She yawned and tipped her head into his chest. “Nah, it’s just more weight to worry about when I’m having an off day.”
“And you’re having an off day?”
She nodded in slow dips of her chin as her eyes closed in long blinks. She looked like a kid who’d stayed up past bedtime. Speaking of which…
“How old are you?”
She closed her eyes, but scowled. “Twenty-four.”
“I’m almost a decade older than you.” Still, she was much older than he’d given her credit for—it was a relief. Not that he was going to do anything about it, but it’d make being attracted to her less disturbing.
“So. I’ll probably die a decade early—so it’s like we’re the same age.”
He stopped in the middle of the hall. “You will?”
She shrugged. “Maybe. I have multiple sclerosis. There’s new research and treatments out all the time, so maybe not.”
“Are they expensive?” If it was about money, he had money. His contracting business was well in the black year after year. Even if it was the off-season, they’d made enough during the summer for everyone to take some of the winter off—he had money.
Without his Lycan hearing, he wouldn’t have heard her mumble, “They’re mostly experimental or don’t always work.”
Nudging open the door with his foot, he didn’t bother with the lights. He didn’t need lights. He set her gingerly down on the bed in the light spilling in from the hall. She was too fragile. He’d break her if he wasn’t careful.
When he pulled away, his sleeve stayed gripped in her fist. Her hand was warm under his as he tried to unwind her fingers from the fabric. Her soft skin sent electric shocks of awareness up along his nerves. He’d never wanted anyone half as much as he wanted her. The lust felt richer and deeper—and as heart-pounding and right as a sprint in the forest on a moon-drenched night. All of his Lycan nature growled “mine” whenever she was near. The strength of the scent-match’s power in contrast to the fine bones of her small hand was a reminder that this couldn’t work. Fierce versus fragile—this had mistake written all over it. Feeling her gaze on him, he looked up.
Her drowsy green eyes were focused on him. “Stay,” she mouthed.
“I can’t.” She couldn’t ask that of him. He’d told Vanessa he wasn’t ever going to see her again a few days ago, and then she’d shown up tonight like an unasked-for, but very much wanted, gift. His blood had been on a low boil since she’d arrived, and his brain had bypassed his will. Damn, he’d told her he wanted to keep her, and that wasn’t even the half of it. He wanted to possess her. He wanted this tiny, fragile female under him, moaning his name. This was madness. He wasn’t sleeping, wasn’t eating. He was losing his mind. He couldn’t stay in this room with her.
“Stay,” she said again—this time louder.
He was an Alpha. Leader of the pack. He was the one everyone submitted to—and he couldn’t say no to a female who weighed a hundred pounds when she was wet. He tried to be more firm as he said “I can’t” but if it worked, the difference was negligible at best.
“Why? What are you hiding?”
He tried to tug his sleeve from her hand. “Nothing.” She had a firm grip for someone half asleep.
“Coward.”
He glanced up at this and the wolf roared up within him. He could take a lot, but direct challenges tripped his instinct, and he’d been keeping his wolf caged for days because it wanted her—it wanted its mate.
Her eyes widened.
The pounding of the primal side of him—a drumbeat of adrenaline and his heart rate—increased as he felt a surge of awareness from her. He inhaled, trying to tame the beast, but it only brought her scent into him—that scent, already heavenly on its own, was tinged with a new flavor. Brown sugar, vanilla…and then the scent of an excited Christa.
Mine.
Mate.
They both closed the distance between their mouths. She pressed her hands on either side of his face as their lips touched. He’d intended to keep his eyes open—to see this, because it would be the only time, but he couldn’t keep them open. Some things were meant to be savored…and Christa was a dessert he shouldn’t be tasting, but couldn’t resist. Her bowed lips were so sweetly feminine as they pressed and pulled. Then her tongue swept along his lower lip, and with a groan, he opened his mouth. She was that dessert—she tasted as good as he expected, and she leaned in eagerly as their tongues touched.
