He stopped when he reached a clearing in the trees and waited, chest heaving. It felt strange to be on his own, without his sleuth behind him. But Connor didn’t regret not telling his brothers. He had to keep them safe, that was his job as their alpha and as their brother.
The scent of the wolves grew stronger and stronger. Suddenly, they skidded to a stop on the other side of the clearing. Three of them were the young wolves Connor had seen with Cody, but the fourth was larger than the others; a she-wolf with gun metal grey fur and piercing hazel eyes that Connor found strangely familiar. They stared each other down, the other three wolves circling the she-wolf like they were waiting for something.
She’s the alpha, Conner realised dumbly.
As if she heard him, the she-wolf tilted her head back and howled into the night. Connor responded immediately, rearing back on his hind legs to roar at them. If it was a fight she wanted, it was a fight she’d get.
She gave him no warning. The other wolves continued to howl as she launched herself across the clearing towards him, her face peeling back into a snarl that he felt in his bones. Connor dodged and snarled back, swiping a massive paw at her.
The two of them were a flurry of movement - teeth and claws snatching and ripping and biting - as the other three wolves watched, growling loudly when Connor tried to put any space between them and their alpha. Connor was a good fighter. Years of getting Cody out of scrapes and protecting Eric from bullies as a kid made Connor stronger, faster, and bigger than all of his brothers.
But he couldn’t get any breathing space. Every time he blocked a bite and tried to retreat, he was lunged at again. She went for soft spots, his neck and joints. He wished he could shift back, ask them what the hell they wanted. The alpha might listen to him, but one look at the wolves at his back told him he’d be dead before he could get the question out.
Shit. Pain exploded along his left side and the she-wolf lept back out of reach, blood dripping from her maw. She was beautiful, in a savage kind of way, the vivid red blood staining the grey fur of her muzzle.
Connor staggered, losing his footing in the snow as he clutched at his side. That’s going to leave a scar, he thought. The wolf leapt again and he lashed out, catching her shoulder and spraying blood over the snow.
The fighting pair paused, panting in the moonlight. This could go on for hours, Connor thought, feeling a flare of admiration for the she-wolf. She was a strong alpha; Connor couldn’t remember the last time he’d fought someone that matched him in speed and strength. The she-wolf looked back at him and Connor was struck again by how familiar those eyes looked. Brooke’s angry face flashed through his mind and he shook his head. Now is not the time to be thinking about her.
They continued to stare at each other, neither of them willing to be the first to back down, and Connor found himself frowning. She looked… unsure. He glanced down, following her line of sight and saw the amount of blood on the ground. It looked like a massacre.
This has gotten out of hand, those eyes seemed to say. Connor had to agree. But you started it. If Connor hadn’t been here, the pack would have gone straight for the lodge. To my brothers and their mates. To the cubs. He didn’t know for sure what they were after, but this had to stop. Now.
He dropped to the ground, rolling around in the snow to pack the wound as best he could and then pulled himself up onto his hind legs and roared.
The she-wolf howled in response and then turned, fleeing the clearing with a flurry of snow, the other wolves hot on her heels.
When he finally got up to his suite, it took everything in his power not to rip the place apart. He felt restless, pacing the length of the room despite his wound flaring hot along his side. He was riled up and horny and confused. It was a shit cocktail. All he wanted to do was collapse onto his bed. His suit was ruined, caked in blood that no amount of scrubbing would be able to get out. He just wanted to sleep, but he knew he had to dress his wound. His brothers would have his hide if they found out he’d taken on the wolves without backup, alpha or no alpha, so he dragged himself to the bathroom and into the luxury shower.
As the tension and the anger melted away he was left with the hardness of his cock between his legs and a flush of adrenaline that had him reaching for it under the hot spray. He moaned, jerking himself in firm strokes, his other hand scrambling at the tiled wall behind him. He threw his head back, a dull thud echoing as it knocked against the shower wall. His eyes slid closed and he saw hazel eyes watching him as he jerked off. Brooke. Her pink, plump lower lip caught between white teeth as she watched him. Connor’s hand sped up as the Brooke in his mind dropped to her knees, her long red hair plastering to her skin under the shower spray.
