Craving Her (Keeping Her Series Book 4) (4 page)

“You and Shawn?” 
Cassandra asked in clear surprise.   “Taciturn older man Shawn Ryan who works
for your father and never speaks, that Shawn?”

“Yes!  That’s the one!”

Cassandra pursed her lips
at the answer.  “And it was good?” she finally asked, blinking away her own
hazy vision.  Then, before Cleo could answer, she waved her hands between them
like she was wiping something away, her eyes going a little glossy.  “Never
mind.  Stupid question.  Of course he was good.”  Then she dropped her chin to
her hand, propping it up at the elbow to the couch, her eyes going distant.

Clytie rolled her eyes. 
Unlike the rest of them, she had not imbibed.  “So what did he say when you
talked about it?” she asked, moving the whiskey before it got toppled by Cleo’s
searching hand. 

Sitting on the floor and
bent over the slab coffee table, she was listing to the side.  Cleo was vaguely
aware of this, but it was rare for a shifter to drink enough to get this
drunk.  And it would metabolize fast, so she was going to enjoy it for the few
minutes she had.  “What talk?  We never talked about it.  He just went back
into butch man mode and left me hanging.”

Miley, who was also drunk
off her ass, just shook her head at that.  “Figures.”  She moved bleary eyes to
Cleo.  “Men
hate
to talk feelings.  They’d rather just take you to bed.”

“I wish,” Cleo muttered
darkly, looking around for more booze.

“Your father is going to
lose his large lion head when he hears about this,” Miley muttered unsteadily.

“How will he hear about
this?  I’m not telling anyone.
 Ever!” 
She heard Clytie snort, but
Miley was nodding her head in agreement.

“Best idea actually.  He
will lose his large lion head over this one.”

Cleo narrowed her eyes on
the other woman.  “You said that already.”

“Oh.”  Miley tipped back
on the roomy couch and snuggled in.  “Probably bears repeating,” she muttered
into the cushion.

“I’m thinking that’s
enough booze for today,” Clytie said with a laugh in her voice.

“Still don’t understand
why you aren’t drinking,” her cousin muttered.  Cassandra had her eyes glued to
Clytie and narrowed in suspicion.  Then she sat up fast.  “
Are you with
child
?”

Clytie rolled her eyes
and joined Cleo on the floor.  “No, I am not pregnant.  And please do not yell
that when shape-shifters might be near.”

Miley waved a dismissive hand. 
“They are all down at the pack house giving us girl time.”  Then she yawned.  “Girl
time with alcohol and sex talk is no place for them.”

Seeing the yawn, Cleo
fought her own.  It had been a long few days and the drink had not helped.  She
lay back across the hardwood floor and looked up at the ceiling.  “Have we had
enough girl time yet?”

Cassandra seemed to take
the question seriously.  “Wine, plans for decorating Cleo’s first apartment,
card games, margaritas, sex talk, disgusting whiskey drinks, now we are passing
out.”  She counted off unsteadily on her fingers.  “Yep.  I think we covered
everything.”

“Good,” Cleo yawned again
and went to sleep, while Clytie walked around picking up their mess and
covering them with blankets.

Clytie smiled at them,
then went to check on Roxie and tell the boys they were clear to collect their
mates, and one very drunk daughter.  She had a feeling Cleo was going to regret
more than a sore head in the morning.  On the other hand, she felt just as bad
for Shawn Ryan.  Must be hard wanting a woman you don’t think you can have, and
she had no doubt he wanted her.  More than once she had seen him watching her
when he thought no one else was looking.  Cleo was beautiful, young, and full
of fire.  Clytie shook her head and smiled.  She almost felt bad for the hawk-shifter
who did his best to keep his distance, always.  He really didn’t stand a
chance.

CHAPTER
FOUR

When Cleo entered the
kitchen the next morning and saw the sorry state of Cassandra and, to a lesser
extent, Miley she was once again thankful for her shifter metabolism that did
not really allow for hangovers.

“Moving day!” she chirped
helpfully heading for the coffee pot.  Cassandra was leaning listlessly against
the counter by the cup, and strangely she was alone.  It was extremely rare
that at least one of her men was not with her.  She ignored the groans from
Miley at the island, slumped over her own coffee.  “Where are the guys?”

Cassandra shrugged and
then seemed to think better of the movement, because it was followed by a
wince.  Her hair had obviously not been combed yet this morning, but her face
was freshly washed.  She glared bloodshot eyes at Cleo, ignoring the question
for the moment.  “Are you
happy
?”

Cleo suppressed a grin at
the belligerent tone.  “Pretty happy, I move into my own place today.”

Cassandra narrowed her
eyes further, which was something considering she had them almost closed
against the light to begin with.  “You drank like twice as much as I did, how
can you be
happy
?”  She snapped the word like it was a curse.

Ian came through the
door, shirtless in only low-riding pajama bottoms, answering before Cleo
could.  “Shifters don’t get hangovers.”  He sounded just blithe enough that
Cassandra switched her glare to him.  He was oblivious as usual though, his
eyes trailing down her oversized man shirt and yoga pants as he opened the
refrigerator door without looking.  He grinned big and wicked.  “It’s one of
the perks of being a shifter,” he rubbed his flat abs, making Cleo roll her
eyes.  “Killer metabolism, and we can go all
night.”

