Awakened by the Wolf (11 page)

Chapter 16

P
illow and comforter packed in her arms, Cassie hesitated at the threshold of Margaret Walker's bedroom. “Maybe I should stay in the other room. You take this one.”

Brice's large frame filled the doorway. “I can't. It's wolfan taboo.”

“I don't mind taking the couch.” It didn't feel right to move into Margaret's room right after her passing.

“This is your home now. I won't have you sleeping on the couch. If you don't want to sleep in this bed, come back to mine.”

Cassie wouldn't tempt fate. She inched to the king-size platform bed, studying the intricate forest scenes of wolves carved into the head and footboards. Elaborate designs of ferns and leaves decorated the sides, and the legs anchoring the frame boasted snarling wolf heads, reminiscent of ancient grotesques.

Such a shame Brice had an aversion toward the exquisite family heirloom. The only legacy Cassie had was bad luck. She prayed not to pass that on to her children.

“Do you like it?” The rawness in Brice's voice resonated in her body.

“It's—” she searched for the right term “—breathtaking.” Now Cassie understood what art lovers meant when they talked of paintings moving them beyond words. She sensed the echoes of love from those who had rested here.

“Don't sell it.” She spun around to find Brice a hairbreadth away.

His gaze touched her hair long before his fingers did. “I won't.”

“What will you do with it?” Cassie asked, though it wasn't any of her business.

“The taboo applies to the bedding, not the frame. If I take a mate, I'll order a new mattress set before I claim her in this bed.”

From the molten look in Brice's eyes, Cassie didn't need to ask what
claiming
meant.

“Oh!” Heat swept up her neck into her face and fanned out to the tips of her ears. “Maybe I should make a pallet at the foot of the bed.”

His deep chuckle made her feel fuzzy and warm.

“Granny wouldn't want you to sleep on the floor. Neither do I.” He yanked the bedding off the mattress.

Cassie's sheets didn't fit the oversized mattress, so they used clean linens from the closet to remake the bed. She flapped her worn comforter over the crisp sheet. Brice's face scrunched in disapproval.

“What?” She smoothed out the wrinkles, not caring the old comforter didn't quite stretch to the corners of the bed.

“Why haven't you scrapped that raggedy thing?”

An acidic prickle scalded Cassie's throat. The faded bedspread had once been an obnoxious patchwork of purple flowers, lime-green swirls, cotton-candy-pink stars, yellow hearts and orange diamonds. While she couldn't say that she loved the pattern, she adored the comforter. “It's the only Christmas present my mother ever gave me.”

She shuffled past Brice. He wouldn't understand. No one did. People might say she was better off now that Imogene was gone. But the woman was her mother, and Cassie missed her very much.

* * *

“Get some rest, Sunshine.” Brice wanted to kiss away the pain distorting Cassie's pretty face. His inner wolf howled in protest as he backed out of the room. “I'll see you in the morning.”

Every instinct demanded that he hold her, touch her. Soothe her troubles.

None of which he could do right now and keep a reasonable thought in his head. His cock hurt so badly, any minute the damn thing would explode.

In the bathroom, he stripped and stood in the shower's icy water spray. Teeth chattering, he lathered a body wash that hinted of cherry blossoms on his skin. Thanks to Cassie, he was more cognizant of a variety of smells, and the bouts of nausea were lessening.

She affected him in ways he couldn't understand. The more he tried to deny the howl of his wolf declaring his mate, the more he became hopelessly entangled.

Passingly pretty, Cassie's understated beauty would never drop a man's jaw like a gussied up she-wolf on the prowl. Her sexiness sprang from steeled inner strength and infuriating stubbornness. And of course her wild splay of red curls that made him instantly hard.

He shouldn't imagine those silky ribbons tickling the places he washed, or dwell on how right her softness felt pressed against his body, but the erotic torments wouldn't cease. Massaging his sack with one hand, he glided his other hand up and down his shaft.

God, he couldn't remember a time when he'd desired a woman as fiercely as he craved Cassie. Generally, he was a man of reasonable mind and fortitude, but something about her sucker punched his ability to think clearly. Whenever they were together more than five minutes—no, make that two seconds—he had a hard time focusing on anything other than bedding her.

It wasn't a matter of being sex-starved in Atlanta. He'd had his pick of partners, though over the past year, he frequented them less and less until dwindling to one. Victoria.

He didn't harbor any special feelings toward her. They were coworkers, putting in long hours at the firm. Sometimes they both needed to blow off steam. And then there were the moon-fucks, driven by the instinct to couple during the full moon, primal and self-preserving.

Sex. They'd shared nothing more than sex.

