What a Werewolf Wants (San Francisco Wolf Pack)

by Kristin Miller

  “You’re a goddess,” he said, struggling to formulate words that’d string together into a sentence. “Has anyone ever told you that before?”

  She shook her head and straddled his middle again.

  Leaning to his side, he snatched his shirt from the floor and gently wiped her breasts. Tiny droplets of red and blue paint had somehow transferred from her hands to her hair, her face, and her chest.

  Was the paint all over him, too?

  As he cleaned her up, he lost his breath. She was soft and warm, gentle and deliciously sweet. He’d be honored to be the one who’d get to hold her this way forever. He couldn’t get used to this, though. Getting involved on a physical level was fine, but at some point this would have to end. When she looked at him now, her gaze was full of desire and longing. The last thing he wanted was for that to flip to horror.

  The door jerked open, and Josie covered her breasts with a squeal. Ryder gripped her hips tight over him to hide his exposed groin. Through the blinding light of the entry, Carrie’s silhouette came into view.

  “Oh my God.” Carrie’s voice was staccato. Panicked. “Josie? Ryder?”

  “It’s—not what you think,” Josie fumbled.

  “You were supposed to paint the canvas,” Carrie fumed. “Not each other.”

  Josie ran a hand through her hair as if that’d help. “If you give me a minute to…dismount…I can explain.”

  Dismount.

  Heh.

  He hid his belting laugh with a cough.

  As Carrie mumbled something shocked and unintelligible, the bimbo reporter Liza marched from the winery space out the front door. But not before glancing their way and giving a high-flying thumbs-up.

  “Mortifying.” Josie smacked her forehead.

  And a strange tickle in Ryder’s nose made him sneeze.

  Chapter Eight

  “You’re going to tell me everything,” Carrie gritted between clenched teeth. “Who made the first move, when it started, how it started—everything.”

  Sighing, Josie followed her sister to the bathroom, away from prying eyes. After she’d dismounted—God, had she really said that aloud?—she dressed in a rush and waited for Ryder to pull up his pants. Since his shirt was soiled, he couldn’t exactly wear it the rest of the night. The winery had a strict “no shirt, no service” policy; thankfully Mitch had taken Ryder aside to put on something dry. And clean.

  “There’s not much to tell,” Josie said, checking her reflection in the mirror. Her lips were pale from kissing, her cheeks flushed.

  It was amazing what kind of effect Ryder had on her.

  From the moment he’d walked into the winery tonight, she’d felt strangely connected to him. Attraction had always been there, but this was something different, and much more intense.

  It was…primal.

  As if he called to her on a base, sexual level that had the hairs of the back of her neck standing on end. She could feel his eyes on her when she wasn’t looking. Could almost feel his gentle caress on her skin, even before he touched her.

  Their connection was far more than physical, though. She’d be foolish to think it ended there. When she wasn’t around him, all she could think about was returning to his side. Standing face-to-face, gazing up into those gorgeous blue eyes, it took all of her willpower not to leap into his arms.

  As strange as the thought was, sometimes it felt as if she belonged to him. As if they belonged together. Now that he’d made her come undone, she needed him more than her next breath of air.

  “I don’t know who made the first move,” Josie said, finally, “but it only started today. This morning, in his office.”

  “Ten minutes, everyone.” The hostess’s voice echoed through the winery and into the bathroom. “You should be just about finished with your paintings.”

  “Did you get to complete yours?” Josie stared at her sister through the mirror. “You could go back and we could talk later.”

  “Oh no, nuh-uh. We’re not dropping this now. And what were you doing painting him? He had splatters everywhere.”

  “Not everywhere.” A warm blush crept into Josie’s cheeks. “It was an accident. I had some on my hands.”

  “Totally gross. I don’t want to hear any more. What happens in the closet stays in the closet.” Shuddering, Carrie paled the way she always did when she was stressed to the max. “What were you doing in Ryder’s office this morning?”

  How could she explain what she was looking for without putting a bunch of doubts in her head? If she questioned Mitch for no reason, why worry Carrie when she already had to deal with so much?

  No, she’d still have to figure out a way to pull the truth from Ryder, or get him to shut the hell up about it and let them be.

  “I wanted to talk to him about a few wedding details,” Josie lied. “Bachelor and bachelorette party stuff for tomorrow night. I thought the guys and girls could meet up at some point.”

  She really had thought about making plans, but hadn’t gotten around to fleshing out the details with Ryder.

  “And then you kissed?” Carrie said, going palms down on the marble sink. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but you’re not using your head. Ryder’s the last thing you need in your life right now.”

  Josie’s defenses shot up. “I wouldn’t say that.”

  “I would.” Carrie splashed water on her face. “Mitch says he’s a serial dater. Won’t stay with a woman longer than a few dates. He says Ryder’s a playboy. Takes what he wants and leaves.”

  But oh, what would it feel like to have those hands gripping her hips, taking what he wanted…

  She heated through merely thinking about it.

  “You should see the look on your face right now.” Carrie glanced up, catching Josie’s gaze in the mirror. “It’s like someone just offered you bliss on a stick. Do you even hear me?”

