Delicate china be damned.
By midafternoon, he’d had more than his fill of both humanity and cake for one day. Sierra had forced him to eat so many miniature sample pieces that he was certain he’d never been so full in his life. Save for one occasion when he was a young teenager, and he’d stupidly tried to eat a whole buck on his own. The result had left him sick for weeks.
Maverick leaned back in his chair, unable to force himself to take another bite. “I think that’s enough,” he grumbled as Sierra attempted to shove another sample toward him.
She was laid out against the back of her chair, one hand over the curve of her toned belly. “I’ll be lucky if I fit into my dress after that.” She rubbed her still-taut abs with a groan.
“So you are wearing a dress?” He couldn’t resist prodding her.
“Not like you think.” She grinned. “Don’t sound so pleased.”
He pushed away the dish in front of him. “I could care less what you wear. Show up naked for all I care.”
She laughed. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
And to think, he’d almost started to think she’d been right about them calling themselves friends again. He raked his gaze over her in a heated stare. “I would.”
No. Friends they were certainly not.
A blush prickled her cheeks, and she reached toward the tasting menu to avoid his gaze. “If you don’t care, why the insistence?”
He shrugged. “You know Maeve. She’d never forgive me if I didn’t side with her on this, and if we expect to pull this off believably for the council so we can negotiate with the Execution Underground, we need the right…”
“Optics,” they said in unison, which caused Sierra to laugh.
Maverick cracked a sly grin.
It’d been so long since he’d heard the sound from himself that when she’d elicited it from him this morning, it’d seemed foreign even to his own ears.
“In any case, being believable won’t influence the outcome of the plan in regard to flushing out the traitor.”
“It could,” he answered.
Over the past several days, the elite warriors, Sierra included, had floated information out into the pack about his and Sierra’s postreception plans. The gossip of the plans would no doubt make its rounds, with all their supposed allies in attendance. Once he and Sierra were alone, with the continuing reception keeping the rest of the pack otherwise occupied, whoever was after him would have a unique opportunity to strike again. Or at least, that was the intention.
Because this time, when they came for him, he would be lying in wait.
Sierra poked at a crumb of cake still on the dish in front of her before quickly popping it in her mouth, drawing his attention back toward her. It had never occurred to him that a man could enjoy watching a woman eat, but he did enjoy it. The look of delight in her eyes as she chewed, the way she sucked the last bit of frosting from her finger. On the rare occasions he and Rose shared a meal together, Rose had been the epitome of polite, delicately nibbling at a salad without ever really enjoying her food as they made minimal conversation.
Rose had been sweet, amiable, kind, but she never would have feasted and enjoyed herself the way Sierra did.
Sierra let out an unapologetic moan, savoring the last morsel. “So good. It was all good. How do we decide?”
His cock stiffened, pressing against the fly of his jeans. The sound of her moan elicited more than a few heated memories, and he had plans for more lessons. Only a few more nights and then he would take her—fully. But he was in no hurry. He knew that he needed to enjoy what time he had with her now.
To make it last.
This is temporary. All temporary, he reminded himself.
Anything else held the potential to cloud his judgment, to make him less effective for the pack like he had been in the damn cave. He couldn’t allow that to happen again.
She smacked her lips once in appreciation. “Optics or not, I’m looking forward to it.”
“To the wedding?”
She wrinkled her brow. “No, to catching the rat bastard that’s selling your life to the highest bidder.”
He couldn’t help the smile that twisted his lips. “Well, if I can endure this”—he gestured to the empty tasting tray that had hosted all the bite-size cakes—“you can pretend to be ladylike in a dress for a few hours.”
“Now you sound like my father.” She cast him a disapproving look.
He knew her relationship with her father hadn’t been perfect, but James had loved her, cared for her. Maverick knew that without a doubt. “Your father was a good man, Sierra, but old-fashioned.”
“He was, but—” Something in his tone must have alerted her. She set down the tasting menu. “I’m sorry. I know it hasn’t been long since…” Her voice trailed off.
Since he’d learned the truth about his own father. That the man he’d thought he’d known, at least from a distance, was a liar, a murderer.
Monster.
When he didn’t say anything, she leaned forward, reaching out to place her hand over his on the tabletop, a clear violation of their rules, but he’d let it slip for now.
“I know it couldn’t have been easy learning those things about your dad.”
He grumbled in response, hearing the words but refusing to look at the pity in her gaze. He didn’t deserve her pity. Not with all the ways he’d hurt her years ago, all the ways he’d hurt Rose and countless others. The gruff brusqueness of his tone was unintentional. “The reality of his character doesn’t hurt me as much as the pain he caused his victims.”
She nodded. “No. No, it doesn’t.” She was no doubt thinking of his sister, of Jared and Jared’s father. “But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.” She was watching him with those caring eyes of hers.
He shifted his weight in his chair, uncomfortable beneath her gaze. Being on the receiving end of that look did things to him, but that was one of the things he loved most about her. Sierra was fierce in all things. In how she fought, cared, empathized, loved.
