What A Wolf Dares (Lux Catena Series Book 2)

by Amy Pennza

  “Sophie? Are you okay in there?”

  “Y-yes. Sorry.” Her hand slipped on the knob. She looked down and caught a glimpse of her shadowed nipples under the shirt. Hands trembling, she pulled her hair over her breasts.

  “No need to apologize!” Lizette said through the door. “I’m a Healer. Remy asked me to look over your injuries.” Amusement entered her tone. “So I guess this is a routine house call.”

  Hair in place, Sophie swung open the door. Whoa. There was nothing routine about Lizette. Sophie had never met her, but everyone had seen photos of Max’s human-raised bride. Still, pictures didn’t do her justice. Her face was flawless, with high cheekbones and dark brows that arched over deep blue eyes. Like most female wolves, she was tall and slender, but she had a delicate bone structure that lent her an otherworldly air.

  Sophie realized she was staring. “Hi. I’m Sophie Gregory.”

  Lizette’s smile was warm. “I’m so happy to meet you, Sophie.” She looked at the shorter woman next to her. “This is Haley Michaels. She’s a member of the New York Territory.”

  Haley gave a little wave. “Hey.”

  “Hi,” Sophie said. Whereas Lizette seemed close to Sophie’s age, Haley looked to be in her late teens. She didn’t have Lizette’s striking beauty, but she held her own. Her light brown curls were pulled back in a loose ponytail that hung halfway down her back. While Lizette’s complexion was a flawless porcelain, Haley’s was a smooth olive that made her blue eyes stunning in her heart-shaped face.

  Lizette darted a look over Sophie’s shoulder. “Mind if we come in?”

  “Oh.” Heat crept into Sophie’s cheeks. Here she was, gawking at them in the hallway. “Of course.” She stepped back so the women could enter the room. Cooking smells wafted up the stairs as she shut the door. When she faced them, Haley stood near the bed, her jaw slack as she gazed around.

  “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Remy isn’t half bad at decorating.”

  “Well, don’t tell him,” Lizette said. She shot a conspiratorial look at Sophie. “He’s a sucker for compliments, to put it mildly.”

  Sophie brushed a hand over the top of the dresser. “The cabin really is beautiful. Has he lived here long?”

  “He built it about five years ago.”

  “He built it?”

  Lizette nodded. “He did almost all of the work himself.”

  Jeez. Sophie viewed the cabin’s soaring ceilings and thick rafters with new eyes. At the same time, a pit formed in her stomach. Remy was already handsome and charming. He was bilingual—a native French speaker, of all things. And he’d shown he was ready to break pack rules and possibly face his Alpha’s wrath by helping her.

  Did he have to be an expert craftsman, too? What must she look like next to him? Aside from a knack for flying under the radar whenever her father announced a pack gathering, she boasted no special talents or enviable features.

  Her face must have revealed the direction of her thoughts, because Lizette put a hand on her shoulder. “Remy told us a bit of why you’re here and what you went through.”

  Guilt rose, thick and heavy, in Sophie’s gut. Not only had Remy put himself on the line by helping her, now Lizette was prepared to do the same. They were practically strangers, and they were offering support and compassion at great personal risk.

  She forced herself to meet Lizette’s gaze. “Yes. I’m…” She shook her head as embarrassment made her cheeks flush.

  Lizette gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay, Sophie. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to. Let’s start with the healing, okay? I assume you’ve worked with a Healer before?”

  “Oh yes. Once when I broke my wrist as a child, and another time when I hit my head.” More heat warmed her cheeks, and she mumbled, “I fell off a bunk bed.”

  Haley chuckled. “That’s nothing. Lizette fell off a balcony a couple months ago.”

  “It was a controlled fall,” Lizette said, guiding Sophie to the bed. “And it was either that or murder Max for trying to keep me prisoner in the Lodge.”

  Sophie sat on the edge of the bed. “He tried to keep you prisoner?” Somehow, she couldn’t imagine anyone having the guts to cross Lizette—not even the formidable New York Alpha.

