Awakened by the Wolf (7 page)

“Remember. Stay on your side of the bed, and no hogging the covers.” Cassie tucked her shabby comforter beneath his chin.

“Yes, ma'am.” He saluted.

“Smart-ass.”

Brice smothered a laugh. He enjoyed teasing Cassie as much as he enjoyed her company. And it had been a long time since he'd enjoyed anything.

Within minutes, Cassie's soft, rhythmic breathing signaled a peaceful sleep. Brice touched a ringlet of her hair, winding the silky strands around his finger.

Mine.

The word droned with each beat of his heart. To which Brice's mind replied with an emphatic “No.”

He dropped the curl and tucked his hands beneath his head. Each breath he took reeled her scent deeper into his lungs. His body hardened with desire and the effort to resist it.

As a distraction, Brice focused on counting. Somewhere around eight hundred, sleep dulled his lust. Until Cassie scooted next to him. He'd never fall back to sleep with the curve of her ass burrowed into him.

Ignoring the prudence of sleeping on the couch, Brice turned on his side. He spooned against her, his arm draped naturally across her hip. When her small hand cradled his, Brice slipped into blissful oblivion.

* * *

Pain exploded across Brice's face. He sat up, howling obscenities.

Cassie jumped out of bed and turned on the light.

Brice cupped his nose. “Why the hell did you hit me?”

“My head bopped your face when I jerked awake because you were squeezing my, my—never mind.” The flush in Cassie's skin deepened. “It was an accident. I'm really sorry.”

“You broke my nose.” The throb was almost as bad as the pain in his leg last night.

“You should've stayed on your side of the bed.” The worry etched on her face diffused his temper. Her brave but timid steps toward him ignited something more dangerous.

“It's my bed. Both sides
are mine
.”

Slowly her hands cradled his face, and she tilted back his head. Her lips parted slightly, and Brice no longer registered pain, because every cell in his body primed him for a kiss.

His muscles coiled like tightly wound springs. He dug his fingers into the mattress, fighting what he'd never wanted so badly in all his life.

“No blood, no swelling. Nothing crooked. I don't think it's broken.” The strain eased from her face.

“Are you sure? A wolfan's nose is very sensitive. What if I can't smell you anymore?” The waver in his voice was instinctual, intending to draw her closer when he should have pushed her away.

“I'm sure it's fine.” But she wasn't sure at all, because she bit her lip and skimmed her thumbs down the sides of his nose, sending shock waves throughout his body.

“You should kiss it to make me feel better.” What the hell was wrong with him? He should have put distance between them instead of enticing her to continue.

Cassie's contemplative gaze searched his face. Brice's heart beat an erratic rhythm, and his lungs grabbed short, quick breaths.

God, if she actually kissed him, he'd lose all control.

“You big faker.” Cassie shoved him.

Relieved, Brice caught her around the waist and buried his face in the curve of her neck. He needed her scent as consolation to temper his arousal.

“I have to get dressed,” she finally said.

“Call in.” He tried to tug her back into bed with a promise to himself to behave if she'd stay.

“I'm not sick.” Bracing her knees against the mattress for leverage, she pulled free.

“I will be if you leave.” The thought of hours bereft of her scent and her company churned his stomach.

“Maybe you should call a doctor.” Cassie hesitated. “Or do you have vets?”

“The pack physician,” he ground out, “is Doc Habersham, my dad's best friend. I can't call him or anyone else. I won't risk getting thrown out of the territory before Granny comes home.”

“Figure something out. I'm not missing work.” Cassie pulled one of her uniforms from the closet. As far as Brice could tell, those were the only clothes she had unpacked.

He flopped onto the mattress. “Come see me on your break.”

“I won't have time. I have to reschedule my car service because you ate my pie.”

Brice's tongue swept his lips. “What does one have to do with the other?”

“It's a barter with Rafe. He changes the oil in the clunker in exchange for a fresh-baked pie.”

“I can't blame him. Granny's pies are delicious.”

“Your grandmother doesn't bake.” Cassie bent over to pick up her shoes, and the bottom of her shorts rode up her legs to give him a glimpse of her panties.

He swallowed a groan. “Granny made pies for me every time I came home from college.”

Shaking her head, Cassie turned toward him, a corner of her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

“You made them?” Brice rose on his elbows. “For me?”

