by Anne Marsh
Wolf’s
Redemption
ANNE MARSH
CRUZ
The goddamned cell phone on the bedside table vibrates fiercely, as if the device intends to knock some sense into the iron bar masquerading as my dick. Curled up against my side, her head on my chest, Gianna makes a sleepy sound that said dick immediately interprets as a vote for staying put right where I am. In bed with Gianna.
Taking a call isn’t part of my master plan. Gianna agreed to give me seven nights to convince her I’m the man for her—and I’m going to need every minute. My rival for her affections is also the Alpha of a rival wolf pack… and the only thing I have going for me right now is that Gianna believes she wants to be in a relationship with both Luc and me. Naturally, I want to convince her she’s a one-man woman—and I’m that man.
Last night was fantastic—and Luc-free—but the cherry on my perfect-day sundae would be Gianna’s admission that she loves me. I gave her the words too quickly. Fuck, you’d think I could be more tactical, but I’d been holding her, the words right there on my tongue, and so I’d said them.
It wasn’t just the sex talking, or that maybe she still felt as if there had to be something wrong with her because she’d hopped straight into bed with me after committing to Luc and I’d wanted to convince her otherwise. Hell, I’ve planned on our week together showing her that what we had together was damned special.
And the special isn’t just limited to what goes on between us in my bed. That part is out-of-this-world good, but I aim to show her that our feelings for each other go so much further than that. She needs to get to know me, and we both need to do some of the courtship things normal couples do when they’re feeling each other out and learning more about what makes each other tick. So far, I’ve loved everything I’d learned about Gianna, but I bet she has plenty of quirks and annoying tics—and I can’t wait to find out. I want all of her, body and soul and her sharp, intelligent mind.
And somehow I also need to figure out how to let her in, coax her to see past the Alpha, the sheriff, or the convenient bedroom third. She’s let me play those roles in her life, but I’m going to be so much more. Her friend, her go-to man, someone she turns to when shit’s happened, good or bad, and she needs to tell someone now.
So as part of that plan, I’d intended to grill Gianna a steak, then perhaps watch a movie or just curl up on the couch. I even bought champagne and put the bottle in the fridge to chill. Never mind that I own precisely four wineglasses, three of which match and none of which are this flute business the Internet tells me proper people use for their champagne binges. I made an effort and instead of giving me the gold star, the universe has apparently decided I need to put in overtime with the sheriff’s department.
The work phone buzzes again. Shit. I’m technically off duty this weekend, but my boys always call me in an emergency and that means instead of making love to a waking-up Gianna, I’ll be making arrests. Lucky me. Gianna cracks an eye when the phone goes crazy a third time, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. I give up and drop a kiss on her forehead, swiping my phone from the table.
“I need to take this.”
“Uh-huh. Occupational hazard?”
She sounds understanding, if sleepy, not pissed, as I gently untangle myself from her and tuck her back under the covers. She’s a lawyer. People probably call her at all hours of the day. Still, just in case she’s harboring any doubts, I flash her the screen so caller ID can verify my ass. I don’t ever want her thinking I’m making excuses to walk out on her.
“You’ll excuse me for a moment? I don’ have a landline and the cell reception isn’t great inside. It’s the beams. Too thick.” I’ve apparently mastered the fine art of babbling. Real smooth. When she nods, I head for the porch because I still have a call to take even if I’m not Mr. Suave.
When I return from the quick call, she’s planted in my living room, wearing my T-shirt and not much else. The hem skims the top of her thighs, and I’m happy to imagine the sweet heat that waits for me just a few inches north. Christ. She’s so fucking gorgeous. I’ve done nothing to deserve a woman like this in my life, but I send up a silent thank-you to the powers that be for giving me a shot anyhow.
She admires the view of the garden through the window as if she has no idea what else to do with herself, which officially ratchets the situation up to awkward as hell status. Luc Breaux’s belief in a blue moon that handpicks mates for his pack actually sounds better and better all the time. Having a moon as a celestial dating agent has to be easier than this. On the other hand, even without lunar intervention, Gianna and I have seen each other naked, and I’ve learned every inch of her inside and out. So maybe I can do just fine without a blue moon on my side.
