So he’d left—back to the property so far from the main clan lands that most didn’t realize it was even part of their territory. Left his mother behind, as she was forbidden to follow. Ten years passed—ten years spent in the tiny cabin. The rest of his teens and half of his twenties slipped by in that small space, only rarely did he venture out for supplies.
His mother passed away. Then his father.
Control remained stubbornly out of reach.
Then he heard a cry for help. Even with his very sensitive ears, the call had been difficult to make out. Difficult to follow. But he’d managed. And at the end of the trail was his savior.
Evie thought he’d rescued her that night, but she’d saved him just as soundly.
With a smile that could light up a room and an attitude made no less plucky after her close call, she’d lit up his cabin and his life in a way he’d never expected. Leery of his tiger, he’d known that touching her, kissing her, fucking her, was a risk.
But he hadn’t been able to resist.
Unfortunately, his tiger hadn’t, either. And in the midst of passion, he’d bitten her. Claimed her as his mate.
He’d refrained following her when she slipped out the next morning, knowing he could too easily hurt her if she stayed.
But his control improved, and with every bit of courage he could summon, he began to start allowing himself to shift again, to embrace his nature.
Little by little, his control increased. Having a real life suddenly seemed possible.
But he never forgot Evie. And he couldn’t imagine any kind of life without her in it. So he’d made a plan. Called for help from—of all people—his brother. Shockingly, Erick had agreed—on the condition that Nicolas would return to the clan, at least to meet his soon-to-arrive niece or nephew.
Sure, things hadn't gone exactly as planned. She'd refused his offer to have someone pick her up. And at the diner, she'd demanded to drive herself to his cabin.
She was a determined woman, and careful. Both qualities he admired, even though they now kept his hands, sweaty from fear, gripped hard on his steering wheel. He did his best to keep his eyes on the road ahead of him, when all he wanted to do was watch the rearview mirror to make sure she was okay.
When Evie had even demanded to know if the cabin was the same one where they'd met—he was quick to assure her it wasn’t—her scent had touched him, strong enough to detect even across the table. Not fear. Or, not only fear.
Lust.
It wasn't love—but it gave him hope. Hell, he couldn't expect her to love him, they'd only spent a single night together. A single night that had driven the purpose of his life for the last three years.
A good hour passed before they finally crept up his tiny road that ended at his new cabin. He turned off the truck, and immediately jumped out. She pulled up next to him—likely unable to see that she parked on the corner of his garden, hidden under the couple of inches of snow.
He was relieved they’d made it without issues, but Evie looked irritated when she stepped out of her rented SUV.
“Seriously?” she asked, face alight with anger. “Did you forget where the gas pedal was? Or did you hope I would die of old age before we got here?”
He frowned at her. He'd been going slow, sure. The idea of losing control and hitting a tree had kept his foot as light the gas as he could. But she didn't seem to appreciate his concern for her safety.
Instead of waiting for a reply, she huffed and reached into her backseat to pull out a camera case and a suitcase. She'd already wrapped another piece of equipment around her back before he realized he was letting her carrying all of her stuff alone—he really had to stop checking out her ass before she caught him. He reached out to help, but she pulled back.
“I can carry my things.”
He almost growled in frustration. “I'm not questioning your abilities. Just being a polite host.”
She crinkled her brows then shrugged. She shoved the suitcase at him, but not the camera equipment. “Fine. Carry away.”
He fought a grin and led her up the steps to his cabin.
He'd swept the porch before heading to town, but a little powder clung to it. Just to be safe, he waited for her to start up the stairs first before following closely behind. He wouldn't allow her to slip on his deck and crack her skull open.
“You're being weird,” she said, as he opened the door.
“You're being weird,” he countered.
She laughed, a bright, glowing sound that made his chest tight. “Touché.” She scrunched her nose. “You didn’t lock the door.”
“Out here?” He snorted. “If someone gets all the way up here, they deserve the chance to steal something.”
Not much of a chance, if he was anywhere nearby.
They stepped into the house and he held his breath. He hadn't realized how much he wanted her to like his home, but he couldn't take his eyes off her as she scanned their surroundings.
Every square inch of hardwood, every drop of paint, had been born of his sweat. He hadn't only spent the last three years gaining control over his tiger—he'd spent it building a home. A home that he'd imagined, in his deepest of thoughts, sharing with her.
She turned to look down the halls, and he took in her expression. A wide smile touched her lips, and her eyes were filled with wonder. “It's a step up from your old cabin.”
“Thanks.” Then, he felt compelled to add, “I built it myself.”
Her eyes widened. “Really?” She turned and scanned the room again, taking in all of the woodworking he'd spent so much time on, the granite countertops he'd needed every bit of his tiger strength to install by himself. “It’s…lovely, Nicolas. Just lovely.”
His chest tightened almost painfully at her words, at her approval. “Thank you.”
After taking her bag and gear into his guest room, he gave her a quick tour of the rest of the house, trying his best not to preen too much at her compliments. When they returned to the living room, she clapped her hands together once. “All right. Are you ready to get out there?”
