate meet and greet to scope out your next hookup.”
“Hilarious,” I mumbled, scrambling to lift the stack of books in my hands to the counter to be rung up.
One book started to fall as I slid them onto the counter and bumped it. “Crap,” I muttered, right as I found it suspended midair. Glancing up, I met a pair of dark, warm brown eyes, studying me curiously.
When I just stood there, frozen, Fynn nudged me. “You want that one too, don’t you?”
“Uh... yeah.”
Ansel held the book out to me, waiting until I had it clasped in my hand to loosen his grip. His fingertips brushed mine as he pulled back. Zing. Zip. That electric shock of recognition zapped my ass.
“What are you doing here?” Fynn asked. Hooking a thumb at his sibling, he mused, “This dude is stalking us. I think he’s got nothing better to do. You ever notice that? Like he’s been watching us, timing his patrols to our comings and goings, to keep an eye on us.”
“Shut up,” Ansel barked, though his complexion did darken near his cheekbones. Huh.
“Who has that much time?” I muttered. Ridiculous. Now who was the paranoid one? Hah. It was easier with Fynn right here, allowing me to pretend that night hadn’t happened, slip back into our old, familiar roles. Oh, but it had happened, I reminded as my eyes found Ansel’s, to find the big bad pack third watching me. The look on Ansel’s face said he’d very much like to discuss it. The look on mine probably implied I may need to take a dump. Life was funny like that.
Trying to smooth out my number two is imminent face, I opened my mouth to speak when the cashier chimed in, “You qualify for another free book, Emmy.” Cherry Lee, decked out like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz in a blue and white dress today, her bright red hair pulled away from her face with a big blue bow for their Everybody Should Read, Buy One Get One Free sale, glanced between the three of us.
I very much wanted another free book, damn it. “I do,” I said quickly, “can you hold these for me and I’ll be right back?”
“Of course.” Bright red painted lips beamed at me. The older woman gave another pass between the males, and the lion shifter tossed me an overdone wink.
“Uhm...” was all I could muster as I spun around and rushed toward the romance section. I could have sworn there was another kilted Mc Somethin’ Gonna Get Him His Bride book back thereabouts I’d yet to devour.
One glance into the shop window, Ansel dogging my steps while Fynn looked on with wide eyes, my best friend grinned, either ignoring or oblivious to the hunted look on my face, spotting me watching him in the window’s reflection, and waved. “I’m going to go get us a seat at the café. Meet me there when y’all are done,” he called, to my chagrin. No! Don’t leave me with him, I wanted to howl.
Weaving in and out of book shelves, I’d just thought I’d ditched the lug when I reached my destination.
“You can’t honestly think you could lose me that easily, did you, Roly?”
“Stop calling me that, Ans-hole,” I snapped, spinning around with a snarl on my lips.
I’d sensed his closeness, felt him approach, it was kind of hard to miss the guy, but I’d not realized he was so close I could feel his breath coasting over my face as I faced him, his large body blocking me in. I was cornered, three rows of books and an Ans-hole.
Ansel’s head tilted and he made a noise in his throat, wolf tinted eyes staring into mine searchingly. “But that’s what you are,” he murmured.
My nostrils flared, eyes widening. “Are you calling me fat, asshole?”
“No,” he stated calmly, “just admitting what I’ve always known to be true, even if I’ve never said it out loud until now.”
“And what’s that, pack pocket pooch?”
Ansel snorted at the insult, unoffended. Leaning in, until his nose just about brushed mine, he smiled. That curve of his lips lifted as I found myself slowly backing away until my ass hit the book shelf. Too close. I wanted to suck in lungfuls of his scent. Turned on Ansel was... It was... I was getting all hot and bothered just standing near him. Moving along with me, he rested one beefy arm along the top of the shelf to my left, bending closer to go for it and brush the tip of his nose along the side of mine. Inhaling as he went, he growled softly, “That you’re mine.”
Holy fuc- Wait. What the fuck? “No,” I blurted, gaping.
“Yes.” Pressing himself closer, until we were flush against each other when I didn’t so much as utter a peep of protest, he began placing light, teasing kisses along the side of my mouth.
It was like my brain had shut off. I com
pletely forgot how to function while he was- He was... doing, erm, that. My heart threatened to burst, it pounded so hard. Legs? What legs? They were trembling, two thickly thighed bowls full of jelly.
“I’m not your anything.” My words came out on a whisper and, boy howdy, did they sound breezy as fuck.
“You’re my Roly,” his kisses grew more insistent as he peppered them along my jawline, up my ear, and worked his way back down to my lips again, “and I’m your Ans-hole.” His lips were just a hair’s breadth away from mine when he grinned suddenly, dark brown eyes alight. “Tell me you don’t feel like I’m your asshole and I won’t kiss you.”
Waiting for him to lay one on me, I paused when he stalled. I should be cackling—he’d just told me to declare he was my asshole—that alone should have me bent over busting a gut. My brain chose that moment to kick back online. “You don’t feel my asshole.” Never mind then. My mouth worked but apparently my brain was still restarting. Blinking, I blushed three shades past burgundy. “I mean...”
My asshole’s tongue snuck out to tease across the seam of my lips. I mean, Ansel! Not my asshole! “Oh god,” I blurted, “I’m doing it in my head now too.”
About to seal this fucking lip lock deal, Ansel froze. His brow pulled down into a scowl. “Huh?”
“Nothing. Kiss me already or fuck off and get outta my way, Gurgen. I don’t have all day.” Wincing, I shook my head. What was I saying? “No. Just fuck off,” I hastily corrected, “and get out of my way.”
Thick eyebrows shot up, threatening to kiss the short faux hawk I’d just now noticed he was currently sporting. The hawk was new, but I liked it. It looked good on him, went with his- God! Emmy, stop that!
Blindly reaching for a book, I made to move past him. “Move it or lose it, Ans-hole.”
Grinning so wide it looked like it hurt his smug mug, he grabbed my face, cupping it none too gently, and planted one on me, right there in front of half the town rushing in for a book deal and god and whomever else. Letting me go, licking his lips as he eyed me, he stepped off to the side. His grin was gone, a small, polite smile in its place, but his eyes were twinkling like they were full of fucking stardust. The cheeky bastard.
Until I Make You MINE (Wolves of Amrok Hollow) Page 4