My Sister Is a Werewolf (18 page)

“Are you okay?”

She nodded, bobbing her head almost too adamantly. “I guess I got a little nervous.”

“About the howling or about us getting caught out there?”

“Getting caught,” she said, but he felt as if she was just grabbing on to that choice. Maybe she was afraid of dogs, and unwilling to tell him.

“Do you want a drink?”

She nodded. “Just water.”

He left her, heading to the bar with the intent to get right back to her. She had truly been shaken out there. He wasn’t sure if it was the dog barking or if it had been something else.

“I didn’t think you were here,” a familiar voice said from behind him. Jensen turned to see Brian, shifting uncomfortably in his navy blue suit.

“Hey. Yeah. You know I had to come. Where’s Jill?”

“With Melanie.” There was no doubt from the way Brian said the words that he’d already heard all the dirty details of his less-than-illustrious date with Melanie.

But even knowing that his friend knew, he had no idea what to say.

“So did you bring the other woman?”

The other woman. He didn’t like that. Elizabeth was not the
other
woman. She was the only woman. And he didn’t want her somehow judged for his behavior.

Jensen only nodded, though, and gestured to Elizabeth where she leaned against the wall, watching the party, looking distinctly uncomfortable. It was almost impossible to believe that earlier, she’d appeared to be the belle of the ball. Now she looked like she just wanted to leave.

“Wow, I wouldn’t have pegged her as the one you’d be here with.”

Jensen frowned at his friend. “What do you mean?”

“She’s just a lot different, that’s all. Not to say she isn’t gorgeous.”

Jensen bristled slightly. He wasn’t sure what his friend was trying to say—all he knew was he didn’t like it. And he didn’t like the way his friend was regarding her, either. Brian’s eyes seemed to be roaming over her slowly, taking in every detail. And the details were many. Like the fit of her simple black dress, the way the waistband nipped in to show the subtle flare of her hips. And how the neckline came to a deep vee between her rounded breasts, hinting at her cleavage but still intriguingly modest.

“You know,” Brian said slowly, his eyes narrowing, “I think she was the woman from the karaoke bar that night who threw a guy away from her.”

Whatever comment Jensen had expected his friend to make, that wasn’t it.

“Elizabeth?” Jensen had forgotten about that. Or rather hadn’t thought about it. But she was strong. He knew that. And hadn’t Brian said she growled? Jensen had forgotten the strange growls he’d heard that night, before the weirdness and her fever.

Brian nodded, giving his friend a rather astounded look. “That woman is one tough cookie.”

Jensen turned back to look at Elizabeth. He knew she was a tough cookie, and he did remember—very vividly, in fact—what she’d looked like in her leather pants and jacket. But now, in her classic and elegant cocktail dress with her often heartbreaking eyes and timid smiles, he had a hard time relating her to the woman at the bar that night.

“Are you sure it was her?” Hadn’t he considered it might be her, too? The description had fit. Yet, he was still surprised to hear it again. Somewhere along the way, he’d even forgotten Brian’s story. He couldn’t connect the woman he knew to that image.

Brian nodded. “Definitely. I remember those eyes.”

Jensen looked in her direction again and saw her watching them. She glanced away when she saw him looking. Another thing the woman from the bar wouldn’t have done. The change was curious, and Jensen realized he was no less intrigued.

In fact, he was more so.

“Brian, would you excuse me?”

Brian nodded. Jensen headed to the bar and asked the server for an ice water. Then he hurried back to Elizabeth.

“Here you go.”

“T
hank
s.” She accepted the glass, taking a sip. “How was your friend?” She sounded casual, but Jensen got the impression there was more to the nonchalantly stated question.

“He was fine. I should have introduced you.”

She nodded. “Is he married to the woman who sang at the bar? The brunette?”

He nodded. “Yes, Jill. We actually grew up together.”

“He was surprised you were here with me, wasn’t he?”

Jensen considered lying outright, but he got the feeling she would know if he did. So instead he asked, “Why do you think that?”

“It was pretty evident on his face.”

That was true—it had been.

“Well, he can’t believe you’d be here with me,” he told her, hoping that would soothe her obviously injured feelings.

“That isn’t true,” she said softly, looking down at her glass. “And he’s right. You shouldn’t be here with me.”

Elizabeth could tell her words confused him, although how they could was a mystery to her. Just the look of surprise on his friend’s face said it all. Said exactly what she’d been saying before she got caught up in the fantasy of being normal and human and able to fit back into a world she thought was lost to her.

