Annie Nicholas - Bootcamp of Misfits Wolves (Vanguard Elite Book 1)

by Unknown

Chapter Twelve

  The empty cereal bowl, sitting on the table in front of Ian with a box of Frosted Flakes and milk, glared back at him. He never realized how central a role food played in his life. The human part of his body didn’t mind sugary carbs. The wolf part starved for meat.

  Sleep eluded Ian. Unlike the others, he hadn’t been abused by physical labor all night. Instead, guilt ate his conscience. Punishing the other shifters for his mistake destroyed his peace of mind. It had taken all his self-control, and Clare’s support, to keep him from helping with digging last night. Deep down inside, he knew if he had, it would have forced Pallas to make things worse for everyone else but him and Clare. The vampire truly was the devil.

  So now he sat in the kitchen, unable to rest, waiting for everyone to wake and hate him. He’d had a chance to finally fit into a group of shifters and he’d blown it again.

  He shoved his chair away from the table. Maybe he should go for a run. The sun shone low in the sky. He had a couple hours before everyone woke, but knowing his luck, the vampire would make them run a marathon in every article of clothing they owned tonight. He wouldn’t put it past, Pallas. Not after watching Jeremy waddle for seven miles. Ian should conserve his energy.

  Poor kid. Good thing shifters healed well. Jeremy’s humiliation might take longer to fix than his sore thighs. Ian pinched the bridge of his nose. His own humiliation would never fade.

  Pallas knew him well. Forced to watch others suffer for his mistake had been the perfect punishment. They would hate him and he’d have a hard time fitting in, like with his old pack.

  His stomach growled. The fridge and freezer were filled with raw meat. It was like Pallas wanted to tempt their dark side. Many of the shifters whispered the vampire feared modern tech so he refused them electricity. At first, Ian had agreed, then he saw the classroom built in the basement with the lights and computer systems. Not to mention the fridge ran on electricity so the manor was equipped with a functioning power box.

  Ian rested his hand on the fridge door handle. His insides burned as his inner beast clawed under the surface for release. He hadn’t shifted in days and the animal wanted to feast. He’d been told eating raw meat would give more power to the beast, more control over their physical form. Allowing the animal supremacy would lead to worse things. Any shifter who lost control didn’t live for very long. Either his pack or the humans would put it down. Take away any means of cooking and stock a fridge full of their beast’s greatest desire was the right combination to drive a shifter mad. Pallas wanted to find out if he had any weak links in his crazy idea of a boot camp. That was the vampire’s real motive for keeping the electricity off.

  Turning his back on temptation, Ian leaned back on the fridge and stared out across the room at the barren hearth. Abandoned pieces of wood lay on the charred stones. Many had tried to make fire since his arrival. None had succeeded beyond some smoke.

  He crossed the room, determination in his stride, and bent to search through the wood scraps. He had no experience in making fires without matches, but he’d been an avid fan of the television realty show Survivor, where he watched many contestants make fire successfully. How hard could it be? With a sharp kitchen knife, he carved out a groove down the center of a long piece of dry branch. This method was his favorite of the many used on the show, besides using flint, which he didn’t own. He snorted. This boot camp could be his own version of the show, except instead of winning a million dollars he’d get to live.

  No, what Pallas offered could be used to improve his life. Fighting was an integral part of pack life. If he could win challenges then he’d move up the hierarchy to a place of importance and influence in a pack.

  He carved the tip of another piece of wood to fit snuggly inside the trench of his first piece so it could slide back and forth with friction. Clearing a spot in the firebox, he set the large piece between his bare feet to keep it stable and worked the smaller wood along the trench.

  After what felt like an eon, tendrils of smoke rose, teasing Ian into a frenzy. He rubbed furiously. Back and forth. Back and forth. Until the palms of his hand felt on fire instead of the wood. The smoke faded to nothing.

  Fuck. He blew on his hands, his flesh a lovely shade of bruising red on the edge of bursting into flame. What was he doing wrong? He’d done everything he’d seen on the show. He touched the trench. It felt warm. Maybe he shouldn’t believe everything he saw on TV.