“Like I said—” Cassie avoided his gaze “—your grandmother doesn't bake.”

“Damn, Sunshine. Your pies are the best.” One more reason he should have detached himself from Cassie. Sex and food were a wolfan male's catnip.

“Thanks. I use my mother's recipes.” Cassie's eyes misted. She flinched and hurried toward the bedroom door.

“I'm not sorry I ate the pie, but I'll pay for the oil change and anything else you need.” It would be easy enough to transfer money from one of his accounts to hers.

She stopped, a disquiet fierceness in her eyes. “I don't want your money. I may not have much, but what I do have, I've earned.”

She walked out, her spine and shoulders stiff.

Well, he'd unintentionally struck a nerve.

Brice sank into the mattress. He hadn't meant to upset her, but if he followed her down the hallway to apologize, he'd only complicate his situation. No matter what his errant instinct demanded, he couldn't involve himself in Cassie's life.

No matter how damn good she smelled.

Chapter 9

T
he old clunker needed five cranks before it started. Cassie backed the car out of the driveway and eased down the dirt road, headlights slicing through the darkness. The silent woods had never seemed more eerie or sinister. Of course, she blamed her knowledge that werewolves
did
exist on the change in her perception.

She glanced at the passenger seat Brice had reclined so far that it almost touched the backseat. If only last night had been a dream, or if he hadn't explained that the members of the Walker's Run Cooperative were really his entire pack, she wouldn't have been so nervous.

Brice insisted the wolf people were just as they appeared—honest, hardworking folks. The co-op provided housing and medical care for its members, paid for their college educations and helped them establish businesses. In turn, its members tithed 30 percent of their salaries or gross profits back to the co-op.

If members became unemployed or if their businesses failed, the co-op helped them get back on their feet. They had no need for unemployment checks or welfare. This pack took care of its own.

In contrast, Cassie's life lacked supportive connections. Imogene was gone, and Cassie could count on one finger the number of friends she'd had in her twenty-four years. A little girl named Grace had been her constant companion in the second grade, and Cassie had loved her like a sister.

One summer night, Imogene had packed Cassie and their few belongings in the car and left town. Once they settled in a new place, Imogene refused to let Cassie contact Grace. Imogene's philosophy had been never to look back. Only forward. That way, regret wouldn't drag her down.

Devastated by the constant upheaval, Cassie stopped making friends because no matter how many times her mother announced that was their last move, it never was. Until Imogene got sick and died, and left Cassie all alone.

She rubbed her neck to dispel the sorrow that fastened around her throat. Brice had an entire pack who cared for him. The idea they'd banished him couldn't be more absurd. As far as Cassie could tell, his parents loved him, and so did everyone else. Didn't he realize how precious it was to have the support of so many people?

She backed the car into the far corner of the resort parking lot. In case the clunker needed a jump start, it helped not to have her car blocked in on all sides.

Walking up to the giant lodge doors, Cassie gobbled a granola bar. More to settle her nerves than her hunger. After all, she lived and worked among wolves clothed in human skins. Her heart gave a little flutter, and she suffered a brief moment of hilarity. Her hysterical laugh echoed through the empty lobby.

From his post behind the registration counter, Shane McQuarrie looked up from his textbook. “Something funny?”

“No.” The existence of werewolves wasn't a laughing matter.

Wahya
, she corrected herself. Maybe if she stopped thinking of them as werewolves and saw them as people, she'd feel less nervous.

He closed his book and slid off his stool. He stretched, the same way he did every morning when she arrived to relieve him. He bent over to stuff the book into his backpack. His khaki pants molded around his thighs.

He wasn't quite as tall or as broad as Brice, but they shared a certain similarity in their movements. Quiet. Self-assured. Quick. One second she was assessing Shane from the back. The next he loomed in front of her, tall and pumped.

He stepped close. Too close. “Were you staring at my ass?”

“No.” She snatched open the cabinet beneath the counter and stashed her purse. “Why?”

Passing behind her, Shane gave Cassie a sociable bump. “Just hoping. Maybe then I could convince you to go out with me.”

“You're too young.” Cassie logged into her computer time card.

“I'm nineteen.” He circled around the registration desk and leaned on the counter.

“I repeat, too young.”

