Dark Wolf Running
Rhyannon Byrd
With his sharp gaze locked on the most magnificent female he’d ever seen, Wyatt Pallaton did his best to hold himself back.Of course, Elise Drake was hardly just any female. Fiery and cool, strong, yet at the same time achingly vulnerable, she'd turned his entire world on its head.No matter how bloody difficult it proved to be, he was done letting her pretend he didn’t even exist.Done with letting her fight her own battles.Done driving himself slowly into this maddening state of frustrated desire.One way or another, things were about to change. Come hell or high water, she was done running…
“Just a dance, Elise. That’s all I’m asking for.”
Then Wyatt was taking her into his muscular arms, and she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning at the sudden, chaotic rush of emotion. It was such a consuming, overwhelming sensation, being held by a man again, and her breath caught with a sharp, audible gasp as he pulled her against the hardness and heat of his muscular body.
Trying to remember how to breathe, she placed her hands on his broad shoulders, the soft cotton of his shirt warm beneath her palms, and took a quick glance up at his face to find him watching her, his expression fierce…intense, and yet, somehow impossibly gentle. “I’m dizzy,” she whispered.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you,” he told her, his beautiful mouth shaping the words, making them sound like something seductive and wicked.
RHYANNON BYRD is an avid longtime fan of romance and the author of more than twenty paranormal and erotic titles. She has been nominated for three RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice Awards, including best Shapeshifter Romance, and her books have been translated into nine languages. After having spent years enjoying the glorious sunshine of the American South and Southwest, Rhyannon now lives in the beautiful but often chilly county of Warwickshire in England with her husband and family. For more information on Rhyannon’s books and the latest news, you can visit her website at www.rhyannonbyrd.com or find her on Facebook.
Dark Wolf
Running
Rhyannon Byrd
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
This one is for the lovely Debbie Hopkins Smart. It’s not the first book I’ve dedicated to you, Debs, and it won’t be the last, because there simply aren’t enough ways to say thanks for everything that you do. You are and always will be made of awesome!!!
THE BLOODRUNNERS’ LAW
When offspring are born of a union between human and Lycan, the resulting creations may gain acceptance within their rightful pack only by the act of Bloodrunning: the hunting and extermination of rogue Lycans who have taken a desire for human flesh. Thus they prove not only their strength, but also their willingness to kill for those they will swear to protect to the death.
The League of Elders will predetermine the Bloodrunners’ required number of kills.
Once said number of kills are efficiently accomplished, only then may the Bloodrunner assume a place among their kin, complete with full rights and privileges.
THE DARK WOLF
A Dark Wolf bloodline is the purest of the Lycan race.
They are the most primal and powerful of their kind. Visceral. Predatory.
Creatures of instinct and hunger.
They are the potential for all things good and evil.
And they will forever act with furious vengeance to protect the ones they love.
Contents
Prologue (#uefa3e3cd-1454-529d-b361-73840cf1f01d)
Chapter 1 (#uad91366a-c1d7-504b-b3cc-ae0921e7b447)
Chapter 2 (#uca86e628-2dd7-51bb-b682-76c0330ac4c4)
Chapter 3 (#u18001b98-22c9-5b48-938c-6486f0af69f8)
Chapter 4 (#u34ab138f-20ef-57e4-9e5a-e98ebd930bfd)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue
With his sharp gaze locked on the most magnificent female he’d ever set eyes on, Wyatt Pallaton did his best to choke back the deep, aggressive growl rumbling up from his chest—and for the most part, he succeeded. But then, most was a relative term. Several of the nearby guests glanced his way at the stifled scrape of sound, their eyes narrowed with censure, warning him not to be rude. As if he didn’t already grasp the situation. He knew damn good and well that a wedding was generally considered a “no growling” affair. Even ones where the majority of those attending were a far cry from human.
Still, he didn’t want to make a scene. Sending the disgruntled werewolves, or Lycans, as they preferred to be called, a tight smile, he waited until they’d turned back around in their seats before allowing his own irritation to show.
Mindful of the occasion, Wyatt was doing his best to keep a tight rein on himself—but Christ, it wasn’t easy. Predatory hunger, visceral and thick and savage, poured through his veins like liquid fire, burning him from the inside out. His body was tense, muscles so rigid and tight he felt like a bloody volcano on the verge of eruption. Just another ground-shaking, life-altering, cataclysmic event in the making, putting the tension on fate’s bowstring until it was ready to snap. Twang. Hell, it wasn’t as if he and his fellow Runners hadn’t had enough of those “what did I do to piss off the gods?” events lobbed in their faces recently. And here he was, balancing on the edge of a meltdown. Sweet. He was about to take the “biggest jackass of the year” award. Lucky him.
With his large hands clenched into hard, straining fists in his lap, Wyatt ground his jaw and tried like hell to keep it together. But there was only so much that a man could endure. Based on the pathetic fact that he was shaking apart inside with lust and need and too many damn confusing emotions, he could only assume that he’d finally reached his limit.
After months of biding his time, waiting for the stubborn woman to acknowledge their mutual attraction and come to him, he’d had enough. Not surprising, he supposed, since as a primal, aggressive male, waiting wasn’t exactly one of his specialties. Undeniably dominant in nature, the thirty-five-year-old Bloodrunner was accustomed to going after what he wanted with single-minded intensity, not stopping until he had it—but these were unusual circumstances.
And Elise Drake was a far cry from your average female.
Considering the length of time he’d been without a woman, he’d known tonight wouldn’t be easy. He’d tried to stay calm, but the sight of Elise walking down the aisle in her bridesmaid gown, the flowing whisper of silvery-gray silk accentuating the sumptuous perfection of her figure, had damn near done him in. Now, as the sun melted into the horizon and the lavender shades of twilight darkened the sky, revealing an iridescent spattering of stars, he was forced to sit in his chair and pretend that hunger wasn’t ripping him into tiny, pathetic chunks, one excruciating piece at a time.
Exhaling a slow, ragged breath, Wyatt forced his hands to relax, flexing his fingers and rubbing his palms into the black fabric of his tuxedo trousers. The monkey suit was strangling his throat, and he couldn’t shake the uncomfortable sensation that he really was coming out of his skin.
Beside him, his Bloodrunning partner, Carla Reyes, shot him a dark look from the corner of her eye. “Stop fidgeting,” she hissed under her breath.
“When is this damn thing going to end?” he grumbled, sounding like a petulant child on the verge of a tantrum. He winced, more than a little disgusted with himself.
“What’s your problem tonight?” Carla demanded, arching one slim golden brow in his direction. “I thought you liked weddings.”
He grunted in response and tried to force an outer look of calm togetherness. Carla was right, damn it. Unlike most men, Wyatt usually did enjoy these kinds of things. He liked the social aspect of hanging out with his friends and colleagues, the way his parents had often done when he was younger and they’d lived with his mother’s family. He liked the food and the beer, the laughter and the dancing.
It was the women, though, that he’d always enjoyed the most. Like a bridesmaid banquet, there were always plenty of single ladies to choose from. He’d never been as arrogant about it as Cian Hennessey, one of his fellow Runners, but he was definitely a man who enjoyed his sexual variety.
Tonight, however, Wyatt had eyes for one woman—and one woman only.
Of course, Elise Drake was hardly just any woman. Fiery and cool, strong and yet at the same time achingly vulnerable, she was a fascinating combination of opposites that had managed to turn his entire world on its head.
“Keep staring at her like that and she’s gonna notice,” Carla whispered, jabbing her elbow into his arm.
“Maybe I want her to notice,” he muttered, appreciating the way the twilight turned the fiery strands of Elise’s hair a deep, vibrant red, her dark blue eyes the color of a storm-ravaged sky. He’d chosen his seat specifically because it afforded him a clear view of her place in the wedding party, but he hadn’t anticipated how torturous it would be.
“What? Could it actually be true?” Carla gasped, pressing one delicate hand to her bountiful chest. “After months of waiting, you’re finally going to get off your ass and do something about her?” She made a soft, feminine snorting sound and rolled her eyes. “Call me cynical, but I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Shifting in his seat, Wyatt stretched his long legs out as far as he could and tried to relax. “I’ve been waiting for the right time,” he said tightly, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut. Sometimes he wondered why he even bothered talking to Carla. He loved her like family, but like a bratty little sister, the Runner got too big a kick out of pushing his buttons.
“Bullshit,” she quietly snickered. “You’ve been waiting for her to make the first move. But guess what, Pall? She’s never going to come panting after you like all the other ladies. Not in this lifetime.”
Biting back a foul curse, he groaned instead. “Trust me, I noticed.”
“Anyway, it’s good to see you conquering your fear,” she said brightly, patting his thigh. “I’m proud of you.”
Turning his head to the side, Wyatt gave her a hard, steely look. “I’m not afraid of her.”
Obviously unconvinced, Carla just smiled. “Right,” she drawled, her tone making it clear that she didn’t believe him. Problem was...the little brat knew him too well. He’d been Bloodrunning with Carla for almost seven years now, and she no doubt understood him better than anyone. But that didn’t mean he had to like it.
“Will you stop trying to pick a fight?” he muttered. “I said I’m not afraid of her and I’m not.”
“Hmm. I know you’re not afraid of her physically. You just don’t know what to do with a woman who doesn’t go all starry-eyed every time she gets near you.”
Choking back another primitive growl, Wyatt drew a second round of disapproving stares from their neighbors.
“I suppose it could be that she just doesn’t like you,” Carla offered with a delicate shrug of her bare shoulders, after motioning with her fingers for the frowning guests to turn back around in their seats. “God knows I’ve seen crazier things happen.”
Wyatt slanted her a mean look. “Reyes?”
“Yeah?” she asked, giving him an innocent smile.
“Shut up,” he grunted, while she snuffled a quiet burst of laughter under her breath.
They listened to the ceremony for a few moments in blessed silence, until she leaned in close again, asking, “So are you on duty later tonight?”
He sighed, knowing there was no sense in lying to her. “Yeah.”
“Took another shift again, huh? Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“Just fucking drop it,” he warned, pushing his hair back from his face in another restless gesture of impatience.
“Okay, okay.” Her voice softened, as if she’d decided to take pity on him. “Hey, maybe you’ll even get lucky and she’ll actually take you home with her. I’m sure that little scenario would be a hell of a lot more fun than watching her from the woods.”
As Carla turned her attention back to the love-dazed couple exchanging vows, Wyatt leaned forward and braced his elbows on his parted knees, thinking he had about as much chance of getting invited home with Elise Drake as he did of becoming a friggin’ ballerina. And the hell of it was, he wasn’t even ready to go home with her. Not when he was still trying to wrap his head around how he could get everything he wanted from her without giving more than he was willing.
And, God, did that make him sound like a dick.
Yeah, there was a lot he needed to get figured out in his head. But no matter how bloody difficult it proved to be, he was done letting her pretend he didn’t even exist. Done driving himself slowly into this maddening state of frustration, with no apparent end in sight.
One way or another, he would approach her tonight—and with that firm decision finally came the merciful beginnings of peace. Leaning back in his chair, he kept his avid gaze focused on Elise as he lazily crossed his arms over his chest, the rise of anticipation in his veins like hot, thick syrup. Wyatt figured he might get his face slapped for his efforts. Hell, knowing Elise, he might even get a knee in his balls. But one way or another, things were about to change.