Love.
The weight of that word kicked against him like Beast had just bucked him.
Love. Did he love her? No, he couldn’t…
He glanced toward her. Those honey-brown eyes stared back at him with such soft tenderness that his breath caught. He once had. That much was certain, but now?
Her thumb traced across the palm of his hand, tender and warm, even though he knew she’d seen some of the worst of him.
Unaware of his turmoil, Sierra gave his ranch-worn hand one final squeeze before she released it. “You’re not like your father, Maverick. You’re a good man. A stubborn, frustrating one at times,” she added, eliciting a small smirk from him, “but a good one no less.”
She always knew exactly what he needed to hear, even when he didn’t want to hear it.
She pointed to the tasting menu. “Now, which of these did you like best?”
The human baker made her way toward them again, but he waved her away. That was one of the things he didn’t care for when it came to humans. They were so…fussy. He leaned across the table as if he were about to let Sierra in on a dark secret. “‘Like’ is a strong word.” He flashed her a grimace.
“Come on. There had to have been one you preferred.”
He pointed to a random selection on the tasting menu. “That one was the least atrocious.”
Her jaw dropped. “You’re kidding?”
“I don’t care for human sweets.”
“What?” Her eyes grew wide. “Who doesn’t love sweets?”
“My wolf can’t tolerate them.”
Sierra looked horrified. She knew exactly what that meant.
Once he shifted into wolf form, this little rendezvous, pleasant as the company had been, would keep him sick to his stomach for days.
> She covered a hand over her delicious lips. “Oh my God. You must think I’m the worst. I promise I had no idea. I just meant for this trip to get on your nerves a bit with how silly it was, that’s all.”
“You may not have, but my sister sure did.”
“Maeve,” Sierra growled.
For a moment, she pretended to ignore him, returning her eyes to the tasting menu until finally beneath the intense scrutiny of his stare, she relented.
“Okay, okay. So I may have enlisted her help in getting back at you for announcing the wedding date without consulting me,” she admitted. “But I wouldn’t have put you through this if I’d known it was going to do anything more than irk you a bit, I swear.” She sighed, shaking her head. “I can’t believe she’d do that.”
“My sister has more in common with that criminal husband of hers than one might think, and she’s still angry I knew Jared was the Rogue and didn’t tell her.”
Sierra nodded. “That was misguided, yes. But you were trying to protect her. That’s all you ever do, try to protect us all.”
“Sometimes I can’t.”
The pain in those words didn’t escape her notice. A beat of silence filled the air between them as any hint of amusement she had at his expense lessened.
“Maverick, I know we’re both only in this marriage to get what we want, but since I’m going to be your wife, I can’t help but ask… Did you love…?”
“Yes,” he answered, without hesitation.
“So you did love her then?”
Her? The pronoun caught him off guard. He’d thought she’d been about to ask if he’d ever been in love with her—not Rose. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t have her as he wanted to; he wouldn’t keep the reality from her, and if she asked him the truth, he would never deny it.
He had to sit back in his chair for a moment to contemplate his response. A few days ago, he likely wouldn’t even have answered. He would have grunted at her or, maybe worse, growled.
Already she’d changed him.
Yes, he finally decided. Yes, he had loved Rose, but in a different way that was somehow adjacent to how he felt about Sierra. Things with Rose had been simple, amiable, comfortable. Comfortable had never been what he wanted.
“I’m sure you miss doing things like this with her.” Sierra pushed her tea tray away. The comment was filled more with sadness for him than any hint of jealousy.
“No,” he said, perhaps too forcefully, too quickly.
The noise drew the humans’ attention, and the baker came flitting to their side again, exchanging a few back-and-forth pleasantries before Sierra insisted they needed just a few more minutes to decide. Finally, the hostess scurried away again. Maverick didn’t allow the brief interruption to deter him, and from the quirk of Sierra’s brow, she wouldn’t either.
“No, I don’t miss doing things like this with Rose,” he elaborated, “because we never did anything like this. Rose and I weren’t a love match, but we did spend several years of our lives together, so in that way, yes, I did grow to care for her.”
Sierra nodded. Abruptly, the watch on her wrist beeped, causing her to glance downward. “I hate to tell you this after I forced you to eat all that cake.” She grimaced. “But we’re due at the tailor’s in twenty minutes. I’m so sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize, warrior.” He released a long sigh, pushing back his chair from the small table. “This might make me sound callous, but I don’t miss her as much as I miss this.” He nodded toward her.
“This?”
He stood as he pegged her with a hard stare, the weight of all he felt for her somehow poured into that single look. “The feeling of not being alone.”
Sierra’s mouth opened as if she were unable to speak. But he took pity on her.
He leaned down beside her, pointing to one of the options on the tasting menu. “Choose the lemon cake, warrior. It’s the most tolerable.”
Without another word, he grabbed his Stetson off the table, tipping it back onto his head as he exited the bakery and headed toward the truck.
