What a Wolf Desires (Lux Catena Series Book 1)

by Amy Pennza

  He narrowed his gaze. “This insubordination is acceptable in our private meetings, but I warn you I won’t tolerate it in front of the others.”

  Oh, so now they were back in Alpha-subject mode. How convenient. “That’s okay. I don’t plan on us having any other private meetings.” She blinked and he was standing behind his desk, the movement so fast she hadn’t been able to track it. It was his Gift. He also had better-than-average hearing—something that had made sneaking out of the Lodge as a teenager almost impossible.

  Because one Gift wasn’t enough for the almighty Alpha.

  He slid a notepad and pen across the desk and gestured to it. “Write down what you need. I’ll have Remy drive into town in the morning and pick it up.”

  “For what?”

  “It’ll take a couple of weeks to close up the apartment. I imagine you’ll need a few essentials until then, hein?”

  “What are you saying?” But she already knew. She’d known since she scented Dominic and Remy in her apartment this morning.

  His gaze was steady. “You’re staying at the Lodge—permanently. And you’ll be staying in my rooms.”

  Panic tried to claw a path out of her chest. She was in the Lodge now, in the heart of his territory. There was nothing to stop him from locking her away. “Absolutely not. You can’t ask it of me.”

  “I’m not asking you. I’m telling you.”

  Tears burned her throat, which made her angry. She never cried. She hadn’t cried when her father walked into the living room, shut off her cartoons, and told her mommy was dead. She hadn’t cried when the police knocked on the door and told her he was dead, too. She hadn’t cried when Max turned her world upside down at fifteen by telling her she was a different species. She hadn’t cried when she Turned for the first time, the pain so intense she wished for death. She hadn’t cried when she made her first kill, the eyes of the deer she felled pleading with her to spare it, a cadre of wolves circling her, watching intently to determine if she had enough control over her wolf to resist the urge to give into bloodlust—and ready to execute her if she didn’t.

  But she had cried the night Max betrayed her.

  “You promised me,” she whispered now.

  He circled the desk again, this time at normal speed. She didn’t resist when he pulled her against him. Why bother? He’d already proved he would do what he wanted regardless of her wishes. He wound one arm around her waist and used his free hand to cup the side of her head.

  “I promised you five years,” he said, staring down at her without a shred of compassion. “You’ve had them.”

  “I have a job and a career. I have a life—”

  “Your life is here.”

  “That wasn’t my decision.”

  His gaze hardened. He slid his fingers through her hair, brushing past her ear to trace a heavy coil that had fallen onto her shoulder. He twirled the thick bundle of strands around his finger, his arm grazing her breast. His arm around her waist tightened.

  She stood still, her breaths shallow. The predator in her recognized the bigger, more powerful predator in him. Her wolf waited, wondering what his would do—knowing they had no choice, no matter what he decided. None at all.

  “Your place is here,” he said finally.

  She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming. “That wasn’t part of the bargain.” Deep inside, her wolf stirred. Her teeth throbbed in sync with her heartbeat—the first stage of the Turn. “You lied to me.”

  Without warning, the Alpha was back. His wolf slammed into his eyes, turning the human shade an icy blue. His lips parted, revealing a glimpse of elongated canines. She started to look away, but he seized her gaze with his own and held it through sheer force of will. “This particular bargain was always going to end this way,” he said. “If you thought differently, you’ve been lying to yourself.”

  “You don’t have the right—”

  “Careful.” His eyes flashed. Needle-sharp fangs showed beneath his full lips. “I have every right. As your Alpha.” His gaze dipped to her mouth. “As your mate.”

  “I am not your mate.” Her voice trembled. “I took no vow. And we never…” The words caught in her throat, as if her brain refused to speak them aloud and dredge up things best left unsaid.

  “Technicalities,” he said. He slid his fingers through her hair again, brushed past her ear, and traced a slow path to her neck. He gripped her nape. The skin tingled under his touch. “You bear my mark. And your body knows its master.”

