“When a man is naked in his bedroom, there are only two things he wants.” Rafe’s glacial eyes would’ve turned Grace’s breath frosty if she could actually breathe. “Sleep and sex.”
“Technically,” she said, finding her voice, relieved it didn’t squeak. “We’re in your living room. The bedroom’s over there.” Tipping her head toward the Murphy bed less than ten feet away, she stood. “Are you suggesting we change locations?”
Rafe’s breath audibly stuck in his throat. He stared at the rumpled bed and swallowed hard. His gaze jumped to her, his eyes wide and uncertain.
“Considering you don’t like me, we won’t need the bed for sex and I’ve had enough sleep.”
“I never said I didn’t like you.” The low, gravelly rasp in his voice caused tiny bumps to pebble her skin.
“So, you like me but don’t want to be friends?” Grace padded around the coffee table to stand directly in front of him. His silent breaths were as hard and fast as her staccato heartbeat. “Not seeing the logic there.”
“You’re not the type of friend I need.”
“Too bad. I come with fantastic benefits.” She poked him dead center in the chest. “Get dressed. I have things to do today, and you’re not on the list.”
Chapter 4
Testosterone and a slew of wolfan hormones stormed Rafe’s veins. Burning up all his restraint, Rafe stood perfectly still as Grace moved lithely out of the room with her hips sashaying in an erotic sway that beckoned both the man and wolf.
God, she was pretty. Long, shiny hair the color of corn silk. Bright green eyes that put polished emeralds to shame. Soft golden skin and an athletic body with just the right amount of curve. None of which he should’ve noticed. And yet, he had, and more.
She had a ready smile and a kind heart toward people and animals. He liked her spunk, more than he should.
And she smelled really good, too.
Another time, another place. Another life. She could’ve been the one.
But, he’d had a true mate, bonded heart and soul, and he’d lost her.
He wasn’t arrogant enough to believe it could happen twice. Besides, he wasn’t compatible with a human female.
Unlike Brice, whose grandmother was human, Rafe came from a purebred line. He’d inherited no human traits. Any he had were learned from Doc.
Since childhood, Rafe wanted to do right by the man who raised him. He’d modeled Doc’s manner, his style, his philosophies. He might have followed his father’s career path if he could’ve overcome his aversion to hospitals.
He hated the gut-churning scents that permeated the air. Fear, sorrow, sickness, desperation and death.
Grace’s human senses weren’t developed enough for her to detect the smells as acutely as he could, but she seemed to dislike hospitals as much as he did. Last night, he couldn’t, in good conscience, leave her there overnight when she clearly didn’t want to be there.
When he’d brought her home, he’d expected her to drill him about his abrupt decline of her offer of friendship a few months ago. Instead, she was gracious, respectful and annoyingly considerate.
She’d even gifted him with genuine smiles as if he’d never hurt her feelings that day. He knew he had.
But, he’d done what was necessary, pushing her away. Establishing a boundary. For her safety and his well-being.
Only she still ended up hurt and he was still drawn to her in ways that defied reason.
He needed to reinforce the no-friend zone and stay the hell out of her way.
Rafe pinched his sore ear, then drew back his hand and stared at the tiny drop of blood smeared on his thumb pad.
His stomach rolled.
Ah, hell!
Grace had not claimed him.
One, she had no idea what a bite meant to a Wahya. Hell, she didn’t even know what they were.
Two, they weren’t having sex when the bite occurred. It wouldn’t have taken much to physically tip the balance toward consummation, but close only counted with horseshoes and hand grenades, not claiming a mate.
Three, a human couldn’t legitimately claim a Wahya. Only a Wahyan bite during sex could establish a mate-claim.
A mate-bond, well, that was an entirely different matter. He doubted he and Grace were compatible enough for the ethereal connection to spark, so he had no cause to worry. Whatever was between them was purely physical.