Come hell or high water, she was done running.
Chapter 1
Three hours later...
Elise Drake hated weddings—even ones torn straight from the pages of a fairy tale.
Not that the pure-blooded Lycan had anything personal against the institution of marriage. It was the event itself that she couldn’t stand: gloms of people gathering around, smiling and incandescent with happiness, while she had to plaster on a beaming smile, doing her best to disguise the truth. To pretend that she wasn’t freaking out at being in a crowd where everyone was expected to act friendly and sociable.
Brittle. On edge. About to crack at any moment, shattering like a crystal goblet slammed against a craggy surface. That was how she really felt, screaming inside her head, wanting to flee, to run, but forced to play a part, projecting an outward look of cheerful, joyful celebration. Smile, wave, laugh. And all the while thinking that she would do anything—anything—to escape. Twist an ankle. Fake a headache. Hell, at that point she’d have jabbed a freaking pencil in her eye if she thought it would get her out of there.
But none of those things were going to save her tonight. She was surrounded by too many who “cared”—who made it their mission in life to protect, rather than destroy. Unless, of course, the thing they were hunting deserved to be destroyed. Though years of bad blood stood between the Runners and their birth pack, the Silvercrest Lycans, the werewolves owed their survival to the half-human hunters.
After all, it was the Runners who had put an end to the gruesome events that Elise’s own father, Stefan Drake, had set in motion the previous autumn. Events that had not only decimated the political structure of the pack, but which had also left the Silvercrest vulnerable to outside forces, with a new set of enemies sniffing at their borders, eager to take advantage of their weaknesses. With her brother’s and the Runners’ help, the Silvercrest were finally entering a new era that would modernize their archaic social structure, and hopefully lead to a day when the pack’s racial injustices against the half-human Runners would become a thing of the past. But it would be a long while before they were the powerhouse they had once been.
The winter had been rough, rife with lingering animosity and grief, until the snow had finally bled away to reveal a new sense of hope that came with the spring. One not without trouble, but at least the Runners were now allowed in the pack’s mountaintop home of Shadow Peak without it leading to a call for violence.
Tonight, in light of the occasion, the Runners, along with their friends and families, had agreed to put their troubles behind them—and yet, her brother’s wedding or not, Elise knew they were all keeping a close eye on her, which was why she was trying so damn hard to act normal. After the craziness of the past few months—with all the murder and mayhem, the betrayal and bloodlust and strange occurrences—the protective alphas had her in their sights, waiting for the moment when they’d need to rush to her rescue.
But Elise didn’t want them to save her.
All she wanted was to be left alone.
Brave words, but it’s too bad they’re a crock. You don’t really want to be left all by your lonesome. Not really. Every chance you get, you’re eating him up from the corner of your eye, soaking up every detail...mooning like a pathetic love-struck puppy.
“Not going there,” she muttered under her breath, frustrated at herself for even thinking about him—the one particular Runner who’d snagged her attention and whose image wouldn’t leave her in peace. Tall, dark and dangerously sexy, Wyatt Pallaton was too goddamn good to be true. The first night she’d set eyes on him, last fall, Elise had decided that the fascinating hunter was a taboo subject, even within the privacy of her own mind. Being near him was impossible, and even thinking about him made her too tense—just one more thing that she couldn’t deal with right now.
No matter how badly she wished things could be different, the mesmerizing Runner was a complication she couldn’t afford, and so she’d vowed to stay clear of him. It should have been simple, except for the frustrating fact that he showed up everywhere. Now that her brother Eric had become a Runner, she and Wyatt seemed to be thrown together with unbelievable frequency. Too often they were at the same dinners, celebrating the same birthdays, showing up at the same meetings. And each time she was forced to be near him, her maddening fascination grew more intense.
But that wasn’t the worst of it. No, the worst was that she’d started wishing for the impossible, thinking of what could have been if she’d only met him sooner. Despite the fact they lived only miles apart from one another, Elise had never met the gorgeous Runner until a few months ago. A sad fact, but one that attested to the separation that had existed for so many years between the Silvercrest werewolf pack and the Bloodrunners, who not only handled the unsavory task of hunting down the pack’s rogue wolves, but who also protected the secret of their existence from the human world.
Aside from Eric, who was as pure-blooded as a Lycan could be, the Bloodrunners were comprised of half-human, half-werewolf hunters. It was because of their human blood that they were denied the privilege of being Silvercrest members, until, according to the Bloodrunners’ Law, they completed a designated number of rogue kills. Of course, that had all started to change after her father destroyed the pack’s governing League of Elders. Now that the League was gone and a new era of democratic government was being chartered in, Eric had tried to have the Bloodrunners’ Law abolished, but the Runners were still resisting. They had no more desire to be members of the pack than the Silvercrest wanted to share their town with them, and so while relations had marginally improved, they remained strained.
Still, some significant progress had been made, and the Runners were now in charge of securing the pack’s borders. With time, Elise believed that the two sides would learn to accept one another.
Of course, that also meant that no matter how hard she tried to avoid him, the odds were strong that she and Wyatt Pallaton would be seeing more of each other.
And when that happens, you’ll be going right off the deep end.
She did her best to shake off the unsettling thought and took a heavy sip of her wine, forcing her mind back to the celebration happening around her. So far, Elise had managed to avoid what seemed to be a never-ending stream of nuptials taking place in Bloodrunner Alley—a small, picturesque glade located several miles south of Shadow Peak—but there’d been no excuse that could get her out of her own brother’s bliss-filled ceremony. Now that Eric had become a Runner and moved into the Alley with Chelsea, his human life mate, he’d been accepted as one of their own. The other hunters wouldn’t hear of the ceremony being held anywhere but in the center of the secluded glade, surrounded by their cabins and the majestic beauty of the Maryland mountains, as was custom for the Bloodrunners.
Despite its rustic setting, everyone had done an amazing job of transforming the Alley into a flower-filled paradise worthy of any society wedding. There were white-linen-covered tables, a free-flowing bar, mouthwatering food, good music and even a gleaming parquet dance floor. It was the kind of fairy-tale wedding that Elise had once dreamed of someday having for herself, before her world had been painfully torn apart. Her body had mended, thanks to the miraculous healing powers of Jillian Burns, one of her closest friends, but the emotional wounds were still bleeding and raw, like a festering sickness in her soul.
It was all so ironic, considering her bloodline. As a Dark Wolf, the offspring of two powerful pure-blooded Lycan lines, she should have been one of the most dominant females in her pack, and instead she’d been reduced to someone spooked by her own shadow, startled by every sound, completely disconnected from those around her. She could hide behind her sarcastic mouth and attitude all she wanted, but she wasn’t fooling anyone. Now that she’d spent time around the Runners, they’d slowly learned to see past her bravado and had begun treating her with...care, like something unspeakably fragile that they were afraid of bruising with their rough-edged masculinity. Even Cian Hennessey, the irreverent Irishman, was going out of his way not to be his usual arrogant, smart-ass self when around her.
There were times when it all just made her want to scream—and at others, it simply made her want to pack up her car and start driving, heading down the open highway, until she’d left it all behind her.
For the love of God, do you even hear yourself? that tired internal voice grumbled within her mind. Can we get off the pity train already? Because in case you didn’t notice, it’s taking us nowhere.
The wind picked up, blowing through the glade, bringing with it the crisp, heady scents of the spring forest, as well as the damp promise of rain. On the one hand, Elise hoped the approaching spring showers would hold off for just a little longer, enabling Eric and Chelsea to enjoy their reception. On the other, she couldn’t help but think that if it rained, then the night would come to an early end...and she could finally leave.
Dressed in her sleeveless bridesmaid gown, the chill of the air quickly bled into her bones. Shivering, Elise looked out across the crowded glade, and Chelsea caught her eye from the dance floor, where Eric, looking devastatingly handsome in his tux, held his wife in a tight, possessive hold as they swayed to a sultry love song. The brunette gave her a friendly wave, accompanied by a genuinely warm smile. Radiant in an ivory gown that made her look like a princess, Chelsea’s contagious happiness was almost enough to soothe Elise’s brittle nerves. She managed to smile in return, angry at herself for having to force an expression of pleasure onto her face. Damn it, she liked Chelsea and couldn’t have been happier that her brother had fallen in love with such a warmhearted, amazing woman. She was truly thrilled for them, and she honestly wanted their wedding to be perfect. She just...she just didn’t want to have to be a part of it.
Stop whining, you big ol’ baby. Just suck it up and stop acting like a pathetic bitch.
Wishing that know-it-all voice in her head would shut up and leave her the hell alone, Elise took another sip of wine while her gaze wandered over the crowd, until she came to the table where Wyatt sat. Unable to get her fill of him, she secretly watched the dark-haired Runner, same as she’d been doing all through the night. He leaned back in his chair, a cold beer in his right hand, his head tilted back as he laughed at something his Bloodrunning partner, Carla Reyes, was saying. The pretty, petite blonde looked like a golden little angel, but Elise knew Carla could be deadly when she needed to be, and she envied the lone female Runner that power. She’d have given anything to be like Carla, fearless and free to do as she pleased.
Wyatt rumbled something that Elise couldn’t quite hear but which had everyone at his table laughing, the scene like one of those idyllic beer commercials, with close friends enjoying good times together, a harsh contrast to her own situation. It wasn’t lost on her that she was the only person sitting at a table by herself. Guests had come and gone throughout the evening, trying to engage her in conversation, only to eventually move on when it became obvious she didn’t really want their company.
Suddenly, someone at Wyatt’s table roared with laughter, and Elise watched as Carla leaned to the side, one delicate hand pressed to her partner’s firm shoulder as she nearly doubled over with giggles. In that moment, the same helpless rise of jealousy Elise had experienced each and every time he’d danced with a beautiful woman that night burned through her system, making her feel sick inside. Struggling to hide the uncomfortable emotion, she shifted her gaze back to his face, wanting to see the glitter of humor in his dark eyes, to witness the white flash of his teeth as he smiled—and almost died when she found him staring right back at her.
Oh, my God...
Panicked, Elise quickly tore her gaze away, staring anywhere and everywhere, so long as it wasn’t at Wyatt. When she spotted Jillian heading her way, she nearly gasped with relief. The pack’s golden-haired Spirit Walker, also known as a healer or witch, took the seat on her left, and the entire time they chatted, Elise could have sworn she could feel Wyatt’s gaze lingering on her, watching...waiting for her to look back in his direction. But as Jillian’s grinning, gorgeous husband finally pulled her away to the dance floor and Elise slanted another quick look toward the table where Wyatt had been sitting, he was gone.
Okay, lady. It’s time to blow this joint before you make a fool of yourself.
Draining the last of her wine, Elise set down the glass, pushed back from the table and moved to her feet, already working up the lame excuse she’d give to Eric and Chelsea for bailing early. Bending down to get her purse from the neighboring chair, she’d just straightened and was starting to turn when someone walked up behind her. Caught off guard, she stiffened in alarm and dropped her purse onto the table.
“Dance with me, El.”