“We don’t talk, Connor, we fight,” she said huskily and Connor bit his lip.
“Maybe I don’t want to fight any more,” he ground out, knowing no one could hear him. “Maybe I want to be good to you. Be good for you.”
“Can you do that?” He imagined her hand brushing his aside, sliding over his cock and he thrust up, eyes still screwed shut as he chased his orgasm. “Well, can you?” her imagined voice whispered to him.
Yes! Connor’s entire body seized, preparing, and his movements stuttered. The way he’d felt as they drank together, she was like him; they were equals. He wanted to tell her that he understood her, that he wanted her to be able to rely on him.
In his mind, Brooke laughed, deep and sexy, and bent to run the tip of her tongue over his cock.
Connor came with a groan, slumping against the wall of the shower, feeling so much better and so much worse.
62
Brooke
They were quiet on their way back to the apartment, Carlo supporting her weight as Brooke seethed in silence. She’d gone too far. A confrontation to stand her ground was one thing, but that was too close to an all-out war. Her shoulder was killing her. Connor’s bear had a hell of a right hook, and those claws were nothing to sneer at.
Brooke thought again about what Connor would say if he ever found out she was a wolf. And the alpha at that.
Arrogant dick would probably laugh at her.
When they reached her apartment, Brooke shouldered her way out of Carlo’s arms to open the door, but paused when he called her name. Carlo, Lucas, and Simon stood in a row, unharmed and safe.
“Thank you, Brooke,” Lucas said, all signs of attitude gone from his features. He looked softer this way, kinder, and closer to his age. She felt a pang of regret that he, that all their pack, had been forced to mature so quickly. He scuffed his boot uncomfortably as he continued, “For standing up for us. Just - thanks.” The other two nodded quickly and Brooke felt a swell of pride in her chest. They were good kids. She stepped forward, pulling each of them in by the back of their neck to rest her forehead against each of theirs. If they were still in wolf form, she would have rubbed up against them, but shifting caused her way too much pain right now.
“That’s what I’m here for,” she said quietly.
“Are you going to be okay?” Simon asked in a small voice.
Her arm felt like it was going to fall off but she managed a small smile.
“I’ll be fine; I’ll just sleep it off. Now, I don’t want to hear any more stories of you drifting into bear territory. As far as I’m aware, the matter is closed, you hear?”
“But what if they kick us out of neutral territory again?”
“Then I’ll have to give Connor Strauss’ ass another kicking.””
She collapsed into bed almost immediately, not caring about the blood she knew she’d get on the sheets, but it still took her hours to fall asleep.
Brooke didn’t want an all-out war with the bears, but it was becoming more tempting. Her pack had spent so long trying to find a place to belong, and they all deserved a safe place to call home. Brooke couldn’t be prouder of her pack, which had almost tripled in size over her four years of being alpha. The pack numbered around twenty now, with cubs that needed medicine and educat
ion. They needed to hunt. Brooke had thought that, finally, they’d found a home in Colorado, but here they were again, being driven closer and closer to the borders by a group of shifters with enough money and power to wipe them out completely.
She thought of Connor, swaggering through the door of Cole Couture with that knowing smirk on his face, and she sighed.
Connor Strauss was a good man. She didn’t want to admit it, wanted to focus on hating him, but she couldn’t ignore it. It was her wolves that had provoked the bears, and it was her fault for charging up there without thinking. She knew his brothers were mated, knew that they had cubs. He was protecting his sleuth. It’s exactly what she would have done.
But that didn’t make the situation right. Brooke was hot-headed, she knew that, and yeah, it had driven her to make a few decisions that she regretted, but all this territory warfare bullshit was driving her to desperation. Her top priority was - and always would be - her pack. Connor didn’t realise that he had everything, everything that she wanted, that her pack needed, and he wasn’t willing to share any of it. Bitterness clawed up her throat.
