Racing The Beast (Dirt Track Dogs #2) (6 page)

Her teeth came down on her lip to hold in the moan he’d been daydreaming about. She wasn’t about to give it to him yet.

Yet. Wow, there was a
yet
. He truly was sneaking past her barriers.

But did she really want to let him?

Beast focused on his mate’s pain. It kept his wolf from wanting to ravish her. It kept his wolf patient. Gave his animal something to focus on besides his guilt and his desire to claim her.

Carefully massaging her leg as close to her injury as he could get, he let their bond do the healing. Not completely taking the injury, but enough to lessen her suffering. If only their situation wasn’t so difficult. He’d just tell her what he was, explain the way the mating bond works, and heal her.

But that would be a mistake and he knew it.

He bowed his head so she couldn’t see him as he closed his eyes. Her skin was so fucking soft behind her knee. Someday he’d kiss her there. Someday. It wouldn’t be soon, but he could wait. He’d already waited this long for her. She was worth it.

Beast swallowed against the rising in his throat. He’d barely brushed her thighs and she’d squeezed her legs together, worried he’d go somewhere she wasn’t ready for. It broke his heart that his female couldn’t feel safe near him. It ripped at the core of who he was: a protector, a guardian, a defender.

If it fucking killed him, he’d make her feel safe.

“That better?” he rumbled.

Punk nodded. “It is. It really is. What did you do?”

He shook his head. “Sometimes a tender touch can go a long way to healing what’s broken.”

Beast met her gaze. Her eyes were shuttered, holding back emotions he could only guess at.

“Thank you,” she said stiffly.

Sharkie whimpered, drawing Beast’s attention to the dog. They’d had a rocky start, but when Beast shifted to his animal form, the dog quickly realized his place. They’d be best buds, him and Sharkie.

“Somebody missed you,” Beast told Punk.

She grinned, petting the dog’s head and rubbing her nose against his wet one.

“Where is everybody?”

“Down at the track getting things ready for the party,” he answered, still rubbing her leg. He wasn’t healing anymore, he was just desperate not to break their connection.

“Should we go down there?”

Beast sighed, staring at her knee, how small it looked in his hands. His shoulders drooped. “Yeah. I just… really fucking like this. I like
you
.”

Damn. Stupid thing to say. If he didn’t rein in his mouth, he was going to regret it.

Shut the fuck up, asshole
.

He shook his head, standing to his feet. “Let’s go. I’m sure they’re wondering where you are by now.”

Beast reached over to grab her crutches before holding out his hand to help her up. She didn’t take it. She stared at it instead, like she was trying to figure out if it was a trick hand or something. Like if she grabbed it, it’d fall off and she’d be left holding a dismembered hand.

But he didn’t give up. He let it hang there between them until she decided whether or not she was going to trust him. She already did. He could sense it. She just had to convince herself.

Seconds passed achingly slow, but finally she put her hand in his. In one swift motion, he pulled her to a stand and helped her get set with the crutches. Outside, she didn’t argue as he helped her into the truck. She didn’t say a word, even when he stalled belting her in. She didn’t need a seatbelt to go down across the property, but he wasn’t giving up an opportunity to be close to her.

“All set,” he murmured.

“Thank you, Beast.”

He met her gaze with a single nod.

He shut the door and helped Sharkie into the bed of the truck before getting behind the wheel.

“What’s your real name?” Punk asked when he’d started the engine.

“Beast is my name.”

“Your
real
name,” she said.

“I don’t know.” He stared out the windshield, but he could feel her eyes on him. “My parents called me Beast. When they died, my past died with them. As far as I know, my real name is Beast.”

“They called you Beast?”

“It was… a compliment. I was always big. They were proud they had such a strong young… er, son.”

Beast heard the rumble of engines through the open window as he navigated the dirt road to the practice area. The boys were already playing. No racing today though. Not with the wreck so fresh in everyone’s memories. One car on the track at a time for now.

“Wow,” Punk muttered. “What happened to them?”

He turned to look at her. He hated talking about this, but she was curious. And if she was ever going to be his, she had to know what she was getting into. This was how they grew closer.

“They died in the fire. In ’94. Same as the rest of the dogs’.”

“The forest fire? The one that demolished the mountain?”

“That’s the one.”

“Shit, I remember that as a kid. Didn’t they evacuate up there?”

Beast shrugged. “They tried. But people didn’t want to leave their homes. My parents had built a life up there. I guess they couldn’t make themselves go.”

“But you got out.”

He nodded, remembering that awful night.

“Drake saved me. He dragged my ass down the mountain kicking and screaming. I was angry. So fucking angry. I didn’t want to leave my family. He did the same for Diz and on the way down, he found a half crazy Surge. We didn’t know him from Adam, but he’d been on his way into the fire screaming about needing to find someone. We knocked him the fuck out and brought him with us.”

“Fucking hell,” she breathed. “What about Blister?”

Beast turned into the practice area. It was flooded with lights preparing for the darkness, and the sunset in the background reminded him of a wave of lava. Or maybe it just reminded him of something burning because of the way he felt talking about all this.

He parked and turned off the truck before answering her.

“We knew there were people on the other side of the mountain like us. Ones that wouldn’t leave their homes.” He rested his forearm on the steering wheel, staring at the strip of fiery sky. “We went to check on them. They were all gone. Their side of the mountain was fucking decimated. At the bottom we found Blister. He was barely alive, covered in third degree burns.” Beast shook his head.