  Sitting back, he rested his arms on his knees and hung his head. Hunger clawed at his gut. He could run to town and steal a meal from a diner. That would make relations worse with the townspeople. He’d also be conceding defeat to Pallas. Might as well call his alpha and beg him to return. Not happening on both counts.

  Coconuts. He slapped the heel of his palm against his forehead. They used coconut husk on the show as tinder. Ian had something better—paper. He retrieved a discarded newspaper from the recycling, scrunched pieces of it into balls, and placed by the trenched wood for easy access. Bending closer over the wood, he added more force to increase friction as he restarted rubbing the wood. Faster, faster until smoke trailed continuously. He snatched the paper and set it by the heated wood within the groove. Blowing gently, he prepared more tinder. A flame bloomed.

  “Woohoo!” He jumped. Pain exploded inside his head as he hit the edge of the hearth. “Fuck.” He clasped the growing bump. The flame sputtered. He scrambled for another piece of paper but stars blocked his vision and he fumbled.

  Delicate fingers brushed over his and caught the paper, setting it to the dying flame. “You did it.” Clare clasped his face between her hands and kissed him. Just as quickly, she let him go. She pushed him out of the way and added some twigs to the fire.

  Ian sat on his heels and blinked. His lips still tingled and his headache eased. He stared at his blistered palms. Small price to pay for that kiss.

  Clare built the fire until it blazed and the heat chased them both away.

  “Bacon.” He raced to the fridge. “I’ve never cooked on a fire.”

  “No camping as a kid?” She set a grate over the flames. “There are cast iron pans in those cabinets. Let’s make a feast.”

  “Maybe they’ll forgive us?” He had his doubts. He assisted to prepare the meat and set the pans over the fire.

  “I don’t think they blame us. Pallas punished them, not us. Borrowing his car was for their well-being.” She cracked eggs and whisked them. “You want cheese on yours?”

  Sitting by the hearth, he couldn’t pull his gaze off Clare. “I want everything.” He didn’t mean food. Until coming here, he hadn’t realized how empty and purposeless his life had been.

  “Ah, a wolf with small goals. Admirable.” She tossed him a shy crooked smile. A simple gesture from anyone else but Clare. She’d given him nothing but grief from day one. He’d worked hard for this smile and he’d bask in it all day.

  “We troublemakers tend to have little ambition unless we meet the right person to guide our reckless behavior.” He winked.

  A blush bloomed on her cheeks. After days of hard labor, cold showers, and poor food she was still the most beautiful female he’d ever laid eyes on. His attraction to her had morphed from physical to much more.

  She crouched next to him and poured the eggs on the hot pan.

  He leaned closer, brushing his nose over hair. “You smell wonderful.”

  “Like smoke and bacon?”

  He moaned, resisting the urge to throw her over his shoulder caveman-like and find a secluded spot in the manor. “No, like mine,” he whispered in her ear.

  She swung her head and met his stare. “Ian…”

  “Don’t.” He pressed his finger over her lips. “Breakfast is burning.”

  Another crooked smile. He could get used to this.

  While she watched the food cook, he prepared a couple pots of water and set them on the growing pile of coals. One for coffee, the other a surprise. “I’ll start a larger batch of eggs. I hear movement above.
”

  Her stare burned holes in his back while Ian pulled out plates and cutlery. “How do you think the others will react to us preparing breakfast?”

  “Like it’s Christmas.” She laughed. She rarely let her guard down enough to joke around. He resolved to make her laugh more often. She cleared her throat. “Alphas provide for their packs.”

  “Pallas provides the food, not us.”

  “No, but you made the fire and we’re cooking the well-deserved meal.” She brought him a plate piled high with food and set to cooking more.

  He followed her back to the hearth. Sitting beside her, he offered her a fork. “There’s plenty for two.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Really? You have a small appetite for a young male shifter.”

  So he was lying and she knew it. He couldn’t eat unless she was being fed as well. It was a gut reflex, something he couldn’t control. Scooping a fork full, he held it before her mouth. “I want to take care of you.”

