Running from the Wolves (Wolfsbane Book 1)

by Lola Glass

  Roman scrubbed his hand over his face.

  “Alright. I can be patient.”

  I waited for the ‘but’.

  “You’re expecting me to say something that pisses you off so you can yell at me again.” He said. It was an accusation, though he seemed almost amused when he made it.

  “I’m not entirely unreasonable.” I shot back.

  “But you’re confident I’m just like whatever abusive Alphas you’ve known.” He worked his jaw back and forth. “I’ve never used my strength to force anyone to do something. I think the wolf in you knows that, and it’s the reason you want me.”

  Roman strode away. If he thought he was going to leave me naked and alone in the man-made indoor forest after a comment like that, he was in for a rude awakening.

  “I don’t want you.” I snapped, hurrying to catch up with him.

  “Liar.” Roman called me out. I smacked him on the arm and his mouth tilted upward.

  “You’re too cocky for your own good.”

  “Cocky?” the Alpha shot me an amused look. “Nice word choice.”

  I can admit my gaze flicked down before I forced my eyes back to his. If my face was hot before, it was legitimately on fire now.

  “Would you rather I just straight up tell you you’re a dick?”

  “Considering they both refer to the same part of me, I don’t think it really matters.”

  When I scoffed, he chuckled.

  We approached the clothes bush and I grabbed my shorts and bra off the floor, stepping into a dense patch of trees to pull them back on. Roman had already seen me naked, but letting him watch me get dressed seemed a lot more intimate.

  I strode out from the cover of the trees, much more confident while covered. Roman had put a pair of gray sweats on and was pulling a white t-shirt over his head.

  “What are you wearing?” Roman tensed like he had in his office before he stormed off and left me napping on his couch. I glanced down at my favorite strappy black sports bra and my floral-print lounge shorts.

  “Bra,” I pointed to my chest, “shorts.” My finger dropped down to the waistband.

  He growled at me. Why we were growling was beyond me, but I growled back.

  “Tell me you haven’t been walking around the building in that.”

  I looked down again, checking for boobs or ass cheeks hanging out of the clothes. Nope; I was covered modestly enough. Nothing was see-through, my nipples weren’t sticking out…

  Yeah, he had me baffled with that one.

  “Why would I need to tell you that?”

  “We’ve got more than three hundred single male wolves in this building, Henley.” He took my hand and towed me into the elevator, and I let him because I was still trying to figure out why what I had on was an issue. “You smell like sex on a stick, you can’t just walk around looking like it too.”

  I blinked rapidly.

  “What?”

  He shot me a frustrated glare.

  “I have a hard enough time keeping everyone from killing each other without men fighting over you.”

  “Rewind back to where you said I smell like—what was it, sex on a stick? What does that even mean?” my nose wrinkled at the man who’d said it. He shoved a hand over his buzzed head.

  Why was his lack of hair so attractive to me?

  “No one’s ever mentioned the way your smell affects unmated males?”

  “Not that I can remember, and I’m pretty sure I’d remember that.”

  Roman shoved his hands in his pockets, his face reddening just a little. I liked seeing the big confident Alpha squirm.

  “Your scent draws single guys like flies to honey. I’ve had to knock out eight of them when they went on a rampage after catching your scent already.”

  His words had me reeling.

  Did this have something to do with why I suppressed my pack’s shifting? And why I had a period when it wasn’t mating season?

  “My honey-smell works on you too, doesn’t it?”

  Was the room spinning? It had to be spinning.

  He didn’t deny it. The doors opened on my floor and I stepped out, forcing myself to act normal.

  “Thanks for telling me about the scent thing, but if you ever try to tell me I’m not allowed to wear something again I will knee you in the balls so hard you’ll never have kids.”

  I left the Alpha in the elevator, strolling down the hallway as if I wasn’t about to spend twenty minutes in my room breathing into a paper bag just to calm myself down.