Chapter 20
She’d thought she would have been able to better protect herself—or her heart at least. Sierra sat in the chair she’d been perched in at the tailor’s, waiting for Maverick to return from the fitting room. During the brief ride from the bakery, he’d been quiet, distant, but that had dissipated as soon as they’d reached the small shop. An array of varying tuxedo and suit styles filled the hole-in-the-wall store in downtown Billings, and in his Stetson and work jeans, Maverick had stuck out like a sore thumb in the small human-run place.
But it hadn’t taken more than a few minutes of the human store owner’s wife taking his measurements for the packmaster’s own jokes about the size of his inseam to begin. She wasn’t used to him joking with her anymore, and the resulting change had her blushing more times than she had in the whole of her life.
She crossed her legs, tapping her foot as she waited for him to parade the next tux choice in front of her. He looked downright delicious in every one of them, even without his Stetson, in a way that was ridiculously unfair in comparison to how she’d looked in some of the more monstrous dresses Maeve had put her in. Although Sierra was enjoying ogling him and this had been her and Maeve’s exact plan, to irk him with a bit of harmless fun, her wolf was feeling a bit…itchy.
Too much humanity for one day. Too many small, confined spaces, and not enough fresh mountain air and dirt beneath her feet for her taste, and if she was feeling this way, she was certain Maverick was, too.
He emerged from the dressing room and flashed her a grin, being far better a sport about the whole thing than she’d anticipated. “What do you think?”
Before she could answer, the tailor’s wife came over, giving them both a cheerful, tittering rundown of the tuxedo’s finer features. Once a particularly wolflike grumble from Maverick had scared her away, he turned back toward Sierra, gesturing down his front. “Well?”
“Why did you go through with the tasting?”
From where he stood modeling the tux before her, the abrupt question caused him visible pause. The cords of his throat tensed. “I’m not sure what you mean.” The words were gruff, distant. He turned away from her to adjust his bow tie in the mirror behind him.
She released a long sigh. “Why go along with the whole thing, without much complaint even, when it was only going to cause you trouble in the end?”
It was several moments before he answered.
But when he did, he faced her, meeting her gaze with that intense, knowing look of his. Those pale-green irises were so wolf-like even in human form, and there was something sad in them, something that made her chest ache.
His voice was a low, rumbling purr. “Because you asked me to, warrior. Because it pleased you.”
Sierra’s breath caught before she glanced down in an attempt to recover. She hadn’t expected being this close to him. Seeing him smile and laugh again for the first time in years would leave her chest aching, because it wasn’t enough. A few days would never be enough.
No love. No attachments. That wasn’t what she wanted.
He must have sensed the tension in her. “What’s wrong?” he whispered. When she didn’t answer, he stepped toward her and toyed with the mussed end of her braid. “Sierra?” There was concern in his voice, so unlike what she would have thought him capable of only a few weeks prior. She’d known that beneath his snarly exterior, he had a soft, sensitive underbelly, but she hadn’t expected this.
The longing for all the years they’d lost.
“I’ve been thinking of my mother lately.” It was the truth. In part. She’d been wishing her mother were still here to help her sort through these complicated feelings, even though she was grown now. She knew her mom would’ve understood in the way only a mother could.
But it was more
than that.
“I know you miss her.” The words were spoken in that rough, graveled voice of his, but the emotion beneath them was soft, tender.
Sierra thought to say more, but at the moment, she couldn’t. The words were caught in her throat along with the tears she kept from falling.
Maverick stood by her side, stroking the tip of her braid in companionable silence. All the harsh lines of his face slackened, making him look younger again, less harsh. So much like the young man who once saved her.
A shiver ran through her. She could still hear the sounds of the alarm system, clear as day, the harsh, artificial scream of the siren piercing and rattling her wolf senses.
She was cold, so cold. Having been pulled from the warm comfort of her bed, where she’d been curled up in wolf form, she’d barely had time to shift onto two feet and pull on a thin rag of a robe. She needed to be in human form. It would help mask her scent, her mother had hissed. Her whispers burned fresh in Sierra’s ear.
“Don’t move.” Her hand was clapped over Sierra’s mouth.
At sixteen, she knew better than to make a sound, but hiding in the brush of the forest as they were, roused from their beds and nearly naked, freezing with cold, she felt like a pup again—back when her mom used to carry her about by her scruff. The sickly sweet smell of vampire coated the chilled mountain air. All they needed to do was to make it to the bunker where the other civilian women and children were, where they’d be safe.
Her mother’s body, though weathered with hints of age, was barely larger than her own, yet she shielded Sierra, as if she wasn’t nearly helpless in the face of a vampire threat. They lingered there in the bushes, silent and waiting for what felt like an eternity. Periodically, her mother sniffed the air, scenting out the undead predators in their midst. They were nearby. Sierra could smell them, and she knew her mother could, too. If they stayed here much longer, they’d be found, yet movement risked their detection.
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