  “Yes, he did,” Lizette said, grinning. “And he learned the hard way to never do it again.” She jerked a thumb toward Haley, who hovered behind her. “By the way, do you mind if Haley watches while I work? She’s newly Turned and doesn’t have her Gift yet.”

  Haley made a face. “That’s just Lizette’s polite way of saying former latent.”

  “Being a latent is nothing to be ashamed of,” Lizette said. Her tone was firm, but her expression was guarded as she made eye contact with Sophie.

  It took a second to realize why. She’s uncertain how I’ll react. Latents didn’t hold a comfortable position in werewolf society—or any position at all, really. In a species that prized the ability to Turn, anyone who couldn’t was suspect.

  The thought triggered another in Sophie’s mind. There had been rumors that Max’s bride was more than a Healer, that she possessed a rare, second Gift. Sophie’s father had spent more than one long evening discussing it with his Beta and senior Hunters. She wasn’t supposed to know about those meetings, but she’d made a habit of listening in the shadows outside the study door after he started trying to match her up with Alphas’ sons.

  Lizette cleared her throat, startling Sophie out of her memories. “So…do you mind?” Lizette asked.

  Sophie looked between the two women. “Sorry, what?”

  “If Haley observes?” Lizette’s look of concern deepened.

  Did she think Sophie was some spoiled Alpha’s daughter who would turn up her nose at Haley? Sophie suppressed a snort. If only she knew…

  “I don’t have to,” Haley said quickly, obviously misinterpreting Sophie’s silence as reluctance.

  “No, no.” Sophie waved a hand. “I don’t mind at all. Do you think you might be a Healer?”

  “Who knows,” Haley said with a laugh. “Maybe I don’t have a Gift at all. I mean, it’s been almost a year since Lizette Turned me—” She clapped a hand over her mouth and looked at Lizette. “Oops,” she said from behind her hand.

  Lizette sighed. “Well, that cat’s out of the bag.”

  “I won’t tell anyone,” Sophie said. “Although, you should know word has already gotten around.”

  “Yeah, I know. Max suspected that would happen. The New York Territory has always had more latents Turn than anywhere else.” Lizette took a deep breath. “Because of me. My parents had the same Gift, although I didn’t know anything about it until a few months ago.”

  “My father called it a weapon,” Sophie said. Maybe she shouldn’t have shared that, but some instinct made her feel a closer kinship to Lizette than to her birth pack.

  “Max suspected that, too.” Lizette tilted her head. “I suppose other Alphas might think of it that way, but Max has no intention of Turning a bunch of latents and creating a private army. For one thing, Turning people drains me for days. Besides that, it doesn’t always work.”

  Haley piped up. “There are also a lot of purebreds who won’t accept a latent, even after they’ve Turned.”

  “There’s no such thing as a purebred,” Lizette said, her tone making it clear she’d voiced the same argument before. “There are just wolves who need a little more…help than others.”

  “Yeah, well, tell that to the guys at the Lodge.”

  Lizette bumped her shoulder against Haley’s. “Give them some time. All guys are dumb at your age.” She looked at Sophie. “I used to teach college students, so I know of what I speak.”

  Haley shot Sophie a commiserating look. “My man troubles are legendary.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she sucked in a breath. Pink tinged her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Sophie. After what you’ve been through…”

  “It’s okay.” Actually, the ordinary chatter wa
s comforting. Like most Alphas, her father didn’t accept female Hunters, which meant there were few women around the house. Lizette and Haley were so open and friendly, it was easy to forget her troubles.

  Lizette pushed her hair over her shoulders. “Let’s take care of these marks, okay?”

  Sophie angled her right shoulder forward, and Lizette knelt on the floor next to the bed. She pulled the T-shirt off Sophie’s shoulder and placed a warm palm against her skin.

  “Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  Lizette closed her eyes, and a furrow appeared between her dark brows. Heat grew under her palm. Sophie’s skin tingled, and she held her breath. The white tips of Lizette’s fangs peeked between her lips. Little beads of sweat dotted her forehead.