  SIX

  I called in sick to work and stayed in my room for an entire week after Roman’s revelation about my flies-to-honey smell. No way did I want to start collecting flies, even if they were six-foot-tall men with eight packs and biceps larger than my cat.

  Okay, I just made up the cat thing. I don’t actually have a cat. But that’s beside the point. Regardless of how attractive the men were, I didn’t want them near me.

  Dodging phone calls and ignoring knocks at the door was a piece of cake. Roman came by a few times, but when I yelled,

  “Not home.” He got the message that I wanted to be alone.

  I could’ve stayed in my apartment for at least another week, but a slight problem arose.

  I ran out of toilet paper.

  And food, but that wasn’t nearly as important as the toilet paper.

  Texting Arla or one of the other enforcers for more was definitely an option, but it felt like admitting defeat. Plus, they might ask me why I was hiding and I didn’t want to talk about horny virgin werewolves and smelling like sex on a stick.

  So I took the coward’s way out. Peeking into the hallway, I made sure the space was single-dude-free before I stepped out to knock on my neighbor’s door. Jamie pulled it open and her eyebrows lifted.

  “Oh, you live here?” I gave her an awkward tight smile. “Sorry to bug you, but quick question. No one really gave me any instructions when I moved in here, so is there a supply closet with toilet paper and food and stuff, or are we supposed to buy our own? I’ve been in packs where it’s done both ways.” My hands fidgeted.

  “We take care of our own groceries, household supplies included.” Jamie gave me a quick smile. “How are you?”

  “Thank you.” I stepped away from her. “I’m okay. Good. Just trying to accept the fact that I make unmated guys horny and whatnot.” I shoved a strand of hair behind my ear.

  Awkward. I was too awkward.

  Jamie’s expression turned empathetic.

  “I get it. Take whatever time you need.”

  After a stumbled goodbye I texted Arla, asking for an enforcer to accompany me to the grocery store. She promised someone would be ready in half an hour, so I tossed my phone in my purse and got ready.

  Getting dressed was a little worrisome now that I knew werewolf men were drawn to me for my scent. Most of my tops were made to both cover my tattoo and show off my back, accentuating the strappy black bras I preferred and broadcasting the scars that I’d accumulated throughout my life. I didn’t think the scars would attract men, but how was I supposed to know what they considered attractive?

  I shoved my hand through my hair, scanning the items in my closet. There really weren’t any other options. With a heavy sigh, I threw on a black top and a pair of dark skinny jeans. At least the jeans covered more skin than my shorts.

  A knock at my door had me zipping up my combat boots and grabbing my purse off the kitchen counter. I’d been bored enough the past week to consider cleaning the mess I made with Roman, but decided to leave it until the place started to feel like home.

  I half expected to open the door to a giant in joggers and a baseball cap and was relieved to find out Arla hadn’t sent her brother. The girl outside my door had a face you’d see in a magazine, bright blue eyes with chocolate skin and big curls that fell to the middle of her back. Both male enforcers with her looked like they’d rather be anywhere else but there, and I didn’t blame them.

  “I’m
London.” She gave me a quick smile that didn’t meet her big eyes. I introduced myself too, and we left. A cab was waiting outside the ‘scraper, and London and I slipped into the back together. The male enforcers followed in a cab of their own.

  We’d barely left when London’s phone rang. I caught a glimpse of the name on the screen and narrowed my eyes. She answered it with a heavy sigh.

  “What, Roman?” She paused. “No, we didn’t run into anyone on our way out. Even if we had, we’ve got two of your guys with us. Don’t call me again unless someone is bleeding out on the floor.” She hung up and tossed her phone on the seat. “I swear I’ll lose it if I hear one more person worrying about your safety.”

  My lips lifted.

  “I have similar feelings.”

  We chatted a bit on the drive. London was an underwear model, apparently. She worked for Victoria’s Secret, which pissed her mate off. I got the vibe that things weren’t great between the two of them although she didn’t really say anything about it.