No. He had more control than this.
He had more respect than this—for her, for himself. He was not a slave to his instincts. He was Alpha, dammit.
Jordan pulled back, and she slipped forward before she grabbed the side of the bed. When she went to catch his sleeve, he’d already stood up. It wasn’t a retreat. He’d tasted what she had to offer, and now he was done. That was it. And that couldn’t happen again. Ever. “That shouldn’t have happened. It won’t. Again.”
Her eyes searched his for a moment before she looked down. “I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone not want to want me as much as you do.” Her eyes looked suspiciously bright, and she blinked rapidly.
Being gutted alive by a poacher couldn’t be this painful. It was for the best. One of them had to be logical. She had no idea what she’d be getting into. “Christa, you don’t understand.”
She shook her head and then dropped it on the pillow while closing her eyes. “Just…never mind. I’ll leave in the morning. I’ll take my cat. I’ll figure something out.”
“It’s complicated.”
She scowled without opening her eyes. “It’s really not complicated at all. Not everyone looks forward to adding a potential burden to their lives.”
“It’s not you…”
She moved fast. Opening her eyes, she jerked up onto her elbows and snarled, “Don’t you dare, Jordan. Don’t you dare say ‘it’s not you, it’s me.’” Her eyes sparked fire, and he understood the appeal Dane and Vanessa found in arguing. She looked beautiful, passionate, and alive—and he’d already been mesmerized by her looks. “I can take that from a lot of guys, but from you, it’s just an insult to my intelligence because we don’t even know each other well enough for you to think that—or for you to think you’re hiding something nearly as disabling to a relationship as I am. So saying that is a damn lie.”
Vanessa had mentioned that Dane hadn’t told his family yet. It was a lot to spring on a human family. They’d find out eventually, slowly, and always shockingly—but he couldn’t let Christa think her MS was making him back off.
“First of all,” he said, “I’ve tried to kill your brother, twice. That’s why he doesn’t want us having anything to do with each other.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re lying—he wouldn’t let you around Vanessa if that were true.”
Jordan shrugged. “Extenuating circumstances. Secondly, I’ve had some spectacular failures in relationships that your brother has seen, and they’ve led me to decide I should just not…try them.”
She swallowed. “But you’re not in a relationship now, are you?”
“No.” It suddenly hit him. Those questions about the clothes. Hell, he was so dense…and not getting enough sleep. Of course she wouldn’t want to wear cast-offs from other women. Also, it was a relief she didn’t think he was a cross-dresser. “No, I haven’t been in a relationship for almost two years.”
She wrinkled up her nose. “But…still…that’s not anything that even compares to…”
The Hansens were stubborn. He should have known it’d come down to his trump card. Well, hell, she’d find out eventually anyway. At least this way, she’d know it wasn’t her MS.
“And then there’s this…” He took a step back and shifted. One minute, he was a man—the next, a large black wolf beside a pile of clothes.
Christa’s eyes widened and she stared. “Oh, well…” Then, she wrinkled up her nose and tilted her head. “You know, I’d actually considered that, but there’s no way to ask that
without sounding insane.”
The black wolf stared. Jordan’s primal intelligence had been expecting panic and shock. This amused acceptance was…confusing.
His mate scooted farther back in the bed with a yawn. “So, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, can you stay?”
He didn’t move.
His female leaned forward and whistled while patting the bed.
There was a brief fight between his stubborn human intelligence and the instinctual desire to be with his female. Also…she’d just whistled. His pride couldn’t fight the altered primal mind-set. Mine. Mate. Mine. The black wolf jumped on the bed and lay down beside her.
“See, only you were making it complicated,” she said on another yawn before she leaned down and grabbed a blanket at the foot of the bed, which she pulled over them. “I hog the blankets, so you’ll need to steal them back if you want them.”
The wolf wrinkled up his snout and was content…and very confused.
