Tempting Whispers: The Kategan Alphas 6 (9 page)

“Brayden...” He looked down at her. That
anger still glowered there. “Will you kiss me?” she whispered.

He shook his head once and his eyes
narrowed on her. Then he plucked her up and shoved her in the passenger seat.
He didn’t wait for her to do it herself, but buckled her in, then slammed the
door shut. She sighed and it felt like an hour later before he settled into the
driver’s seat, started the engine, and took off.

“What about the car?” she asked again.
She couldn’t keep her eyes off him; she just felt so hungry. She also couldn’t
keep her lower body still. She just squirmed around, her legs scissoring
against each other, which only made her feel edgier.

“I’ll get it tomorrow. God, what the
fuck were you thinking, Vanessa? Were you really going to drive home drunk?”

Her eyebrows rose. She hadn’t thought
about that. “I don’t think so,” she said slowly. At the very least, she’d have
called a car, or hell, even him.

He snorted, shaking his head. “Fucking
stupid and young,” he muttered, but now low enough that her drunken mind didn’t
hear his words as clearly as if he’d yelled them.

She saw red in an instant. Spinning in
her seat, she glared at him. “I’m not stupid, and I might be young, but I didn’t
do anything wrong.”

He glanced at her for only a second or
two, but she felt his anger surround her. “You didn’t plan. You didn’t tell me
what was going on, and you easily put yourself in danger. Fuck, every woman
knows you don’t go to a club alone, especially dressed like
that
.”

“Like what?” She couldn’t wait to hear
this. Her mind was gearing up for a fight. She wanted one with him and bad,
after what he’d done today.

He didn’t answer after a minute.

That made her yell. “Like what!”

“Like you’re looking for a damn fuck!” He
yelled right back. His last word echoed once in the car before it faded,
leaving her stunned and frozen.

“You think I’m a slut or something?” she
asked in a soft, controlled voice. God, she couldn’t even
believe
this.

His hands curled hard around the wheel
like he was trying to strangle it. “I didn’t say that.”

“Not in so many words.” Wow, she’d gone
from hot to cold in a minute flat. The sexy, floaty feeling vanished, leaving
her consumed with anger and bitterness. “What do you have against me being so
young?”

“Just drop it, Vanessa. We’ll be home
soon.”

“No, I’m serious. After what you did
today, I think I at least deserve a fucking answer.”

He scratched at his head then ran an
agitated hand down his face. “I’m warning you now, drop it.”

She laughed as if it what he said was
the funniest thing ever. “Warning me? What could you possibly do to me that
could be any worse than what he did?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she
froze. The fight left her in an instant. She turned away and burrowed toward
the door. Her face burned and she ground her jaw. Nothing like airing one’s
dirty laundry to the man that made your blood pump.

“Vanessa,” he called in a soft voice.

Tears blurred her eyes, clinging to her
mascara, but she ground her jaw until she got it under control.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Her head spun to him. “What?” She couldn’t
hide the disbelief in her voice if she wanted to.

He looked at her, then back at the road,
then settled on her eyes again. The anger had vanished from his eyes, leaving
them warm and almost gentle. She didn’t really know if Brayden had it in him to
be gentle. Her mind flashed to the night he saved her, carefully wrapping her
in his jacket and carrying her all the way back to the pack. Okay, so maybe he
did have it in him.

“I don’t think you’re a slut, Vanessa.”

She almost laughed. Wasn’t she the
opposite of a slut anyway? Okay, well, maybe the opposite would mean she was a
virgin, but considering her only sexual partner had been Joseph, and what a
disgusting experience that had been, even she knew that didn’t count her as a
slut. Hell, technically she’d done it ‘right’. She’d only ever had sex with her
husband. Her lips pulled down and she tucked her arms around herself.

“It’s fine. Just forget it,” she said
softly.

“Dammit...” he muttered.

A loud bang shot her straight up in her
seat. She hadn’t seen it, but recognized that sound. He’d slammed his hand into
the steering wheel. This got him that riled? Normally, she wasn’t one to give
up, but even she had started to doubt her ability to taunt the great Justicar
Brayden.

When they reached home, she didn’t say a
word to him nor he to her. She trodded upstairs, closed the bedroom door behind
her, and collapsed on the bed face first. She didn’t think about any of it.
Just closed her eyes and fell asleep, which came rather easily—another point in
alcohol’s favor.

Chapter 8

Brayden slid his feet to the floor and
buried his face in his hands. Damn, if he hadn’t royally screwed up.

First, he’d had to make that phone call.
He had to try that tact. He didn’t regret doing it at, and hell, he’d be lying
if he didn’t admit he thought his influence with the Justicars might intimidate
Joseph into agreeing to the divorce. Shit, that man had sounded
confident
that he’d get Vanessa back, that she might just come back to him on her own. If
only he knew...

No, that wasn’t what made his stomach
feel like a queasy pile of shit or why he really needed to feed again, though
he just did yesterday. Stress. Stress did that to him. His friend, Dmetri, had
once joked with him that had he been human, he’d probably weight twice as much,
because when the stress kicked in, he craved blood like nothing else.

Nah, what made him feel like shit was
Vanessa. Too beautiful and way, way too young. Sure, she didn’t remind him of
the teenaged girl she’d been when he first met her. She’d matured, that’s for
sure. Her eyes didn’t shine as brightly as they used to. She had a shiftiness
to her eyes when they were in public as if just waiting for her nightmare to
appear. He had to help her; it felt like an uncontrollable force in his body to
see her safe and happy. And he wanted to kill Joseph Harrington...with his bare
fucking fists until the man squealed like the pig he was.