Jesus, Joseph and Mary.
The low, husky words had been whispered just behind her ear, Wyatt’s warm breath brushing against the sensitive skin bared by the upswept style of her hair, and she closed her eyes, nearly reeling as a stunning jolt of shock and lust and terror swept through her veins like a wildfire. He stood so close that she could feel his heat at her back, though he wasn’t quite touching her, a whisper of air still separating their bodies.
Wondering what the hell she should do, Elise drew in a deep, shuddering breath and opened her eyes just as he placed a warm, slightly rough hand on her arm, took a step back and then turned her around so that she faced him. She was tall for a woman, and in her heels she found herself staring eye level with the bronzed skin of his strong, corded throat. It was madness, but she couldn’t deny that she wanted to lean forward and press her mouth against that dark, silken skin. Wanted to feel his pulse against the tingling surface of her lips...the blistering intensity of his heat against her face.
Shivering even harder, Elise wet her lips, unable to get any words out over the choking lump of anxiety lodged against her larynx. Knowing she had to brazen this out, she slowly lifted her gaze over the square cut of his chin, then higher, over that wide, sensual mouth and strong nose, until she finally reached those dark, heavily lashed eyes. Reaching deep, she tried to find the smart-ass “I couldn’t care less that you’re big and bad and beautiful” attitude that she used when dealing with the other Runners—but it wasn’t there. Something about Wyatt Pallaton stripped her of her hard-earned defenses, until she couldn’t even fake her way through a sarcastic confrontation.
All she could do was stand there, trapped...spellbound...transfixed, until it felt as if she were somehow falling into that deliciously dark, heavy-lidded stare. It reminded her of gazing at the midnight sky, while the glittering points of the stars dazzled her eyes. His eyes glittered in just the same way, that mesmerizing gaze fixed on her with startling, breathtaking intensity, as if she were the only thing in the entire world at that moment that had his attention. Somehow, instead of the usual panicked alarm she felt when close to a man, there was only a strange, simmering warmth, like something bubbling up from the cold, decimated depths of her soul, breaking its way through the barren layers of ice, struggling to reach the surface.
She trembled, but not from the chill of the mountain breeze. No, she was melting, burning alive, and all he’d done was say four little words to her, stroking her senses with that deep, velvet-rough voice that was so damn sexy it should have been illegal.
He stepped closer, and amazingly, she didn’t flinch the way she usually did when a man invaded her personal space. But she did react. How could she not, when he was surrounding her, overwhelming her with his fierce, predatory energy, blasting it against her like some kind of freaking superpower?
“Wh-what did you say?” she stammered, stalling, wondering what in God’s name she was going to do. Run? Scream? Throw herself at him...and end up making a complete fool of herself when she couldn’t follow through, panicking at the mere idea of a kiss?
Poor Elise. You are so in trouble.
“Dance with me,” he said again, while a slow, sensual smile lifted the corner of his mouth, and the wind blew the thick, midnight strands of his hair over his brow. Such simple little words, and yet, their effect was so utterly devastating.
No way. Never. Not in a million years. The fervent responses rushed through her mind with dizzying speed, but when she opened her mouth to tell him no, she found herself nodding instead. The music and laughter surrounding them faded to a distant blur of sound, and Elise blinked, stunned that she’d just agreed to let this man take her into his arms and slow-dance with her. Had she lost her ever-loving mind? What the hell was wrong with her?
“I was hoping you’d stop being so stubborn,” Wyatt responded in a low, husky drawl, and she watched as the flames from one of the nearby fire pits cast a golden glow over the rugged angles of his face, glinting against the coal-black silk of his hair. “Took me all night to work up the nerve to ask you,” he added wryly, the corners of his dark eyes crinkling as he grinned. “Imagine how crushed I’d have been if you’d turned me down.”
She blinked, and his grin turned boyishly crooked, dazzling her with its beauty, making some forgotten part of her want to smile in response, though she fought against it. Elise knew he was teasing her, trying to put her at ease, and in another lifetime, words would have slipped from her lips like silk, either cutting or flirtatious in response, depending on her mood. But the woman with the ready comeback was gone.
Perhaps not an entirely bad thing, she reflected with an inward wince, seeing as how that woman had often been obsessively self-centered...and not very nice.
“Come on,” he murmured, gently taking her elbow and steering her toward the dance floor. He was being careful with her, tender in his touch and manner, and it made her want to snap at him, while at the same time she couldn’t help but be embarrassingly grateful.
Oh, yeah. You are so-o-o losing your mind.
Not surprising, she supposed, considering the fact he was so freaking hot her brain cells were melting by the second. She couldn’t even draw in a deep enough breath, the humidity rising around them like a sultry mist as the distant rumble of storms drew closer. Despite the chill of the breeze, the air lay heavy and damp against her skin, thick with lust and anticipation and the mouthwatering scent of Wyatt Pallaton. A provocative combination of musk and salt and the wild outdoors, he smelled unbelievably delicious, and she wanted to lean closer, drawing more of that heady scent into her lungs, while at the same time she wanted to do everything she could to escape it. Trapped between the opposing urges, she somehow managed to reach the dance floor without stumbling, aware of the curious glances being sent their way from the other guests, but unable to truly focus on anything beyond the feel of his hand on her arm, his long, strong fingers hot against her skin, while that decadent scent screwed with her head.
The second her feet touched the polished surface of the parquet floor, panic slammed into her with the stunning force of a bullet. “Wait!” she blurted, suddenly drawing back. He stopped and turned so that he stood facing her, but she didn’t dare look him in the eye, careful to keep her wild gaze focused on the snowy-white front of his shirt. He’d removed his jacket and tie earlier in the night and undone the shirt’s top button, revealing just a hint of his smooth, burnished chest. “I’m sorry,” she said thickly, staring at that bare glimpse of skin, “but I don’t think I can do this.”
“Just a dance, Elise. That’s all I’m asking for.” Then he was taking her into his arms, and she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning at the sudden chaotic rush of emotion. It was such a consuming, overwhelming sensation, being held by a man again, and her breath caught with a sharp, audible gasp as he pulled her against the hardness and heat of his muscular body, her head spinning as her senses went into some kind of cataclysmic meltdown.
Trying to remember how to breathe, she placed her hands on his broad shoulders, the soft cotton of his shirt warm beneath her palms, and took a quick glance up at his face to find him watching her, his expression fierce...intense...and yet, somehow impossibly gentle. “I’m dizzy,” she whispered, her pulse racing, frenzied and out of control.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you,” he told her, his beautiful mouth shaping the words, making them sound like something seductive and wicked as he spun her in a sudden turn that pulled a soft, startled burst of shaky laughter from her lips. “See, it’s not so hard to have a little fun, is it?”
She blinked, dazed, too much going on inside her body and mind to focus on any one thing. “I didn’t...I don’t dance,” she explained in a strangled whisper, when what she meant was that she didn’t let men get this close to her. Ever.
“I know,” he replied, and the slightly rough cadence of his words made her shiver with awareness, at the same time something thick and hot began to slip through her veins. She had the strangest suspicion that he was responding more to her unspoken thought than the one she’d voiced aloud, and an uneasy feeling swept through her as she wondered just how much he knew about her. About her past and the things that had happened to her.
He pulled her a shade closer, until his strong thighs were brushing against hers, her breasts pressed to the firm surface of his chest, and Elise could have sworn she could feel the powerful beating of his heart. Her breasts felt heavy, swollen, the rise of desire like a hothouse flower unfurling inside her body, and there was a part of her—a strange, primal, frightening part—that wanted to stretch her arms and back in a sinuous arch and melt against him, languid and soft and hungry. That wanted to hold her face up to a warm spring shower and feel it misting against her skin, wetting their clothes, until steam rose from the heat of their flesh. That wanted to rip that crisp white shirt from his lean, hard-muscled physique and press her open mouth to the pounding, urgent beat of his heart. Push her fingers through the thick strands of his silky hair and pull his mouth to hers, unleashing the primitive, predatory hunger she knew lurked inside him.
God, she just wanted. Wanted so badly she could have screamed.
“But you’re enjoying yourself,” he murmured, jarring her back to reality with the deep, rich, slightly gritty tone of his voice as they swayed to the music. “Aren’t you glad you didn’t tell me no?”
Surprising herself, she snuffled another soft laugh under her breath. “You’re very sure of yourself, Pallaton.”
“Call me Wyatt.”
She shifted her gaze, staring over his left shoulder, feeling as if his dark, onyx-colored eyes could see straight into her. “I thought everyone called you Pallaton or Pall?”
“They do.” From the edge of her vision, Elise watched the corner of his mouth lift in a devastatingly sexy, purely male smile. “But I want you to call me Wyatt.”
“I’m going to call you desperate if you don’t stop,” she warned him, hoping like hell that her face wasn’t actually as red as it felt.
“Stop what?” he asked, angling his head slightly to the side as he tried to recapture her gaze.
“All of this,” she said, fully aware that she sounded like an idiot. “Trying to dazzle me with your manliness and charm.”
“Oh, yeah? Is it working?” He kept his expression carefully blank, though she could see the glitter of humor in his dark gaze.
She rolled her eyes. “Like I’d tell you if it was.”
His head went back as a low, rich chuckle rumbled up from his chest, and her toes curled in her heeled sandals at the pure carnality of the sound. How did he do it, make a laugh sound like some kind of insidious new form of seduction?
Though she tried so hard to fight it, everything that he did made her feel drunk on lust, the hunger heavy in her body, like a weighty thing inside of her. The flash of his smile. The smoldering intensity in his dark eyes and the way they did that sexy crinkle thing at the corners when he grinned. She’d heard he was considered the tamest of the Runners, at times even stoic. The most easygoing of a volatile bunch. But being close to him, talking to him, Elise couldn’t help but wonder if the people who held that opinion of Wyatt Pallaton knew him at all. Were they blind? Because from where she was standing, there wasn’t a safe, easygoing thing about the man.
Desperate to regain control of herself and the situation, Elise asked a question that had been playing in the back of her mind for the past hour, slowly driving her crazy. “I saw you and Michaela on the dance floor earlier. Doesn’t it bother Brody when you dance with his wife?”
His hands shifted, one resting against the small of her back, while the other stroked its way up her spine until it reached the edge of her bodice, his thumb brushing against her bare skin in a slow, sensual caress. Her gaze shot immediately back to his, and she watched the groove form between his dark brows as he asked, “Why should it bother him?”
Suddenly, she wished she’d just kept her big mouth shut. Thanks to her friendship with Max Doucet, Michaela’s younger brother, she knew that Brody and the fiery Cajun were madly in love with one another, as did anyone who had ever met the quiet Runner and his gorgeous human life mate. Still, she couldn’t help the jealousy she felt when she witnessed the closeness that Wyatt and Michaela shared. “I just thought that the two of you...that you were...”
He leaned forward, putting his silky words into the sensitive shell of her ear. “Despite what a few gossips seem to think, El, Mic and I are just friends. And that’s all we’ve ever been. She’s in love with her husband, and I... Let’s just say that I don’t think of her that way.”
There was something there, in his words...in the tone of his voice...but she couldn’t afford to look at it too closely. Not if she wanted to keep it together. Instead, she said, “Why haven’t you danced with Reyes?”