“Work?” She looks away from the window. Maybe roses bore her or maybe she’s already plotting her escape. She’d be hard to catch in the Camaro she parked in my driveway.
I clear my throat. “I’m goin’ to have to leave you here for a bit, boo. We’ve picked up a possible Breed member, and so I need to go in and see what’s what.”
Luc and I took out the werewolves who attacked her last month, but the resulting change in management in the local motorcycle club doesn’t guarantee her safety. Whether Gianna will agree with my methods, however, is up for debate. As if it isn’t bad enough I’m a werewolf, I’m also the pack’s enforcer. When a werewolf goes bad, I deal with the problem. Gianna, on the other hand, is a lawyer, representing human law and human justice. While I wear the uniform and respect the hell out of her values, I walk a fine line, and sometimes matters call for werewolf justice. If my boys actually have a shifter in custody, I need to get down there before the idiot decides to do something really stupid, like go furry in the holding cell.
“I’ll be back,” I add. “Jace and Eli will keep you safe while I’m gone. You don’ need to worry about the Breed.”
She doesn’t worry. Ever. That’s my job and my privilege to take care of that shit for her.
Her mouth tightens just a little. “Got it.”
The way she glances at me, I’m not sure she does. I’m not little ladying her or trying to imply she can’t do these things for herself, but Gianna’s prickly as hell when it comes to accepting a hand or leaning on me. Where other people have money issues or daddy issues, she’s got independence issues.
“You prefer that I just go down and shoot his werewolf ass?” I ask when she doesn’t say anything more. “Because I guarantee you then that I’ll be right back.”
“Due process, baby,” she says lightly, but her mouth relaxes.
“I’m just givin’ you options.” Which is true, but I don’t think my choices are the ones she wants.
“I don’t need bubble-wrapping,” she protests, but she crosses the room to me and slides her arms around my waist. I wrap my arms around her and give her a squeeze. I guess we’re both trying here, and there are bound to be bumps in the road.
“Werewolf,” I remind her, dropping a kiss on her forehead.
“Excuses,” she counters. “You need to get your head out of the Dark Ages.”
It’s not my head that’s the problem here—it’s my heart. But I’m not going to rush her, so I settle for giving her a quick grin.
“Explanations.” I scoop her up into my arms so she’s on eye level with me, her legs going around my waist as my hands slide down to cup her butt. Under her T-shirt, over the soft, sweet curves. I guess she didn’t bother looking for her panties when she followed me out of bed, and I’m a happy, happy man. Horny too, but the day is yelling my name, demanding I get on with all the stuff I’ve got to do. Sucks sometimes, being the Alpha and the sheriff.
“We both know I’m goin’ to screw this up sometimes. Not that I wan’ to or that I’m not tryin’,” I add because I don’t want to give her the wrong idea. “But you’ve got your own ideas about how things should go between us, and I’m tryin’ to respect that. I really am.”
She leans back in m
y hold, a rueful smile tugging at her mouth. “You’re tryin’ to convince me your way is best.”
Fuck, yeah. But it’s convincing, not forcing, and we both know she’ll push right back if I push too hard or in the wrong direction. “You’ve got a mission of your own, boo.”
Luc’s name hangs unspoken in the air between us.
“I’ve got my work cut out for me.” She sighs.
It’s not as if I can disagree with her there. I don’t want the other Alpha in my life, so Gianna has an uphill battle if she thinks she’s going to get the two of us to get along. Two dominant wolves always fight, testing to see which one comes out on top.
“I’m hopin’ the nights make up for everything,” I tell her, skimming my fingertips over her butt. Christ, but she feels good. I want to make her feel even better, but I’m out of time. I’ve got a werewolf to interrogate, a pack to run.
Blunt. But honest. I hope like hell she can deal with those qualities, because I’m not sure I can change myself to be anything else. Hell, I’m not even sure I want to try.
“Because you’ve got prior claims on your daylight hours,” she points out dryly.