He’d definitely made one mistake, he
figured, as he strode to the shower, turned it on, and stepped under the spray.
He’d seriously underestimated her appeal to him. He must be some kind of sick
man or just desperate. He made quick work under the cool spray. When she’d been
younger, he could easily, or as easily as possible, ignore things that had
caught his eye about her. Now she was older, a young woman, and living in his
house. Her sweet, light scent saturated every room, and he liked it. He liked
having her scent around and he really liked the way she smelled. He ground his
jaw and turned the water off.

She needed a good spanking after the
stunt she’d pulled last night. His cock swelled at the idea and he ran a hand
over his face to try to clear the image of what her rounded ass would look
like. She’d grown to be thin with small breasts that looked way too good in
anything she wore. He’d tried not to notice, he’d
really
tried not to
notice how her ass looked in jeans, but it was like trying to ignore an
elephant sitting in the room with you. Impossible not to look, impossible not
to stare sometimes. She had a small, rounded ass. He’d found himself wondering
how much it’d jiggle if he spanked it; how it’d feel in his grip as he rode
her.

“Fuck!”

He slammed his dresser door shut with a
hard bang then dressed as fast as he could. He grabbed a bottle of blood out of
his cabinet and started chugging as he left the room. He needed something,
anything
,
to take his mind off of her. Especially off the idea of her naked with his
hands on her—something that couldn’t and wouldn’t happen, it seemed.

Shit. The image of her lithe body
writhing against his last night, her face, her pouty lips so close to his
zipper wouldn’t go away. Little did she know, he’d gone rock hard and he’d had
a brief little fantasy of pulling his cock out right there to feel her lips
wrap around it. Old fucking pervert.

She’s mated, his mind reminded him.

She also hates his disgusting guts.

Things were going to get dangerous if he
didn’t get his libido and shit under wraps. Hell, if he didn’t, then she might
just find herself under him, legs spread wide.

He turned into the kitchen, then stopped
dead in his tracks. All thoughts, all protests, everything, stopped. His tongue
dried up like all the moisture suddenly evaporated from the air around him.
Vanessa was bent over with the refrigerator door open. She had a pink strappy
shirt on that clung to her back and also rode up...a lot, revealing a lot of
tan, smooth skin and the indention of her spine. In a powerful rush, his cock
hardened like a damn pike.

His gaze fell lower and almost everything
he’d wondered about her ass was right there at hip level. If he just came
forward, his hips would press tight against her soft cheeks. If he just slipped
those shorts down her hips, eased his zipper down, he could...

What the hell did she think she was
wearing? Pink,
little
shorts and tight ones, too. He could see where her
thighs met the rounded cheeks. Hell, the little scrap of cloth just covered her
cheeks and hips and nothing else.

Her dark hair moved as she turned, her
gaze locking on him. Her amber eyes turned to pure ice and then she returned to
the fridge, grabbed some juice, and closed the door. She moved around the
kitchen, pouring herself a glass and returning the juice jug, never once
meeting his eyes again. She steadfastly ignored him as if he wasn’t there
watching her. He didn’t like that, not one bit.

“Vanessa, we need to talk.” He swigged
down the last of the blood, crushed the plastic container in his fist, and
tossed it into the trash.

Her shoulders jumped as if she’d laughed,
but he didn’t hear a sound. She kept her back to him as she finished her drink
and rinsed it out.

His eyes strayed down to her legs. They
looked like they went on forever, looking smooth and shiny in the light. His
voice turned deeper as he said, “You are going to talk to me, Vanessa.”

This time she did laugh. She spun to
face him and what she did next made it very hard for him not to stroll right
over there and keep her mouth busy with his. She leaned back against the sink,
her elbows on the counter, one foot kicked back to rest against the cabinet.

“And just what did you want to talk
about, Brayden?”

Her smart mouth was going to get her
into trouble if she didn’t can it. “I don’t think you’re a slut and I never
said that. You took it wrong.”

“Mmhmm,” she said, sounding bored.

He rolled his neck, but it did nothing
to ease the tight pain there. “Next time you want to play some shit like that
going to a club, you’re telling me first.”

“Why? Are you going to go with me and
make sure I’m safe? Are you going to dance with me too, Bray?”

“You won’t call me that if you know what’s
good for you,” he warned. “And no, I’m not dancing with you, but I’ll make sure
you stay safe from roaming hands and assholes with rufies.”

She lifted her eyebrows and nodded
slowly. “Well,
Bray
, it doesn’t matter anyway. I don’t plan to head back
to the club any time soon. That’s not my next goal.”

The air conditioner kicked on and the
vent in the kitchen blew up across her. He watched, helpless, as her shirt
waved against her flat stomach like a beckoning sign to come touch her. Then
her nipples puckered from the cold, turning into little hard points against her
shirt.

He turned his head away which he found
much more difficult than it should be. “Go get changed, then we’ll talk.”

Her low, sultry laughter rolled over
him. “Why?”

“Because you’re wearing little more than
nothing and I want you to change. Do it now, Vanessa, and don’t press me.”

He heard her bare footsteps coming close
and lifted his gaze to watch her. She wore an angry but proactive glare. “Does
Bray Bray have a problem with half-nekkie Vanessa?” She tucked her thumbs into
the spaghetti straps of her shirt and tugged on them like overalls.

His chest turned into a tight mess.
Every muscle in his body tensed, flexing, to keep his hands from reaching
forward. Just an extension of his arm and he could have her pressed right
against him. Didn’t she know that? The silly woman had no idea how much trouble
she could be in. Hell, trouble she
would
be in if she kept up the
attitude.

“Don’t call me that, woman,” he warned.

Her lips curled into a grin. “What, I
need to change because Bray Bray can’t stand a little skin? I thought you were
immune to such things?” Her thumbs ran up and down the strap, rubbing the
cotton of her top up and down her nipple.

He couldn’t control his next response.