Rafe knuckled his fingers in his hair and sucked in a deep breath to clear his head. Unfortunately, Grace’s scent permeated the room, overpowering his heightened senses, damn near swaying him to abandon all reason, give into primal urges and bed her hard, fast and forever.
Only forever wasn’t as long as he once believed. Forever with his former mate hadn’t even lasted his lifespan.
Rafe closed his eyes, willed his heart to stop racing and his body to cool. He had to get Grace out of his home and out of his system.
Without one window in the apartment, he was going to have a helluva time getting rid of her scent.
He pulled on a gray T-shirt and dark blue coveralls. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he put on his socks and work boots. He stared at the rumpled sheets, rich with Grace’s intoxicating scent, then stripped the bedding. Her phone tumbled to the floor. After pocketing the device, he folded the Murphy bed into the wardrobe. Next, he grabbed a clean, white button-down shirt and the bundle of sheets, and walked down the narrow corridor to find Grace.
He hesitated at the doorway to the kitchenette. The walls were painted the same flat gray color as the concrete floor. A 1950s-style white Formica table with chrome hairpin legs and two matching chairs sat in the middle of the small room.
On her toes with her back to him, Grace leaned against the single basin sink. To her left, a tiny dish drainer on the counter held one black mug, one plate, one fork, one spoon, one knife. To her right, was his small microwave. In the space where a dishwasher would normally go, Rafe had wedged a dorm-size refrigerator. And instead of a stove, he had installed a stacking washer and dryer in the corner.
Grace muttered, opening the cupboards above the sink. Regrettably, all Rafe’s pantry had to offer were three cans of sardines, half a loaf of bread, a bag of chips and a container of beef jerky.
“I’m all out of porridge, Goldilocks.”
Grace jumped. “Jeezus.” She turned toward him, clutching her chest. “Wear a bell or something. My heart almost stopped.”
Rafe clenched his jaw to stop himself from admitting that he knew CPR. Neither of them needed to think about mouth-to-mouth anything. Especially since her light pink tank top fit her like a second skin and she was braless.
“Put this on.” He tossed her the button-down shirt.
She pressed it to her face and sniffed. A curious pride pearled in his chest at the innocent gesture of her scenting his clothes.
“Hey.” Her eyes widened when she realized he was watching. “I’m making sure it’s clean.”
“I know how to do laundry.”
“Knowing how and doing it are two different things.” She shoved her arms into the sleeves.
Rafe dumped the sheets into the washer, dropped in a detergent pod and turned on the machine. He pivoted on his heels with a ta-da, but she was too busy fussing with the buttons on the shirt to notice.
“Nerves from last night?” He waved aside her trembling hands to finish the buttons for her.
“Caffeine withdrawal.” She held her arms out for him to roll up the sleeves. “I usually have three cups before nine a.m. I’m a little behind schedule this morning.”
“It’s almost noon.” He finished her sleeves.
“Explains the killer headache.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I couldn’t find the coffee or the pot.”
“Don’t drink it. Don’t own one.” He thumbed aside the blond strands curtaining the superfici
al cut at her temple. The slight wound had scabbed and a dark-purple goose egg had formed. His gut tightened.
It was only a minor concussion, but the fact that she’d sustained an injury because of him made him sick to his stomach.
“I need coffee, now! Isn’t there a diner across the street?” Her ponytail swished as she wandered out of the kitchen.
He followed her down the lighted corridor. There was something about her wearing his clothes that made his insides warm and his heart kick a possessive beat.
“I don’t know how you can live in this concrete bear cave.”
“If I were an animal, it wouldn’t be a bear, Goldilocks.” He pushed open the heavy metal door.
“Let me guess. A wolf?” She ducked beneath his arm and stepped into the R&L Automotive Services side of the building.
“Yep, but he wouldn’t like being closed in.”
“Do you?”
“No, but I have a severe insomnia. When I converted the storage room into a living space, I decided not to cut windows into the cinder block walls. I didn’t want outside light or noise to bother me when I’m trying to sleep.”