  Her playful expression vanished. “I can take care of myself.”

  “No doubt.” His chest ached from the hurt her words caused. What was it about him that drove people away? “But can’t I help?” He stared over her shoulder at the fading sunlight outside, uncomfortable with the turn in conversation. “You could care for me in return. I mean, if you want.” He cleared the lump in his throat. The fork in his hand dipped as she took the bite. His gaze darted to her as she focused on cooking again.

  “There’ll be enough food for seconds if you’re still hungry when we’re done with this plate.”

  Starved, Ian feared Clare was the only thing that could satisfy him.

  Footsteps raced down the stairs and shifters emerged into the kitchen. “I smell bacon!” Announced Theo to the whole manor.

  It didn’t take long for news to spread, the kitchen to fill, and the fridge to empty. Full bellies lifted everyone’s spirits.

  Ian nudged Clare and handed her a pot filled with steaming hot water. “It’s not a shower, but I thought you’d enjoy some hot water to wash with.”

  She hooked a finger in his belt loop. “Only if you promise to wash my back.” Her eyes held an invitation.

  He followed her out of the overcrowded kitchen, unable to stop his shit-eating grin. Someone broke out in song. Bacon made everything better.

  Clare forced her steps to slow. Racing to the second floor bathroom would give Ian the wrong impression. Or more likely, the right one. Her head spun. Follow her heart or follow her mind? So far, she’d kept her heart in check all these years so she could jump at any chance of escape without regret. Now, when she needed a clear head the most, she’d gone and fallen for the most unpredictable shifter she’d met. What if she gave into base instincts and tomorrow he moved on to another female?

  She reached the bathroom door and glanced over her shoulder. Ian’s teasing nature no longer showed. Hunger burned in his eyes, something she’d glimpsed in the kitchen. No male had looked at her with so much need. Her beast basked in his worship and desire. She pushed at Clare to give in for once. She’d escaped her pack so she no longer needed to keep her desires in check.

  Opening the door, she pulled him inside. “We can’t let anyone see you.” The rules were strict about males and females intermingling outside the communal rooms. Shifters were a territorial bunch without adding mating challenges to the mix. She set the pot of water next to the sink and twisted to face him.

  He pressed against her, hands circling her waist and head bent to claim her mouth. Lips warm and soft, sure and confident, he moved his mouth over hers. His fingers tangled in her hair, keeping her within his control. He lifted her on the counter and spread her legs so he could thrust his hard package against her. Jeans against jeans, but she grew wet as if they’d been naked. He broke off the kiss and pulled her t-shirt over her head. “Can’t wash if you’re dressed.”

  She couldn’t catch her breath. A fog of passion clouded her thoughts. He was really going to bathe her? She stroked the outside of his fly, tracing his hard cock.

  He hissed and pressed her hands over her head. “Don’t.”

  She gave him a slow blink. “Okay.”

  He growled deep within his chest and released her wrists. Tracing her bra with his fingertips, he brushed over her peaked nipples. He lingered over them, ran a slow circle over the tips until she moaned. With an expert’s ease, he undid the clasp and let her breasts spill out. He searched the drawers of the counter until he found a facecloth and dipped it into the water. “Tell me if it’s too hot.” He squeezed the cloth, releasing a flood of water over her chest.

  The heat on her cold flesh stung and she arched her back for more.

  Ian bent over her breast and poured more water, kissing her along the breast bone.

  She couldn’t follow his order anymore and ran her hands over his shoulder. “There’s enough water there for both of us.” She tugged at his shirt.

  Carefully, he raised her hands over her head. “Keep your hands to yourself.”

  “Ian.” She ground out his name between her teeth.

  He nipped her chin. “Patience. All good things come to those who behave.” He ran the cloth over her chest. Spreading her legs wider, he rocked his hips while taking care to wash each breast meticulously.

  She arched her back, rolling her hips in time with his thrusts. “I need you inside me.”

  “Fuck, Clare. You’re testing me my control.”