A flirtatious gleam lit his smoky-gray eyes. “Come on. Give me a chance. We'll have fun. I promise.”

“I don't want fun. I want stability.” Cassie pulled up a list of the morning's expected checkouts.

“The two don't have to be mutually exclusive.” Shane's grin betrayed far too much interest in her.

Cassie didn't feel any attraction toward Shane. Oh, she enjoyed his company whenever they worked together, and he was a sweet guy. A different time, a different place and maybe he could've been the little brother she never had.

Curious, she asked, “Are you a member of the Walker's Run Co-op?”

“Naw.” His amicable expression didn't change. Still, something in the way his pupils flickered seemed off. “Maybe someday.”

Abigail Walker emerged from the corridor leading to the Walkers' private residence. Her dark green Chanel suit complemented her golden complexion and deepened the mossy color of her eyes. She smoothed her tight chignon of coal-black hair, looking every bit the regal lady of the manor.

Until the image of a wolf poised on its hindquarters, wearing the same dress, pearl earrings and ruby-red lipstick, jarred Cassie's mind.

The insane calm of last night's shock broke. Her palms started to sweat. Acid bubbled in her stomach and threatened to expel her paltry breakfast.

No matter the proper term, the people she worked for were freaking
werewolves
. What was she thinking, coming to work as if nothing in the universe had changed?

“Shane, Cassie,” the wolf queen greeted them.

“Good morning, Mrs. Walker,” Cassie said without meeting her boss's gaze.

“Mornin', Abby.” A subtle tension crept over Shane's body. His fingers squeezed the backpack straps slung across his shoulder, and the friendly curve of his smile tightened.

Strange. Shane adored Abby and often went above and beyond his job duties to please her. Not a brownnoser, he simply seemed to crave her approval.

“Any word from Brice?” Despite the softness of Shane's voice, his words sounded clipped.

“We haven't been able to reach him.” Abigail's professional demeanor faltered as sadness leached color from her eyes and face. “He'll come home, though. I know he will.”

The genuine emotion in her voice convinced Cassie that Brice's mother loved her son, banishment or not.

Shane relaxed. “If you need anything, call me.”

“Thank you, Shane.”

He nodded his goodbye to Abby and winked at Cassie as he left.

“Cassie.” Abby's dark brows pinched her forehead. “If Brice calls or comes in, let me know immediately.”

Guilt squeezed Cassie's throat. Brice hadn't mentioned if Wahyas were mind readers, but she begged her thoughts to focus on anything except him. Less than two miles up the road, inside the cabin, lying in bed, naked. Absolutely, deliciously naked.

Cassie nodded, not trusting her voice. She hated lies, but technically, agreeing to Abby's request wasn't a lie. Brice hadn't called or come inside the resort.

Unless he did, Cassie would keep his secret. He'd asked for her silence and trusted she'd be true to her word.

Still, the deception pricked her conscience. Ideally, Brice would come forward before the splinter of half-truth festered into a poison that would taint the rest of her life.

Chapter 10

B
rice sauntered out of the bathroom, towel-drying his hair. All day he'd missed Cassie's warmth. Her company. And he was jonesing for the smell of her skin.

Several hours ago, he awoke to crippling nausea. Cassie's scent had faded from the sheets. Out of desperation, he'd riffled through her laundry until he'd found something to settle his queasy stomach. Nothing, however, smelled as good as the real woman.

He moved quietly through the living room to the kitchen. His heart kicked up a notch at the sight of Cassie at the pantry. The slow, steady rise and fall of her chest drew his attention to the shapeless taupe blazer that practically flattened the gentle swell of her breasts. Breasts he knew were soft and pert, and just full enough to fill the cup of his hand.

His palm warmed. Damn if his hand didn't remember copping a feel in his sleep, and itched not only to do it again but also to strip away the drab, boxy skirt grievously camouflaging the slender curves that had tormented him all night. Twice he'd been forced out of bed to release his desire.

Still, he preferred those less-than-fulfilling interruptions to the cold sweats and panic that usually disturbed his sleep.

“How was work, Sunshine?”

Cassie jumped back from the pantry, wide-eyed, clutching a package of ramen noodles. Her startled look heated, charging the air. The current electrified his skin as her gaze devoured every inch of him.