  The heat built…and built. Sophie gritted her teeth. If this went on much longer, she’d have to yank her shoulder away. Just as she twitched her arm, a blast of heat fired from Lizette’s palm. She opened her eyes and lifted her hand away, taking the heat with her.

  Sophie tucked her chin and swiveled her head so she could survey the damage—only there wasn’t any. Where puncture marks had dotted her shoulder and upper back, there was now a smooth expanse of unblemished skin.

  Lizette smiled, revealing elongated fangs. Her eyes shone wolf blue. “That’s better.”

  “Wow…” Abruptly, Sophie realized she’d yet to say the ritual words required after a healing. “My thanks for the gift, Healer.”

  “It was freely given.” Lizette stood and gestured to Sophie’s other shoulder. “I probably got the left side, too, but I might have to do another round for the rest of your back.”

  Sophie shrugged the shirt back over her shoulder. “The marks didn’t go down that far. When Asher…” The words stuck in her throat. She swallowed and forced herself to continue. “When he bit me, he always said he wanted to make sure I could see it.” A “reminder” he’d called it when he hissed in her ear.

  The other women looked horrified. Haley’s throat worked for a second, then she whispered, “Cocksucker.”

  “Yes, he is,” Remy said from the other side of the door.

  Lizette glanced at Sophie, then went to the door and opened it. “Eavesdropping?”

  He scowled, but there was no malice in it. “I was getting ready to knock.” To Sophie, he said, “Pancakes are ready. I hope you like blueberries.”

  “I do.” Good grief, why did her voice sound so husky? It definitely didn’t have anything to do with the way he filled the entire doorway, his broad shoulders wider than the frame.

  “Are we invited?” Haley asked, eyebrows raised in a hopeful expression.

  “We should get back,” Lizette said. She gave Remy a meaningful look. “Before Max gets home.”

  “Good idea.”

  Lizette held Remy’s gaze for a moment. It was almost as if some unspoken exchange passed between them. In light of Remy’s Gift, that’s probably exactly what happened—assuming the burnout he described was gone.

  Remy shifted his feet. “Call if you hear anything, okay?”

  “I will,” Lizette said. She turned to Sophie. “You should eat something, and make sure you drink plenty of fluids.”

  It was standard Healer advice. Something about the accelerated healing they performed exhausted the body’s energy reserves. As if on cue, Sophie’s stomach growled.

  Remy smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of her.”

  Haley brushed Sophie’s arm as she headed toward the door. “It was great meeting you, Sophie. I hope you feel better.”

  “Thanks.” Sophie tore her gaze away from Remy. His “I’ll take care of her” resonated in her mind, the words bouncing off the inside of her head like the dinging of a bell.

  Lizette gave Sophie a quick hug. She pulled back, her hands light on Sophie’s arms. “If you need anything at all, let me know, okay? Remy knows how to reach me without Max finding out.”

  Doubt shot through Sophie. It was wrong to put Lizette in this position.

  Lizette must have sensed her misgivings, because she gave Sophie’s arms a gentle squeeze. “I mean it. No arguing. Say, ‘okay, Lizette, I’ll call you if I need you.’”

  Sophie had to smile. “Okay, Lizette, I’ll call you if I need you.”

  “Good.” Lizette dropped her gaze to Sophie’s shoulder, which was once again exposed by the oversized shirt. “Pretty nice work, if I do say so myself.”

  “So modest,” Remy murmured. He stepped back so Haley and Lizette could pass him. When they were in the hall, he raised a questioning eyebrow at Sophie. “Hungry?”

  She touched her stomach. “Starved.”

  He winked. “I think I can help there.”

  8

  Sophie’s mouth watered as Remy piled a plate high with pancakes at the kitchen’s island.

  Or maybe it was the wink he’d given her upstairs that was making her practically drool on the table. After Lizette and Haley left, he helped her downstairs and pulled back a dining room chair, telling her to stay put while he got her food.

  Her stomach rumbled again, and he looked up, a smile tugging at his lips.

  “You want syrup?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Butter?”

  “Yes.” Why not? Something made her add, “My mom never keeps the real stuff in the house.”

  He paused in the act of drizzling syrup over the pancakes, his green eyes meeting hers. “Margarine?”