Well, yeah. Leave it to fate and the sheriff’s office to screw up my perfectly good plan. Still, I should salvage what I can. Since I can’t carry her back upstairs and lay her down on my bed, I do the next best thing. I kiss her one more time. I don’t have to get inside her to feel close, although I’m sure that would help. We have so much getting to know you to do and so little time. Gently, I lick the closed seam of her lips, tasting her before I slip inside to flirt with her tongue. Here I am, finally taking my chance with her, and I have to step away. Responsibilities suck. I kiss her one last time, tear my mouth off hers, and give her the truth.
“I’m sorry to be leavin’ you.”
GIANNA
That makes two of us who are sorry.
He sets me down gently, sliding my legs from around his hips, and that’s what I wanted, isn’t it? To stand on my own two feet. To not rely on a man, any man, no matter how hot and sweet his promises. It doesn’t help that Cruz is nothing like the guys in the trailer park where I grew up. Both inside and out, he’s entirely different.
Plus, on a scale of one to ten, Cruz’s kiss registers at twenty. Or thirty. And yet… there he goes, walking out the door on me as if it’s easy-peasy for him, and perhaps it is. In all the scenarios I imagined when I was (admittedly) daydreaming about our week together, his leaving never formed any part of my master plan. Exploring the sexual chemistry between us and trying to sort out our half of a relationship that might be so much more are activities that require both participants.
And yet he’s walking away from me.
“You’re going now?” Shoot. That sounds needy. There’s only one way to interpret his words, but I need to hear him say it for some sentimental, stupid reason. As if saying the words out loud make everything more real.
“Oui. Not willingly. I may be gone all day.” He turns around, his fingers getting all tangled up in my hair, his thumbs stroking a sexy path over my jawline. He likes to touch me. Little touches. Deep ones. As if every moment we’re skin to skin is a good one. Since I’m on the same page with him there, waiting for him to come back will suck. I’ll be alone in his place with that big bed upstairs going empty, and that’s definitely a waste.
“And my special security detail?” I nip his thumb. He’s supposed to be making sure I have a twenty-four-seven bodyguard watching over me because of the threats from the local motorcycle club. Cruz is protective, so there’s no way he’d shirk that particular responsibility.
“The sheriff’s office has men watching the roads. My brothers are just outside this cottage.”
In other words, I’m locked up tighter than tight, and dying isn’t something I have to worry about today. That’s a good thing, and one I appreciate, although part of me resents the oversight. It feels a little too much like being a prisoner.
Or a child again.
“Be careful.” I’m not winning prizes for romantic poetry, but his job is dangerous. Even before I learned the truth about werewolves, I recognized that our men and women in blue risk their lives on a daily basis. Protect and serve doesn’t always mean come home in one piece—and I really, really don’t like the mental image of Cruz hurting.
He shifts, pulling away from me again. He’ll be out the door in a minute. “I always am.”
“Be extra careful,” I order.
A smile curves his beautiful mouth. “You like givin’ orders, don’ you, boo?”
It’s not a question of like. It’s more that I don’t know any other way to be, but he’s the same way. It’s one thing we actually have in common. I open my mouth to point that truth out, but he keeps right on speaking. “This isn’t how I planned our second day together,” he says.
It’s kind of cute that he’s got a mental clock running on our week together. The expression on his face is charmingly rueful, his mouth twisted in a wry little grin that makes letting him go even harder because I want to kiss his mouth again and see if he tastes every bit as good as I remember. And because one minute or five—either is too long to go without kissing. Unfortunately, I also respect his job, his commitment to justice and keeping the world safe.
“Okay,” I agree, instead of saying any of those things. Go me. I won’t be winning bonus points in the witty lover department. “Got it.”
He rubs his thumb over my mouth as if he’s remembering our kisses too. Good. I can’t be the only person pining for what—who—I can’t have.
“You got to remember somethin’, boo.”
“What’s that?” Good-byes aren’t my thing. I have no idea what to say. This isn’t like court, where I’ve had hours to write out my speech and practice it. I’m not facing twelve upstanding members of the community who’ve been pressed into jury duty and who may or may not be giving me their undivided attention.