“So the pills on the coffee table help you sleep?”
“Yep.” Although they weren’t very effective. Nothing seemed to be since he stopped drinking himself into oblivion.
Rafe led Grace through the unused customer service area. People preferred to waltz in and out of the work area to see him. He opened the glass door that was next to a large viewing window. Ushering Grace into the garage, he jabbed the panel of buttons on the wall. The bay doors squawked, retracting to allow in streams of sunlight.
“It doesn’t look too bad.” She stared at her car on the rack. “It won’t take long to hammer out the bumper and fix the flat, right?”
“The right front side is demolished. The bumper has to be replaced. I want to change out the brakes and check all the operating systems. It’s gonna take a while before you get it back.”
“Great.” Her voice sounded low and flat but her stomach growled as loud as any wolfan’s would when half starved. She pressed her hands to her belly. “Sorry.” She flashed an embarrassed grin. “I only had a salad for supper and my midnight snack splattered all over the interior of my car.” She sighed. “It’s going to stink, isn’t it?”
“I cleaned the interior after you fell asleep the second time.” He’d needed the distraction after her hysterical scream had flooded him with adrenaline, and holding her until the effects of her nightmare faded had drowned him in hormones.
However, he’d run out of steam before he had a chance to tackle the pile of magazines and books and whatever else she’d stowed in the backseat.
“Thanks.” Gratitude shimmered in Grace’s big green eyes and his heart skipped a beat. “How much will the repairs cost? Wait, I don’t want to know. I have a high insurance deductible. Just get it running so I can make it back to Knoxville.”
“You won’t pay a penny. My wolf would be dead if you hadn’t swerved.”
“Your wolf? You own a wolf?”
“It’s a Co-op thing,” Rafe said carefully. “No one actually owns the wolves, we’re more like handlers. Mine caused your accident so I’m responsible for the damages. Some of the work I’ll do myself, but I’ll send the car to a shop in Hiawassee for the bodywork. Paint fumes make me sick.”
“I don’t know what to say.” A grateful smile softened the worry in her eyes.
“I’m just glad you and the wolf are okay.” He offered her his hand. Why? He had no idea. Because he should’ve been pushing her out of the R&L and out of his life instead of providing her a physical connection.
She stared at his open palm, roughened with calluses. “How did this happen?” Her fingertips traced the scar running from his thumb to his wrist.
His breathing went wonky. Too much air, too little air. It seemed his lungs had forgotten how to function.
“Stepped on a piece of glass.” He swallowed a gulp.
“Most people cut their foot when stepping on glass. How did you manage doing it with your hand?” A soft breath caught in her throat. “You weren’t drunk, were you?”
Well, that was like a stab to the gut. At least he covered the gasp with a sigh.
Small town, big gossip. He should’ve known Grace would’ve heard more details about his life through the grapevine than he was comfortable with her knowing.
“I was twelve.” He shook his hand free of her touch. “I didn’t start drinking until after my wife died.”
“I’m sorry.”
The second time in a matter of minutes that she’d said “sorry.” He found it peculiar humans apologized for things they weren’t responsible for doing and events they couldn’t control.
“I tripped and fell on a piece of glass while playing in the sanctuary with my wolf.” Although he had been in wolf form when he’d stepped on the shard. It was as close to the truth as he could come. Still, the tiny lie bothered him.
“You were playing with a wolf?” Grace’s eyes widened. “Where was your father?”
“At the clinic.” Rafe grunted. “He wasn’t too happy that night when he came home. Said I should’ve gotten stitches. But it healed fine.”
“I hope he grounded you.”
“Why?”
“Don’t you think it’s dangerous for children, or anyone for that matter, to play with wolves? They’re wild animals and wild animals can turn vicious.”
“The Co-op’s wolves are different. Besides, my wolf and I are bonded. He could never hurt me.”
