Awakened by the Wolf (3 page)

“No.” Cassie struggled to remain calm, rational. “Well, maybe.”

Nothing ached, yet something unbalanced her mind. Had she imagined the wolf or the transformation? Because the man invading her personal space was no delusion.

The hard, sleek build of his scarred, muscled body pulsated with a raw, masculine strength and a primal vitality that made her shudder despite the heat flashing through her body.

“Either you're hurt or you aren't.” Even though his expression remained neutral, she heard the frown in his voice. “Which is it?”

“I might've hit my head when I fell. I'm seeing things.”

The wolfman was on her in an instant. Hands in her hair, fingers caressing her scalp. His urgent yet gentle touch sparked an odd tingle that seeped into dark places no man had touched. Unsure of how to handle the startling titillation, she ducked out of his reach.

“No bumps or cuts on your head.” Sitting back on his knees, he continued the inspection without the use of his hands. Inch by inch, his squinted gaze stroked her skin. Lingering here, then there as if memorizing the details of her body he couldn't possibly see with clarity due to the filtered moonlight.

The air between them became charged. Her muscles clenched to resist the palpable energy. The tension only magnified his phantom touch.

It wasn't the first time a man had looked at her with carnal interest. It was, however, the first time Cassie didn't feel threatened.

His scrutiny complete, his focus flashed to her face and fell to her breasts. The longer he stared, the more her budded nipples strained against the sweat-dampened baseball shirt clinging to her chest.

Heat rushed to her face; pride kept her from turning away flustered. Instead, she returned the same intense inspection. Where her attention landed made her body burn as though she'd fallen into an inferno.

In the bedroom, she'd intentionally looked everywhere but there. Now she couldn't drag her eyes away from the long, meaty shaft arrowed toward his flat abdomen rippled with hard, sleek muscle. The temptation to reach out and touch
it
just to see how one felt in her hand was dangerous. And stupid.

“Why do you think you're hallucinating?” the wolfman asked, yanking her attention to his masculine mouth and the full, strong lips pulled taut in thought or pain or simple contemplation.

“One second I saw a wolf. The next you were squatting in his place.” Pushing aside distraction, Cassie's mind grappled for a logical explanation of his transformation. “Either I'm seeing things or you pulled a whammy of a magic trick on me.”

“I'm neither a hallucination nor a magician. I'm Wahya,” he said as if that should explain everything.

“Please tell me that's a society of illusionists.”
Please, oh, please. Oh, please.

“Wahyas are wolfan shape-shifters. We can change forms at will.”

Cassie's heartbeat failed, yet the rush of blood rumbled in her head, and she wondered if the noise was the sound of madness.

Chapter 3

“A
re you going to kill me?” Cassie lifted her chin, set her jaw and forced every bit of self-control to diffuse her panic.

“If I wanted you dead, you would be.” At the wolfman's bone-chilling matter-of-factness, fear slithered down her spine and along her nerves until she shivered.

“What do you want with me?” She hugged her chest. “To turn me into a werewolf like you?”

The whip of his narrowed gaze lashed her skin as he slowly counted to twenty beneath his breath. “The term
werewolf
is offensive, and I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't use it to reference me.”

“Give me a break,” she snapped as hysterical aggravation eked out over apprehension. If he wanted to hurt her, he wouldn't take the time to point out the political incorrectness of her word choice. “Don't get all snarky with me, buster. This is all new to me.” Cassie shoved back the curls that fell across her face. “Who the heck are you, anyway?”

“I told you.” He inched forward, his mesmeric gaze lasering straight into her soul. “I'm Brice Walker.”

Cassie's breath caught in her chest, and her heart missed a beat. The only times she'd seen Brice Walker up close and personal, he'd been mummy-wrapped and hooked up to a life-support machine. Each time she'd snuck into his hospital room, she'd had the same reaction of excitement and dread. Excitement that it might be the day he woke up for more than two seconds, dread for how he'd look at her when he did.

Brice came from a respectable, well-to-do family, she from the likes of Imogene Struthers. Cassie couldn't help her origins, but she would be forever grateful to Margaret Walker for helping her start down a different path when no one else would give her a chance.

Oh, no.
Did Margaret know what her grandson had become?