Would she even be able to keep up the banter anymore? She knew who he was, had always known, but he knew nothing about her. She was just the shop girl he liked to flirt with, and now she didn’t know if she could even be that.
The small bottle on her bedside glinted in the light and Brooke lifted her arm to grab at it, dabbing the scent suppressant behind her ears and on the skin at her wrists. She breathed the soothing, neutral scent and closed her eyes.
She dabbed herself again the next morning, a little paranoid. The idea of what would happen if Connor smelled wolf on her made her shudder.
She got into work early and spent the morning watching and waiting for Connor to stop by. Every time the bell above the door dinged Brooke would look up, heart in her throat, and every time she had to school her expression back to a pleasant smile when she met the eyes of a customer instead.
Well whatever, she thought. This is a good thing. It doesn’t matter how attractive he is - he’s a bear and he’s an asshole. And that would be that except for the small voice at the back of her head whispering but he’s not.
Brooke grew more and more restless as the day wore on. By the time lunch rolled around, she was buzzing with adrenaline and anger. Brooke slipped into an empty booth in the dining hall with a bowl of Cody’s famous pasta. She wasn’t all that hungry, but the food was a delicious distraction so she ate it slowly. Her shoulder was still throbbing. She definitely should have treated it before she’d gone to bed.
Then she heard a laugh. She looked up and there he was, talking to one of the servers, that damn cocky grin on his handsome face. He looked fine, better than fine, like nothing had happened the night before. And he was wearing a sharp black suit with a green paisley print tie. Bright colors, bold patterns. He’d taken her advice and she’d been right. The splash of color suited him even better than plain black did.
Brooke grit her teeth. How dare he look so put together when she was haggard and angry and hurting. Her wolf snarled, pissed beyond belief, and Brooke climbed unsteadily to her feet. She needed to get out of here, needed to shift and run. She could make excuses at Cole’s when she got back - Elsie wouldn’t mind if she skipped an hour or two after lunch.
Brooke started for the door but, as she passed Connor’s table - now server free - he reached out and snagged her wrist. Brooke bit her lip to hide a whimper as her shoulder shifted painfully under her sweater.
“Brooke.” He sounded happy to see her and the realization made something in her stomach lurch. He had no idea who she was, or that last night she’d nearly torn him to shreds.
“What do you want, Connor?” she bit out.
“Don’t be like that, I just wanted to check if you’re okay-” His gentle tone grated over her and Brooke found herself unable to control her rage.
“As if you care if I’m okay!” Her voice was shrill and she could feel people turning in their seats to look at the two of them, but she found she didn’t care. It felt so good to lash out. Last night she hadn’t dared to shift, to say all the things she’d wanted to, too blinded by the need to protect her pack, but now she could say whatever she wanted. “You come in to my work every day with your stupid smiles and your cocky retorts, but you have no idea what it is to be a man or a leader.” She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes and cursed herself for it. She hated how weak she felt and it drove her words, poison flying from her lips. “As if you care about anything but yourself and your stupid lodge. You really have no idea what it takes to survive, to look after people!” The entire dining hall was silent now as they watched a shop girl scream at her boss like a crappy soap opera, tears pouring down her face.
Connor hadn’t said a word, hadn’t even stood up. He just looked up at her, mouth hanging open slightly, shock and hurt filling his eyes at her words. Good, she thought venomously, stupid fucking perfect man. She tried to yank her arm out of his grasp and cried out again as the pain in her shoulder flared dangerously. Warm blood trickled down her sleeve and Connor’s eyes widened as it hit his fingertips still wrapped around Brooke’s wrist.
“What happened?”
“It’s fine. I can deal with it.”
He stood up, eyes fixed on the blood seeping through her clothes.