“Do you ever keep that thing covered?” The huskiness in Cassie's voice caused his
thing
to twitch.

“You like seeing me naked. I can see it in your eyes.” Securing the towel around his hips, Brice padded barefoot across the cold tile.

“What you see is my brain being fried from too much exposure to all your glory.”

“You think I'm glorious?” Brice unfastened her silver hair clip. Red ringlets splashed over his hands and slid through his fingers. He held fast to one curl and stroked the luxurious strands across his cheek. A thrill zipped straight down to his groin.

“That's not what I meant.” A slight tremble parted her lips.

Brice ached for a kiss and so much more. Her taste on his tongue, her scent on his skin, her luscious legs wrapped around his hips. A deluge of erotic dreams had eroded his resolution to keep things platonic.

Cassie's scent wove a spell of need and want that smothered reason. Helpless to resist, he slipped his arm around her waist and lowered his face to hers. She squinted and puckered her mouth, but not to receive his lips.

The unexpected rejection jolted Brice. “What's wrong?”

“I don't want this.” She gestured a between-you-and-me hand signal. “I have plans for the future and you're not in them.”

Damn.
That stung.

Even though he agreed they had no future together, he disliked hearing her say it.

“You need ground rules.” Cassie wormed out of his hold and faced him with a straight back, squared shoulders and both hands on her hips.

Her eyes slanted with censure. She pointed her jaw and scrunched her mouth like his fourth-grade teacher when he'd neglected to do his homework three days in a row. When he'd been a wolfling, the no-nonsense, better-get-your-shit-together look had mortified him into compliance. Now that he was an adult male in his prime, that look on a feisty, petite human female did something entirely different.

“I don't like rules.” He smiled.

“Too bad.” Cassie's frown deepened. “Rule number one, no more prancing around naked.”

“Why?” Brice leaned back against the counter, stretched his legs in front of him and crossed his ankles. “Are you afraid you'll jump me? Fuck me until I'm senseless? Go ahead.” He held up his arms in surrender. “I won't resist.”

Cassie's mouth opened in a silent gasp. The pinkness of her skin surpassed the shades he'd seen last night, and he wondered how far he could push before her choke hold on her passion broke.

“Where would you like to start? The bedroom? The living room?” Brice moved in front of her, hooked his finger beneath her jaw and tipped her face up. “Right here in the kitchen?”

Soft, rapid puffs flared Cassie's nostrils. The delicate vein beneath the porcelain skin of her neck pulsed with an escalating canter. Her pupils grew large and dark. “Um.” She moistened her lips.

The scent of her budding desire reached his nose, but the disconcerted hesitancy in her eyes cooled his urgency. He wouldn't press her to do something she'd regret.

“When you're ready, tell me where you want me. I'll be there.”
Primed and panting.
He walked to the sink and filled a glass to the rim with cool water. Pacing himself with small sips, he took his time draining the contents, giving Cassie opportunity to collect herself and him a chance to dam up the flood of testosterone gushing through his body.

Cassie audibly huffed. “Behavior like that is why you
will
adhere to rule number one.”

Brice set the glass in the sink and turned around.

“And I'm not doing your laundry as a concession for you wearing clothes,” she snapped.

God, he really liked her fiery spirit. If only they'd met a lifetime ago.

“Do I get bargaining privileges?” he teased.

“No. Since neither of us wants to sleep in your grandmother's room, pick either the couch or the bed. And stay there.”

“Not a debatable issue,” he said sternly. “Where I sleep, you sleep.” Her scent kept the nausea at bay, and he'd do everything in his power to circumvent the crippling sickness, including tying her to the bed. Though he really hoped it wouldn't come to that. She'd demonstrated her trustworthiness by not reporting his trespass to his father. He'd hate to repay her loyalty by turning her into a prisoner.

A ferocious frown sharpened her jaw.

“It's only for a few days, Cas. Something about your scent keeps me from becoming violently sick. I barely made it through the day without you beside me.” A slight stretch of the truth, but he wasn't about to explain how he had improvised.

Her expression softened. Mostly her eyes, which warmed the icy stare sharpened on him.

“Fine.” She anchored her hands to her hips. “But stay on your side of the bed and stop looking at me like I'm a ham at Easter.”