  “Your control?” She shifted her weight and wrapped her legs around his hips, climbing him like a monkey, so he had to support her ass with his hands. She claimed his mouth, just like she planned on claiming him.

  By some act of magic, he twisted around, managed to balance her against the wall, and slip one of his hands between them, undoing her pants. “I’m going to fuck you so hard.”

  “Yes, fuck me.” Teeth clashing, she muttered her words between demanding kisses.

  Ian’s pushed his hand past her jeans and panties, sliding his fingers between her wet folds. “You’re so wet.”

  “I need you.” The desperation in her voice didn’t sound like the Clare she knew. She tugged on the buttons of his fly. Who didn’t use zippers? It was like Levi’s did it on purpose to torture her. She let out a frustrated snarl.

  With one hand, he gathered her wrists and placed them over her head, pinning her against wall again—topless, jeans and panties around her ankles.

  “Stop that, Ian. I want to touch you.”

  “No.” He thrust his fingers inside her.

  She moaned low and soft, rubbing herself against his hand.

  “Yeah, like that.” With the palm of his hand, he pressed against her clit with his fingers still inside her. “I want to watch you come.” He knelt in front of her short form and sucked on her left nipple all the while finger fucking her.

  Pressure built in her lower abdomen. She was so close. Her hips rolled of their own accord. She couldn’t believe that she’d let things get so far out of her control, but instead of turning her off, it was making her want him even more.

  The sound of heavy boots climbing the front stairs had them both jerk to attention. Only one person wore boots in the manor.

  Pallas.

  If he caught Ian on the girl’s floor, let alone in the act of fucking Clare, they were both dead. Especially after yesterday’s events. She pointed to the bathroom window.

  Ian pushed her back against the wall.

  She gave him an are-you-serious? look.

  He hung his head and let her go.

  She turned on the shower full blast and helped him climb out the window.

  A knock sounded on the door. “Clare?” Pallas’ voice.

  “Yes?” She sounded five years old with her hand trapped in the cookie jar.

  “Is Ian there?”

  “Of course not.” She added a huge amount of indignation. Shifters were terrible liars. Technically, she wasn’t lying. Ian had jumped out the window a second ago.

  “If you see h
im, tell him we’re meeting out front in five. Hurry with your shower.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ian hit the ground and rolled with his landing from the second story. Using the momentum, he slipped into the deep darkness under the tree and rose to his knees. The lit windows on the first floor looked clear of observers. Did he escape free and clear? He glanced up at the bathroom window.

  Clare stuck her head out and gave a thumbs-up. Great, everyone was happy but his aching cock. He leaned against the tree and closed his eyes, picturing Clare pinned against the wall. Who would have thought she had a submissive streak when it came to sex?

  “Hey, Romeo.” Darrell called from the front porch. “Class is supposed to start.”

  Ian readjusted his jeans and sauntered to the front of the manor where everyone was gathered around Pallas. The front door opened and a wet Clare joined them. He tried to catch her eye but she carefully ignored him.

  The vampire counted heads. “Inside these woods, I have organized a scavenger hunt.” He handed Penny a stack of maps and a box. “Pass these out.”

  Ian drew closer and glanced inside the box. Compasses? Shit, he should have paid more attention in class. He took the gear Penny handed him.

  “Five locations are marked on these maps. You will locate each spot using the skills we discussed. Compass.” He held up the object. “Stars.” He pointed to the clear night. “Scent.” He flicked Blain’s nose. “You will be divided into five teams. How you decide to accomplish your task is up to you. Each spot contains five different colored flags. Gather your color and your color only. No cheating. No hiding of other team flags. No teams working together. I see all.” He tapped his head. Ian recalled the mouse Pallas had used to watch Ian’s escape attempt. “Ask Ian.”

  He nodded to others. “He has super powers.” Had he read his mind?

  Some chuckled, most turned pale. The latter were the smart ones.

  Pallas strolled through the group as he shouted his instructions. “All members of the team have to arrive at the finish line with the flags. Last group to finish will be sent home.”