Chapter Four
He woke up slowly and smiled. Waking up meant he’d slept…and he was energized, strengthened like he’d recovered from an illness. He felt like an Alpha. He hadn’t felt this great in a long time—maybe even two years, maybe never—like he could lift a truck over his head and throw it. He’d even had this incredibly sensual dream that was so real, he could almost taste it. Mmm.
Stretching required moving a head covered in soft, messy brown hair nestled on his arm—but what really caught his attention was the hand that slid down along his stomach as he stretched. Jordan’s eyes flew open.
Damn.
He’d been planning on leaving Christa’s bed after she’d gone to sleep—instead, he’d fallen asleep and shifted at some point…and his clothes were currently on the side of the bed.
Moving as slowly and silently as he could, he plucked her hand from his stomach and slid out from beneath the covers. If he was lucky, she’d slept all night, and he could get out of here without her waking up.
He turned his back on her to slide on the jeans beside the bed and felt the tingles of awareness from being watched. When he twisted to look, Christa’s green eyes were on him—very much awake.
Dane was going to castrate him.
Christa smiled unrepentantly.
“Enjoying the show?” he asked.
“Well, you’re going too fast and my view isn’t optimal, but yes, thank you for asking.”
He winced. Dane would be justified in castrating him.
Christa sat up and stretched like a cat—like her damn cat, which he’d agreed to keep for her. It was a small price to pay to get her out of here, but it’d also pull her into his life. It was going to be hard enough getting her out of his every waking thought, without having that cat between them.
“It’s not like I haven’t seen it anyway,” she said, smirking. “You’ve been here naked since around midnight when I let Lucifer out for a couple minutes—you sleep fairly deeply.”
“And apparently without covering up.”
“Oh, you had the blanket on, but I looked underneath it.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it when nothing came to mind. There was no one like Christa.
She was still openly meeting his eyes. He had members of his pack who’d never met his eyes. It was…bizarre.
“Your brother is going to have me neutered—you know that, right?”
“Well, I wasn’t going to hand him measurements and a map to accomplish it if that’s what you’re worried about. I didn’t look for that long.”
He slapped a hand to his head. His world was on its ass. He should have put her in her place, forced her to show deference. Instead, he wanted her place to be right where it was, in his bed. And he had this irrational need to please her. It felt all wrong and very right at the same time. He hadn’t felt this way about a woman since…ever.
He had things to do. Things that couldn’t be impacted by a tiny elfin girl who smelled like brown sugar. Someone had to pay for what happened two years ago. That hadn’t changed. He’d continue to do his penance, but he was dragging those bloody poachers down with him.
The last thing he needed right now was Christa.
But apparently no one had told her that, because she was here.
And he’d slept naked beside her.
Hell.
“Women are allowed to look,” she stated.
“And why is that?” he asked, shaking his head.
“Well, there’s that whole aspect of ‘being a gentleman’ where you’re supposed to turn your back when a woman is dressing, but there’s nothing like that to being a lady—we’re just supposed to sit with our legs crossed, have good table manners, and not use too much profanity…and hell, I manage that most of the time. I figure looking whenever you’re offered an opportunity is one of the perks of being female. It almost makes up for the PMS and the fact that we have to wear bras.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Yeah, you are, too. I mean, really, if ever there was a time to look under the blanket…”
“I’m going to be like this pelt on the floor that your brother kicks in the head when he walks by…”
“Hopefully it’ll be from when you’re a wolf, because even that’s a little gross, but otherwise, that’s like Hannibal Lecter levels of disturbing.”
It drew a smile from his lips. It was the best night’s sleep of his life, but he’d be paying for it in spades. Then a horrible but also wonderful thought occurred to him. No…but…no…there was no way.
“I had this dream last night…” He trailed off, hoping she’d need him to fill in the gaps, but he knew from her smile—her wide, wide smile—that there were no gaps to fill in.