Of course, the foxes. She wouldn’t find any out there tonight. Hell, not so much as a track would be visible until morning. “It’s too late. We’ll head out at first light.”
She frowned. “I'd rather go tonight. Get the lay of the land—heck, the universe could smile down at me and give me amazing shots first thing. I’d be outta your hair in no time.” Her grin returned. “I know how you feel about guests.”
“I enjoy some guests more than others.”
Her grin faltered. “This isn't—I'm not a college kid anymore, Nicolas. I'm a responsible adult.”
He arched an eyebrow at her. “Whatever that means.”
“It means that I don't sleep with random hot guys I meet on mountains.”
“Even if they save your life?” he deadpanned.
She crossed her arms and blew a puff of breath to get a sheaf of hair out of her eyes. “That's not why—I mean, you don't think —”
“Course not. It's just so tempting to tease you.” He knew she hadn't slept with him simply because he’d saved her life. They'd both been hungry for each other—ravenous. Hell, he was ravenous for her right now.
And not just because his body woke like a hungry bear the second he’d seen her. Even three years ago, something in her had drawn him to her. A quiet strength, and a naughty attitude.
“Good.” She nodded to herself, glancing away from him. “Good,” she repeated. “I'm a grown-up now. This isn't going to be a repeat of that night.”
“You seemed pretty grown-up to me back then,” he said, insinuation clear. He stifled a grin at the sight of the blush creeping up her neck and cheeks. “So, no amazing sex. Got it. I'll take that right off the list.”
She gasped, and the laugh he'd been holding escaped him, rolling out of his chest even as she smacked his shoulder.
“You're incorrigible,” she said.
“And you're far too easy to embarrass fo
r a grown-up.” He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. Not one that showed his true feelings—that what he really wanted to do was peel off her clothing bit by bit, licking, nibbling, and kissing her skin. “I get it. Don't worry, I can be a professional. I’m allowing you on my family’s land because I trust you to do the same. Not because I hope to seduce you.”
It was the second time he’d lied to her, and it tasted just as sour and terrible on his tongue as the first.
A flash of something—something he hoped was disappointment—flashed across her face. But she recovered quickly. “Then, as a professional, I think you should take me out to see those foxes tonight.”
“Your safety is my main concern.” My only concern. “We’re not going on that mountain tonight.”
She pursed her lips. “Fine. Then what would you like to do for the next few hours?”
He couldn't help but tease her. “Well, if sex is off the table, I guess we'll just have to do what everybody else does.”
“Oh, and what's that?” Was he imagining it, or had her voice turned distinctively husky?
He stepped closer to her, so close that her scent fully filled his lungs. Sweet and spicy and full of lust. Fuck. How was he supposed to act like a professional when she smelled so damn good?
“We'll try small talk over a couple of beers and pretend that we’re not thinking about sex.”
The temptation to run away was fierce, but she saw the spark of mischief in his eyes, and no way was she going to give him the satisfaction of bolting to his guest room while his laughter followed in her wake. She straightened her spine and did her best to sound nonchalant. “What kind of beer do you have? I don't do Guinness.”
He flashed his sexy grin, and his voice lowered. “I'm sure I have something that will satisfy you.”
Her mouth dropped open, and the sound that escaped her was something between a whimper and a gasp. Still grinning, he turned and headed for the kitchen. After a moment of hesitation, she followed, hoping she didn't look as hot and bothered as she felt.
Nicolas grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge—not Guinness—and they headed for his comfortable living room. The house was larger than the cabin he used to live in, but the open living space still felt cozy. She settled into his comfy couch while he added a couple of logs to the fire.
“This place is a little homier than your other cabin,” she said.
“I do find I like electricity now that I have it.”
“Really? I thought your oil lamp held a certain charm.”
He shot her a serious look over his shoulder as he crouched in front of the fire, poker in hand. “What can I say? Oil lamps just do it for the ladies.”
She laughed, then abruptly stopped, images of other women in his cabin filling her mind. Dumb. It wasn't as if it was their place. One night did not give her ownership over the man or the cabin.
Nicolas didn't seem to notice her change in mood, and he walked around to settle on the loveseat, kitty-corner from where she sat on the couch. Close enough to make it feel intimate, but far enough away that she wasn’t crowded.
They fell into small talk. Movies, sports, even a little bit of chatter about the weather. Weirdly, the conversation didn't feel forced. They had far more in common than she would've guessed. And before she knew it, hours had passed. The sun disappeared, and she glanced around, looking for a clock. Her eyes widened when she found one over the mantle. Had they really been talking for nearly three hours? About almost nothing?
“So how have you been, really?” he asked, and she got the feeling the conversation was no longer stuck in the small talk arena.
She shrugged. “It's been…fine.” Dammit all. Why had she said fine? Fine was code word for not that great. She should have said ecstatic, fantastic, wonderful. There were countless adjectives she could have used that didn't sound nearly as forlorn as fine.
Sure enough, he seemed to pick up on the undercurrent. “Just fine?”