  Heat surged in her face…and between her legs. She stifled a groan.

  They stayed that way for several long moments, their breaths harsh in the quiet room, mouths almost touching. His anger was like a blast furnace, searing her face and chest while her pulse throbbed in her neck.

  Her own rage licked over him like flame, crackling against his displeasure. Her heart thudded in her chest, and her breasts felt heavy—her nipples tightened to hard points. She dragged in a breath, and her nipples scraped his chest.

  A gasp caught in her throat. What was happening to her? It should have hurt to stare into his eyes with his wolf ascendant, but she felt no pain…just a dragging sensation in her limbs. Her head felt heavy on her neck. A lick of heat curled low in her belly.

  Deep in her mind, her wolf hesitated. An amorphous thought—more of a feeling, really—formed in her brain. Confused. She wanted to attack, didn’t she? So why did her body feel…pleasure? The mixed signals perplexed the wolf. Her fangs receded.

  Her wolf might have abandoned her, but she still had her brain—and she could not let this happen. She dragged in a breath. “You promised me.”

  “We’ve gone over this. You’ve had five years—”

  “No.” She ignored the lassitude that urged her to melt against him. It was easier to latch onto the heat and use it to fuel her anger. “In the car, when you came to LA, I asked you if you would ever hurt me, and you said never. You promised me.” She gripped the front of his shirt in her fists and tugged him close.

  He groaned, almost as if he was as affected by her touch as she was by his.

  She let her lips brush his, barely touching. His breath mingled with hers. She dropped her voice to a whisper, channeling all the hurt and betrayal she’d felt over the past five years. “But you lied. You hurt me, Maxime. You took what I didn’t offer. You stole what wasn’t freely given, and then you sent me away. You hurt me. And I don’t forgive you.”

  His growl made the hairs on her nape lift. His eyes blazed blue fire. Behind her back, his arm was like iron. He dipped his head toward hers as if he might seize her mouth, but then he spoke, his voice like gravel. “I don’t require your forgiveness. Merely your obedience.”

  He shoved her away. Her legs hit the back of the chair, and she sat down with a thud that jolted her from her tailbone to the top of her head. The spell between them broke. She gripped the chair’s arms, her fingernails digging into the leather. She shook her head to clear it.

  Max folded his arms and stared up at the ceiling. He swore in a long string of French, then took a few deep breaths, his big chest rising and falling.

  She was still trying to catch her breath—and untangle his provincial French—when he said, “Two unknowns crossed the border three nights ago.”

  The abrupt change in subject threw her. “What?”

  “Trespassers from another pack. A patrol caught their scent along the western border. Up north.”

  She glanced at the map behind him. When people in the North Country said “up north” they meant Canada. Like most Americans, her grasp of Canadian geography was shaky. “From Ontario?”

  He nodded. “They didn’t ask to cross the border, and they didn’t tell us they were coming.”

  Lizette hoped they had good life insurance policies. Entering an Alpha’s territory without permission was a huge no-no—of the instant death and dismemberment kind. Wolves in the wild were territorial. Werewolves were homicidal about protecting anything they
believed was theirs.

  “You’re not to leave the Lodge without an escort.”

  She sucked in a breath. “Because two random wolves might have wandered across the border? They could be hundreds of miles from here.”

  “Or they could be in the forest beyond the gorge.”

  “You’re doing this to force me to stay. To keep me a prisoner here.”

  “This is your home.”

  “Which is why I should be perfectly safe on the property.” She tilted her head. “Or has your security slipped in recent years?”

  “Your attempt to antagonize me is duly noted.”

  She stood on unsteady legs. “Does Dom need an escort when he goes outside? What about Haley?” Anger sizzled in her veins. She knew if she looked in a mirror her eyes would be icy blue.

  Max let his own wolf creep into his eyes. “You know very well why she doesn’t. But if I ordered it, she would accept it. As will you.”

  His arrogance was too much to bear. Lizette had a mental vision of grabbing one of the chairs and smashing it over his head. It wouldn’t hurt him, but the stunned look on his face would be worth it—for a second or two.