“Your friend was wondering why you would choose me over the blonde from the other night.” It wasn’t a question, although she knew Jensen would respond.

“No. He didn’t say that.”

“He said something, though, didn’t he?”

“He said you were gorgeous.”

She snorted at that, not caring that the sound was more than a little inelegant.

“You are.”

“Okay,” she said, not believing him. “But that isn’t what he said.”

“Actually, he did say that, but he did also say he was surprised at me. My friends have this set idea of ‘my type’ and they didn’t think you fit into that.”

She started to tell him she’d been right then, but he cut her off.

“But I think I know myself a hell of a lot better than they do. Way better, actually. And you are absolutely my type.”

He moved closer to her, placing one of his broad hands against her back. “I can’t remember being this attracted to anyone. Ever.” He leaned closer, obviously about to kiss her. But before their lips met, she saw something there. Something mingling with his yearning. An almost-melancholy.

She told herself to turn away from his kiss. She needed to stick to her guns. This wasn’t right for him. Agreeing to date him was just greed on her part. She was using him, and in truth, she liked him far, far too much to do that.

But instead of pulling away, she leaned into him, her lips meeting his. She made a small noise, a desperate noise, and his arms came around her.

Neither of them seemed to remember they were in the middle of a party. All they were aware of was each other.

“Elizabeth?” he murmured against her lips.

“Yes?”

“I think we should get out of here. Not because you aren’t the right type for me. Not because of anything my friend said. But because I want you so damned much I can’t even think straight.”

She stared into his eyes, feeling like she was getting lost in the darkest, greenest forest. She nodded. She wanted nothing more.

Neither of them spoke to anyone as they slipped out of the party. Jensen rushed her to his truck, handing her in. She had some pretty fond memories of this truck. Naughty as they were.

“What are you smiling about?” Jensen asked as he slid up onto the seat.

“Nothing.” Her smile grew.

“I get the feeling you might be laughing at me.”

She immediately sobered. “No. Definitely not.”

“So tell me.”

She glanced at him, another naughty little grin curling her lips. “I’m thinking that maybe our second date is going to end very well.”

Jensen smiled at that. “Really?”

“Oh yeah.”

Chapter 18

J
ensen managed to get them home ten minutes faster than it should have taken, and with no major traffic incidents, with the exception of a few sharply made turns. But his rather reckless driving did seem a little adolescent.

Until he shifted the truck into Park and turned to the woman next to him. Then it just seemed like a really good plan, because soon, he was going to be holding this gorgeous woman very close to him.

“Sorry about the kind of crazy driving,” he did feel the need to say.

She smiled. “I didn’t notice.”

He knew she was lying, but he appreciated her trying to make him seem less desperate.

“Did you want to come in? I have some tea or coffee.”

He nodded, finding the question a little funny. Of course he wanted to come in. And he wanted more than coffee or tea. He wanted her. Now.

Instead, he opened his door, hopped down, and came around to open the door for her. He took her hand and helped her down, fighting the urge to tug her close. Instead, he linked his fingers with her more slender ones and started across the lawn.

Neither of them spoke as they walked into the house. Elizabeth steered them toward the kitchen. She released his hand as she walked over to the counter.

“No tea,” she said after perusing her cupboards. “But I do have coffee.”

“Coffee’s great,” he said, surprised after the times they had been together that he actually felt a little nervous at the prospect of it happening again. It made no sense, except that every time he was with her, he felt like he was in a little deeper.

Hell, he knew he was in deep. He wanted that—and that scared him.

She crossed to her counter and began to prepare the hot drink, bending forward to grab filters and then to fill the carafe with water. The angle gave him a perfect view of her perfectly rounded bottom against the silky fabric of her dress.

She moved to peer into the fridge.

“I only have milk,” she said, glancing at him over her shoulder.

His eyes immediately moved up to meet hers, and he knew his expression was one of guilt.

“I take my coffee black.”

She gave him a slight smile, then ducked back into the fridge. And this time he could have sworn she wiggled her hips a little as she searched.

He smiled. All of the Elizabeth he’d first met was not gone, which was definitely not a disappointment. Then again, nothing about Elizabeth was a disappointment. She was perfect. Although she often didn’t seem to realize that.

She straightened and took the milk carton to the counter and opened a drawer to rummage for a spoon. He didn’t wander closer, afraid that if he did, he’d have to touch her.