She didn’t know what to make of him when he lifted his head, staring down at her with a bemused expression, as if the thought of asking his beautiful partner to dance had never even occurred to him. “Carla? Hell, she’d probably stomp on my toes just to be ornery.”
“But you two seem so...close. I thought...”
His dark brows lifted. “That we were also intimate?” he asked, looking as if he were trying hard not to laugh.
Before she could respond, his lips twitched with another wry smile. “We’re close, yeah. But not like that. I love Carla like a sister, but she’s my partner. Dancing with her would be like...like dancing with one of the guys.”
“Well, there has to be some woman here who you’re involved with,” she practically snapped, becoming desperate. She needed a cold slap of reality in the face, some kind of sign that declared him hands-off, because if she wasn’t careful, she was going to get herself in deeper water than she could handle. “Don’t you have a girlfriend? Someone you’re dating?”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, honey, but no. No woman...and no girlfriend. I’m as free as a man can be.”
Hell. That so wasn’t what she needed to hear.
It didn’t matter how badly she wanted to accept the fleeting moments of sexual pleasure he was offering her with that wicked smile and smoldering stare—she simply couldn’t do it—and for the second time that night, Elise wondered why she couldn’t have met him when she was younger. Of course, knowing the kind of girl she’d been back then, she probably would have turned up her nose at him, believing herself too good to have a fling with a Bloodrunner. Stuck-up and snide, she’d had a mountainous chip on her shoulder, always acting as if she thought she was better than everyone around her. Disgusting, but embarrassingly true. She’d been so different then, thinking the world revolved around her and her problems, when she couldn’t have been further from the truth.
It’d taken countless months of therapy after her attack to come to the understanding that she’d formed her spiteful attitude and narcissistic self-obsession as a defense mechanism for dealing with her misogynistic father. And she’d done a damn good job of building those defenses. So much so that it’d taken a night of living hell to break her down, taking her to pieces, until there was nothing left of her to offer a man like Wyatt. The feminine part of her that longed for an emotional connection with a man, as well as a physical one, no longer worked the way that it should—and though she struggled each day to be strong, Elise knew there was nothing that could ever repair the damage. No therapeutic Band-Aid that could heal her soul.
Wyatt stared down at her with a curious look on his striking face, then quietly asked, “Are you going to keep quizzing me about the women in my life, or are we finally going to talk about it?”
“Talk about what?” she whispered, painfully aware that her panic and fear were bleeding through, loud and clear. With his heightened senses, he could probably scent her unease with every breath he took, and she fought not to cringe.
He didn’t offer any inane platitudes to ease her nerves. He just smiled down at her with that slow, sensual twisting of his lips, the shape of his mouth firm, masculine and yet impossibly beautiful. There was a nick on his chin, where he’d obviously cut himself shaving, and Elise found herself wanting to lift onto her toes and press a tender kiss against the small wound. A strange compulsion, considering she hadn’t kissed anyone in years—hadn’t wanted to kiss anyone in years—but then this entire night was turning out to be one stunning dose of bizarre.
She swallowed against the lump in her throat, suddenly terrified that he wanted to talk about the way she’d been watching him throughout the night, stealing as many desperate glances as she could. Embarrassed, she looked away. She could feel the heat burning in her face, the dark, curious weight of his gaze as he stared down at her only making it worse. “Talk about what?” she asked again, unable to disguise the quiver in her words.
“About what’s happening between...” His voice trailed off as he took in her panicked expression. “You know, on second thought, I think we’ll save that particular conversation for another day,” he offered in a low rumble, and even though she could sense the tension in his body, she knew he’d decided not to push the issue. “But there’s something I need to tell you, El. I mean to get to know you. I don’t expect it to be easy, but you should know that it’s something I’ve set my mind to.”
From one breath to another, she could feel the color drain from her face, and she looked back to him, blinking against the slow rise of anger building up inside her. Hoping it wasn’t true, but knowing that it was, she said, “You’ve asked about me, haven’t you? That’s why you’re being so damn nice and so bloody careful, isn’t it?”
His lashes lowered, shielding his gaze, and she cut him off before he could even bother denying it. “Don’t lie to me,” she quietly seethed, thankful he’d kept them at the far edge of the dance floor, away from the other couples. “And don’t coddle me! I’m so sick and tired of everyone walking on eggshells around me, afraid I might go off the deep end. Just answer the question, Pallaton. You know about what happened to me, don’t you?”
His expression was nothing short of grim. “You mean with your father?”
“No, I’m not talking about the crap that happened last year. I’m talking about before!”
For a moment, he simply watched her, the look in his eyes growing darker, deeper, and then he gave a small, nearly imperceptible nod. “Yeah, I know.”
Despite the counseling she’d gone through, shame poured through her, sickening and painfully familiar, and she struggled to breathe her way through it.
“Elise, I meant what I said,” he told her, his grip firming, as if he thought she was going to pull away. It was terrifying, watching the resolve harden his features, his expression cut with stark lines of determination. “All I want right now is a chance for us to get to know each other. I’m not pushing you to do anything you’re not ready for.”
“You’re wasting your time,” she argued, flattening her palms against the solid muscles of his shirt-covered chest as she pushed against his hold. “It’s not going to happen. I...I can’t.”
“Can’t?” he quietly rasped. “Or won’t even try?”
Her anger rose with her panic, and she fought to control her voice as she hissed, “I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but you don’t know me. You don’t know my life. You don’t know anything but gossip. Don’t you dare judge me!”
His voice became a soft, gentle growl. “I don’t want to judge you. I just want the chance to be friends with you. To deal with this thing we have going.”
She blinked, wondering what on earth he was talking about. “Thing? What thing?”
They’d long since stopped dancing, though he still held her in his arms. Obviously choosing his words with care, he said, “We might not be happy about it, but there’s something between us. I know you don’t give most men the time of day, but I want that to change. I want you to take a chance and get to know me.”
“So that I’ll what? Suddenly decide to sleep with you?” she sneered, breaking away from him.
His mouth went hard, the shuttered look in his eyes narrow and sharp. “So that you can learn to trust me. Be friends with me. If that’s all you want, then I’ll find a way to accept it.”
She lifted her chin, her arms wrapped tight around her middle, too angry to care if she was causing a scene. “You’re crazy!”
He didn’t reach for her again. He just stood there, looking devastatingly handsome in his tux, his shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal his thick wrists and the corded length of his powerful forearms as he shoved his hands deep in the pockets of his slacks. The snowy-white of his shirt was startlingly bright against the dark russet tone of his skin, attesting to his Native American heritage, and she couldn’t help but think that it should have been a sin creating a man who looked that good. But even more frightening than the gorgeous exterior was the man inside.
“I mean it, Wyatt. You’re wasting your time.”
“I know you’re afraid,” he told her, keeping his voice low, “but there’s something you should know about me, El. I can be a patient man when I need to be.”
“A patient man?” She laughed, but the brittle sound was born too much from terror and pain than actual humor. “There’s no such thing!”
He leaned forward, just close enough that his lips grazed her cheekbone as he spoke. “Have heart,” he murmured as the last notes of the song quietly faded away. He pressed a tender kiss to her temple, moving slowly past her right side, the solid muscles of his chest brushing against her bare arm. “Believe it or not, El, I just might surprise you.”
Then he stepped away, leaving her standing alone on the edge of the dance floor, staring blankly into the dense, impenetrable darkness of the forest...wondering what in God’s name had just happened to her.
Chapter 2
Forty-five minutes later, Wyatt stood with his shoulders propped against the thick trunk of an ancient pine, waiting just inside the dark line of the wooded park that bordered the back of the meticulously kept house before him. Silvery rays of rain-dampened moonlight bathed the small home in an ethereal glow, giving it a spectral appearance, like an apparition rising from the mist. The rain wasn’t heavy, the trees shielding him from the pattering drops, but the rumble of thunder promised that another storm was on its way—which meant he was in for a long, wet night.
Doing his best to ignore the thick weight of sexual hunger keeping him company, Wyatt used his wolf eyes as he kept watch over the silent house, noting the personal touches that he knew were the work of the woman who lived there. The lavender trim had to have been Elise’s doing, as well as the vivid red rose bushes that climbed the white walls. Everywhere he looked, there were little sparks of her personality that set the house apart from its neighbors, much like the woman herself.
Even in a pack full of preternatural werewolves, Elise Drake stood out as something vivid and bright and unique, no matter how hard she tried to hide it.
She was shimmering and white-hot to the touch, and yet, she worked so hard to conceal herself beneath a cold, excessively controlled exterior. Struggled to cut herself off from the world, as if she needed no one to help her along the way.
On the one hand, Wyatt still savored the memory of how she’d felt in his arms, somehow better than any other woman he’d ever held before. Soft and lush, despite her nerves, with the mouthwatering scent of her body filling his head; the sensation had been richer, deeper...and impossibly sweeter than anything he’d ever experienced. Something that he knew would keep him up in the quiet hours of the night, when his body craved the feel of her curves beneath him, cushioning his heavy thrusts, welcoming him into the slick, clutching depths of her body. He loved that she wasn’t a little stick-and-bones wisp of a woman. Loved her shape and her height and the way that she fit against him.
On the other hand, he couldn’t ignore the frustrating fact that she deserved a man who could give her a hell of a lot more than he could. One who wasn’t riddled with the guilt of his sins. Who could hold her through the night after losing himself in her beautiful body. Who could offer her everything, instead of something that would most likely end in a bitter nothing for both of them. But fate was a fickle bastard, and he was done arguing with himself about it. Elise wasn’t someone he could ignore or forget. Staying away from her wasn’t an option, and though he’d promised her patience, he wanted her now.
Ever since the night of Max Doucet’s Novitiate’s ceremony, Wyatt had known she was his. A rogue wolf had bitten Max because of his sister’s association with the Runners, and the purpose of the ceremony had been to determine whether or not the teenager would survive his first change. In a surprising act of loyalty to the Bloodrunners, Elise and her brother had sided with the half-breed hunters that night, standing against their sadistic father and his maniacal plans.
It had been a macabre, hellish scene, and yet, Wyatt hadn’t been able to take his focus off the woman standing no more than a handful of feet away from him. The late-autumn winds had raged, whipping the thick, shimmering strands of her dark red hair against the perfect angles of her face, pulling her shirt tight against the womanly curves of her body. The violent gusts had surrounded him with her warm, intoxicating scent, creating a reaction in his body from which he doubted he would ever recover.
Take. Keep. Mine. Those three guttural words had echoed through his head over and over, too many times to count. Primal, raw and savagely possessive.
But while Elise Drake’s scent might have told him she was meant to be his, body and soul, he wasn’t going to allow that knowledge to rule his life. Even if his past had been...different, that wasn’t something he would just accept. And he wasn’t looking to make her the answer to his problems, as if saving her could save him from the mistakes he’d made. This wasn’t a goddamn do-over. He just wanted to protect her. To hear her laugh. See her smile. And be there when she finally realized there were still things in life worth living for, rather than just existing.