  “Go upstairs,” he said. “Get some sleep. You look like you could use it. We’ll talk later this evening.”

  “I want my own room.” She despised the way arguing with him always made her feel like a child.

  “I’ve told you my decision.” He moved behind his desk.

  She clenched her fists at her sides. How many times had he said those exact words to her? “I’ve told you my decision.” She’d stood in this very spot, and he in his. Only she wasn’t fifteen now, and he wasn’t just her Alpha. Things had passed between them. Lines had been crossed. She had the bite mark on her neck to prove it.

  He picked up a piece of paper and started to read it. Dismissed.

  Anger and frustration buzzed like hornets in her chest. How could he just stand there and ignore her? Easy. He’d done it before. The pressure in her chest made her throat burn, and questions flew out of her mouth before she could stop them.

  “Why do you want me now? You never did before.”

  Slowly, he looked up. His gaze was steady, but his eyes were still wolf blue. “I never said I didn’t want you.”

  “You sent me away.”

  “I’ve called you back.”

  “But—”

  “I had my reasons then, just as I have them now.”

  She let out a bitter laugh. “And I’m not to know them? I’m supposed to just do as I’m told?”

  “For now, yes. And I believe I already told you to go upstairs.”

  She held his gaze as silence stretched between them. This was twice now he’d given her a command. She ignored the first one. Now she was perilously close to ignoring another. It was dangerous territory to be in with an Alpha.

  With this one? It was suicidal.

  She threw him what she hoped was a scathing look and stalked to the door.

  He said nothing until she wrenched it open. “Lizette.”

  She stopped without turning around.

  “Don’t make me come find you.”

  She stepped through the door and pulled it shut.

  5

  Max waited until Lizette’s footsteps faded before he sagged against his desk. The paper he’d pretended to read slipped from his hand and floated to the polished walnut. Sweat trickled down his back.

  If her senses had been sharper, she would have smelled his panic…and his regret. But she’d been dulled by the human world—all the fire that made her who she was reduced to a simmer.

  And it scared the hell out of him.

  Dominic and Remy had given him monthly reports ever since she left the Lodge five years ago, and they were careful to document how much she ate. How often she Turned. How many times a month she ran. Lizette would have been furious if she ever discovered how thoroughly he had her watched—especially if she knew his wolves investigated every human she befriended.

  But she’d been raised to believe she was human, and her brain was still wired to think like one. Werewolves were hunters. Humans had evolved out of that mindset millennia ago. As a species, they were unwary…trusting.

  It terrified him to think of her alone and unprotected in the world.

  Her appearance had shocked him. Like all wolves, she was tall and lean, with a body built for strength and speed. Tonight she’d been thin in his arms—almost frail. It was not a word he ever thought he’d use to describe Lizette Butler.

  When he first saw her as a girl, he was surprised she’d managed to blend with the humans as long as she had. The wolf burned just beneath her skin—a dangerous time for an untrained wolf…especially one who didn’t even know what she was.

  But she was fearless.

  The custody hearing lasted just twenty minutes. Lizette’s foster mother hugged her, handed her a small suitcase, and walked out the revolving door without a backward glance.

  Lizette had turned to Max, her fingers white on the suitcase handle, her dark blue eyes like a bruise. “Um…I’m Lizette.”

  “Oh, enfant,” he’d wanted to say, “I know more about you than you do.” But then he grasped her hand, and a bolt of electricity shot through him. She didn’t seem to notice—she just gazed at him with those sad blue eyes, her sable brown hair tossed by the breeze on a busy LA street. The magic of their kind had swirled around her like a cloak.

  And an ancient power burned beneath her skin.

  He’d known he was Alpha since he was five years old. Even before he made his first Turn, his wolf had whispered commands and advice. It wasn’t a kind or gentle being. It didn’t care about feelings or appearances or social norms. Its sole concern was protecting the pack.

