Far From Innocent (10 page)

“Is their respect what you want?” Ollie asked and then glanced at Juan and Dante.

“Mutual respect would be best.” Dimitri joined them, moving between Ollie and Nicolo. He pinned the American pack leader with his gaze. “The
lunewulfs
will learn we are better allies than enemies.”

“They’ve pushed for more territory even before you arrived,” Ollie pointed out.

“And we know that’s why you were so agreeable to giving us the mountain

between you and them,” Dimitri said. “The leader of our pack definitely needs to accompany you, but I hate waiting two weeks. Neither of our packs needs to endure their recklessness for that long.”

Ollie raised an eyebrow. The noise in the bar would make it hard for anyone to overhear their conversation. Dimitri hadn’t been close enough to hear Juan mention waiting until after the challenge to meet with them. Obviously someone tipped him off as to what had just been said. Dante looked past Dimitri and Erin glanced behind her to where Josie stood silently. She didn’t know the extent of either his or Dante’s gift. At that moment though, she swore the two of them exchanged words—words none of the rest of them could hear.

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Juan squeezed her hands, pinching her flesh as his grip tightened. She shifted her gaze slowly, sniffing the air for jealousy. Too much testosterone and aggressive energy surrounded their small party for her to pull out any one emotion. His dark eyes sparked with silver as he stared down at her. Her insides heated instantly. She didn’t need the gift to sense his lust.

“You must be Dimitri Spalto. I don’t have any special powers, but word still travels my way too.” Ollie made it clear he knew the gift had just been used to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“I don’t have the gift either,” Dimitri said easily, giving Ollie his attention. “A good pack leader stays informed though, with whatever means it takes.”

“As long as those means don’t infringe on anyone’s rights, I agree.” Ollie glanced at the other werewolves then faced Dimitri head-on. “How would you control those werewolves who have the special powers? Seems to me so far I keep hearing denial that it exists. You and I both know that’s a bunch of crap.”

Dimitri gave Dante a hard look. “Yup. It sure is. And I’d control those werewolves the same way I would the rest of the pack. If someone starts thinking their shit doesn’t stink just because they can do something others can’t, I’m not afraid to knock them down to size.”

Ollie nodded, his forehead creasing into lines. He rubbed his thick hand over his bald head and focused on the rest of the bar for a moment before turning his attention back to their small group.

“That attitude will gain you more respect with the surrounding packs. I’m sure of it.”

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More or less, Juan had spoken for Erin and her den had turned him down. Damn good stuff for the old ego.

Now to make matters worse, Dante looked ready to spring. Ever since they’d arrived in Colorado, Dante had fought to downplay the gift. He didn’t want any surrounding packs, or any of the packs in the country, for that matter, dwelling on the gift and fearing the Malta werewolves. With one sentence, Dimitri blew all of Dante’s efforts to bits. And the werewolf knew he’d done it too.

Juan wasn’t sure if Dimitri was braver than Juan had originally given him credit for or if he was an idiot.

One thing hit him, though, and the smell of it didn’t appeal to him. A week ago, he would have walked away from this potential showdown. Fighting over pack politics usually bored him. Let the werewolves fight. He’d go find the bitches who were all left behind while a bunch of males tried to outfight each other.

Until this moment, it hadn’t crossed his mind to back out of this scene. Just a whiff of werewolves getting ready to make asses out of themselves and he’d usually be on his way. There were better ways to spend an evening. Yet with Erin standing in front of him, her small, warm hands in his, her scent wrapping around him and reminding him that they had unfinished business, it hadn’t occurred to him to head out.

“Ollie, I’d appreciate it if you kept this conversation we’re having right now to yourself,” Dante said quietly.

“And why should he?” Dimitri countered quickly, pushing his fists into his hips while his black hair started to stand more on end. “Keeping the gift a secret only makes us appear suspicious to other packs.” Dimitri raised an eyebrow, challenging the American pack leader. “Am I right?”

“This is very interesting.” Ollie wouldn’t be pushed into agreeing with anyone that quickly.

