Past My Defenses (Taming the Pack series) (Entangled Ignite) (5 page)

And she’d done it. She’d obeyed her Alpha. And look where it’d gotten her.

She sighed and slumped in her seat. He’d sent her out to her doom.

Matched.

To a human.

A hot human. Gah. His scent on her skin. She wanted to go back and crawl all over him—twice.

Mine. So mine. Forever mine.

She was so screwed.

“Who?” he asked again.

She sighed again.

“You scent-matched last night?”

She didn’t bother denying it.

“But who? I can account for most of the pack last night.
They
reported in.”

She cleared her throat.

“In fact, I can’t think of a single Lycan who…”

Exactly. Thanks, Jordan.

“No way. You didn’t match with that…that human…with the cat?”

She winced.

Jordan moved fast when
he’d made a decision. One second, he was there. The next, he’d left behind a pair of sweats as he shi
fted mid-leap down the stairs and out. For a moment, she sat there dumbly staring after him. Then, it occurred to her: the scent-match only existed while both mates lived. Lycans were forbidden from killing humans unless they threatened the pack’s existence.

Dane. Dane threatened her potential place as the new and fertile alpha female—in a pack that needed offspring.

She bounded to her feet, and the bottle in her hand dropped as she shifted faster than she ever had. The human in her may have been unsure of what she wanted, but the wolf was never more certain about anything.

Chapter Three

Dane locked Lucifer in a cage and crouched beside it as the cat gave him a look of pure venom. “She’ll be coming for you tomorrow, and I just swept up enough of your hair to make another one of you. I think, somehow, you’ve been shedding on purpose.”

Then the pudgy black cat went still and looked at the door. Hissing, he backed against the wall, back arched.

The hair on the back of Dane’s neck stood up. The cat hadn’t been afraid of anything thus far. A rush of trepidation made his breath hitch. What the hell had spooked the spawn of Satan?

He went to the door, pausing with his hand on the knob. Then he went to the locked cabinet. Shotgun or tranq gun? If it scared Lucifer… He grabbed the shotgun and, since Lucifer’s hissing was distracting, locked the mudroom’s door and bounded up the stairs. Initially, he felt paranoid and neurotic for opening the door with the shotgun at his shoulder—until he saw the biggest wolf he’d ever seen rushing toward him, its teeth bared as it snarled.

He swore and pulled the butt of the gun tight against his shoulder and put his sight on the wolf. “Stop! I will shoot you!” Yesterday, he would have felt ridiculous yelling at a wolf.

And then the wolf started swerving to throw off his aim—unlike any real wolf would. It’d crossed into the yard, and his finger was itching as adrenaline worked against him.

Don’t, Dane. Go inside… go inside… You have no idea who this is to Vanessa. This could be her brother—hell, maybe her father was pissed his little girl had spent the night at your house. Don’t. Go inside.

As if his frantic thoughts had drawn her there, a silver wolf leaped out of the woods on a collision course with the giant black one. He jerked the muzzle skyward as the silver wolf tackled the black wolf. The black beast shook her off and then turned back toward him, but the sleek silver female jumped between him and the other one. The she-wolf snarled in a way that, absurdly, reminded him of Vanessa’s snoring—only quieter.

They circled, snarling and jolting toward each other as if playing chicken. The black one feinted toward Dane and, in a David versus Goliath moment, the silver wolf leaped toward it and dragged it down with her teeth at its throat.

Okay, not her dad.

The element of surprise worked for only a second before the black wolf had flung her on her back and stood above her, growling.

Dane pulled the shotgun to his shoulder. “Vanessa, get clear of my shot!”

Both wolves turned and in a classic “mind your own business” statement, roared at him.

He dropped the shotgun, rolling his eyes. Fine. Apparently, this was mythical creature territory. The showdown had become a staring contest. Just when he was feeling proud that his wolf was holding her own, she lay at the feet of the black wolf and twisted her head to the side, baring her neck.

He yanked the shotgun back up. Pack or no pack, he’d shoot the black wolf if it so much as leaned toward her. The black wolf lifted its charcoal eyes and stared at him. Dane felt like it was looking inside him, searching for every dark thought he’d ever had. Finally, it snuffled what sounded like an insult, and leaned down and nudged the she-wolf with its muzzle. Then it was gone, loping off toward the forest.

The silver wolf lay there, halfway between the woods and his porch. At the edge of the cleared yard, the black wolf turned back and stared between them, then jerked its head, motioning for the silver to follow.

“Are you kidding me?” Dane asked. He stared at Vanessa. What the hell? She wasn’t really going to put up with this, was she? That black wolf had tried to kill her.