She’d arrived home only a handful of minutes ago, and as she moved past one of the back windows, Wyatt couldn’t help but follow the lines of her body with his gaze, appreciating the graceful, sensual way that she moved. Tension gripped him, and it took a significant force of effort to hold his position. He was debating whether or not to move in closer, when his cell phone silently vibrated in his pocket; a quick glance at the number told him it was Carla. Knowing she was going to rib him over his dance with Elise, he choked back a curse and quietly answered the phone. “What’s up?”
Carla’s husky laughter filled his ear. “And here I was wondering if I should be asking you the same thing.”
“Cute,” he muttered with a snort.
“I know, huh? But believe it or not, I had a reason to call beyond trying to get a rise out of you. A set of scouts on the south border called in saying they saw something. They tried to track it, but the rain that was coming down made it impossible. Just thought you might want to know, seeing as how your lady bird is in that vicinity.”
Wyatt glanced at his watch. “When did the call come in?”
“They phoned it into the command center in Shadow Peak about an hour ago. Guess the guys on duty figured we were all too busy with the wedding to pass it along. And before you freak, a bunch of us are already on our way up to talk to them. We’ll make sure they never make the same mistake again.”
He grunted in response, wishing like hell that Eric had been able to convince Elise to relocate to the Alley. The siblings had argued about it for days, after Eric had permanently moved into one of the cabins there with Chelsea. But for some reason the stubborn woman refused to leave her home, even when so many of the townspeople continued to treat her like shit simply because of what had happened with her old man.
He started to get a bad feeling in his gut. “You think someone’s sneaking around on Silvercrest land again?” The last time it’d happened, they’d nearly had their asses handed to them.
“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Carla responded, while the guys in the vehicle with her talked in the background. “Every pack on the eastern seaboard knows we’re still recovering from Daddy Drake’s bullshit. They’ll all come sniffing around eventually, just to test us. The Silvercrest have been dominant for too long now not to have a long list of Lycans who’d like nothing more than to see us tumble.”
Lifting his free hand, he rubbed at the knots of tension in the back of his neck. “We’ve already tumbled.”
“Yeah, but we’re still on our land. Trust me, there’s going to be someone who wants to try to change that fact, if for nothing more than the bragging rights. The pack that knocks out the Silvercrest, even when we’re not at our best, will be one that makes others cower. After what happened between Eric and the Whiteclaw a few weeks ago, you know those bastards have to be drooling for it.”
Wyatt didn’t doubt that she was right. Eric had met his human wife while she was searching for her younger sister, Perry. Making a bad choice, Perry had gone chasing after the wrong guy and ended up falling in with the Whiteclaw pack who lived to the south of the Silvercrest. With the Runners’ help, Eric had been able to prove that the Whiteclaw had partnered up with the Donovans, a corrupt local Lycan family, on a number of illegal activities, the most horrific being one that involved human girls. With the Donovans’ support, the Whiteclaw had been drugging the girls and pimping them out for Lycan gang rapes. The drugs not only acted as an aphrodisiac on the girls, but also impaired their memories of the attacks. The Runners had managed to close down the strip club in Wesley, a human town at the foot of the mountains, that the Whiteclaw had been using to find the girls, but tensions between the two packs had never been higher. Roy Claymore, who led the Whiteclaw wolves, was thirsty for Silvercrest blood, and Wyatt knew it wouldn’t be long before the Silvercrest found themselves embroiled in battle.
“Shit,” he cursed under his breath, running a palm down his face to clear away the misting drops of rain. “I’ve got a feeling something’s coming down. Soon.”
There was a wry edge to Carla’s worried tone. “And here I thought you’d have nothing but butterflies in your belly after that little performance on the dance floor tonight. We were all damn near riveted by the steam coming off you two smoldering little lovebirds.”
Christ. Wondering how long it would be before Eric confronted him about his sister, he muttered, “I don’t have time for you to mess with my head right now, Reyes. I wanna check the area, see if anything’s around.”
“Okay. But if you find trouble, don’t be stupid,” she told him, all traces of teasing gone. “We’re gonna check out where the sighting took place after we’re done in town, so we won’t be far. Call me before you go charging in like a bull or I’ll never let you live it down.”
“You never let me live anything down,” he grunted, ending the call before she could come back with another smart-ass remark.
Slipping his phone back into his pocket, Wyatt pushed away from the tree and began making his way through the woods, careful to keep one eye on Elise’s house. He’d learned the hard way when he was younger to always trust his instincts, and right now they were shouting at him that something wasn’t right. The restlessness of his inner wolf told him that the beast agreed. He drew in a series of slow, deep breaths, but the slight mist of rain made it impossible to pick up any trace of Lycan musk, the damp affecting his keen sense of smell. If there were someone out there with him, he was going to have to find him using good old-fashioned tenacity and skill.
Wyatt almost relished the thought of getting his hands on the trespasser, thinking a good knock-’em-down, claw-’em-up scuffle was exactly what he needed to work out his frustration. And if the bastard came anywhere near Elise, he was going to get more than a fight.
If he so much as set foot on her property, Wyatt was going to personally send him straight to hell.
* * *
Breathe in, breathe out. In...out. Slow and easy.
Setting her purse and car keys on her kitchen table, Elise rolled her head over her shoulders, repeating the silent mantra while wondering if her heart rate would ever return to normal. The drive back up to Shadow Peak tonight had seemed to take twice as long as it usually did, her hands damp against the steering wheel, the rhythmic slapping of the windshield wipers keeping perfect timing with the frenzied rate of her pulse.
Considering she was reeling from one innocent dance, she couldn’t deny that Wyatt Pallaton certainly had a way of playing havoc with a woman’s equilibrium.
By the time she’d spun around on the dance floor, ready to tell him to stay the hell away from her, he was gone. Needing to get out of there, she’d found Eric and Chelsea and told them she wasn’t feeling well, then immediately headed home. Now all she wanted was to run a hot bath, put on some soothing music and soak in her tub, doing her best to forget about the man who had practically seduced her with nothing more than a smoldering look.
And the way he’d called her El had damn near made her melt.
Shivering with the decadent memory of every huskily spoken word he’d said to her, she moved to the counter and opened a cupboard, taking down a tall glass and filling it with ice-cold water from the door in her refrigerator. She tilted her head back and took a long drink, then pressed the chilled glass against her forehead, her thoughts in turmoil. Why her, damn it? There were no doubt dozens of single women in Shadow Peak who would have been ecstatic at the prospect of drawing his eye, regardless of his Runner status. But for some insane reason, Wyatt seemed to have singled her out, and she had no idea why. Was he one of those macho jerks who got off on a challenge? Had he been dared? Was this all just some kind of cruel, sick joke to him?
Cut it out, her conscience lectured. He isn’t like that, and you damn well know it.
“What I know is that I’m going out of my mind,” she grumbled into the lonely silence of the house. Hating that awful silence, she’d just lifted the glass to her lips again, when someone softly knocked on the kitchen door that opened onto her carport. Startled, she flinched, sending water sloshing over the side of the glass and onto the tiled floor. Taking a hesitant step forward, she asked, “Who is it?”
“Elise?” a deep, familiar voice called out. “It’s me, Eddie.”
Setting the glass down on the counter, she lifted her hands, pressing her fingertips to her temples, unable to deny the slight twinge of disappointment fluttering in her chest. Had she actually hoped that it might be Wyatt at her door? How freaking crazy was that?
“Elise? Are you okay?”
“Just a second, Eddie,” she muttered, reaching for a dish towel to mop up the floor. Damn it, she was too tired for this. Too tense. Too everything to deal with her well-meaning if slightly obsessed neighbor tonight.
Several weeks ago, not long after Eric had first met Chelsea, Elise had come home from work one day and found her kitchen door slightly open, when she was always careful to lock up when she left. She’d been receiving threatening phone calls for some time and had been worried someone was inside, waiting for her. When her neighbor, Eddie Browning, had come home from work at his stepfather’s garage and found her lingering on the doorstep, he’d searched the house for her to make sure no one was hiding inside, and then she’d thanked him and sent him home. But there’d been a lingering vibe in the air that had completely freaked her out. Nervous and scared, she’d tried to have someone from the pack-run security offices in town come over to take a look, but they’d refused. So she’d contacted Eric, asking him for help, but he also hadn’t been able to detect an intruder’s scent. Then all hell had broken loose when an angry crowd had gathered in front of her house, and a jackass named Glenn Farrow had publicly accused her of making the whole thing up in some kind of bizarre plea for attention. The crowd had joined in, and the accusations had grown ugly, bred by lingering animosity toward her father. Eric had kicked Farrow’s ass, and the bastard had thankfully given her a wide berth ever since.
Shaken by the experience, Elise had made plans to have a new alarm system installed the following afternoon. Eddie, however, had proven to be even better than her security system, keeping a watchful eye on her property for what seemed like all hours of the day. The only problem was that he claimed to see someone snooping around her house on a regular basis, and now she rarely put any stock in his claims. He was a nice young man, and she knew he meant well, but she also knew he was easily confused...and she couldn’t help but wish that he’d be just a little less focused on her life.
Stepping to the door, she pulled back the short curtain that covered the small panes of glass, revealing her worried-looking neighbor. With his baby-blue eyes, cherubic face and golden hair, he looked so much younger than his twenty-five years. It still surprised her that Eddie had initially been considered a suspect in her attack, since he was so childlike and sweetly naive. But he’d thankfully been cleared when his alibi for that night was confirmed.
“You need to go back home now,” she told him, careful to keep her voice firm as she stepped closer to the door. He didn’t frighten her, but she sure as hell didn’t want to do anything to encourage him. “You don’t want anyone to see you over here, remember? It’s only going to cause trouble for you with the pack.”
“But this is important,” he argued, his blue eyes clouded with concern. “I saw someone at your house again tonight. I think he was tampering with your alarm.”
“Eddie, we’ve already been through this,” she said with a sigh. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but it was for his own safety. Nothing good could come from his befriending her. “You have to stop watching my house.”
“But I’m sure of it this time, Elise. I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fi—” she started to say, only to have her words trail off as she glanced down, noticing that the latch on the door was flicked to the unlocked position. Elise was positive that she hadn’t left it that way when she’d locked up before leaving for the wedding, and she’d come in through the front door when she’d gotten home. There was no way she’d missed checking the door, and familiar feelings of terror and anxiety began to work their way through her system, settling like a toxin in her muscles, making her head feel light, her stomach pitchy. Turning around, Eddie’s low, fervent words faded to a buzzing whir in her head as she stepped away from the door and took a deep breath, searching for a scent, but as far as she could tell, there was nothing to cause alarm. Still, she walked across the kitchen, took one of the knives from her butcher’s block and headed down the hall, flicking on every light along the way, until she reached her bedroom.
With her pulse roaring in her ears, she peered into the room, but nothing looked out of place. Then she heard the floorboards softly creak behind her, and before she could scream, a meaty palm clamped around her throat, choking off her air, while a thick, muscled arm banded her middle, pinning her arms at her sides. To her horror, she felt the knife slip from her damp fingers, clattering when it landed at her feet.
No, she thought, as tears flooded her eyes, trailing over her face. This can’t be happening!
“Hello, cherry girl,” a deep, scratchy voice whispered in her ear. “Did you miss me?”