“Great.” Brice loosely clasped his hands the same way he did when he'd successfully mediated an important issue during a negotiation. “What are the other rules?”

“Hmm?” Cassie's attention returned to the pantry.

“We agreed on the first rule. Are there more?”

“Yes, but I'll have to let you know when I think of them.” Cassie's posture stooped a little. She grabbed a bowl for her ramen noodles, and he wondered how long it had been since she'd eaten a substantial meal.

“I'll make dinner tonight,” he said. The chicken he'd found in the fridge during his lunch raid needed to be cooked before it went bad.

“You can cook?”

“Of course. Do you think I have a personal chef?”

From her sheepish expression, it appeared she did.

“Mamie taught me.” The best cook the resort ever had.
God rest her soul.
“I'm not as good as she was, but I'm in no danger of starving. You, on the other hand, could use a few good meals.”

The playful tease Brice intended flopped. Cassie stared at him as if he'd popped her with the back of his hand.

“I do the best I can with what I have. Not all people have a co-op to take care of them.” She smacked the ramen noodles package against his chest and stormed out of the kitchen.

“Whoa.” Brice netted her in his arms.

“Let me go.” Cassie's struggle lacked the hellcat fierceness of last night's battle.

Brice held her tight and stroked her hair. “Bad day?”

“I've been a freaking mess.”

“Why? What happened?”

“You happened.” Her long, heavy sigh scraped his bare chest. “I kept imagining everyone with fangs and fur and eyeballing me because I know their wolfy secret.”

He rolled a silky curl around his finger. “No one wants to hurt you, Sunshine. Wahyas are ordinary people who live ordinary lives.”

“Ordinary people don't maul each other.” Her finger trailed down a scar on his arm.

“Have you seen the news? Violent crimes occur in every society. Ours included. There are good Wahyas and bad, same as humans. We aren't that different.”

“Except for the teeth, the tails, the paws and all that hair.” The electric charge in her tentative smile pulsed along every single nerve in Brice's body.

His heart thundered. His skin itched for her touch, and his insides jittered. “Anytime you're feeling a little wolf envy,” he murmured, “you can pet mine. He'll even do tricks if you whisper in his ear and stroke his belly.” Or something a little bit lower.

“No way,
Benji
.” Cassie's tinkling laugh encouraged him.

“Too bad.” Brice buried his face in her hair. Inhaling slowly and deeply, he allowed her scent to swirl along his senses.

Suddenly he clasped her cheeks between his hands. “I can smell the resort.”

“From here?” Her cute button nose wrinkled.

“On you.” He picked her up and swung her in a circle. “Your hair smells like cinnamon and cloves.”

“That's great.” Cassie's face radiated. She looked as happy for him as he felt, which was pretty damn happy. A mischievous glint appeared in her eyes. “Didn't I tell you that your nose would be fine?”

“Yes, you did. Those bops you gave me jump-started my scent receptors.” Actually, he suspected his mysterious recovery had more to do with Cassie's scent than anything else, but he had no idea why. “Maybe it'll be good as new by the time I return to Atlanta.”

Cassie's smile drifted with her gaze. “When will that be?”

“Depends on Granny.” Brice couldn't give a more definitive answer. She had refused to discuss her condition, and since he detected only Cassie's scent at the hospital, he couldn't determine if the stench of imminent death had tainted his grandmother's skin.

“You should call your mother.” Cassie's words came out in a rush. “I saw her crying today.”

Brice tensed as his good mood deflated. “When the time's right, I'll speak to her.”

Cassie's anxious eyes didn't look satisfied.

“Is that what has you stressed out? Furry coworkers and my mother?” He lightly tapped Cassie's nose.

“Isn't that enough?” She backed out of the kitchen. “I have to study for a test tomorrow. You're making supper, right?”

“Sure.” He placed her ramen noodle package with the others and stared at a sleeve of crackers and a small jar of peanut butter neatly arranged in a plastic bin labeled Cassie.

God, she had so little. He had so much.

And she wouldn't take a damn thing from him. Not his money to pay for an oil change. And not his help to ease her trouble.

The buzz in the back of his mind became a howling chant.

Mine! Mine! Mine!

Hell no, she wasn't.

What Brice was experiencing was nothing more than a mating urge gone wrong. No way would he allow his nose to fuck up his life, again.