The she-wolf stood and swung her gaze between them. The black wolf was gone a moment later.

“Vanessa?” He knew it was her. He knew it was. It was the only way any of this made sense. He propped the shotgun against the porch. “Vanessa, I’m not an idiot. I know what I saw, and I know it’s you.” He held up his hands to show they were empty. “Look. Come inside. I’ll make dinner.” He pulled his shirt off and dropped it on the porch. “See, you can even dress for it.” He grabbed the gun by the barrel and backed away. “I’ll go inside.”

When he had, Dane couldn’t help watching through the gauzy curtain to see what she’d do.

The gray wolf turned and sprinted back into the woods.

Oh, to hell with it. So much for being certain. Lucifer was right. Apparently neither the wolf nor the woman was about to be tamed.

Not that Lucifer had said that.

Not that animals could speak.

No, they could change back and forth from human to wolf, but speak? Hell no.

“I am
losing
my mind.”

He left the shirt out—just in case she changed her mind—but as the minutes ticked by, his temper ramped up with them. He had no idea what that power struggle had been about, but he knew whom she’d chosen in the end. There was really no reason he was still cleaning, still vacuuming. She’d chosen.

Not that they had anything in common anyway. She was a wolf part of the time—apparently—and he still wasn’t sure he believed in werewolves, despite what he kept seeing and thinking.

And they really weren’t anything to each other. They hadn’t even known each other twenty-four hours ago. He hadn’t met her in town so clearly, they didn’t run in the same circles. He smirked and slung the dirty rag he’d been scrubbing with into the hamper. She ran in a pack.

The only thing that made him think they could be together was this weird attraction he had for her, and that probably meant he needed to go over to the next town and hit on some woman in a produce section or something. He was desperate—that’s all it was. Maybe he could try online dating. It wouldn’t be too much of a commute to Seattle if it meant he could find someone in his species at least.

He’d already vacuumed and was staring in his fridge when a car’s engine thrummed in the distance. There weren’t many houses this way since his house and the land around it were government-owned. It sounded like a small car—like a girl’s car, probably a lithe little blonde.

If she’d come back, maybe he’d misjudged her. Maybe she’d just felt like getting dressed. Maybe she was still trying to act like she wasn’t a wolf. Stubborn. She
was
stubborn.

He pulled out the salmon fillets. She was part wolf—she probably liked fish.

“I do not snore!”
Slam!
The windows all rattled with the force of her entry back into his life.

He smiled as he stared down, but wiped it from his face when she appeared in his kitchen.

She held up the shirt. “You left this outside.” She didn’t set it down. She kept it in her hand. It was cute that she was still playing this game.

And since they were still playing this denial game…

“I saved the video of you snoring. I can play it for you again.”

He loved that her eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms and jutted out a hip. Her arms were wrapped around his shirt—he loved that too.

Holding up the salmon on the cutting board, he asked, “Do wolves like fish?”

“I suppose so, but you’re the one who seems to think he’s seeing them.” A blush crept up her cheeks as she uttered the lie, and she looked less hostile and a bit unsure.

He took out teriyaki sauce and liberally sprinkled it on the fillets.

Vanessa cleared her throat and took a step back.

He glanced up. “What?”

“Was that for me?” She was biting her lower lip in a way that wasn’t helping keep him on the opposite side of the kitchen counter. It was astounding that they’d slept in the same bed, and he was pretty sure they had a future, but he’d yet to kiss her—to sample that full lip she kept biting.

“No, I thought I’d eat in front of you. It’s how I treat all my guests.”

She nodded. “I’m allergic to that.”

“Salmon?”

Rolling her eyes, she groaned. “No, not salmon, you idiot. I would have told you if I was allergic to salmon. I’m allergic to sesame seeds. That teriyaki sauce has sesame seeds in it.”

“You’re allergic to sesame seeds? Who’s allergic to sesame seeds?”

She glanced at the door.

“Hold on!” He held up his hands. “Okay. If I wash this off, will that be enough?”

She grimaced and glanced toward the door again.

He rinsed off the fish and dropped it in Lucifer’s bowl at his feet. “Sit!” He pointed at the stool she stood beside. “I have another. I was thawing out two fillets so I could have leftovers.”

“You didn’t have to…” She gestured at the floor where the bowl was. She sighed, and her shoulders slumped so pathetically.

He leaned down and grabbed the bowl. “Lucifer is spitting mad about being locked downstairs. This’ll keep him happy for a little while anyway.” With his free hand, he grabbed a pad of paper and pencil and set them on the counter in front of her. He pushed her down. “Sit down and write out all your allergies so I can avoid drugging you to get you into my bed.”