“You need help. Come with me.” He pulled her gently towards the dining hall exit. He was always so gentle, except for last night. But he hadn’t known that was her. Brooke fought him weakly, but the pain and the tears were quickly sapping her energy. She had no choice but to follow him up the stairs to his suite.
63
Connor
Connor’s suite was up several flights of stairs, as far away from the rest of the lodge as he could get. It wasn’t often he even slept up there - being the owner meant there weren’t many nights he could get away long enough - so when he did, Connor did his best to ensure that he wasn’t going to be disturbed.
Which made him all the more nervous as he led Brooke gently up the stairs. It had been a long time since he’d had anyone in his room, and he’d wanted Brooke there longer than he wanted to admit, but the arousal he felt was dwarfed by his frustration. It was obvious Brooke wanted nothing to do with him; her outburst in the dining hall had made that perfectly clear. Connor just couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out why.
Brooke was deathly silent beside him, allowing him to lead her gently by the wrist of her uninjured arm. He sniffed gently and grunted in relief; she wasn’t bleeding as heavily now.
He unlocked the door with one hand, still convinced she would bolt the second he let go of her, and pushed her gently into the room before closing it again behind him.
Brooke went immediately to the low leather couch by the window, but Connor stayed standing by the door. Silence once again echoed between them, and he found himself awkwardly fiddling with his tie. Bold colors and prints, he thought faintly. See, I do listen.
He hated this. He and Brooke fought, it was what they did, but there was never any actual anger behind it, at least on his side. Apparently, she had a lot of anger, and he felt ashamed for not noticing before. He liked her wit, and the way her eyes would shine when she gave a particularly droll come back.
Connor wasn’t vain, not really, but he knew the rumors that went around about him and his brothers. He also knew that on some level, the rumors were true. He took pride in his sleuth - they were hard working and easy on the eye and, yeah, they had cash to burn, but part of the reason Connor liked Brooke was that she didn’t care about any of that. He’d thought she didn’t, anyway.
A pained hiss brought him back to the present, and he watched as Brooke tested her bad shoulder, pretty face contorting as a fresh stream of blood trickled down her arm. Anger flashed through him. Connor grit his teeth against a growl as he went to find his first aid kit.
He’d had his fair share of fights, more and more over the past year as, one by one, his brothers found th
eir mates through increasingly dangerous circumstances, so now he kept a pretty well stocked first aid kit in his suite.
This is fucking ridiculous, he thought to himself. We haven’t said two words to each other since we got up here, and she looks like she’d rather be anywhere else. But Connor couldn’t just let her leave. Brooke was hurt, and no matter how much she might hate him, there was no way he could just leave her or kick her out. Her words played over and over in his mind. You really have no idea what it takes to survive, to look after people! He had no idea what she’d meant by that. Was there something he was missing?
On the way back from grabbing the first aid kit, he paused at the bathroom doorway. Brooke had found her way in there and pulled off her sweater and blouse, leaving her perched on the side of the tub in nothing but a frilly bra and her black pencil skirt, which made her skin look even creamier. His eyes roamed across her; he’d never seen so much of her skin before.
Connor bit his lip, mentally shaking himself. This was not the time to get turned on. There were four angry red slashes running up and down her arm, though the blood was finally starting to staunch. Brooke pulled her long red hair over one shoulder and he caught a whiff of her intoxicating, earthy scent, eyes nearly rolling back in his head at how delicious it was.
“Motherfucker that hurts,” she hissed, gingerly prodding at one of the gashes. Connor winced in sympathy and she looked up at him with a half-hearted glare. He took a tentative step into the bathroom, the first aid kit raised like a peace offering.
“Let me help you,” he almost begged.
Brooke tensed. “I don’t need your help,” she snapped, holding out her hand for the first aid kit.
He huffed, mouth tight, but handed it over and retreated back to the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest, mumbling under his breath, “Stubborn little-”
Billionaire Bear Shifters: A Paranormal Romance Complete Series Boxset Page 40
