Marked

by Aline Hunter

  Another visitor had thrown a wrench into what could have been a very good time. Fuck if it didn’t piss him off. Just once he’d like to relax and unwind without having to do the right thing.

  Goddamn Simone.

  It was bad enough dealing with the bothersome bitch the evening before. Talking to the obtuse female before he’d even settled into his routine burned like a rash beneath his skin. Not to mention she’d arrived at a shitty time. She needed to take a hint and find some other dumb schmuck to fuck around with.

  “Declan,” Simone purred as she turned from the framed tattoo flash on the wall.

  She’d dressed to impress in a skimpy top and skirt, her long black hair hanging in bouncy curls down her back. Fortunately werewolves had higher body temperatures and could handle the cold. Otherwise she’d have to do the respectable thing and wear modest attire for a change.

  She shifted her feet, her high heels clicking on the floor, and her full, cherry-red lips dipped into a frown. “You don’t look happy to see me.”

  I’ll take understatement of the fucking millennium for five hundred, Alex.

  “I’m never happy to see people who come in without making an appointment.”

  “Then I’ll make this quick.”

  As she approached he had to force himself not to laugh. Simone knew he wasn’t interested but she didn’t stop playing her stupid games, shifting her hips from side to side, making her legs flex with each step. Sure, the female had a great body—one that was blessed by werewolf genetics—but the central command center between her ears was no longer in service.

  “I went to see Jackson this morning but he wasn’t home. Do you know where I can find him?”

  Here we go. “I’m his second-in-command, not his secretary.”

  “Oh come on. Everyone knows Jackson tells you everything. That’s why you’re his Beta.” She stopped at the counter and leaned over it, revealing huge breasts that strained to escape the lacy material confining them. “I have something I want to give him. You’re ruining my surprise.”

  “It wouldn’t be an STD, would it? I don’t think he’d be too thankful for a gift that keeps on giving.” As soon as the words came out he wanted to kick himself in the ass. He just couldn’t help himself sometimes.

  Thankfully the insult floated right over her head. “That’s you, always making a joke of things.”

  I wonder what she’d say if I told her it wasn’t a joke?

  He quickly moved away from the temptation of actually asking the question, shrugging. “Life would be boring without a little spice.”

  “I agree.” Simone’s dark blue eyes lifted a shade and her smile went from playful to seductive. “That’s why I need to talk to Jackson. Once he understands what I can bring to the table he’ll know why we’re meant to bring the packs together. It doesn’t have to be all work. I know how to play.”

  “I just bet you do.” He lowered his arms and slid his hands into his pockets before he did something stupid, like snatch Simone up and march her shameless ass outside. “Like I said, I’m not his secretary. If he’s not home he probably had things he needed to do. Call his cell and leave a message. I’m sure he’ll get back to you when he’s got a minute to spare.”

  Or when hell freezes over.

  “Well…” She frowned and glanced at the arm he’d inked, studying her slightly reddened skin. “What if I waited here? He’s bound to show up sooner or later. You could work on my design. It definitely could use more color.”

  “As tempting as that sounds, I’m booked.”

  He peered down the hall, thinking about the fiery temptress with wild strawberry-red hair and eyes the color of the morning sky. He wondered if she’d stayed where he’d put her. A part of him hoped she hadn’t so he could make good on his threat.

  “In fact,” he continued, “you interrupted me while I was speaking to a client. I need to get to work.”

  “Tell him I’m looking for him.” Her voice took on a harsh edge, becoming serious. “You boys can only play games for so long. I think you should know my father consented to the match. Unless Jackson wants to piss him off, he’ll make sure he finds time to see me. Make sure your Alpha knows that.”

  Shit.

  He kept his mouth shut, knowing his smartass remarks would no longer be welcome. He watched as she walked across the room and left the building. It wasn’t until the door closed that he released the breath he’d been holding.

  Fan-fucking-tastic.