  “I hear you loud and clear.” Josie’s heartbeat sped. “But what if Ryder’s been going from woman to woman because he’s been looking for the right one?”

  “You think that’s you?”

  She shrugged. “Why not me?”

  “I don’t know, Josie, because when you first got here you said he ditched you in Golden Gate Park earlier tonight. Or maybe it’s the way he hid you in the closet to make out with you.”

  That stung. “Why don’t you chill out, Carrie? I know you’re worried about me, but you’re being way too harsh. Yes, he left me in the park, but he made sure I was safe first. And yes, he made out with me in the closet, but only because I pushed him in there.”

  Damn, she really liked him.

  How had that happened so fast?

  Carrie stared, speechless, her mouth dropping open. A low rumble came from the main room. The guests must’ve been finishing their paintings and starting to move around. Footsteps closed in on the bathroom, and the door swung open. One of the camerawomen charged in, stopping when her gaze flipped between Josie and her sister. She must’ve been able to feel the tension, too.

  “Sorry,” she said sweetly. “Am I interrupting something?’

  “Yes,” Carrie spat, folding her arms over her chest. “We need another minute.”

  Nodding, the camerawoman backed out of the room.

  When Josie brought her attention back to her sister, she said, “Why are you still looking at me like that?”

  “Because you’re not seeing him for what he is.” Carrie’s voice rose as she gripped Josie around the shoulders. “He’s a player through and through. And I thought you hated him. Mitch said you two weren’t getting along.”

  “It’s not that, exactly. He’s got an issue that’s been hard for me to deal with.” It was amazing what could change in a few short days. “If he doesn’t come around, we could have a bigger problem. Otherwise, I think we might actually work.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Carrie backed away, dropping her hands. “What problem?”

  “Nothing,” Josie said, not wanting to bu
rden her sister with any more. It was clear bridal panic was already setting in. “It’s for us to worry about.”

  “Us?” She paled. “Now there’s an us? You’re in deeper than I thought.”

  Hell yes she was.

  …

  “Making out with the matchmaker,” Mitch said, holding up his fist for Ryder to bump it. “Way to go, bro.”

  “It’s nothing to congratulate me over.” Ryder went to work buttoning Mitch’s extra dress shirt rather than fist-bump over something stupid. “Getting caught in the closet might’ve made Josie feel cheap.”

  And that was the last thing he wanted his Luminary to feel. She should’ve felt beautiful and valued, every single day of her life. By someone else, of course. A non-shifter who wouldn’t howl at the moon every month.

  At the thought of her with someone else, a protective growl rose in the back of his throat.

  “This coming from the guy who used to have a black book larger than the Bible?” Mitch shoved his hands in the pocket of his slacks as a group of painters passed through the entry beside them. “Since when do you care about Josie’s feelings, anyway?” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I thought you didn’t like her.”

  He liked Josie too much. And that was exactly why it needed to end before they got too involved. She deserved someone who would make her happy every day of her life. That guy wasn’t him. He could fight the urge to shift for months, but he’d have to turn eventually, and then she’d see him for what he really was.

  “It doesn’t matter what I feel for her. I’m going to get through the next few days with the wedding, and then that’ll be it. She can move on. She’ll find someone else to make her happy.” A surge of jealousy rose in him hot and fast. He swallowed down the vile feeling as he sat on the edge of a lounge in the corner. “Speaking of the wedding, how’s the postponement going?”

  “It’s not.”

  Mitch sat beside him on the opposite edge of the lounge. Rather than face him, his friend stared straight forward.

  “You should get on that,” Ryder said simply, staring at the floor.

  “So you keep telling me.”

  Ryder tapped his wrist. “Clock’s ticking. The wedding is Sunday, you know. That’s two days, Mitch. We’ve got the bachelor party tomorrow night. The rehearsal dinner the next, and that’s it. If you don’t tell her tonight, you’re never going to find a good time.”

  “Everything’s moving so fast.” Mitch bent over and scrubbed his hands over his face. “I can’t believe it’s only two days away.”

  There were the doubts and cold feet he’d been expecting.

  This—right here—was the reason Mitch and Carrie shouldn’t be getting married. If he was having doubts now, their relationship would only combust under marital pressure.

  “On some level, I know I have to tell her before the wedding.” Mitch kept his voice low. Barely audible. Only a werewolf would be able to pick up his words. “I have to. I can’t trap her into this and expect her not to blow a gasket when I start howling at the moon. But how do you tell someone you love that you’re a werewolf? How do you broach that subject without sounding insane?”

  “I imagine it’d be like telling Josie she’s my fated mate, but we’ll never be together.”

  For the first time, Mitch craned his neck around to look at him. “Say what now?”

  “You heard right.” Ryder exhaled heavily and kept his voice as low. Guests passed by on their way out of the winery, none of them realizing a conversation about werewolves and fated mates was happening a few feet away. “Josie’s my Luminary. I felt the spark when we first touched. It couldn’t have been anything else. And if you raise your fist for me to bump again, I’m going to slam it into your forehead.”

  “That’s awesome.” Mitch chuckled. “What are you going to do about it?”

  “Not a damn thing.”