Miley lifted her head
from the table and fixed her own bleary eyes on Ian.  “Ian, what did I say
about flirting with mated women in the kitchen?”

Ian turned that big smile
to Miley, and it got bigger when he saw she was clearly in his dad’s t-shirt
over flowered pajama pants.  “Not in front of their mates?”

“And?”

His smile grew. “Not
until everyone has had their coffee?”

“Exactly.”  She looked
him over, and then snapped out, “And for goodness sake, put on a shirt before
you join company.”

“But then how would you
all appreciate my killer guns and washboard abs?”

Cleo rolled her eyes and
settled at the island with her coffee, content to watch the unfolding drama. 
Once she moved out and lived away from her brother, she would probably miss
him.  Hard to imagine such a thing at times like this, but it might happen.

Ian turned the same blue
eyes as his father’s his sister’s way.  “So, moving day today; personally, I
think it’s wasted on a girl who spends all her time working on helicopters, and
has no concept of fun,” he shrugged dismissively.  “But ten bucks says Dad will
never let you out of the house anyway.”

Cleo clunked her coffee
on the counter and joined everyone else in the room glaring at her brother.  “I
am moving today, I signed a lease.”

“Yeah,” he grunted with a
dismissive laugh, even as he was pouring his coffee, “with Dad’s company. 
Wonder if they will let you out of the lease when he locks you in your room?”

There were few things
that could get under her skin as fast as her brother, but she was not a kid
anymore and she would be damned if she acted like one the day she was set to
move out.  However, flexing her hand out and feeling her claws close to the
surface, she realized just how close she was to bloodletting, which was not
like her.  She took a deep breath and turned her back on her brother,
concentrating on the coffee in front of her on the island.

Miley had dismissed Ian
as well, her questioning eyes on Cleo.  “Are you alright?”

“He pushes my buttons.” 
She did not bother to whisper, her brother would hear anyway; she just
pretended he was not in the room.  Sometimes that was the only way to stop from
killing him.

“Not usually to violence,
though.”  Miley smiled at her, it was an interesting look with her bloodshot
eyes, but Cleo appreciated the thought.  “Not that he doesn’t usually deserve
it, but you rarely take him seriously.”

Cleo huffed out a breath.
Ian was back to flirting with Cassandra, who was less than thrilled with the
attention if her non-committal grunts were any indication.  “Maybe it’s because
I’m not going to believe it will happen until I actually move out.”  Not that
her dad could really stop her.  She was old enough to go her own way, and she
was ready and willing to fight for her independence, but fighting with her dad
was a lose-lose scenario.  Even if she wins, she loses.  The plain truth was
that she loved her family and her pack.  She loved her job and her new
apartment overlooking the grapevines.  She did not want to give any of that up,
especially because if she had to, it would mean her father would never see her
as anything but his baby girl.  And that would break her heart.

“What are you doing?”  If
there was one person Ian did not mess with it was Bernie.  She came in with her
arm full of brown grocery bags and Ian immediately looked sheepish, stepping
back from Cassandra and losing his swagger.  There were few things that could
scare a lion male, but Bernie managed.

“Hey, Bernie.”  His voice
actually cracked and Cleo shook her head and smirked at him; he caught the look
and glared briefly before turning his full
apologetic
attention back to
the diminutive latent wolf-shifter.  The fact that she was half his size and
could not even shift did nothing to diminish her ability to deny Ian food.  And
he acted accordingly.

“Go get a shirt on like a
respectful gentleman would, and then bring in the rest of the groceries.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  And he did
exactly that.  Miley and Cleo had seen this played out more than once, Cleo
with satisfaction and usually a belly laugh at her brother’s expense.  Miley
just watched it with her usual awe and then went back to her coffee.  But for
Cassandra, seeing Ian suddenly become an actual human was eye opening, and it
brought her out of her hangover blues with a shocked look.

She looked at the
departing Ian and then turned fully to the small cook.  “Are you some kind of
witch?”

“Excuse me?”

“How did you do that?” 
Cassandra looked from the doorway to the cook and back again.  “It was like you
turned him into a real boy.”

Cleo laughed, but stifled
it when Bernie turned those wolf eyes her way.  She turned back to her coffee
and pretended she was not listening.

“Ian is a good boy; he
just loses his sense when pretty women are around.”

Cleo barely kept her
snort in.  Before Cassandra could say anything further, Ian was back wearing a
t-shirt and slippers.  He nodded respectfully to Bernie and headed out the backdoor
for the groceries.

Cassandra seemed to be
contemplating the door Ian walked through, before turning to the cook, her eyes
wide and awe-filled.  She walked forward and took the little cook’s hand
reverently.  “You give me hope,” she said simply, her voice filled with
emotion. 

This time Cleo could not
have held back the snort of laughter if she wanted to.