She turned to him, leaning against the counter. The only sound was the hiss and pop of the brewing coffee. They just looked at each other, not speaking, just wanting each other.

The coffee hissed loudly, indicating it was done. She smiled at him, the sight making his body tighten with desire. She turned back to the counter and filled two mugs. Then she strolled toward him, holding out one for him.

Their fingers brushed lightly, teasingly, as he accepted it.

“It’s a really nice night,” she said. “Would you like to go sit on the porch swing?”

Now that seemed like an innocent enough thing to do. The kind of thing that parents had allowed their dating teens to do for generations. Surely that was safe.

“That sounds like a great idea.”

She led him back to the large porch attached to the front of the house. On one end, a wooden swing cushioned with floral pillows swung slightly in the breeze.

He waited for her to sit, then settled beside her, trying to keep a little space between them. The swing creaked as they rocked in a slow, steady rhythm. Even that made him think of what he’d like to be doing with and to Elizabeth at this very moment.

He closed his eyes just briefly, trying to push the idea out of his mind. Then he took a swallow of the hot, richly bitter brew.

“This is nice,” she said, sounding far calmer than he felt.

“Yes.”

They swayed back and forth, the sound of the breeze in the trees, the low squeak of the swing. All of it should have been lulling, calming. But all Jensen could feel was the heat radiating from Elizabeth’s body. The smell of her—the rich, spicy scent. All he could think about was how much he wanted her.

But he had to stay cool.

“Jensen?”

“Mmm,” he said, then took a sip of his coffee, trying to focus on that rather than his own damned libido, which was in overdrive, and had been all night long.

“I think... I think we should... ”

He glanced at her, and she leaned forward and kissed him. It was a quick kiss, not at all like the long, slow kiss they had shared outside at the anniversary party. But somehow, it was far more telling.

“I know I told you that I was ashamed of my behavior when I first met you. And I still can’t explain it, but the truth is... I just want you far too much to do this slow thing.”

He stared at her. Holy monkey.

“Elizabeth... ”

She placed her fingers up to his lips, the gesture designed to shush him, but the touch reminded him so much of the very first time she’d touched him.

“Tonight,” she said, her finger a cool and pleasing pressure on his mouth. “Tonight you let me experience something I thought I’d lost.”

He didn’t understand. He had no idea what he’d let her experience.

“I’m... ” She shook her head. “I’m just crazy about you.”

She sighed, like saying those words had been so hard for her. And maybe they had. He could understand that. There was something between them that was confusing and overwhelming and...

He leaned in and kissed her. This time the gesture wasn’t quick, but slow and thorough and filled with everything he was feeling. He stopped long enough to take her coffee cup and place it on the floor beside his. Then his hands were back on her, caressing her. His lips found hers again.

She moaned and arced into him. Their lips played over each other’s, velvety-soft skin creating a gentle friction that ignited Jensen’s desire as sure as flint against steel.

He pulled her closer until she was halfway onto his lap. The swing squeaked under them and shimmied under the sudden movement.

He touched the bare skin of her shoulders, her smooth flesh cool from the night air.

“Are you too cold?” he murmured against her lips.

She lifted her head, her eyes wide. “Are you kidding?”

He chuckled, then kissed her again. She tugged at his tie, loosening the knotted material; then her fingers moved to the buttons, working them until her hands were stroking over his chest.

His lips moved from her lips to her throat, then to the creamy skin exposed by the vee neck of her dress.

Her hands continued to touch him as he explored the swell of her breasts with his lips and his tongue.

Quickly their exploring grew more frantic, until both of them were panting, their movements jerky and excited.

“Stand up,” he muttered roughly, the command gruffer than he intended.

She didn’t seem to notice. She simply did as he asked.

Jensen reached for the fluttering material of her skirt, lifting it so he could see her hose and the small, lacy panties underneath. His fingers moved to them, slowly rolling them down her long legs, until she was bared to his touch. He stroked her. Feeling her heat, her moisture. Then he pulled her onto him, so she straddled him.

“I’ll take my time next time,” he told her in between kissing her lips. She nodded, seeming to share the same need.

Her finger went to his belt, then his pants. Soon he was freed, and she positioned him to enter her.

But once he was deep inside her, neither of them felt the need to hurry. They rocked together, their bodies undulating, their eyes locked as they watched each other.