  “If she’s the one fate chose for you,” Mitch whispered, “why wouldn’t you want to be with her?”

  “Because fate doesn’t know what the hell she’s talking about. Fate,” Ryder gritted between clenched teeth, “hasn’t seen hundreds of marriages fall apart the way I have. Have you heard what the divorce rate is lately?”

  “Isn’t it fifty percent?”

  “Somewhere around there. And we’re talking about non-shifters. Imagine werewolves, Mitch. A thousand years with one person.” As anger flushed through his veins, he shook his head. “It can’t happen. It’s not possible. Two people aren’t designed to be in each other’s space for that long.”

  “But it has happened.” Mitch nodded to a couple on their way out. “With other werewolves in the pack. We’ve only been transitioned for three years, so we haven’t been around long enough to see it happen firsthand, but everyone says it does.”

  “Everyone,” Ryder said flatly as his face fell. “Everyone says werewolves live happily for a thousand years? You’re drinking that water now?”

  “I am.” Mitch flipped Ryder off with his left ring finger. Where a wedding band would be in a few short days. “I’d never cheat on Carrie. Not in a thousand years, and not in a million. You honestly think you’d cheat on Josie?”

  No, that wasn’t it. He wouldn’t cheat. Never had, and never would.

  But Mitch wasn’t getting it.

  Josie had a normal life—one where she could believe in love at first sight and marriages that lasted the normal span of a lifetime. She deserved to have that life and live it to the fullest.

  “You know what,” Ryder said, standing. “I’m done talking about this. Why don’t you worry about how you’re going to cancel all this shit with the wedding, and I’ll worry about what’s going to happen—or not happen—with Josie.”

  “This isn’t about the stupid divorce rate.” Mitch stood with him. “This is about what happened before…the first time you shifted.”

  Knife to the gut.

  “I said I was done talking about it.”

  Mitch folded his arms over his chest and stood between Ryder and the exit. “You didn’t know what to expect during your first shift. And you sure as hell didn’t expect to catch your woman cheating. You were right to be angry, Ryder.”

  “It was more than anger.” His stomach caught. “It was seething hatred.”

  “It’s not like you took someone’s face off,” Mitch said with a half laugh. “You didn’t touch anyone.”

  “But I could have…I wanted to.” The words ripped from the core of him, burning with regret as they escaped his lips. “You didn’t see their faces. They looked at me like I was a monster…because in that moment, I really was.” He paused as flashes of the horror of the night flickered through his mind. “All I know is, there is never going to be anything serious between me and Josie. There can’t be.”

  Zoning on something in the winery, Mitch exhaled heavily. “Well, at least you won’t have to worry about telling that to her face.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you already did.” Mitch nudged his chin over Ryder’s shoulder. “She just heard the last thing you said.”

  He spun, stomach souring, searching for Josie through the main hall. He barely caught a glimpse of her dark hair flipping over her shoulder before she rushed out the back door.

  Chapter Nine

  Josie downed her second latte from Starbucks and watched the sun come up from her office window.

  Last night, after overhearing Ryder tell Mitch that they’d never be together, she’d decided not to go home. Carrie would’ve wanted to come over and talk, the way she always did when something was wrong. Josie had checked her cell in the cab on the way to Sausalito. Just as she’d suspected, Carrie had blown it up with texts, wondering if she was okay. If she wanted company.

  Yup. Figured right.

  Crashing after a bottle of Pinot, Josie had texted back. Don’t come by. Won’t hear the door.

  But of course, knowing Carrie, she would’ve come by anyway. The willpower to hide her head under the pillows tonight simp
ly wasn’t there. She would’ve caved and wound up opening the door for her sister anyway.

  Choosing the safe route, Josie had come to the office and buried herself in work all night.

  No rest for the weary, or the successful.

  Dumping her empty cup into the trash, she returned to her desk and started skimming through applications. Time to find another match.

  As the clock clicked over to eight, the front door to her building dinged open. Who wanted to turn in dating applications first thing Saturday morning? Singles should’ve been out on the town late Friday, and sleeping off hangovers at 8:00 a.m.

  “Josie?”

  Ryder.

  Damn.

  “I know you’re in here.” Why’d his voice have to be so sexy? It was deep and raspy. The most soothing sound she’d ever heard. “Hello?”

  Maybe if she was quiet, he’d leave.

  “I’m not leaving,” he said, as if he’d read her mind. “I’ll just sit out here and wait in your lobby. You only have one way out, so you have to pass by me sooner or later.”

  Double damn.

  She bit her nails. First order of business tomorrow: call to install a back door in her office.

  “I’m back here. First door on the left,” she called out, fluffing her hair into place. She probably looked horrible. Hair sticking up everywhere from tugging at it all night long, and black rings under her eyes from makeup runoff. Wonderful. Snatching the Dasani from the corner of her desk, she tipped it over, dribbling water on her fingers. When they were soaked, she scrubbed them beneath her eyes to erase the rings and smashed her lips together to bring back their color. “Come on in.”

  He pushed open the door slowly and took a long look around before coming inside. “Wasn’t sure you’d let me in.”

  “I wasn’t either.”