Knowing Margaret, it wouldn't matter. She loved Brice unconditionally. Nothing would ever change how she felt about him.

“This is unreal.” Cassie swallowed the lump her heart had caused when it jumped into her throat. This wasn't how she'd pictured their first actual meeting. Fully clothed at his parents' resort, the hospital or even Margaret's cabin at a reasonable hour was what Cassie had expected of him. Brice naked and wolfy had never crossed her mind.

“I assure you, I'm very real.” Brice snuffed the space between them.

Her breath evaporated. Yes, yes. He was very real. No denying that. Nope, no sirree.

He gently dusted his thumb over her cheek and electrified every cell in Cassie's body. Her skin warmed, and a ticklish sensation swirled in her belly.

Run!

She'd already tried, only to be captured. Twice. A third attempt would turn out no differently. She couldn't outrun a wolf or match the man's brute strength. All she could do was steel herself against his very presence, which seemed to undermine her sensible self effortlessly.

For her future's sake, Cassie had to ignore her body's irrational reactions to Brice the man and force her mind to compartmentalize his animal side. “I'm sorry about what happened on the porch. I didn't expect you to show up at your grandmother's house. In the middle of the night. Naked.”

So very naked.

“I hope I didn't do permanent damage to your, um...” Her gaze tumbled down his chest to his erect penis.

It
didn't look damaged, but what did she know?

Brice's laugh rang hollow. “Nothing's broken. Of course, if you want to check, I won't object.”

“No, no.” Cassie curled her fingers into the soft dirt.

“Too bad.” Ever so slowly, he reached for her hair. Rubbed the strands between his fingers. Pulled a curl straight. Released it. As it sprang back into shape, his mouth carved a lethal smile into his granite face.

Cassie might've managed to stomp out the silly excitement polluting her brain if he hadn't lifted her hand and inched his nose up her arm. The soft scratchiness of his whiskers wiped out her common sense. Her body throbbed, and not just where he grazed her skin, but in places deep inside.

No man had touched her with such reverence and delight. Actually, no man had touched her at all. Still, she didn't think just any man's touch would make her feel this cherished, which was why he had to stop.

“Brice—”

“God, you smell good.” His nose teased the curve of her jaw and traced the column of her neck. Cassie couldn't help but inhale his scent. Salty, earthy and something distinctively male that made her quiver. The alien sensations almost made her forget who he was. And who she wasn't.

“Stop!” Wanting to push him away, she meant to place her hand on his chest. Where it landed was somewhere lower, maybe a smidgen higher than his groin. Hard and warm, the skin beneath her fingers trembled.

Brice's throaty rumble rendered Cassie senseless. Her body remembered his heat and strength pressed against her when he'd trapped her on the porch and again when he'd immobilized her on the ground. Each time, he'd taken care not to hurt her. Just as he did now. Holding her firmly to prevent escape but not forcefully enough to arouse alarm. Instead, his possessive hold caused her to snuggle against him. His strong arms made her feel sheltered and safe.

“Who are you?” Brice's hot, heavy breath fanned her ear. “What are you doing here?”

“Cassidy Albright,” she answered. “I work for your parents.”

Brice roughly pushed away from her as if the mere act of touching the daughter of Imogene Struthers would infect him with Ebola.

The wispy, feel-good high Cassie was flying on took a nosedive. Apparently Brice—along with a multitude of others—judged Cassie for her mother's sins.

So much for being the perfect gentleman Margaret had painted him to be. He wasn't a gentleman at all. He was a freaking werewolf.

She should've known better than to let hormones cloud her good sense. No man was worth risking her future.

Not even the wolfy one standing with his back turned so that she had to look straight at his tight, nicely shaped ass. Thank goodness it wasn't his crotch. If she saw that thing again, she'd never get the blasted image out of her head.

Rational mind rebooted, she stood and brushed the dirt from her arms and legs.

“What did my parents hire you to do, Miss Albright?” Brice's long fingers raked the turbulent waves of his hair.

“I'm a guest services clerk at the resort.” For the past four years, though her history with Brice's parents and grandmother went back much further. Not that he had ever noticed.

“Tell no one that I'm here.” His tone implied
or else
.

Cassie thought the request odd since everyone expected him to come home, but his personal affairs weren't her business. “Whatever you wish,
Mr. Walker
.”