“You’re a fool to discuss this matter openly outside the pack,” Dante growled.

“Are you implying you don’t trust me?” Ollie asked Dante, and Dimitri got a smug look on his face.

“Nope.” Dante turned his back on Juan, giving his attention to Ollie. “If I didn’t trust you, this conversation wouldn’t have made it this far.”

“This conversation will go a lot further. Building allies with our neighboring packs is essential to secure our position here.” Dimitri moved into Dante’s space.

The three werewolves had pushed the others out of their private conversation, which at the moment served Juan’s purpose fine. He would have his say in pack 51

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business, but not during a showdown, which was all that would be accomplished here.

Taking advantage of their distraction, he pulled Erin with him and moved to the other side of the bar.

“You ready to get out of here?” Erin pressed into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and smiling. Her dark eyes glowed with excitement. The little bitch would defy her den to the very end, which made him feel good but didn’t help the big picture.

He brushed his lips over her forehead. “Go tell your oldest littermate you’re leaving.”

Her mouth opened and she stared at him as if he’d just spoken some bizarre language.

“And he’ll say no,” she complained.

“Don’t ask, just tell him. I’ll wait here.” Her den would accept him, but on his terms. Juan wouldn’t sneak off with her—that was just implying guilt. Neither of them were cubs. And he didn’t feel like hiding just to enjoy time with Erin.

“You’re impossible.” She took a step back from him, looking ready to argue.

He grabbed her shoulders and turned her around, then gave that adorable ass of hers a good smack, which made her jump a few feet away from him. Juan looked across the bar and spotted Josie watching him. His expression was chiseled in stone and impossible to read from this distance. It was easy to see that he far from approved. Juan hardly cared. He gave the werewolf only a glance before fixing his gaze on Nicolo, who’d also apparently been watching. Nicolo moved toward Erin when she walked up to him, immediately putting his arm around her shoulder in a protective hold.

Erin’s words obviously didn’t please him, and he countered immediately. Erin shook her head, backing away from him. Juan didn’t have to be able to smell the werewolf’s emotions to understand the disapproving frown he gave Juan when Erin hurried back to him.

“He said I better be home when he returns to our den,” she said quietly, grabbing his arm and almost dragging him out the door.

“I’m too old to sneak around,” Juan told her when the cold mountain air hit him hard in the face. The noise from the bar all but disappeared when the heavy door closed behind them. He pulled Erin to him, her body heat sending his insides to a boiling point within seconds. “Your den will accept my seeing you. And they will see that no rules are being broken here. You’ve informed them you are with me.”

“Don’t hold your breath on gaining their approval that fast,” she muttered. “Where are we going?”

“How about to my den?”

She almost stumbled over her feet and then stopped and gawked at him. “Is anyone there?” she asked quietly. Obviously shocked at the suggestion, she looked excited about the proposal.

Moira hadn’t been with Dante. Juan shook his head. “I’m not sure.”

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Erin bit her lip and then a slow smile made her expression glow. “We’ll go to my den. I know damn well there’s no one there. And besides, that way I’ll be sure to be home when Nicolo returns.”

The small wooden structure wasn’t that much different from Juan’s den. For the most part, shy of how many rooms each den had, most of the homes built along the side of the mountain over the past few months were similar in design. Erin unlocked the door while Juan sniffed the air around them, making sure there were no werewolves lingering in the woods surrounding them. For the moment, they were alone.

Nervous energy crawled over his skin when they entered the dark room. Erin moved easily in the darkness and reached for a lamp. Juan put his hand over hers when she would have turned it on.

“Show me where your bedroom is,” he whispered, respecting the silent peace of the empty den and not wishing to disturb it.

“Okay.” In the darkness, her eyes glowed against her caramel-colored skin. She bit her lip, brushing her fingers through her hair while staring at him for a moment. “I won’t let my littermates hurt you,” she promised.

Juan couldn’t fight another werewolf in a den that wasn’t his own. No matter his determination to have Erin, tradition ran as deeply in his blood as it did the next male’s.