Actually, there wasn't any sharing involved. He took, she took. They both came away unscathed. Until the last full moon.

He slammed the door on the abhorrent memory, tuning his mind to how good it felt pumping his cock through his fisted hand and how incredible it would feel sliding into a woman's tight, slick softness. Knowing the woman he wanted was only a dozen steps down the hallway supersensitized him to every thrust.

He bet she looked tiny and lost tucked in the vastness of such a big, comfortable bed.

A bed he'd claim his mate in—if he claimed one. An impossible
if
once he accepted the apprenticeship to the Woelfesenat, since council members were forbidden to claim mates.

Unbearable need tightened his muscles. Harder and faster, his smooth, steady rhythm spiraled into jerky pumps. Sharp points of electricity pricked every nerve. The vibration awoke and charged every cell. Head to toe, his entire body teetered on the edge of ecstasy and oblivion. The balance tipped. A longing for the woman he couldn't have threaded through his being, drowning him in hollow release. A milky stream spewed from his tip in short bursts.

Spent, Brice leaned against the cool tile, trying to block out the urgency in his wolf's pitiful whine.

For his and Cassie's sake, he had to resist the mating urge. Unfortunately, his wolf wouldn't let him keep his eyes, his hands or his nose away from the trigger.

He was so screwed.

Chapter 17

B
rice snagged enough food for two from the resort kitchen. He would have lunch with Cassie whether or not she protested.

They had a few things to settle.

Mainly, the sleeping arrangements. Despite what they'd agreed to last night, Cassie had crashed on the couch.

Well, if she didn't want to sleep in Granny's bed, he'd make damn sure Cassie returned to his. He'd endured a fitful night without her, anyway. After only two days of waking next to her, he hated not smelling her first thing in the morning.

He'd had only one sniff session with her today, after she'd burnt her toast and smoked up the cabin. The acrid odor triggered merciless vomiting. Guilelessly, she'd offered her scent as a remedy, and an unexpected rush of tenderness had driven him to slip behind her and brush aside her curls. Starting at the dimple behind her ear, he nudged along her neck to her shoulder. The perfect place for a mate claim bite.

Only he couldn't make that mistake. She had plans for her life. He had plans for his. Neither included the other.

If he hadn't left Walker's Run five years ago, maybe something would've evolved. Since their paths lay in different directions, the most he could dare with her was friends.

He navigated the dining room dotted with the few remaining guests. The rest Cassie and Hannah had checked out before noon.

Their easy camaraderie had roused a pang of unexpected jealousy Brice hadn't had time yet to contemplate. He'd spent the first part of the morning arguing with his mother over her plan to set him up on mini-dates to introduce him to the single daughters of the Alphas arriving for his grandmother's memorial. Afterward, he met with his father and Henry “Cooter” Coots, the pack's chief sentinel, to discuss how to handle the influx of Wahyas soon to arrive. Although the Walkers had treaties with the Alphas expected to attend, not all were allies of one another. Extra security measures were required to minimize frictions.

Brice's uncle, Adam, would bring reinforcements from Atlanta. Family alliances guaranteed ready assistance at any time. Booker Reynolds also offered to provide sentinels, though Gavin had respectfully declined.

On that matter, Brice and his father had agreed. It would be foolish to entrust the safety of the pack to an outsider. Even if the outsider was Adam's best friend.

Reynolds had grown up with Brice's mother and uncle in the Peachtree pack and had moved away after he'd claimed a mate from Asheville. Not long after, his mate and her father, the Alpha of Black Mountain, died in a single-car accident. Reynolds inherited the Alphaship by rite of marriage since he had no challengers.

He never claimed another mate, insisting he couldn't bear to replace Priscilla. The assertion didn't quite ring true to Brice. As a young wolfling, he'd noticed how Reynolds's smiles were a little too wide, his looks lingered a little too long and his voice softened a note too much whenever Abigail Walker appeared.

Brice knew Reynolds would never be a real threat to his parents' mateship. They were true mates, fused heart and soul through a mate-bond.

Not all Wahyas were fortunate enough to forge those precious emotional ties. Those who did couldn't be divided, except by death.

While Reynolds might harbor an infatuation with Brice's mother, he wouldn't challenge Gavin. At least Brice hoped Reynolds wasn't that stupid. Abigail Walker would strike down any fool who threatened her family. Brice's father would do the same.

Brice entered the lobby and irritably sized up the tall, broad male slouched against the guest services counter.
Wolfan
, Brice's instincts told him. An intrinsic awareness alerted Wahyas to their own kind like a keen recognition of sameness but not necessarily kindred.