“Who the hell are you?” she wheezed, barely able to get the strangled words out, even though he’d loosened his hold on her throat.
“Don’t you remember me?” the man rasped, the crooning tone of his voice sickening her as much as it terrified.
“No,” she choked out, but Elise knew it was a lie. She may not have a conscious memory of his voice, but something inside her screamed in fear at its familiarity. “What do you want from me?” she cried, while dread twisted through every cell of her body, holding her in an agonizing clutch of pain.
He pressed his cold, slick lips to the side of her throat, nuzzling the vulnerable stretch of skin. “Don’t worry, honey. I’ll refresh your memory. We all will.” A low, husky chuckle filled her ear, making her skin crawl. “But I might have to take a quick taste before I sneak you out of here. Just for old times’ sake.”
Oh, God. God, no. She’d rather die!
Air finally rushed its way into her lungs as she yanked her head to the side, her fear releasing in an ear-piercing scream. Elise twisted and fought like a madwoman to break free, but it didn’t matter. He was too strong, holding her tight against the front of his disgustingly aroused body as he began pulling her across the room. With sickening horror, she realized he was dragging her toward the bed. She drew in as much air as she could, screaming louder than she could ever remember doing. Screaming so hard that it hurt. Eyes watering and nose running, her throat ached as she sobbed and shouted. Then her attacker wrapped his thick arm around her throat, cutting off her air again, and her screams died to a pitiful, breathless gasp. Her vision blurred, tiny pinpricks of cold burning beneath her skin, his guttural voice feeding words she could no longer make sense of into her ear. But she knew what was coming. She was going to die. Slowly. Painfully. Cruelly.
Fight, damn it. Change!
She wished she could act on the survival instinct, but as her consciousness flickered, she knew it was too late. They’d broken her three years ago, leaving her on the verge of death in a pool of her own blood, barely breathing.
And now one of them had come back to finish the job.
Chapter 3
If the sound of those piercing screams had chilled his blood and fueled his rage, the silence that followed nearly stopped Wyatt’s heart. He’d been passing along the far back corner of her property when he’d caught the faint notes of that first terrified cry, and set off running as fast as he could. Within seconds, he’d crossed her backyard, shoving past her neighbor and ordering the guy to call the Runners’ security hotline, before tearing into the house through the kitchen door. He was hurrying toward Elise’s scent when he plowed straight into the bastard. Snarling, they crashed to the living-room floor as they each fought for the upper hand, landing crushing blows that would have killed a human.
“You like preying on women, you sadistic piece of shit?” Wyatt roared, releasing his claws and fangs as he gripped the male’s balaclava-covered head and slammed his skull against the hardwood floor. “Why don’t you try taking on someone your own size?”
“You don’t scare me, pretty boy,” the Lycan growled, his own deadly claws extending from the tips of his fingers. “I eat half-breed assholes like you for breakfast.”
They rolled across the floor, smashing into the coffee table, their booted feet knocking over furniture as they grappled, blocked and struck blows with animalistic savagery. His opponent was unnaturally strong, even for a Lycan, but Wyatt was fueled with the driving need to reach Elise and make sure she hadn’t been harmed. Blocking a blow to his neck, he used his feet to toss the asshole over his head and into one of the side tables, the delicate piece of furniture splintering under the male’s weight. They both twisted and lurched onto their feet, claws extended at their sides, facing off across what was left of a ruined sofa. Coarse, guttural chuffs of aggression rumbled deep in their chests, and then they exploded into action, shifting the upper halves of their bodies into the powerful shape of their beasts. With his head changed into the wolf’s larger form, the Lycan’s mask had dropped in pieces to the floor...but Wyatt didn’t recognize the beast staring back at him. Without being able to see the male’s human face, he couldn’t be sure if this were someone he’d met before or not. Dodging to evade a kick to his groin, Wyatt spun with a side kick aimed at the guy’s chest, slamming the bastard into one of the walls so hard he nearly went through it. Shaking his head to clear it, the Lycan lurched to his feet and maneuvered to the left, putting the broken table between them.
“Come on, asshole,” Wyatt growled through his muzzled snout, his graveled tone a perfect match for his feral expression of fury. “Either fight me or admit defeat. Stop wasting my time.”
“Yeah? You really think you’re so smart, don’t you?” the male sneered, his golden gaze glittering with something that looked strangely like humor.
What the hell did this jackass think was so funny? Wanting to finish this now, Wyatt’s top lip curled back over his deadly fangs. “I’m smart enough to take your ass to the ground.”
Snickering, the Lycan said, “And while you’re wasting your precious time in here with me, your little piece of ass is getting what she deserves.”
He froze, dread slithering through his system like a cold blade. Fuck, no. Had he actually made such a horrific mistake?
“What?” the Lycan taunted. “You didn’t really think one of us would come alone, did you?”
“You son of a bitch!” Wyatt snarled, torn between the choice of reaching Elise or staying to fight this jerk-off to the death. But there really wasn’t any choice at all. With a guttural roar, he grabbed the edges of a massive wooden bookshelf that lined an entire wall of the room and wrenched it forward, trapping the Lycan beneath the toppling case. Then he turned and raced toward the back of the house, where he knew Elise’s bedroom was located. In his panic, it felt as if he’d been fighting the Lycan for hours, though he knew in reality it’d only been a matter of seconds. But they were seconds that she’d been in danger. He’d mistakenly assumed she was in her room, trying to collect herself, safe now that he’d come to her rescue. But he couldn’t have gotten it more wrong. He should have known, damn it, instead of letting his bloodlust get the better of him.
Wyatt could hear the Lycan shouting from the living room, but he tuned out the words, his attention riveted on the macabre scene he found as he burst into her room. Elise was trapped beneath a second assailant on her bed, struggling to get free, while the sadistic bastard pressed his forearm across her throat, cutting off her air. The male also wore a black balaclava over his head, concealing his features. As Wyatt threw himself at her attacker, he sucked in a sharp breath, searching for the male’s scent, but there wasn’t one. Like a blank canvas, there wasn’t a single speck of Lycan musk to pull into his lungs—a trait this one shared with his partner—and it screamed Whiteclaw. After the attack some of the Whiteclaw and Donovan wolves had made on the Runners a few weeks ago in the Alley, they knew the wolves had developed a drug that not only made them violently strong, but also camouflaged their scent. But if this were another Whiteclaw attack, why come after Elise? Because of her brother and his association with the Runners? Had it made her a target, just as Eric had feared?
Digging his claws into the male’s side, Wyatt tried to bite out the Lycan’s throat, but was blocked by a powerful blow to his jaw. The male was unbelievably strong—another sign that he’d been amped up with the “super drug” that blocked a wolf’s scent—and Wyatt had to use every ounce of strength he possessed to pull the bastard off the bed, away from Elise, and hurl him across the room. Moving quickly back to his feet, the Lycan released his claws, looking more than ready to fight, until the sound of screeching tires on the street outside signaled the arrival of the other Runners.
“Next time you won’t be so lucky,” the male snarled, apparently realizing he wasn’t going to win now that backup had arrived. Without another word, he turned and retreated, running down the hallway. Wyatt heard the Lycan growl something at the one he’d left in the living room. Either the guy had already gotten free or the second Lycan helped him, because there were suddenly two sets of pounding footsteps as the pair made their way outside, around the side of the house and into the wooded park. Fighting back a bloodcurdling howl, it took all of Wyatt’s willpower not to run after the monsters and rip them to pieces. He wanted it so badly the need was like a festering wound in his gut—but he couldn’t leave Elise. Not when she needed him. Not when she was wheezing, stammering a broken, whispered phrase under her breath that was slowly breaking his heart into tiny, irreparable pieces.
“Rather die, rather die, rather die...”
Turning toward her, Wyatt quickly shifted the upper half of his body back into his human form and retracted his bloody claws and fangs, not wanting to frighten her any more than she already was. The instant he’d pulled that asshole off of her, she’d scurried into the far corner of the room and hunched down with her arms wrapped over her head. Her eyes were glazed, her mind a million miles away. Hiding...wanting to be anywhere but here. Not that he blamed her.
Taking his phone out, he called Carla’s cell, telling her that he had El but needed whoever had come with her to search the woods at the back of the property for two Lycan males. Ending the brief call, he shoved the phone back into his pocket and focused on the woman he had been more than ready to kill for.
“El?” he whispered, crouching down a few yards away from her. He tried to catch her gaze, but her vacant stare was focused inward, her head slowly shaking from side to side, body huddled into a tight ball that made her seem so fragile and small. “Baby, I need you to take a deep breath and just look at me, okay? You’re safe now. No one can hurt you.”
He waited, holding his position as he kept speaking to her in a soft voice, doing his best not to spook her. He was starting to think that maybe he should call Reyes inside to talk to her, when Elise finally blinked her eyes a few times and looked at him. She seemed to only just be realizing that he was there.
“W-Wyatt?” she croaked, shivering so badly that it shook her words.
“Yeah, it’s me, El.” He started to edge a little closer, but stopped when she made a sharp, choked sound. Before he even knew what was happening, she’d launched herself at him, nearly knocking him over, her face buried against his blood-spattered chest as she bawled in deep, wrenching sobs. He held her in a crushing grip that was too tight but seemed to be exactly what she needed. After a minute or two, her trembling began to ease, the violent crying melting into a soft wash of tears.
“Did he hurt you?” he rasped, dreading her answer.
“N-no. You got here in time.”
“Thank God,” he groaned, undone by the way she felt in his arms. He wanted to keep holding her, for hours on end, but his time was already running out. He sensed the exact instant she started to make her way free of the terror, her body stiffening in his arms as she pulled her head back, lifting her tearstained gaze to his worried one.
Then those soft, glistening eyes narrowed with fury, and he knew all hell was about to break loose.
* * *
“What are you doing here?” Elise yelled, trying to push away from the bare-chested Runner. But she couldn’t budge free from his tight hold. “Oh, God. Are you stalking me?”
“Shh. Calm down,” he murmured, his deep voice soft and soothing, as if he were trying to gentle a frightened child. “It’s okay.... It’s not like that.”
She fought to control a fresh round of shivers, hating that he was a witness to her weakness, but knew she was failing. The quivering began in her bones, radiating outward, born as much from anger as it was from fear. “Then explain it. R-right now,” she stammered, unable to keep her jaw from shaking.
With a rough sigh, he lowered his arms, letting her go, and a rush of cold swarmed in to replace his delicious heat. As they both moved to their feet, he said, “Your brother put you under Bloodrunner protection after what happened that day with Farrow, when you thought someone had been in your house.”
Elise blinked, unable to believe she’d just heard him correctly. Bracing herself with a hand against the nearest wall, she shook her head. “What did you just say?”
He sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck. “You heard me.”
Anger straightened her spine. “He had no right to do that!”
“He did it because he cares about you. And he was even more concerned about your safety after the attack at the Alley.”
“So then you’ve all been watching me?” she choked out. “Spying on me, like I’m some pathetic little thing that gets spooked by her own shadow?”
His nostrils flared as he sucked in a sharp breath, his jaw rigid. “Those weren’t shadows tonight, Elise. Those were two asshole Lycan males intent on hurting you.”