He understood Erin’s promise.

Leaving the living area undisturbed, she slipped her hand into his and guided them toward one of two bedrooms. Both doors were closed and he guessed her littermates shared the room opposite hers. Cramped quarters, but more than likely the best den they’d had since leaving Malta. It was that way for most of the dens on the mountain right now. Malta werewolves were finally able to relax and stretch their claws as long as they didn’t kill each other trying to do it.

She opened her door and guided him into a small room with a single bed pushed up against the wall. A dresser was against the wall opposite it, and one window had heavy curtains. A roped rug covered most of the wooden floor, and a variety of female scents—rose, lavender, something richer, like baby oil—lingered in the air. Everything that was Erin was in this room—her scent, her clothes hanging in a closet with its door open, her makeup and perfumes in small bottles on top of her dresser. He took a deep breath, filling himself with her scent, and quietly closed her door behind him. With a quick glance across the dark room, he would have guessed himself stepping into a virgin’s haven. Everything here spoke of the sweet innocence of a cub.

The picture belied the voluptuous female in front of him. Which was exactly how Erin was—a tempting mixture of wild and naïve mixed into one hot little bitch. No female had ever presented a more effective package. She pulled at more than his cock.

His heart throbbed just as eagerly, anxious to do what it took to make her his.

He glanced at the doorknob. “It doesn’t lock.”

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“There’s never been a need. My littermates knock before entering, although I doubt they would tonight,” she said, a smile in her tone. Her scent was a mixture of amusement and lust. “But there is a way. Please, allow me.”

She was up to something. Her emotions smelled stronger and mischief made her cheeks flushed.

“What are you going to do?” He loved being able to smell her so easily.

She tugged on his shirt, pulling him toward her and taking a step backward toward her bed, her eyes never leaving his. He about drowned in those sensual dark orbs. A large scraping sound behind him about made his heart explode. He jumped, turning quickly while his teeth grew instinctively, almost pricking his lip.

He growled at the sound, ready to fight and kill to protect Erin. No one would touch or hurt what was his.

At the same time that he smelled the gift on her, the dresser slid along the wall and stopped in front of the door. The way the thing scratched over the wooden floor, he guessed it was fairly heavy. No one would be interrupting them that easily. His cock throbbed to life at the private sanctuary—albeit in enemy territory—that she’d created for them.

And at the same time, the intensity of the protective instinct the moving dresser had brought to life inside him brought him pause. His feelings for this hot little female were stronger than anything he’d experienced before. He fought a grin, staring at the dresser.

Damn, he liked the heat she created in him, her spontaneity that kept him guessing and her willingness to go to an extreme to be alone with him.

Nonetheless he turned around slowly, greeting her eager expression with what he prayed was a hard, serious look. He clamped down on any emotions that would make him appear anything other than completely in charge of the situation.

Damn. She wanted his approval, some sign that he appreciated her actions. He shook his head slowly. It would be mighty hard to stay mad at her for long when she looked at him like that. Letting her know how she affected him wouldn’t be to his advantage. He’d be a whipped werewolf, panting and wagging his tail anxiously every time she graced him with her attention.

“What did I tell you about using the gift?”

Her smile disappeared. “Fine. I’ll put it back.”

He grabbed the side of her head, wrapping his fingers into her thick black hair, and pulled her head back. She didn’t fight him but arched her neck, closing her eyes while letting out a sigh. The smell of his need for her filled the room so fast it drowned out all of her personal scents. It wouldn’t surprise him a damned bit if anyone approaching the den smelled it before getting inside. Like he cared about that at the moment.

“What you’ll do is tell me next time before you make things move.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t disapprove of your having the gift.”

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Her eyelashes fluttered over her eyes. “I know.”

“I don’t like not being informed.” He kept his hand tangled in her hair and stroked her cheek. “You will always tell me. Do you understand?”

Her smile had a mischievous glint to it. “So the dresser stays put?”