Drawing closer, Brice detected a curdled odor. He swallowed the bile gurgling in his throat. Cassie wasn't so far away that he'd succumb to another bout of vomiting. He hoped.

Cassie didn't seem to notice his approach, her eyes trained on the wolfan guest. As she slid a key card toward the male, his massive hand flattened her palm to the counter. He dragged beefy fingers along the back of her hand, then curled them around her wrist. A flush brightened Cassie's skin. Alarm flashed in her eyes.

Brice's slow canter revved into a fast trot. The soured smell smothering his senses grew more pungent. His stomach remained steady as the muscles in his back tightened to steel his spine.

“Get your fucking paw off her,” he said with deadly calm.

“Mind your own business,
boy
.” A growl in his throat, the man turned around slowly, confidently.

“Miss Albright is my business.” Sliding the lunch tray onto the guest services counter, Brice restrained the urge to pound the man into the ground and keep on going until he came out on the other side of the world.

The man's gaze landed on the scars at Brice's neck, jumped to Brice's right eye and then moved to the left. Surprised recognition flickered across the man's blocky features.

“I take it you know who I am.” Unease slithered through Brice. Something about the man seemed familiar, but Brice couldn't quite place him. “Who the hell are you?”

Instead of answering, the wolfan took his time sizing up Brice.

“Vincent Hadler,” Cassie said, slathering liquid sanitizer on her hands. “He arrived with Mr. Reynolds a few minutes ago.”

“Vincent Hadler,” Brice spat the name. No wonder his hackles had risen. The man was known for being a cruel, sadistic bastard. “Your reputation precedes you.”

Hadler tipped his head in a smug nod, and a sardonic smile twisted his mouth.

“That wasn't a compliment.” Brice dropped his voice to a threatening whisper. “As a visitor to Walker's Run, you are required to abide by our rules. The first of which is not to harass our females. Failure to comply will result in immediate expulsion from the territory.”

Hadler's smile stretched into a sleazy grin. “The redhead might be worth it.”

Brice's tightened gut pounded against his rib cage. The wolf inside him snarled, slashing at the tethers of civility in a desperate power play for the freedom to shred the wolfan into a bloody pulp.

“Miss Albright is invariably off-limits.” He forced his hands to relax at his sides. “If you violate that directive, the consequences will be quite severe. I doubt your Alpha will appreciate the fallout.”

Despite his fondness for Brice's mother and his alliance with Walker's Run, Booker Reynolds was an elitist. He believed humans were, by nature, inferior to Wahyas. Having his security officer pick an intentional fight over a human female would likely have additional repercussions for Hadler, provided he survived the ass-whipping Brice would serve him.

From Hadler's smirk, Brice knew the man considered the warning a challenge. So be it. If he inched one fingernail out of line, the arrogant male would get his ass handed to him on a pure silver platter, not a knockoff sterling one.

A swoosh echoed through the lobby as a brass luggage cart pushed open the heavy wooden doors.

“Shane?” Cassie scrunched her brow. “What are you doing here? You're not on the schedule.”

All the color had drained from his face and skin, turning him ashy gray. The young man averted his eyes and lowered his head when he stopped next to Hadler.

“He's my gofer for the afternoon,” Hadler said, following with a cold, hard laugh.

An almost imperceptible cringe blinked over Shane's body. Icy contempt flashed in his eyes. The seething tension surrounding him was palpable.

“Let's go,
boy
.” Hadler's boots clomped against the wood plank floor to the elevator.

Dutifully following, Shane appeared to hold his breath as his knuckles whitened in a death grip around the bars of the luggage cart.

Those two definitely had a lot of unpleasantness between them. Of course, considering Hadler's reputation, there would be a lot of unpleasantness between him and most people.

Brice knew what battles to pick and choose. His primary concern was Cassie, but he'd ask the sentinels to keep an eye on Shane. Quietly.

* * *

“I didn't need your help.” Cassie arrowed her gaze at Brice. His butting in would only make Vincent Hadler more difficult to deal with. “This wasn't the first time he played handsies with me.”

“What?” Brice's boom rattled the lobby chandeliers.

“Keep your voice down and relax. Your face is turning purple.” Thank goodness the lobby was empty. She hated being a spectacle.

Brice sucked in a deep breath through his nose. When he exhaled, an inaudible count parted his silent lips.

All night Cassie dreamed those full, strong lips were kissing every inch of her body, making her beg for things she'd asked of no man, until she finally awoke on the couch, her face pressed against her pillow, wet from her slobber. As she watched the slight movement of his mouth, her lips tingled with the phantom pressure of their fantasy kiss. Her insides turned warm and gooey.