  The pack already had enough going on without dealing with an arranged mating. Jackson would hit the roof when he found out what Simone had been up to. Her father—Ward Wilson—wasn’t the most easygoing werewolf in the area, and everyone knew he worshipped his only child.

  Shaking his head, he headed back down the hall. At least there was one thing to look forward to. He was about to discover if his unexpected guest did as she was told. He growled when he opened the door. Not only was she not where he’d left her but the little hellion had given him the slip.

  He didn’t bother looking out the opened window, rushing back down the hall instead. He heard a car start followed by the sound of grinding gravel. He ran across the sitting area and opened the door, knowing he was too late.

  Damn it.

  She’d already pulled onto the road. With a grin, she punched the gas and flipped him off. He wasn’t good at reading lips but her mouthed “Fuck you” came out loud and clear. Surprisingly the offensive gestures didn’t make him angry. Instead his cock rose, stiff against his zipper. His wolf stirred inside him—not for the first time since he’d met the ballsy female—brushing against the inside of his skin. The beast wanted to nip at her flesh and mark her as its own. He wondered what it meant, confused by something he couldn’t explain.

  The woman was attractive and he’d love to spend time between the sheets with her, but she was human. There hadn’t been dreamsharing. Since she didn’t have a hint of wolf in her, there probably wouldn’t be. The likelihood of finding his mate—a mate connected to Chloe of all people—was slim to none.

  Maybe it was something else, like the recent drought of sex brought about by work, pack and other responsibilities. He hadn’t gotten laid in months. That certainly didn’t help matters.

  Still…

  He stomped into the parlor and took a deep breath.

  Honeysuckle and linen greeted him—Just Rachel’s alluring scent calling to his beast. His wolf rumbled a throaty growl, wanting to track the female down, bend her over his lap and bust her softly rounded ass. He’d keep her hanging on the edge of climax between swats, teasing her clit, making her regret her reckless behavior. Only when she begged for relief would he give her what she wanted, sliding his cock into the haven of her cunt, taking her so hard and fast her eyes would cross.

  His dick pulsed, balls going taut. He could only imagine how sweet she’d sound when she came, how husky her voice would become when she asked for more.

  Mate or not, he’d make it happen. It had been years since he’d had this kind of interest in a female. Just Rachel had screwed herself over coming for Chloe. When the dust settled he’d find out where the sultry woman lived and pay her a visit—one she’d never forget.

  Pissed off, sexually frustrated and at the end of his rope, he locked the door, flipped the sign to closed and strode toward the back of the building. It was time to start thinking with the proper head. Good thing his Alpha had listened to his advice and left home. That gave him a window of opportunity to make some calls. His visit to the diner had been a bust. If he wanted to get answers, he had to start digging for information.

  He took a seat at the desk, flipped through the Rolodex and picked a place to start. As the phone rang in his ear, he settled back in the chair and raked his fingers through his hair.

  Sometimes being the Beta of a prominent pack blew balls.

  Chapter Five

  “Maybe you should stay here.” Chloe didn’t look at Jackson as she spoke, staring up the drive. She’
d had Jackson stop a safe distance from home, wanting to make sure she was calm enough to face the firing squad she knew was waiting for her. “The house isn’t far. I can walk the rest of the way.”

  “No,” he said, sounding calm and confident.

  She pulled her focus away from the graveled road, meeting his level stare. It shouldn’t be possible for a man to look so good, his mere presence making her body throb in all kinds of wicked places.

  “They’ll be upset. You shouldn’t expect a warm welcome.”

  His fingers brushed her chin and angled her head. He leaned close and nuzzled her nose, his breath warm against her face. “It doesn’t matter. In case you haven’t realized it yet, I’m not here for them. I’m here for you.”

  She swayed, knocked off balance once again by how sincere he sounded, by how he looked at her as though nothing else existed in the world. Since breakfast he’d been nothing but a gentleman, opening her doors, touching her in innocent ways that made her restless. The only time he’d been firm was when she’d asked to call a cab. He’d made it clear that he wasn’t going anywhere and she’d better get used to it.