Rafe steered Grace out of one of the open bays and to the right. She needed to learn about Wahyas sooner rather than later. As the Alphena-in-waiting’s best friend, the secret could be detrimental to their relationship and it could put Grace in a dangerous predicament.
“I can’t believe you were playing with a wolf when you were twelve.” Grace shook her head. “Please tell me you weren’t naked.”
“Nudity is a natural part of my life. So is my wolf. It’s the same for other Co-opers.”
“So far, you’re the only one I’ve seen naked in the middle of the road. Should I expect to see others?”
Not if the wolfan expects to keep his cock and balls attached to his groin.
“What?” Grace’s pert little nose wrinkled as she looked up at him.
Every cell in Rafe’s body went on alert.
She shouldn’t have heard his thoughts. In human form, Wahyas didn’t manifest telepathic abilities.
Except with their mates.
And Grace Olsen was definitely not his mate.
Chapter 5
The soft jingle of door chimes drowned in the sea of voices filling Mabel’s Diner. The line for a table seemed endless. Headachy and jumpy, Grace needed coffee and she needed it now!
“A drive-through will be faster.”
Try as she might, Grace couldn’t push the six-foot man blocking the door out of the way.
“You need to eat.”
“A drive-through has food. It’s fast.” She hiked her thumb over her shoulder. “It’s going to be a long wait.”
“It won’t, I promise.” Rafe’s warm hands cupped her shoulders and he turned her around.
A shiver rolled along her spine as warmth spread through her body. Each time Rafe touched her, she felt this tingly boost, as if he was sharing his energy with her. A ridiculous notion since she barely knew the man.
The concussion must’ve affected her rational thinking.
“Rafe Wyatt!” A plump, seventyish woman with a bright red-dyed beehive hairdo slid off her stool behind the cash register and strolled toward them flapping her fingers in a give-me-a-hug gesture. “What brings you out this early?”
Early? It was lunchtime.
“Good to see you, Mabel.” Rafe stood stoically throughout the elder
ly woman’s demonstrative embrace.
“Who’s your lady friend?” Mabel swung her head toward Grace. One of her painted-on eyebrows rose as her gaze traveled down the length of Grace and back up again. “Haven’t seen you around. New in town?”
“Not exactly. I’m visiting friends.” She shook Mabel’s hand. “I’m Grace Olsen.”
“Amazing Grace,” Mabel sang. “That’ll be easy to remember.”
“Grace needs coffee and food,” Rafe interrupted. “She was in an accident last night and hasn’t eaten a decent meal since before supper yesterday.”
“Gracious.” Mabel’s hand landed on her ample chest. “I wondered why she was dressed like that.”
Grace clutched the front of the borrowed shirt she wore and looked around. Everyone’s eyes were on her. “If you can’t serve me in the restaurant, can I get something to go? Starting with coffee? Lots and lots of coffee?” A tank would be nice.
“Not serve you?” Mabel squawked. “I’ve never turned anyone away, and you’re dressed just fine. We’re all friends here.” Mabel draped her arm over Grace’s shoulders. She called to the woman wearing a Mabel’s Diner T-shirt and jeans who whipped past them carrying a tray of dirty dishes and dumped them in a large gray bin. “Ronni, sit Rafe and Gracie at the table you just cleared. She’s half starved. If she passes out, people will think I ran out of food.”
“That would start a riot for sure,” Ronni said. “Come with me.”
She led them to an empty booth with a window view of the R&L’s side wall and back lot.
Rafe sat opposite Grace and slid her the laminated menu tucked behind the napkin dispenser.
Ronni flipped over the coffee mug in front of Grace. “This is strong, bold and hot.” She filled the mug nearly to the rim.
“Great.” Grace dumped four packets of sugar into the steaming drink.
“Always said a woman likes her coffee the way she likes her men. I guess you like ’em a little on the sweet side, too.”
“Sometimes.” Grace took her first sip—gulp, actually—and it burned her tongue and all the way down her throat, but when it hit her stomach, her entire body sighed.
Rescued by the Wolf Page 3