“I know how to handle jerks,” Cassie announced a little too sharply.

Brice was the one she had no experience managing. Devastatingly beautiful men didn't take notice of her. Brice did only because of circumstance. He wasn't really seeing her. She blamed the Florence Nightingale effect. His misguided notion that her scent was healing his nose and his grief over Margaret's death colored his perception.

She had no such excuse for her doe-eyed behavior, and if she didn't want a bout of puppy love scrapping her plans for the future, she needed to get a firm grip on her Brice-inspired, way-out-of-control hormones.

“He's looking for a reaction,” Cassie continued. “I refuse to give him one.”

“I saw your blush from across the lobby, Cas.” Brice reached leisurely across the guest services counter, the movement fluid, self-assured and direct. He lifted her hand. “Hadler is playing a game you can't win. Don't try.”

Good advice, although she didn't need it where Hadler was concerned. She had no desire to ride happily ever after into the sunset with him. Brice was the one she needed to guard against. “I don't play games.” Especially ones that could break her heart.

“I grabbed us lunch.” He touched his nose to the inside of her wrist. Soft puffs tickled her arm as he breathed. Funny how the wicked heat flashing through her body caused chills to sprout on her skin.

“I'm busy,” she said, too breathy for the slam-the-door impact she intended. “Eat by yourself.”

“I did, after you skipped out on the pancake breakfast you promised to make up for burning the toast.” Brice's loose hold on her arm held firm despite Cassie's tug.

“What was I supposed to do? Your mother called me in to cover for Natalie. She has morning sickness again.” Cassie ceased her useless, halfhearted struggle. Her reward? Brice pressed his lips to the back of her hand in a slightly wet kiss, as if he were tasting her skin. She swallowed the giddiness before it manifested into a giggle. “For the record, I never promised pancakes. I merely suggested.”

“Never tease a hungry wolf.” Brice's soft growl rolled through her body like a sensual wave. The floor seemed to disappear in the tide. Only Brice's steady presence kept her buoyed amid the dangerous surf.

“Now, have lunch with me.” An irresistible smile fanned his face. “Or I'll starve due to lack of food and your company.” Something darker than a light tease shimmered in Brice's eyes. Something primal and powerful. Something that beckoned her closer and closer. Like the promise of exotic cheese to a mouse about to be caught in a trap.

“I, uh, can't leave the front desk unattended.” Cassie's stomach protested, even though skipping a meal was child's play. After Imogene became ill, Cassie ensured her mother had enough food to eat and the medicines were paid for, but Cassie existed on instant soup and peanut butter. Sometimes the cheap meals ran out before her next check, and she'd simply chomped ice until she had money. Then the cycle would start again.

She reached for the Styrofoam cup of ice stowed beneath the counter, skimming her eyes over all the food on the tray. A little thrill fluttered in her chest at Brice's kindness, and she refused to wonder if he'd gone to the kitchen with the intention of asking her to lunch, or if the invitation was merely an afterthought following the unpleasant incident with Hadler.

“Start without me. I'll join you when Hannah gets back at two. One of her sons had an event at school today.”

Brice's gaze flickered to the huge harvest moon clock on the wall behind the guest services counter. He picked up the lunch tray. “Fifteen minutes. Not a second more or I'll swing you over my shoulder and carry you into the break room.”

“You wouldn't dare!” Although every cell in her body knew he would. He absolutely would. Anticipation, rather than dread, caused her nerves to tingle.

“Fourteen minutes, fifty-nine seconds.” Brice's singsong tone harmonized with his arrogant swagger as he walked away.

Oh, she hoped he choked on all that smugness. Then she'd have to give him mouth-to-mouth. Her body cheered.

Stop!

Mouth-to-mouth would be futile without attempting the Heimlich maneuver, which meant she'd have to stand behind him, press intimately against him, wrap her arms around his torso, feel the curve of his sculpted muscles beneath her palms as her fingers crawled to the spot below his breastbone and squeezed.

Electricity swept through her, shorting out the strength in her legs. Before Brice she'd never had trouble standing on her own two feet.

Grateful for the empty lobby, Cassie slumped in her stool and chomped the ice in her cup. She'd scrimped to pay for her college education, and with graduation on the near horizon, she couldn't afford Brice's distraction.

Focus, focus, focus!

She couldn't wait to get off tonight. Her biweekly run at the high school track would give her plenty of uninterrupted alone time to come up with critical additions to the roommate rules before crawling into bed and snuggling against Brice. Warm and cozy tucked beneath his arm, she slept better than she ever had. Her body sighed.