“That I’m not human, not one hundred percent.” His gaze holds mine, his big hands still touching me. Remembering that he’s a wolf and a predator isn’t hard when he looks at me as if he wants to eat me right up. I suck in a breath, because something has happened to all the air in the room, and mistake. Cruz smells wild, sexy, and fierce, and not because of some cologne from Macy’s menswear but because of what he is. Part man, part wolf. And, right now, all the sheriff department’s. So much for my chance to figure out if he can also be mine.
I rest the palm of my hand against his chest. “I can work with that.”
The warmth of him seeps through the thin cotton. His heart beats strong and steady in a determined, rock-solid rhythm so like the man himself. Cruz picks his path, and then he sticks to it.
He shakes his head. “You don’ understand what it means.”
I hate it when people talk about life in terms of don’t or can’t. I’m all about the do and the can. I’ve accomplished plenty in my life so far, and none of it has happened because I thought I couldn’t do something. So I can definitely understand Cruz, provided he takes the time to explain things to me, and if my fingers are tapping out an impatient little rhythm over his heart, well, that’s another message he needs to get. I don’t do wait, either. I go after what I want.
Cruz’s hand settles on my back. “I saved your life from the motorcycle gang. According to Pack law, that makes you mine.”
I can practically hear him beating his chest, so I set him straight. “I don’t do ownership. Or possessiveness, submission, or any kind of kink. Just so we’re clear.”
Give a wolf an inch…
A small smile tugs at his lips. It makes him look like an unrepentant bad boy. I’m not sure if I want to smack the grin off his face—or kiss it off. I need to decide quickly though, or he’s going to be taking that mile.
“You tell Luc that yet?” he asks, walking me backward. Three steps and my back hits the wall.
“Luc knows how I feel.” Or so I hope. Hell, I thought the three of us were on the same page i
n terms of our relationship and our feelings, but then I got cold feet and both my wolves seem to have decided that what we had was, in fact, not so much a relationship as a contest.
A contest in which I’m the prize.
Part of me is flattered. That’s true. But that’s the part that really, really likes sex, and they do have spectacular dicks. My brain is smarter and realizes that their game of one-upmanship has more to do with their feelings for each other than with any emotions they might entertain for me.
“Uh-huh.” He brushes his lips over mine as if we’re some kind of old married couple. “You’re goin’ to like submitting just fine. In fact, I think we’ll do some practicin’ tonight.”
My brain stops thinking right there, tossing the reins to my body. Hello, erotic images.
Hello, danger zone.
I can’t imagine any direction this conversation could be headed that I’d genuinely welcome. Like always, however, I want to jump Cruz Jones and take him straight to bed—not discuss how I do or don’t feel about kinky sexual practices. My body heats up remembering just how kinky we’ve been together. I had both Cruz and Luc touching me. Kissing me and taking me. Bottom line is, I slept with both of them at the same time. So perhaps I do have a not-so-secret taste for kink. It doesn’t mean, however, that I want to discuss it. Ever.
“I don’t think you want to finish that thought,” I warn him.
He has gorgeous eyes with ludicrously long lashes. And God, the heat and the hardness of that fantastic body of his… He absolutely makes me rethink my stance on submission.
“I think you like lettin’ go,” he says.
“I like to come just as much as the next woman.” The wall presses into my back, a reminder that I go nowhere until and unless he lets me. He leans into me, one hand braced against the wall by my head. My position shouldn’t feel so… sexy.
“Oui, but I think there’s something else you like.”
Someone, sure.
Him. I have no idea why. In fact, I pretty much lose all capacity to think when he pushes me up against the wall and kisses me. I’ve seen couples like this before, however, particularly back in my trailer park days. Lost in each other, shutting out the world. Or blocking it out, in some cases, when the embrace becomes more power play than erotic play. I should move, should kick my stupid, nostalgic ass into gear and slide out from underneath his arm, because it’s never smart to be the person with her back to the wall. I don’t move though.