Maybe it was the fact that it felt like she’d known him for years—really known him. Or maybe it was that they'd settled into small talk like they were old friends. But far too much truth tumbled from her lips. “Taking portraits for a living is isn’t exactly how I pictured my life. Definitely not what my parents hoped for.”
To her surprise, he didn't offer a look of pity, or even one of sympathy. Instead, he shrugged. “You have plenty of time to make your dreams come true, Evie. I don’t doubt that you will.” His eyes twinkled. “You're too stubborn not to.
“Stubborn, huh?”
“Maybe stubborn isn't the right word,” he conceded. “Determined. You're a very determined woman. And you will make all your dreams come true—even if it takes longer than you’d like. And even if it’s in a field other than the one your parents might wish.”
Her throat burned. How could this man—this practical stranger—have such faith in her? “Well, it certainly won't happen as fast as law school would have.”
“That's because law school wouldn't have been a success—not for you.” He leaned back and took a sip of beer. They’d been chatting so much that they were only on their second bottles. A good thing, too, because after three, the sexy man across from her might prove irresistible.
Shit, after two beers, she was tempted to hop onto his loveseat and kiss him. If only to test her memory. Surely, the man couldn't be as sensual, as remarkable in bed, as she remembered. She'd been high on adrenaline—her life just saved by this sexy stranger. That had to have affected the experience. But somehow, she knew that was a lie.
He was just as desirable as she remembered. Maybe even more alluring since he’d had three more years to mature. He was probably nearing thirty now, maybe a year or two shy. And he'd really gained a man's form, a man's confident demeanor. He'd been big before, but the way he filled a room now…he made her feel tiny, and she was hardly a small woman.
But it was more than that.
There was a hardness in his face, a knowledge in his expression. The absolute confidence in his eyes. Those eyes.
For a moment, they both went quiet. He didn’t break her gaze, and she couldn't look away.
No. Memories weren’t playing tricks on her mind. The man across from her had done things to her body she couldn’t quit thinking about. Had made her feel inexplicable things in the short time they’d been together.
What could the even stronger, even more confident man do to her now?
Slowly, without taking his eyes away from hers, he set his beer on the table. The tiny ding of glass against glass roused her from her memories. She sat up straight. Damn. She hadn't even realized she'd been leaning toward him.
Eyes suddenly hooded, he continued to stare at her. “You'd better stop looking at me like that, or I'm going to assume sex is back on the table.”
“Back? It was never on the table.” She was proud of herself—her voice didn't even shake.
“Wasn't it?” He arched a brow at her.
She couldn't breathe, and her body tightened. She could feel her sex growing damp. Her body readying itself for a man she couldn’t have.
Shit.
She couldn't risk him knowing she wanted him. Couldn't risk letting on how much he turned her on. Because in that moment, all it would take was a crook of his finger, and she'd be his.
It had taken three years to stop thinking about him constantly. If she ended up in his bed again, she might never get him out of her head.
“Of course not,” she managed. She didn't sound convincing, even to herself.
“If that's true, you’d better go to bed alone while you still can.” His voice was a low growl.
She shivered, but not from cold, not from fear. Before she could think better of it—before she could contemplate how ridiculous it would look—she pushed up from the couch and headed for the guest room. Barely—just barely—managing not to run.
Chapter Four
Evie woke up feeling embarrassed but not mortified. She was determined not to let
Nicolas get to her. Besides, she was an adult. She could admit—even if only to herself—that he was right. She was attracted to him. Heck, what woman wouldn't be? He was a handsome specimen of a man. But that didn't mean she was going to allow herself to get distracted, to veer from her goal. A single night with him could impact her for much longer down the road, something she knew from experience.
She wasn't willing to risk her heart.
Mentally flinching at the thought, she pushed the word heart right out of her head. Part of her wanted him badly, that was for sure, but that part was a good deal lower than her chest.
She got dressed then headed for the kitchen. The smell of bacon and eggs stirred her stomach. The man at the stove, broad shoulders covered by a T-shirt that fit just right, stirred something else in her.
“How many you want?” he asked without turning around.
She stilled. It was so easy to forget what he was when he was doing something so human, so domestic. “None, thank you.”
She reached into her bag and pulled out a granola bar. “I'd like to get going as soon as we can. I can eat on the way.”
He looked at her granola bar like she’d pulled a snake from her bag. “You’re refusing bacon and eggs for that?”
“I like a light breakfast,” she lied.
Something about allowing him to take care of her felt dangerous. It would be too easy to get used to that kind of treatment, to that kind of man. They weren't even the same species—how could they hope to make something work for longer than a night?
They couldn’t. Not when she could only trust the human part of him.
“We have a long climb ahead of us. You'll need your strength.” He set a plate in front of her, and she tried not to drool at the sight and smell of the sizzling bacon.
“You don't have to take care of me,” she said, but she grabbed the fork and started digging in before he could respond. She tried to refuse, but a woman could be expected to have only so much willpower. No one could blame her for folding when faced with bacon.
“You’re willing to go on that kind of hike with only a granola bar in your stomach? Obviously, someone needs to take care of you.”
Prime Series Collection: (Broken Prime, Prime Desire, Mated Prime) Page 5