Blister had shifted into his animal, trying to heal, trying to survive. But the poor wolf was barely more than a young and couldn’t salvage its own ravaged body. Had he been mated at the time, he would’ve made a full recovery. The power of the mating bond would’ve done what his wolf could not. Instead he was left with horrible scars to remind him of all he’d lost. And no doubt, all the things he thought he’d never have.

“He barely survived,” Beast croaked. “We lost everything but we had each other.”

Punk’s small hand landed on the fist he’d made on the seat between them. He jerked at her touch.

Fuck.

When she touched him like this, not because she had to but because she wanted to, it fractured his careful control. It threatened to eviscerate every single ounce of patience he’d been saving for her.

He wanted her
now
. He wanted to sink himself deep inside her and soothe every heartache with her body. He wanted to make them both whole. To undo the shit he’d done at the track. He wanted to pleasure her so fully that it erased the shit that was done to her before.

And mother fucker, the thought of what had been done to her lit him up. He didn’t know the details. Nothing more than when and where. Hadn’t wanted to know because he didn’t think he could handle that knowledge without losing his fucking mind over it.

He needed to shift. It was so simple when you were an animal. You took what was yours. You protected and served those who needed you. Your emotions were there, but they were based on instinct. And you knew what you needed to do. No questioning. No waiting. No wondering if you were going to fuck up epically.

He
wanted
her.

Beast stared at her hand. He was shaking with the effort to control his emotions. He unclenched his fist, turning his palm up. She started to pull her hand back but he grabbed on.

Not yet. Don’t pull away yet. I need you
.

She met his gaze but she didn’t flinch from his expression. “I’m sorry for what happened to you. I can’t imagine what you and the others went through.”

He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t risk whatever might come out of his mouth. All he could do was stare into her eyes and breathe her scent and hope like hell he could calm himself.

She squeezed his hand, leaning in closer. “It doesn’t make much sense but…” She shook her head as if she couldn’t believe what she was about to say. “I like you too. And there aren’t that many people in the world I like. But honestly, right now you look like you want to fuck something up.” Her voice got real quiet. “Are you okay?”

He should tell her. Right now, before things got any more complicated. She needed to know what he’d spent so much of his life containing.

“In the past…” he forced the words around the lump in his throat, “I’ve had trouble controlling my anger. I’ve spent many years learning to tame my temper, but sometimes… some
things
make me…”

“Hulk the fuck up?”

His breath rushed out of him. “Yes.”

Punk was quiet, staring at their linked hands. “Have you ever hurt anyone?”

He’d been lucky. They’d made the pact before he’d gotten that far out of control.

“No. Besides a few fights with the guys, no. I’ve never let it get that far. But shit, I’ve wanted to before.”

She didn’t say a word. Not a fucking word.

“Does that scare you?”

“There isn’t much that scares me.”

“That’s not true.”

More silence.

“I don’t want you to be scared of me, Punk.”

She lifted her head to look at him. “I’m not. Like I said, you’re different.”

Her tone was sure, and it gave him a sense of security he needed.

“There’s something else I need to tell you.”

She raised one pierced eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

Shit, shit, shit. He couldn’t tell her what he wanted to. Not yet. He couldn’t tell her she was his and that soon he would show her just what it meant to belong to a wolf.

He’d tell her a different truth.

“Holding your hand is the best fucking feeling I’ve had in a very long time.”

Her eyes widened, her eyebrow jewelry catching in the light of the nearly expired sun.

“Can… can I keep doing it?”

He was asking. It wasn’t in his nature, but his wolf didn’t own her yet. Not her heart or her mind. For now, he had to ask.

Punk’s teeth came down on her lip to toy with the ring there.

She nodded.

It was a baby step, but he fucking loved her for it.

He brought her hand up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to the back. Then before she could say anything about it, he released her and got out of the truck. He helped Sharkie from the back and retrieved Punk’s crutches.

He’d parked as close as he could to the patio and grill so she didn’t have far to go.

“What’s your real name?” he asked as they walked. “Why do they call you Punk?”

She tipped her head to one side, thinking, and then finally deciding to let him in on the secret.

“It’s short for Punkin, but you’re the only one I’ve ever told, and if you blab a word about it, I’ll stab your eyeballs out.”

Beast grinned. “You’re secret is safe with me. I swear.”

Sighing, she continued. “I was named after my Nana, Eleanor. But since we shared a name, they always called me Punkin. When I grew up, I shortened it.”

“Eleanor,” he murmured. It was classic. Beautiful.

“Yeah, keep that one to yourself too.”

“You don’t like it?”

She shrugged. “Eleanor was my Nana. I’m Punk.”

Everyone else was already gathered, sipping on drinks, and Surge was well into the grilling of the meat. Blister was the only one missing. And Diz, because he was on the track.

He slid around the corner, his car spitting dirt five feet high, and Surge let out a hoot of approval.

“Wooooooo, son! Did you see that?” He grinned as he turned the steaks. Smoke billowed in his face. “Having a contest. The one who can spit the best dirt gets the biggest steak. Ella’s next. Drake’s out of the running. Diz just stomped him. I’ll ride for Annie and you can ride for Punk.”

Beast grinned. “Sounds good.”

Punk maneuvered into one of the chairs and Annie and Ella were chatting her up.

Diz jogged toward them. “That was bomb right? I beat Drake for sure.”

Surge nodded. “It was the straight up boom fuckity boom, man.”

They slapped high fives over the grill.

“Your turn, Ella,” Diz said, grinning. He rubbed his belly obnoxiously. “That fucking steak is mine. I want it rare, Surge.”

She sauntered over. “We’ll see about that.”

“Big words considering there are five more chances to lose,” Beast joked.