“I don’t care! You had no right. Not behind my back.” She swiped angrily at her tears, furious that she’d so completely lost control in front of him and couldn’t seem to get it back.
She flinched as he moved, then felt like an idiot when she realized he was only unknotting the sleeves of the flannel shirt that was tied around his waist. “It’s okay,” he told her, a husky edge to the words that touched her senses on an even deeper level than the fear—one she wasn’t willing to acknowledge, not even to herself. “I’m just giving you my shirt.”
“What? Why?”
Keeping those dark eyes on her face, he said, “Your dress is ripped, sweetheart.”
She gasped, looking down in horror to see that the entire left side of her bodice had been torn during her struggle with the Lycan, revealing the heavy swell of her breast and the pink tip of her nipple. “Damn it,” she hissed, clutching the tattered fabric over her chest as she lifted her head and glared at him. “And don’t call me that. I’m not your sweetheart.”
He gave her a crooked smile. “Okay.”
“Okay? What does okay mean?” she snapped, the words as brittle as autumn leaves as she grabbed the shirt out of his big, rugged hand and quickly pulled it on over her tattered dress.
“It means I’m not going to argue with you about it when you’re upset,” he said affably.
She lifted her brows. “But you’ll...what? Argue with me about it later?”
His lips curled with the barest fraction of a smile. “Depends on whether you keep telling me not to call you sweetheart.”
Elise tried to storm past him then, too overwhelmed to deal with his crazy brand of charm, but her stupid knees buckled with her first step and the room spun. Before she could tell him to go to hell, he had her swept up in his strong arms, clutched against his broad, muscular chest as he carried her over to the bed. But instead of setting her down and moving away, he sat down on the edge of the mattress, then carefully deposited her beside him.
“How did he get the jump on you?” he asked as she quickly scooted over, needing to put more distance between them.
“I didn’t know he was behind me.”
Damn it. The instant the words left her mouth, Elise realized her mistake, her heart lurching into her throat. Turning her head away from him, she tried to hide behind her hair, which had long since fallen from its twist, but he lifted his hand, pushing it behind her ear. Then he caught her chin, bringing her face back around. “They had their scents masked, but why couldn’t you hear him? Or sense him?”
It took considerable effort, but she forced a smirk onto her face to hide her shame as she jerked her chin free, then met his dark gaze with her own. “That’s none of your damn business, Runner.”
He opened his mouth, no doubt ready to argue that point, when Jeremy’s deep voice called out from the living room. “Hey, Pall, where are you guys? We let ourselves in through the kitchen door. Me and Cian need to talk to you.”
The corner of his mouth twitched with a wry, fleeting grin. They both knew that Jeremy and Cian, two of the most highly trained hunters the pack had ever known, could use their acute sense of smell to pinpoint their exact location in the house. Which meant they weren’t so much asking where they were, as they were inquiring as to whether or not they were decent enough for company. Idiots! She never should have danced with Wyatt at the reception. Now these jackasses were never going to let them live it down.
“We’re back here!” Wyatt shouted, and Elise quickly wrapped the flannel shirt even tighter around her body. In the next moment, a rain-soaked Jeremy and Cian came into her bedroom, followed closely by Carla and Mason, who were equally waterlogged. She could only be thankful that Eric hadn’t come prowling in with them because she was too on edge to deal with her brother at the moment. She hoped to God he’d stayed at the Alley, enjoying his wedding night. These four were bad enough!
Whipping her head to the side, she scowled at the gorgeous jerk sitting beside her on the bed. “Did you have to call everyone?” she seethed, hoping he could tell just how furious she was with him.
He gave an innocent shake of his head. “Hey, I didn’t make the call. I asked that Browning guy to do it when I was rushing inside.”
“Your neighbor called Mason, but we were already on our way up to check out something else,” Jeremy offered as an explanation, before shooting a frowning glance at the puddle of water he was leaving on her floor.
Before she could fire off another sharp-edged remark, Cian crossed his arms over his chest, propped his broad shoulders against the wall and cut his piercing gray gaze from her to Wyatt. “So what happened?” the Irishman asked them, lifting his brows. “The neighbor was waiting out front when we got here, but he didn’t know anything. Just said that he heard screams and fighting. We searched the woods back there but couldn’t pick anything up to follow. And the rain is coming down hard now. It hasn’t left anything on the ground to track.”
Keeping it short and succinct, Wyatt gave them the rundown. “I think whoever the scouts spotted on our land tonight paid Elise a visit. I was searching the woods behind the house when I heard her scream. There were two Lycans inside her house, wearing masks that covered everything but their lips and their eyes, which were brown in their human forms. I fought them, and they took off when they heard the rest of you show up.”
She could tell by the look on the Runners’ faces that they knew he’d left out a portion of the story. And though she understood why he would have to fill them in later about what had happened in her room—that she’d very nearly been the victim of another sexual assault—Elise was thankful that he didn’t make her sit there and listen to a recounting of the horrific event.
Looking at the others, Wyatt asked, “Can you guys give us a second?”
“Sure,” Mason murmured, clapping his hand on Jeremy’s damp shoulder as he steered his partner toward the door, motioning for the others to go before them. Without looking back, the handsome, rugged Runner said, “We’ll take another look outside and see what we can find. Maybe we’ll get lucky and pick up a scent.”
“Yeah, about that,” Wyatt grunted, sounding kind of shocked and embarrassed. “I forgot to mention that they had their scents masked.”
A few stifled curses could be heard out in the hallway, as well as a low laugh that sounded as if it was coming from Cian, who probably thought that important lapse had something to do with her. Mason was at the back of the group, and he stopped and turned in the doorway with a scowl that would have scared the hell out of most people. “No scent at all—same as the ones who attacked us in the Alley?”
Wyatt nodded. “Yeah. Just like those assholes. They were also stronger than they should have been.”
“Shit,” Mason growled, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Did they say anything that might reveal their identity? Or what they were doing here?”
They both shook their heads, but Elise wasn’t sure Mason believed her. “We’ll take that look outside,” he told them, “but I want you both at my cabin for a meeting in the morning.”
She frowned as the Runner left the room. She didn’t want to go to the Alley tomorrow morning. After tonight, all she wanted was to...to... Hell, she didn’t know what she wanted.
“How long will it take you to pack?” Wyatt asked, his deep voice pulling her from her troubled thoughts as he moved to his feet.
She tilted her head back, staring up at him in confusion. “Pack what?”
“A bag. You can’t stay here by yourself. You’re coming home with me.”
Her jaw dropped as she blinked. “Is that some kind of sick joke?”
“Naw,” Carla drawled, popping her head back into the room from the hallway. She’d obviously decided to ignore Wyatt’s request for privacy. “I know what Pall’s joke face looks like, and that isn’t it. He’s dead serious.”
Gritting her teeth, she said, “I’m not going anywhere with you, Pallaton.”
He pushed his hands into his front pockets, his eyes hooded as he watched her stand up, grab a couple of clean towels from the basket of folded laundry that was sitting on her dresser and start laying them out over the puddles that’d been left on her floor. “Don’t let pride make you stupid, El. You know this is the smartest thing you can do.”
“Wow. Do you have any idea how arrogant you sound right now?” She clenched her teeth as she tossed a towel to Carla, then snapped the last one open, laying it over the water that had dripped off of Cian. “What is it with you guys always bundling up us little women and dragging us off to the Alley? Where in God’s name did you all get the idea that we can’t survive without you around to protect us with your big bad selves?”
He didn’t say anything in his defense when she turned back to him with a blistering glare. But he didn’t need to. He simply shifted his gaze to the bruise she could feel forming on her cheek, then lower, to where she was clutching the edges of his shirt over her chest, reminding her of just what he’d saved her from, and she trembled with fury as he slowly lifted that knowing gaze back to hers. “You son of a bitch,” she whispered, and his expression tightened, the skin around his eyes and mouth revealing his tension and rage, though he seemed determined not to express them in front of her. For some reason, that just made her even angrier.
“We can argue as long as you want, but it isn’t going to change the outcome. Either you come back with me, or I’m planting my ass here with you. And I do mean with you, El. I won’t be shoved out on that short-ass sofa in your living room. There’s not much left of it, anyway.”
“You’ve lost your freaking mind.”
“Probably,” he muttered, scrubbing the palm of his hand against the hard angle of his jaw. “But it doesn’t change the fact that you need a keeper.”
“I can stay with my brother!”
He arched one perfect midnight brow. “You do realize this is his wedding night, don’t you?”
She flushed, wracking her brain for an alternative. “With Jillian and Jeremy, then.”
“Won’t work. They’ve already started turning their spare room into a nursery.”
She blinked, stunned. “She’s pregnant?”
He shook his head. “Not yet. But they’re hoping she will be soon and wanted to get a head start on things.”
“Oh. I...I didn’t know.”
As if he knew exactly what she was thinking, he said, “They only just decided this week to start on the nursery, or I’m sure she would have told you.”
She chewed on the corner of her lip. “I can always sleep on their sofa.”
Zoing! His right brow arched again, as if it was spring-loaded, those dark eyes starting to glitter with a spark of humor, as if he were beginning to find something funny in her belligerent desperation. “When I have a perfectly good spare bedroom? I don’t think so.”
She was so frustrated she wanted to scream. “Who cares what you think, you arrogant ass? I do not take orders from you! Why can’t you just leave me the hell alone and stop trying to control me?”
Hmm. Maybe yelling at him again wasn’t the best idea she’d ever had. He suddenly wasn’t looking as if he still found this funny, the muscle pulsing in his jaw telling her he was done with this particular argument. “I’m not interested in controlling you. I’m just trying to keep you the fuck alive. So pack your goddamn bag and start acting like an adult instead of a stubborn child. Carla and I will drive you down and she can help you get settled.”
“Carla? Are you two bunking up together now?”
Carla snorted from her position in the doorway, making Elise flinch, since she’d somehow forgotten the female Runner was standing there. “You think I’m gonna live with that jackass?” The blonde laughed under her breath, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. “I’m not that crazy!”
Elise looked to Wyatt for an explanation. With a shrug, he said, “I just thought it might make you more comfortable to know that she’ll be around a lot. Her cabin is right next door to mine.”
“But we are not an item,” Carla added, shuddering. “I love the guy, but I don’t want you putting any sick images in my head. I’ll be scarred for life.”
It was dizzying, how she could go from being so pissed off one moment to wanting to bang her head against a freaking wall in the next. Glancing from one Runner to the other with a look of pure, disgruntled confusion, she said, “You two are so weird.”
“Yeah, we get that a lot.” Carla laughed.
At the same time, Wyatt growled, “Can we get a damn move on?”
When Elise simply remained where she was standing, he exhaled a short, exasperated breath. “Stop wasting time, El. If you don’t come with me, then I’m moving in here. Which is it gonna be?”
“Fine,” she snapped, making it sound like another sharp four-letter F word. “I’ll pack a bag, Dad.”
He ran his tongue over the front of his teeth, but didn’t call her out on her snotty attitude. Instead, he simply said, “Good. And make sure you pack enough.”
“Enough for what?” she asked, already walking toward her closet.
“A few weeks, at least.”