  “She says butter is empty calories.”

  “Yeah, but margarine is made of cow hooves or something.”

  Sophie laughed. “I think it’s mostly vegetable oil.”

  “Well, it probably tastes the same.” He scooped up two plates of pancakes and brought them to the table. As he set hers down, the stack wobbled. With the wolf’s grace, he quickly lowered his plate to the table and then steadied her pancakes with his thumb.

  “Ah, damn,” he said, lifting his hand away. “I stuck my finger in your syrup.”

  “It’s okay. I’m sure you washed your hands.”

  “I assure you, I did,” he said, then sucked the dollop of syrup off his thumb.

  A tingling awareness started in her belly and drifted down. Did he know how he affected her? She looked at her plate.

  He snapped his fingers, and she jerked her head up. “I forgot drinks,” he said, heading back to the kitchen.

  What kind of man had an ass like that? She gnawed her lower lip as he bent over the island and grabbed two mason jars filled with ice water. Her dating life was about as threadbare as an old blanket, but she’d been with enough guys to know that most males couldn’t boast much in the rear end department.

  Remy was not among those ranks.

  He turned, and she quickly focused on her plate.

  Ice clinked as he set the jars on the table. “I hope water is okay. Lizette said you’re probably dehydrated.”

  With a start, she realized she hadn’t felt even the slightest urge to pee since she woke up. She grabbed her water and drank.

  “Good girl,” he said, his tone approving. He tugged the white cloth napkin from under her knife and fork, snapped it out, and settled it over her lap.

  She lowered her glass. “You don’t have to wait on me.”

  He hooked a chair with his foot and sat. “I know,” he said, unfolding his own napkin. “I want to.”

  Before she could think of a suitable reply, he picked up his own knife and fork and dug into his pancakes like a starving man.

  With an inward shrug, she cut a piece and ate it. A fat blueberry burst in her mouth, the juice mingling with the sweet syrup. The pancakes were exactly as pancakes should be—fluffy and moist, with a thin, buttery crust. A moan escaped her before she could catch it.

  Remy smiled around the bite he was chewing. “I’m good, huh?”

  She swallowed. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”

  He shrugged as he used a forkful of pancake to mop up syrup. “Just trial and error, I guess. The Hun
ters take turns cooking at the Lodge. When I moved out here, I had to fend for myself.” His eyes twinkled. “I also watch a lot of The Great British Bake Off.”

  Surprise bolted through her. “I love that show.”

  “Especially when Paul is savage.”

  They smiled at each other. He lifted his water and extended it toward her for a toast. She laughed and clinked her glass against his.

  For the next few minutes, they ate in easy silence, the only sounds the scrape of cutlery on plates, punctuated by the occasional tinkle of ice shifting in the mason jars. When she couldn’t manage another bite, she pushed her plate back.

  “I can’t believe I ate six pancakes. My mother would have a cow if she found out.”

  Remy wiped his mouth. “Why?”

  Heat crept up Sophie’s neck. Talk about opening a door she most definitely did not want to walk through. To buy some time, she grabbed her water. As she tipped it back, ice sloshed to the rim. A too-large gulp shot underneath and went down her throat. She choked, then lapsed into a violent, sputtering coughing fit. She turned sideways in her chair so she wouldn’t hack all over the table.

  Remy was at her side in a second. He crouched in front of her, one big hand on her back. “Easy…easy.”

  Her eyes watered as mortification swept her. Could she be more of a fumbling idiot? She couldn’t even sit through a meal without embarrassing herself. Real tears mixed with the ones trickling down her face.

  “Here,” he said, grabbing her glass. “Take another drink.”

  She accepted the water and sipped. The tickle in her throat faded. “I’m—” She coughed, then shook her head. “I’m…so…sorry.” She set the glass down before she spilled it all over him.

  Even kneeling, his position put his head at her shoulder level. He huffed a soft laugh. “Nothing to be sorry about, silly.”

  “I…” A lingering flutter made her cough. She put her fist to her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe if she sat that way long enough, he’d disappear and she could die in peace. She opened her eyes.