  We arrived at the grocery store not much later. It was an upscale place where even the generic brand items cost more than the name brand at good ole’ Walmart, but I’d take what I could get with these rich people.

  London played a game that looked suspiciously like Candy Crush on her phone as we traipsed around the store and I grabbed what looked good. Now that I didn’t have to pay rent and had a significantly greater amount of income, I spent the extra buck on the Oreos with red Christmas frosting. The colored frosting was a little silly, but my mom had loved it so buying them reminded me of her.

  My cart was nearly full when I caught the scent of a werewolf. My head snapped to the side, checking the aisle entrance and exits to my left and then my right.

  “I’m sure it’s someone from the pack here to check on us.” London waved it off, eyeing a bag of barbecue chips. She snuck it in the cart, and I didn’t comment.

  “Typically when I catch that scent, I run.” I bit my lip, fighting the urge.

  She was most likely right, wasn’t she?

  “Not anymore, you don’t.” London squeezed my shoulder. Then she glanced back at the chip display and grabbed another bag of barbecue chips. “My agent’s had me on a diet the past few weeks and I finally got the okay to eat carbs again.” She wore a sheepish expression, her cheeks reddening.

  “No judgment here. I eat my weight in Doritos weekly.” I tossed in two bags of my own. It wasn’t entirely true, but the relief on London’s face told me I’d said the right thing. After a glance back to make sure the male enforcers were still following us—they were—I continued shopping.

  The werewolf scent grew stronger, as did my stress. London must’ve picked up on the emotion because she navigated away from her half-finished round of Candy Crush and pulled up her contacts list.

  “I’ll check with Roman just to make sure.”

  She held the phone to her ear as we headed down to the soda half of the aisle. I grabbed two six-packs of coke—in glass bottles of course. Now that I didn’t have to pay rent, I was too classy for cans.

  “Are you sure?” London sounded worried. “It could still be someone from the pack just out getting groceries. We would’ve seen them by now if they were looking for us, it’s not like Henley’s hard to find with her pink hair and…” she glanced up at me with an apologetic expression, “scent.”

  I didn’t chastise her for calling my hair pink when it was in fact red or bringing up my stench because I was too worried.

  She tilted her head in the direction of the exit. I got the message and steered my cart toward the checkout line. Whatever aisles we hadn’t gotten to didn’t matter nearly as much as escaping with my life and freedom.

  When I noted the male enforcers missing, my heart clenched.

  This was it. A week in a half in a pack I actually liked was all I’d get.

  “I’ll call you when we’re in the cab.” She hung up but held the phone in her hand. “Let’s hurry.”

  We both glanced over our shoulders just in time to see a large man—who couldn’t have looked human if he tried—step out of the soda and chips aisle. His gaze narrowed on us, his lips tilting upward in a cocky smirk.

  “He’s not from your pack.” I didn’t bother phrasing it into a question.

  “No.” London sighed. “Leave the groceries.”

  She was 100% sighing over the loss of the barbeque chips and not the possibility that I wouldn’t be eating—or peeing—tonight. And that was the best possible outcome, assuming I didn’t get shoved in someone’s trunk duct-taped, bloody, and handcuffed.

  We left the cart and walked straight out of the store, ignoring the glares from the upper-class grocery store workers. They could glare all they wanted; putting my groceries back on their shelves was a hell of a lot better than getting between me and a giant wolf.

  “I’ll distract him. You need to run.” London said.

  “Running is pointless. They usually don’t come alone. Notice the male enforcers missing?”

  She looked behind us and turned back pale-faced and disturbed.

  “This happens a lot?”

  “I prevent werewolves from losing control of their beastly side every night and apparently smell like sex-on-a-stick. What do you think?”

  London blinked rapidly before shaking her head and leading me into the covered parking garage. We didn’t have a car there, but it was the safest place to confront the dude.

  “Now is when we hope Roman was paranoid enough to send extra guys.” She whispered. “I don’t know how to fight.”