Oh, hell no. “A few weeks?” she growled, spinning toward him with another furious scowl. “Are you insane?”
“Getting there,” he muttered, heading for the door, the motion making all those mouthwatering muscles do interesting things under his tight, burnished skin. Even his freaking back was gorgeous, which just struck her as incredibly unfair. “If you want to argue about it, save it for the Alley,” he said over his shoulder. “Right now we need to get the hell out of here.”
“Why?” she whispered, his gritty words making the fear she’d been fighting down start to rise right back up. She licked her lips, struggling to stay calm, but it felt like a losing battle. “You don’t think they’re coming back, do you?”
“I don’t know what to think, Elise. But it’s better to be safe than sorry. And you’ll be a hell of a lot safer there than you are here.”
With her pulse pounding in her ears, Elise watched him leave the room, thinking he was probably right about her physical well-being.
She just wasn’t too sure about the rest of her.
Chapter 4
After getting a still-irritated, snippy Elise settled in his spare bedroom, Wyatt grabbed a T-shirt and then walked back to the cabin’s living room, where Carla waited for him in one of the leather chairs that sat across from his sofa. Too on edge to sit down, he made his way over to the empty fireplace, crossing his arms over his chest as he braced his back against the mantel.
“What?” he grunted, since his partner was staring at him with a bemused expression on her face.
“Nothing,” she murmured.
Choking back a groan, he said, “I’m tired and in a shitty mood, Reyes. So, please, just spit it out.”
She coughed to clear her throat, then shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s just that you’re not usually this tense, Pall. You look ready to crack.”
He shrugged, not knowing what to say.
“So what’s going on with you two?” she asked, sounding genuinely concerned.
“Don’t know.” He rubbed his jaw as he glanced at the bottle of whiskey that sat on the sideboard against the far wall. Rolling his shoulder in a restless gesture, he kept his voice low as he said, “I want her. But I’m worried about her, too. So I’ll put the other on the back burner for the time being and help her deal with whatever’s going on.”
“You want her how?” Carla questioned.
He arched a brow. “How do you think?” His tone was dry.
Not one to mince words, his partner asked, “You’re just looking for sex?”
Wyatt scowled. “Do we really need to have this conversation? Because not to sound juvenile or anything, but it’s kinda freaking me out, seeing as how you’re one of the closest things to family I still have. And I sure as hell wouldn’t talk about my sex life with my sister, if I had one.”
“Yeah, I get that. And I’m sorry about the ick factor. You know I love you—but I like Elise, too.” A notch started to form between her pale brows, just visible beneath the edge of her bangs. “I don’t want to see her get hurt if you’re only looking to get laid.”
“I’m not going to break her heart,” he muttered, shoving a hand back through his hair in a telling act of frustration. “Hell, a woman like her would never fall for a guy like me in the first place. But it doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun together.”
The notch on her forehead got deeper. “What do you mean by ‘a guy like me’? What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” he grunted. “Just drop it.”
She didn’t respond right away. She just sat there staring at him from the edge of her seat, studying him, making him feel like a bug pinned down under a microscope. He didn’t care for the feeling. And now he really wanted that damn drink. Heading over to the sideboard, he poured more than a little whiskey into a glass, then walked back and took a seat on the sofa.
“Gee, thanks for offering me one, too,” she drawled wryly. “And you know what I think? I think you’re full of bullshit.” He started to argue, but she cut him off. “And you’re blind if you don’t think that Elise is interested in you. Like really interested. Yeah, she’s skittish. She has good reason to be. But when you’re not looking at her, she’s watching you. She can’t keep her eyes off you.”
A wave of heat swept through his insides, and it didn’t have a damn thing to do with the mouthful of whiskey he’d just downed.
“Whoa!” Carla pressed a hand to her chest and gaped at him, really playing up the drama. “Did you just smile so big your dimples flashed? Holy shit!”
“Lay off,” he groaned, closing his eyes as he slumped down and dropped his head against the back of the sofa. But he couldn’t stop his lips from twitching.
“Man, and I didn’t even have my camera to document this momentous event. This is a tragedy of, like, epic proportions. I haven’t seen a genuine, full-fledged smile out of you in months!”
He cracked one eye open to glare at the obnoxious little imp. “Are you going to keep giving me shit all night?”
“Probably,” she admitted with a smirk.
Cursing something foul under his breath, he tossed back another hefty drink of his whiskey, clenching his teeth as it burned his throat.
“Whoa,” she said again, only this time she wasn’t teasing. “Easy there, Pall. It wasn’t my intention to make you want to get shit-faced.”
“Yeah?” He snorted as he wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist, then dropped his head back again. “Then what exactly were you going for?”
She was silent for a moment, and then she took a deep breath and said, “Look, I know the reason why this partnership between us works. Yeah, we’re friends, and I would go to the line for you. But we get along so well because we don’t push. I know you have shit in your past, and you know I have shit in mine, but we never hound each other for the gritty details.”
Sitting up, he braced his elbows on his spread knees and stared at her over the square, rustic coffee table. “Then why are we even having this conversation?”
The look in her brown eyes was troubled. “Because for the first time since I met you, I think there’s a reason to.”
Swallowing the last of his whiskey, he said, “My past has nothing to do with the present, Reyes.”
A crooked smile touched her lips. “Come on, Pall. You’re too smart to actually believe that.”
“If we’re spilling blood here,” he muttered, setting his empty glass on the table, “why don’t you go first?”
Quietly, she said, “Because I’m not the one playing Russian roulette with a woman on the edge.”
The silence stretched out, both of them refusing to back down. He blew out a rough breath and finally said, “Look, I know you’re only trying to help. But stop. I don’t need it.” He moved to his feet. “And now it’s time to call it a night.”
Carla didn’t argue. But she gave him a knowing look that said she had his number and wasn’t letting this go.
Knowing there wasn’t a chance in hell he was going to get any sleep, Wyatt locked the door behind his irritating, if well-meaning, partner, then stretched out over the long sofa and grabbed the remote. He barely noticed what was playing on the TV as he clicked it on, too busy thinking that it was the strangest damn thing, how after a lifetime of being a werewolf, it’d taken a woman to truly awaken the savage, predatory animal inside him.
Not that he hadn’t already possessed a primal, predaceous side. You couldn’t do the job he did without one. But that primitive, possessive, animalistic part of his nature had never bled into his sexual relationships. Being a hunter, he was one of the best, the Lycan part of his soul as skillful a predator as there could be—and he put that talent to good use. But like Carla had insinuated, his past had shaped the fabric of his character, and he knew he approached sex differently than his fellow male Runners. While they struggled to master their more aggressive desires, he’d never worried about losing control with a woman when he had her beneath him. He’d seen what violence could do to a female at an early age, and he wanted no part of that. Instead, his sexual relationships had been, for lack of a better word, fun. Something he could walk away from easily, and never something that made him feel as if he were coming out of his fucking skin.
At least, that was how it’d always been for him before. Now, in some kind of ironic twist of fate, the one woman Wyatt needed to treat with tender restraint had awakened a side of him he’d never even known existed. A dark, savagely dominant side that wanted to conquer and possess. That wanted to take Elise Drake beneath his fevered body, drive himself into her with all the primal ferocity of his beast and make her writhe. Make her scream and shout from the searing, relentless burn of pleasure, until her cries were hoarse and her nails were raking down his back. Until she was as wild and as out of control as he felt every time he so much as thought about her.
And now you need to cool it, you idiot, before you start howling like a sex-crazed maniac and end up scaring the hell out of her.
Cursing under his breath, Wyatt turned the volume on the TV up a little, but he still wasn’t really watching the sitcom that was on, too focused on the redhead showering in his guest room. He’d heard the rattle of the pipes start while he’d been talking to Carla, and now he was in a world of hurt, thinking of Elise standing naked and wet beneath the steaming stream of water, her beautiful body slick and soft and in desperate need of comfort. A comfort he was more than willing to provide, if she would only give him the chance.
Yeah. And given how pissed she is, she’d probably rather bunk down with a bloody vampire.
Drawing in a slow, deep breath, Wyatt locked his jaw and forced his attention to the mundane TV show...knowing it was more than likely going to be the longest damn night of his life.
* * *
Elise awakened with a gasp, trying to shake off the fuzzy remnants of what had been another nightmare. She could sense the morning sunlight against her eyelids and rolled over, pressing the side of her face against the pillow. The bed was comfortable and warm, making her want to stay buried beneath the covers forever, hiding from the rest of the world. But the prickling on her skin suddenly made her realize that she wasn’t alone, and she gave another soft gasp as she opened her eyes to find Wyatt sitting in a chair by the window, only a yard or so from where she lay, watching her with that dark, intense gaze that made her breath quicken.
“Bad dream?” he asked, his low voice deep and morning rough.
She pushed her hair out of her eyes, ignoring his question. She didn’t want to think about what she’d been dreaming...or why. But she did want to know what the hell he was up to. “What are you doing in here, Wyatt?”
His sexy mouth curved in a rueful, lopsided grin as he leaned forward in the chair, resting his elbows on his knees, his legs parted. He was dressed in a pair of faded jeans...and nothing else. All those lean, corded muscles and acres of bronzed skin made her damn mouth water. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me,” she snapped.
“All right.” His lashes lowered a little, shielding the look in his eyes, his tone deliberately careful. “I was watching you sleep.”
“What?” Her face flushed with embarrassment as she sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest. “Why would you do that?”
Gently, he said, “You were making these sounds earlier, like you were afraid. I came in to check on you, said your name, and it quieted you. My being here seemed to make you settle down, so I pulled up a chair and decided to let you get some more sleep.”
Oh, um...wow. Her first instinct was to snap at him again for invading what was meant to be her personal space here in his cabin, but she knew that was only because she was self-conscious. So she choked down the knee-jerk response and somehow managed to say, “You didn’t need to do that, but it was...nice of you. So I’ll just say thanks.”
He gave her a curious half smile, as if he were surprised she’d actually been civil to him for once. Noticing the dark smudges under his eyes, she shook her head and sighed. “Looks like you’re going to pay for being a good guy, Wyatt. I slept and you didn’t. Now you’ll be dragging yourself around all day.”
He lifted his broad, powerful shoulders in an uneasy shrug. “I never actually sleep much anyway.”
“Why not?” she asked, unable to take her eyes off the muscular expanse of his bare chest. He scratched at the russet-toned skin with his right hand, the casual action completely mesmerizing. She wanted to look away, but she was transfixed, his sheer proximity enough to send her heart rate into overdrive.
It was crazy how he could be so gorgeous and yet so ruggedly male. A sublime specimen of both beauty and primitive, visceral masculinity. Big and broad but as lean as a racehorse, his ropy muscles packed hard and tight beneath that deliciously bronzed skin. He’d been shirtless in front of her last night, but she’d been too upset to really take in the stunning details. But wow. Just wow.
Elise didn’t know how long she’d just been sitting there, staring like some sex-crazed female who’d never set eyes on a man before, but she jolted with shock when he suddenly slapped his palms against his knees and stood. “Now that you’re up,” he said, his voice sounding kind of tight and strange, “you should probably go ahead and get dressed. We don’t have much time before we need to leave.”
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