“Come with me.” He turned, offering his hand in a way that made Cassie feel as if she had the cooties.

“I'd rather not.” She didn't need his feigned chivalry.

“It wasn't a request.” Brice's steel fingers cuffed her wrist. Tiny bolts of electricity scuttled up her arm.

“Don't touch me.” She slapped his hand and jerked free before the shock wave pulverized her resolve.

Brice had the audacity to look stricken. “I won't hurt you. I promise.”

The words rolled off his tongue, soft and gentle, and landed on her heart like glops of acid—searing and scarring on impact. From the first syllable, his assurance was a lie. Though Brice wouldn't physically harm her, his reaction to her identity gouged deeper than a wolf's teeth ever could.

“Did you hear me?” As he loomed over her, he bore most of his weight on his left leg.

“I'm not deaf or stupid. I don't care if you are Brice Walker. I'm not going anywhere with a freaking
werewolf
.” She rushed to leave the woods, alone.

At the spot where she had fallen, Cassie kicked the log. A black racer slithered from underneath, lifted its rounded head and stuck out its forked tongue in silent laughter. Even nature mocked her foolishness.

Brice snatched the snake and slung it out of her way.

“Would you please cover up?” Cassie gritted her teeth and continued toward the road.

“With what?” Brice limped beside her.

“Can't you conjure something?” Walking next to a naked man in the middle of the night was unnerving enough. Walking next to a naked werewolf in the middle of the night was pushing her hold-it-together abilities beyond capacity.

“I told you, I'm not a magician. I can't do magic.” He hedged in front of Cassie and forced her to stop. “I don't understand why you're upset with me. I can't help what I am.”

“Neither can I.” She matched his defensive tone.

“Okay.” Brice's dark brows drew together. He clasped her hand and stroked his thumb against her dirt-smudged knuckles. “Let's go back to being friends.”

Can't do magic. Ha!

Even now his charm-the-panties-off-a-nun grin wove a spell through Cassie's spirit, lifting her to lofty places that she knew better than to perch. Friendship was too much of a liability. However, for his grandmother's sake, Cassie would be civil. “Casual acquaintance is the most I can offer.”

“You've claimed my bed and my clothes. I'd say we're beyond the casual stage.”

“Borrowed,” she corrected. “I don't
claim
things that aren't mine. You can have your shirt back when we get home. And for the record, the sheets on the bed are mine. Yours are in the closet.” Cassie stepped around him.

Brice's firm fingers squeezed her shoulder. “Sleep in my shirt. Hell, roll around naked on my bed. I don't care. Just explain why you are living with my grandmother.”

The tops of Cassie's ears heated more from irritation than embarrassment. Three days ago, she'd awoken in her trailer to the sound of bulldozers. The scuzzy landlord had failed to inform his tenants that the county had declared eminent domain over the mobile home park. The residents had fifteen minutes to pack and vacate the premises or face arrest for trespassing. “I lost my home, and your grandmother invited me to live with her.”

Cassie bristled at Brice's impassive expression. “I'm not taking advantage of her. I cook, clean and run errands in lieu of rent. Your parents are aware of the arrangement. I guess they forgot to mention it when they called you.”

“I haven't spoken to my parents in five years.” The cold, hard edge in his voice caught her off guard.

“Seriously?”

“Disownment isn't something I joke about.” Hurt shimmered beneath his grim expression.

Something wasn't right. Gavin and Abigail Walker were proud of their son, but had they been unable to accept what he'd become? Was that why he'd moved away?

Cassie's stomach worked itself into knots. “So, you don't know what happened last night?”

“No. Enlighten me.” His dramatic splay of hands irked her.

“It's not my place to discuss your family's matters. Talk to your parents.”

“Cassidy, what the hell is going on?” Worry threaded through the irritation in his voice.

Cassie decided if she said the words superfast, the effect would be like ripping off a Band-Aid. A sting at first, and then the worst would be over.

For her, anyway.

She drew two steady breaths and blurted, “Yourgrandmotherhadaheartattacklastnight.”

Brice simply stared, squinty-eyed and pensive as if he hadn't heard her at all. Cassie huffed, gathering the gumption to say it again. This time, a little more slowly.

“Your grandmother had a heart attack last night.”