***

The apartment she had
chosen from her father’s vast properties was the least of his properties, which
meant that there was no concierge or five-star restaurant attached.  However,
it did have high ceilings, private balconies, views of the city, and of course,
twenty-four hour security that was no joke.  She knew how hard it was for him
to let go where she was concerned so she had no illusions that the security
force was not vetted and directed to be particularly careful for fear of a
painful prolonged death if anything should happen to her.  Yet, she had his
word that he would not position a spy in the building and that was all she
could hope for.  Even if she moved completely out on her own, her father would
see to her safety first and ask her permission for it never.  So this was a
good compromise.  He felt she was safe and she felt she was independent.  Of
course, if the security guys were not scared before, they certainly were after
the Lionsgate pack arrived to muscle her belongings into her new home.

She arrived with the
other ladies first, so she was in the lobby with Cassandra, Clytie, Miley, and
Roxanne talking to the toned and unnaturally tan, red-headed urbanite who lived
down the hall from her new place when the men arrived. 

The security personnel who
manned the front desk was a flirty wolf named Pierre, of all things.  Cleo had
met him once before when they had toured the apartments.  A less likely Pierre
she had never met.  Short for a shifter, he was still just shy of six feet,
with a barrel chest and impressively thick thighs.  He was a brown-haired,
brown-eyed Hispanic, who laid on a thick southern accent at will and possessed
a confident sexuality that made a woman overlook his lived in face and think of
sultry nights and cotton sheets.  That is until he met her father’s glare over
her head and went straight to monosyllabic “yes sirs” and parade rest.

Not that she was
interested in more than a mild flirtation with the horny wolf security, or the
overcooked neighbor, but still, nothing killed the fun vibe like a father who
was a 6’ 4” former SEAL team captain and lion-shifter.  Really, absolutely
nothing, except possibly an entire pack of x-navy SEAL badass shifters,
and
her
father tromping through the halls glaring at any man who looked twice at their
females.  That was worse.

Demon walked in the
modern lobby first, carrying two large boxes of her books on either shoulder. 
Her new neighbor took one look at the seven-foot scarred warrior and his
bulging biceps and paled.  The way the poor stockbroker’s freckles stood out
and his eyes bulged was almost mesmerizing.

Demon stopped beside
Clytie and glared at Pierre behind the security desk first, who was very
careful not to look at anyone.  Then he turned those crazy wolf eyes to the
poor red-headed tenant, who despite being lanky and fit at a taut six feet, had
to look up a good foot to meet Demon’s eyes.  When it looked like the poor man
was going to faint and practically ran for the stairs, Clytie elbowed her mate
and glared at him.

“What?” Demon barked
looking down at her.

“Stop glaring at the poor
man.”

Demon blinked and his
brow furrowed in confusion.  “All I did was look at him.”

Unfortunately, that was
probably true.

“What a weeny,” Ben
smirked, coming up beside them, shaking his head, his eyes on the still
swinging shut stairway door.  He stopped beside Cassandra; his hands full of
boxes, he leaned down and brushed his lips across hers before he walked by on
his way to the elevator.

The rest of the men
followed, pushing their not inconsiderable muscled bulk into the elevator with
their burdens.  With Demon, Ben, and Mac already inside, Ian shoved his way in,
carrying one insignificant little stereo system.  Where Cleo stood with
Cassandra, Clytie, and Miley, she was shaking her head at the growls and shoves
they could both hear and see inside the crowded box.  Lucas stopped before
them, the solid wood upholstered rocking chairs over his shoulder.  “I’ll wait
for the next one.”

She could still see Mac,
Demon, and Ben standing on all sides of Ian, frowning at him.  For his sake,
she hoped he kept his mouth shut on the ride up.  But she somehow doubted he
would be that smart.  The rest of them followed in the second elevator with
Lucas.  By the time they arrived, Cleo’s new apartment door was already open. 
Not that anyone had the key in the first elevator, but when dealing with
security experts, not really needed. She already knew Eli had come by to change
the locks and install a key code system and panic button for added security. 
She just had not known that everyone in the pack had made it their business to
have the code. 
Sigh.

Her new apartment was a
good size, with two bedrooms and one and a half baths.  With a private, walled
balcony and enough room for a small outdoor couch and table, and a few plants
as well.  Since she had mentioned it in passing when Miley was with her, she
was not really surprised that there was a cushioned set already present with
plants and boxes of flowers.  Not surprised, she turned happy eyes to Miley,
but touched.

“Thanks, Miley, they’re
perfect.”

“I thought they looked
like you,” she said smiling. 

There was a call through
the intercom about the delivery of her new bed — a delivery she had scheduled
much later in the day, when everyone was done and gone.  A bed she had refused
to let her father purchase for her.  A king size monstrosity she had shopped
for alone, that took up a good half of her not insignificant bedroom.  The
headboard and footboard were both solid, dark-stained wood with ironwork that
would have been right at home in the middle ages.  It was heavy enough that if
it fell on someone it would probably kill a full human.  It was ridiculously
expensive, and looked like it was made for medieval romance and making babies. 
She had no idea why she loved it; it was way to knights and castle romance for
her, but she did.  She absolutely loved it.