“Nope, we made out for a while in the middle of the night. But in my defense, you started it, and I thought you were awake up until you started talking about pancakes. You put up a good show of being awake.” She closed her eyes and moaned in a deep tone. “Ahhh, Christa, you smell so good. Mmm, yeah, Christa.”
Even her horrible impression of him was turning him on.
She opened her eyes and met his gaze…again. No one met his gaze when he looked at them like this—the outraged, long-lasting stare with eyebrows raised—no one. Even Vanessa, who sucked at showing deference, would have looked down. It made him more outraged and more aroused that she didn’t.
“You kept saying my name over and over—so that was good. It’d be weird if you were calling me by another name, but I also figured it meant you were awake.”
Then, she raised an eyebrow—this tiny female with her demon cat and her brown sugar scent held his gaze and raised an eyebrow.
“Because really, for the most part, we just met last night…so why would you be saying my name in your sleep?”
He closed his eyes. Aw. Hell. He’d been thinking over the last week that there had to be some mistake; the scent-match was flawed…because Christa couldn’t possibly be the alpha female intended for him. Christa couldn’t possibly be an alpha female—she was tiny, and obviously, her health would seem to suggest there’d be stronger females meant to be Alpha in the pack. But none of his previous choices for alpha female would have cut him off at the knees like that. When he opened his eyes, he could see she knew who’d won, too. Even if he hadn’t also lost their staring match, she’d clearly won.
He dropped onto the bed. “I am so screwed. I’m painting a target on my forehead for your brother. Maybe I’ll even load his gun.” His sigh brought more of her delicious scent into his lungs. “Hell, you smell good.” Closing his eyes, he shook his head. That was meant to be said inside his head, not out loud. Great.
The bed jostled as she crawled up behind him, pressed herself against his back, and put her arms around his neck. Mmm. He’d pull away in a second…when he dredged up some self-respect, when he wasn’t this whipped version of himself.
“You keep mentioning how I smell, which is flattering—I mean, it’s good that I don’t reek, even first thing i
n the morning, but what’s with that? Is it a wolfman thing or just a fetish?”
“Nothing. There is nothing with that.” His adamancy as good as proclaimed it was a lie. He might as well have shouted, Christa, pay attention to this—because it’ll really bring me down.
“My brother was shouting something about a scent-match in the hospital—I mean, really shouting. I thought men with white coats were going to come in and offer to sedate him. And Vanessa and I kept passing looks back and forth like we wouldn’t complain if they did give him a little something, but Dane seemed fairly lucid.”
Her breath tickled his neck—and that damn scent-match worked against his inhibitions. He wanted to take her, own her, bind her to him. In that, the Alpha inside him was relentless and vicious. This need to possess her was shredding his will. And his ability to think clearly. Though the stroke of her thumb against his collarbone wasn’t helping. Blinking, he focused. He was an alpha wolf—he could do this. He could resist her…with her soft body pressed against his back. Damn, nature hadn’t short-changed her in curves, even if it had in stature.
Focus, Jordan.
“What did he mean by scent-match?”
“Uhh, it was nothing.” A hideous understatement, considering how that instinctual bond was making his muscles bunch as he suppressed it—and he’d been going without sleep for almost a week up until last night.
“No, I have a pretty good memory, and he said something like, ‘Oh, hell no, he didn’t just scent-match on my sister.’”
“Your brother was shouting things so we’d stay away from each other.”
“Huh.” She sat back. “So I guess I’ll have to go ask him. ‘Dane, so, Jordan and I slept together last night, and you kept mentioning a scent-match before…is that significant?’”
Jordan shook his head. “My hell, woman, do you ever attack with anything less than a full arsenal? I’ve fought bears and walked away without a scratch, but you’ve left me a bloody mess on the carpet.” He hit the bed with a fist as he threw a peeved glance over his shoulder.
“I tend to win arguments.”
“I don’t know why I’m bothering. Maybe you’d like to shoot the gun on your brother’s behalf.”
This Weakness For You (Entangled Select Otherworld) (Taming the Pack) Page 5