  Why in the world did that make her feel so giddy?

  Spending time alone with man she hardly knew—despite feeling close to him in a way she was trying to wrap her head around—went beyond impulsive. When she thought about it, it seemed absolutely crazy.

  How would he react if she decided she couldn’t pack her things and leave with him for a weekend alone together?

  “I don’t want to rush you but waiting isn’t going to change anything,” he murmured, his deep baritone sending a tendril of heat from her belly to her sex, his eyes shifting from brown to amber. “I’ve had to deal with a lot as an Alpha. Trust me when I say things often seem like they’ll be worse than they actually are.”

  “An Alpha?” she whispered, alarmed for entirely different reasons now.

  They hadn’t had a chance to discuss aspects of their personal lives, but she never imagined he had his own pack. She swallowed hard, seeing him on an entirely different level. She’d known he was dangerous, she just hadn’t appreciated how much power he truly had. She’d done enough research on werewolves to know Alphas weren’t to be trifled with. They were known to be aggressive, dominant and in total control.

  “That’s right,” he replied softly, as though he could sense her apprehension. “Once we finish here I want to take you somewhere private where we can learn everything about each other.” He lowered his head and feathered his lips over hers, moving from right to left, making her breath catch. “I want to know you inside and out, Chloe girl.”

  “Then I’ll start at the beginning,” she found herself saying, unsure of where she was going with the conversation. “My mother had me when she was my age. I never knew my father. For my grandparents, I’m all that’s left of her. They taught me everything I know. They’re the only family I have.”

  He pulled away and peered down at her. “You make it sound like I want to take you away from them.”

  Her cheeks heated. Damn. She did make it sound like that, didn’t she?

  “Don’t you?”

  “No, I don’t. You promised me the weekend. I’m only taking what you’re willing to give me.” He paused and his lips lifted at the corners. “For now, anyway.”

  Butterflies erupted in the pit of her belly, something that seemed to happen a lot around him. “You’ll have to make them believe that before they’ll let me leave. If you don’t, Gramps will shoot you.”

  She grimaced when she heard her grandfather’s voice in her head, warning her potential suitors would be staring down the barrel of the gun he kept behind the front door. She’d thought he was joking until she’d entered high school and a study partner who happened to be of the male gender had visited her house. Poor Casey Roberts had pissed his pants. Her grandfather had puffed his chest out with pride as the young man had rushed to his car and fled. And she’d been left standing on the porch embarrassed and horrified.

  Suffice it to say she’d had to study Biology on her own after that.

  “Duly noted.” Jackson moved back to his seat and put the car in gear. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

  The heavy weight in her gut built, making her queasy as he took the vehicle up the drive. Prior to the departure from Jackson’s home she’d convinced herself she was a grown woman making her own decisions. She’d felt good about it then—confident. She wasn’t a child anymore. Her grandparents, as much as she loved them, had interfered in her life for too long. It was time to take the reins and start living her life as she chose.

  Sadly a thirty minute drive had managed to chip away at her newfound sense of independence.

  As she’d feared, the door opened when they pulled next to the house. Out came Gramps, dressed in his usual jeans and work shirt, toting the very shotgun she’d warned Jackson about. Despite the sixty-five years behind him, her grandfather had aged well. His broad shoulders were as intimidating as she’d always remembered, the stern look on his face daring anyone to fuck with him.

  The door opened again and her grandmother appeared. While Fletcher Bryant put the fear of God into someone, his wife Abigail had the exact opposite impact. Five years younger than her husband, she too had aged gracefully. Her grandmother always had a welcoming smile on her face, her temperament much more easygoing.

  Despite the firearm, Jackson didn’t appear nervous. He put the vehicle in park, killed the engine and reached for the handle to open the door. Instinct had her reaching out to stop him, fear and concern crashing into her. She jumped when she felt that strange part of her—a part of her from the night before that she’d nearly forgotten about—rear its head. It wanted to protect the man seated beside her, to warn those who would dare threaten him of the wrath that would fall on their heads.