She snorted a laugh and sat.

Lucifer was only slightly mollified by the peace offering—despite the salmon’s being longer than the cat’s body.

When he got back upstairs, Vanessa was still writing. Wow. She appeared to be allergic to everything. It was oddly endearing—he probably needed more sleep if he thought that. When he glanced over her shoulder at the list, she froze and turned toward him and inhaled.

“I’m sorry, my hands probably smell like…” he started to say and then she moaned—a moan that went straight to his libido. A woman shouldn’t moan like that. All of his good intentions—to go slowly, find out more about her, wait until she trusted him—nearly went out the window with that deep, low, incredibly sexy moan. He cleared his throat. “You must really like salmon.”

She turned back to the list, and he watched her hand clench the pencil with enough force it bent and splintered on one side before she loosened her hold. “Something like that.”

And they needed to be on opposite sides of the counter again, or he’d pull her across it and make her moan herself hoarse. On the other side, he pulled out a new cutting board and put the other salmon fillet on it. “Okay. While you’re filling that out, we’ll play allergic or not. Lemon?”

“Not.” She didn’t look up. She just kept scribbling. He might need to make copies and laminate them.

“Pepper?”

“Like cayenne or black pepper?”

“Black. Why? Are you allergic to cayenne pepper?” Laminate it and carry it with him—everywhere. He might need to have her quiz him on it periodically.

“No. Neither.”

“Oh.” Then why had she mentioned it? It derailed his train of thought, and he stood there staring at the light pink fillet in front of him. Women were a lot of work. This one came with a lot of baggage. Weird baggage. Allergic baggage. Then again, she had a body made for sin and moaned like a sinner. Even if this was just lust that burned itself out… Besides, how often did you get to hook up with a werewolf?

He blinked forcefully. This was not a fetish. Probably. He didn’t want her like an addiction because she liked to bite…and play fetch. Probably.

Besides, when did he ever back down from a challenge?

Never.

That might be half of what was attracting him to her.

Nothing about her would ever be easy.

She looked up. “I’m not allergic to garlic, but…”

“But?”

“It smells really strong. On people’s skin.” She grinned. “And I sort of like the smell of…skin without garlic.”

Mmm. And that was why this was worth it. Even her smile made him want to drag her onto the counter and hear that moan again.

“Is that it or are werewolves like vampires?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t know.”

“How long are we playing
this
game?” Eventually, she’d have to admit she was a werewolf.

“The allergic or not game? I’m assuming until you cook that fish. Unless we’re then playing a game with raw fish.” Her grin widened. “I’ve played that game before. I won last time.”

“Was this in Reno too?” She’d mentioned something like that when she was in the cage, and it was hard to say whether she’d been kidding or not. He was leaning toward…not.

“Nope. I used to live near Portland. I was there until four years ago.” She tipped her head and looked wistful. “Reno was just a visit.”

“Did you keep the boa?”

She went back to her list, but he heard the sly smile in her voice as she said, “Maybe.”

He inhaled slowly. “Okay, so, no garlic.” It made sense that she’d have a great sense of smell. “What else is off-limits?”

She frowned at the filleted salmon. “Does it need anything else on it?”

Well, it only had lemon and pepper, but… They’d be eating very plainly, it seemed. Okay then. “I’ll go put this on the grill.”

She’d gone back to writing. She flipped the page. They might not be left with a lot of choices for meals when she was done.

When he came back in, she was hanging up her cell phone. And he knew from her apologetic glance at the grill where the salmon was cooking that she was about to take off. “Something has…come up. I have to go.”

“Work?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Sort of.”

“I don’t even know what you do.”

“I’m a receptionist.”

“So, it’s a receptionist emergency?” He managed to say it with a straight face.

He liked that she bluffed it out. He shouldn’t. “Yep. A big receptionist emergency.”

“I hear those are serious.”

“As a heart attack.”

“Do you work for a doctor? Because that might warrant that phrase.”

Vanessa tilted her head and smiled at him. “I work for a contractor.”

“Ahhh.” He leaned against the counter. This felt like progress—even if she was leaving. “What’s your last name?”

“Tucker.”

“What’s your favorite color?” Maybe if he kept asking her questions, she wouldn’t leave after all—for this receptionist emergency.

She tipped her head down, but her gaze slid to meet his…and the smile…the heat in her eyes—it was the gaze of the wolf from in front of his cabin earlier. It shouldn’t make his heart beat faster or make him crazy for her.

“Gray.”

“Gray?” That was an odd choice. He’d expected red or something vibrant.