A slow swing into total bliss. And Jensen knew he was lost. He loved this woman.

She lifted her head from his shoulder, her eyes holding his. And for a second, he nearly said the words aloud, but then her gaze broke from his, her pale eyes wide as she stared out at the darkened lawn.

“What?” He followed her stare, his eyes finally adjusting to see what she saw.

“We have an audience.”

He nodded. “Why, yes, we do.”

They both watched as two deer moved farther onto the lawn. Munching on bits of still-green grass, watching them back.

“Maybe we should go inside,” he suggested.

“Yes,” she agreed, scrambling off his lap. “I suddenly feel like dinner theater.”

Jensen laughed. “Yes, and what I have in mind next is for your eyes only.”

She grinned in return, but her eyes returned to the deer. Jensen got the feeling the sight shook her a little, and he wondered why.

Brody paced back and forth at the edge of the woods, watching the couple as they rose, not even bothering to adjust their clothing, and disappear inside. The two deer that had wandered onto the large lawn remained stock-still, except for their ears. He growled low in his throat, his teeth gnashing, and they took off across the lawn in the opposite direction.

Those stupid animals had some sense, unlike Lizzie and her mortal, Brody thought.

He was going to kill them both. The animal in him demanded that kind of revenge for what that mortal had done to his mate.

He stopped his pacing, to stare at the house and to rest. The shot that old man had taken at him had hit almost dead-on. Even now, he knew the bullet was still lodged under his ribcage. It had come dangerously close to his heart. He didn’t need a doctor to tell him that. And it still hurt like hell. That old bastard was going to die, too. Slowly.

He eased down into a position like the Sphinx, his paws out in front of him, his pose upright. This pose didn’t ease the pain much, but it was better than the pacing. And he had to give himself time to heal a little. Staying in his wolf form would help him heal. For some reason, the werewolf form healed much faster than the human.

He growled again. See, even the human form of a werewolf was weaker. And full humans were weaker still. That lowly mortal who Lizzie had mated with was going to be damned easy to kill.

He just needed to heal more before he tried. He couldn’t risk Lizzie discovering him and going into her werewolf form. Brody was the far stronger wolf, but wounded like he was, Lizzie might have a fighting chance. And he wasn’t risking it. He wanted to see that human torn to shreds. And he wanted Lizzie to see it happen. Then she would know better than to go looking for a mate elsewhere. But then he was going to kill her, too. Unless she agreed to his terms. All of them.

He ducked his head, trying to lick the place where the bullet had entered him, but he couldn’t reach it. Being able to tend it would also make it heal quicker. But for now, it appeared he’d just have to be patient.

And there was no reason not to be. The deed was already done. Nothing that happened between Lizzie and her mortal tonight would add to that.

Oh, she was going to pay for every indiscretion. But he did need her. She was his only chance to get back into the pack. As much as he hated it, he needed her.

“Hmm,” Granddad said, looking up from his crossword puzzle. “I didn’t think you’d both be showing up for brunch. I sort of thought one of you would already be here to actually help me.”

Jensen smiled at his granddad, knowing the old man was probably thrilled he hadn’t come home last night, old matchmaker that he was.

Elizabeth, on the other hand, blushed to a brilliant shade of red.

Jensen pulled her tight to his side, charmed and amazed that this woman could be the wild lover she’d been last night and then be so easily embarrassed this morning. He loved how mercurial she was. It fascinated him.

“I can help you,” she said, trying to pull out of his embrace to go to the counter already laden with the makings of a huge meal.

“Nonsense,” Granddad said adamantly. “You are the guest. Jensen can help me. I’ve taught him how to cook with the best of them.”

Elizabeth looked like she wanted to argue, but then she admitted, “It might be best if I do stay out of the way. I’m a pretty horrible cook. Which is strange, because I love to eat.”

Jensen smiled. Most women wouldn’t admit that. And he’d seen Elizabeth’s appetite—she did like food.

Her admission caught Granddad’s attention for a different reason, however. “Do you want a lesson?”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened at the prospect. “You would be willing to show me?”

“Sure. Nothing to cooking, really.”

“That’s not true,” Elizabeth said with a frown. “Cooking is a real talent. I try, but I’m a disaster.”

“Well, you haven’t tasted my cooking,” Granddad pointed out. “I might be, too.”

“But I have tasted Jensen’s, and if you taught him what he knows, you’ve got to be quite a chef.”