  Jackson’s eyes changed colors, becoming intense and luminous. He wrapped his fingers in the hair at her nape and gave the strands a harsh, almost painful tug. A humming energy extended from him to her, wrapping around her like a cocoon. The prickles of what seemed like electric current were sharp, piercing her flesh.

  “No you don’t,” he whispered, meeting her gaze. “Settle down. Now.”

  Abruptly the rage inside her vanished. She frowned, perplexed.

  What in the hell just happened?

  “What was that?”

  His fingers slid from her hair, the prickly sensation vanished and he shook his head. “Something else we’ll have to discuss when we’re alone.” He opened his door and slid from the seat. “Let’s go. Your family’s waiting.”

  Taking a deep breath, she opened her door before Jackson made it around the car. After she’d climbed out and closed it behind her, she turned to face her grandfather. As she’d anticipated, he was pissed. Anger radiated from the aging man, his eyes narrowed, disproval and disappointment evident in his face. Her shoulders slumped, guilt hitting like a fist to the stomach. She hated it when Gramps was mad at her. She did everything in her power to avoid upsetting him.

  Jackson moved beside her and wrapped an arm around her waist.

  “Get away from him, Chloe Bean,” Gramps ordered, using the nickname he’d given her as a child as he lifted the gun. “Walk yourself up here and go inside.”

  “Fletcher,” Grams whispered, standing behind her husband. “Calm down.”

  “Don’t, Abigail.” Gramps ignored the softly spoken plea, glancing over until he met Chloe’s gaze. “His kind isn’t welcome here.”

  Chloe felt the muscles in Jackson’s arm tense. She wanted to chance a peek to see what he might be thinking but thought better of it. Before she could figure out what to say Jackson gave her a gentle nudge toward the house.

  “Go inside,” he said gruffly.

  “What?” She gasped, tearing her gaze away from her grandfather and peering up at the man who had obviously lost his mind.

  “You heard me.” He took a step forward, the hand at her lower back ensuring she did the same. �
�Go inside.”

  Jackson gave her another nudge, making her take another couple of steps away from him. Grams quickly descended the stairs, taking it as her cue to get involved. When Chloe was within reach the older woman took her by the hand.

  “Come inside, sweetheart. We’ll leave the men to sort out their issues.”

  “But…” She whipped her head around, looking at Jackson. He’d folded his arms over his chest, his legs shoulder’s width apart. He didn’t look at her, his gaze locked with her grandfather’s.

  “Go pack your things. Your grandfather and I need to talk.” For a second his eyes flicked to her. He gave her a comforting smile and winked. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Oh yes, you are,” Gramps snapped, his voice laced with hate. He pumped the shotgun, kicking things up a notch. “If you don’t want a bullet in your hide you’ll get the hell off my property.”

  “Oh dear,” Grams murmured.

  A deep sound penetrated the air, carrying on the wind. Immediately Grams was gone, leaving Chloe standing alone as she balled her hands into fists.

  It was then that she realized the noise—a horrible, distorted growl—was coming from her.

  Her vision changed, covering the world in a haze of red. She lifted her head, staring across the distance at the man who’d raised her. He’d kill Jackson if given the chance. He’d pull the trigger and put a bullet in the body of the man who belonged to her. He’d try to take him away, force her back inside a cage and make her exist without the one person she needed most.

  Never.

  Fury boiled over. The tips of her fingers burned, her gums starting to itch. Blood pounded in her ears, a violence she never knew stirring inside of her, clawing its way free.

  “Put the gun down,” she snarled in a voice that wasn’t entirely hers.

  She shook at the possibility of an impending fight, her vocal cords vibrating as she growled. When she saw her grandfather pale, his hands trembling as he gawked at her, she felt a peppery hotness slam into her nose.

  Fear. She could smell it, identify it, the scent so strong she could almost taste it.