  The day he met Lizette, his wolf issued a single directive: Take this one. The imperative was so strong he literally swayed on his feet.

  He had glanced up and down the street to make sure no one had stopped to stare at them—at the dumbstruck man and the solemn, arresting woman-child taking his measure.

  As it turned out, he had not known everything there was to know about Lizette Angelique Butler. He especially hadn’t known she was destined to turn his life upside down.

  And to drive him mad.

  His gaze drifted to his right hand now, to the dainty bite mark on the fleshy part of his thumb. It tingled and burned.

  He pushed away from his desk and crossed to the windows overlooking the gorge and the forest beyond it. He’d spent his entire life in those trees, and he knew them better than anyone. So the night two of his best Hunters reported Lizette missing five years ago, it made sense for him to track her. Most nineteen-year-old wolves—female or male—were capable of taking on whatever they might find in a dark forest, but Lizette’s childhood had consisted of Saturday morning cartoons, not hand-to-hand combat drills. Her selfish, irresponsible parents had seen to that.

  He caught her scent two miles from the Lodge. But then he scented another wolf—a male.

  Max had heard stories of bloodlust. A few times as Alpha he’d even seen wolves unable to pull back from a kill. But he’d never experienced it himself—until the night he saw Lizette smile up at another male, sultry promise in her gaze.

  In that moment, a red sheen descended over Max’s vision, and a high-pitched wail filled his ears.

  “I told you, I’m sure,” she said to the male. Then she stretched her sleek body beneath him in offering.

  An offer to take what belonged to Max.

  Fury had splashed his guts like acid. His claws dug into the earth as he prowled into the clearing. Behind him, his Hunters waited, ready to carry out whatever command he issued.

  The male was foolish enough to approach him, but Max’s wolf hadn’t cared about the male—a boy, really. A gnat to be swatted away.

  No, the only thing his wolf cared about was making sure she was tied to them forever. Take this one, it said. He removed the boy, then he Turned so he could stop her from escaping. The m
oment he touched her, blood pounded in his cock.

  Max braced his hand against the window. The panes were blown by hand in the last century, and the glass was so old it was thicker at the bottom. The forest outside appeared wavy, almost ethereal.

  Like her.

  In the clearing, she’d stared up at him, a mixture of fear and desire in her eyes. He’d smelled her arousal—a thick, heady honey—before she noticed it. Then he lowered his gaze to her firm, high breasts, and she bloomed even more sweetly for him.

  Ah, she noticed it then.

  It was as though a spell had descended on that clearing. Take this one. In his mind, his wolf paced, snarling the command to mate—to bind her to him in a ritual so old it predated writing and language.

  Werewolves called it the lux catena, the chain of light. “Chain” was an apt description, because the bond was unbreakable. Not even death could sever it. Forming it properly required a claiming—in the most primitive way a male could claim a female—a blood exchange, and a vow. The elements didn’t have to go in any particular order, as long as they followed one another in quick succession.

  At the window, Max lowered his head. The lux catena was revered among werewolves. A gift, they called it. A miracle.

  The only miracle that night was that he hadn’t violated Lizette’s body. Even so, he’d violated her trust. He’d brought her to the Lodge to give her a home—to reunite her with her own kind. And then he bit her without her consent. Any other wolf would have sensed the stirrings of the lux catena as soon as he gripped her arms in that clearing.

  But Lizette hadn’t grown up hearing stories of the ritual. He had taken advantage of her inexperience and her instincts. Terrified, she snapped at him with blunt human teeth, drawing his blood, and creating a connection between them.

  And it wasn’t even the worst thing he’d done to her.

  An image of her gazing up at him moments ago, her big blue eyes wells of old pain, rose in his mind. “You hurt me, Maxime. You took what I didn’t offer. You stole what wasn’t freely given.”

  “Fuck.” Max slammed his fist against the window. The Anglo-Saxon word bounced off the glass. There was no satisfying equivalent in his mother tongue. A fuckup was a fuckup, and he was knee-deep in them when it came to Lizette.