  “I’ve been taking a self-defense class and watching YouTube videos of fighting tutorials for six months, but haven’t but haven’t gotten to test if the moves work against wolves.” I grimaced. I’d wanted to learn how to fight forever, but hadn’t been able to afford the expensive MMA-style classes I thought might really help me in crisis. “You’re not in any danger, London. They want me. Just let me handle this.”

  She didn’t look convinced.

  I didn’t feel convinced, so I guess that made us even.

  The guy came walking up. He wasn’t as gigantic as Roman—who had somehow become the way I measured the size of men in a matter of ten days. But the guy was still massive, which didn’t bode well for little ole’ me. I was scrappier than I looked, but not that scrappy.

  “You know it’s kind of creepy to follow two chicks into a parking garage, right?” I turned up my sarcasm as he approached. Because why the hell not? Maybe if I came off cocky, he’d decide I wasn’t worth the fight.

  “If you were just women maybe that would matter.” The man’s smirk dialed up a few levels. “You have something I want.”

  “You mean she is something you want.” London stepped up beside me and put her hands on her hips. “Don’t pretend to be noble.”

  “Like your pack is any more honorable than mine.” The guy chuckled. “We all want Wolfsbane.”

  And there it was. The reason I hated my nickname. Somehow, it turned me into an object.

  “We’re paying Henley to be a part of our pack, not forcing her. Somehow, I think that’s more honorable than sending our biggest guys to kidnap her and drag her across the country.” London’s voice was cold.

  The big guy looked a bit taken aback by that.

  “Didn’t think anyone could be reasonable when it came to a way to control their wolves, did you?” I drawled.

  TBH, I didn’t think so either.

  “How much are they paying you?” Big-and-scary asked.

  “Six hundred thousand for the year.”

  The dude’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. I looked him up and down, analyzing his clothing. I knew a decent amount about most of the packs in the U.S., their lifestyles, and the places they lived. All things considered, I’d say he was either from Maine or Wisconsin. Neither of them had a lot of money but both lived in mid-sized cities so they lived more like humans than some of the more bestial packs.

  His eyes changed when h
e realized his pack couldn’t afford to buy my allegiance. He decided my ability was worth more than I was, and cracked his knuckles.

  Sometimes just being willing to throw a punch was enough to buy the time I needed to make a run for it and avoid moving for a few extra days, so I cracked mine too. Minus the wonky ones.

  “Come with me and I’ll let her go.” He nodded at the model behind me.

  The guy advanced toward us. London glanced over at me, her shoulders tense. I stepped in front of her.

  “I’ll pass.” I stalked toward him, hoping it would scare him away.

  It didn’t.

  The guy grabbed me around the waist. I shoved my elbow into his gut, slammed my knee into his groin, and spun out of his grip. The heel of my hand smashed into his nose, and the crunch of cartilage made me wince even though I knew he’d been planning on abducting me.

  He grabbed my wrist as I turned to run. This time, he was expecting me to fight and held tighter. Without surprise on my side, my struggle against his grip was pointless. All the moves I’d practiced in my self-defense class had been used and the ones from YouTube didn’t translate to real life.

  Why were male werewolves so freaking much bigger than females?

  London shouted and threw herself at the dude, wrapping one arm around his neck and shoving the fingers of her opposite hand into his eyes. Her legs held her to his back while she choked and scratched him.

  Another guy appeared out of nowhere, yanking London off the bigger one. Blood dripped down his fingers and face, and I had a sinking feeling it belonged to Roman’s enforcers. The new guy launched her away from the three of us and she sailed through the air like a ragdoll, smacking into the concrete wall of the parking garage with an awful thud.

  “Let’s go.” The first guy dragged my flailing body toward a white kidnapper van.

  What a shock. White kidnapper van; I’d never been tossed into one of those before.

  They had me halfway in the van when a roar echoed through the garage, shaking the ground. I fell three feet and slammed into asphalt hip-first when the douchebags literally dropped me where I was, turning to meet the threat.