Charmed by the Wolf

by Kristal Hollis

  “Penelope’s just...” Exactly what was she to him? “A friend?” Possibly, if they ever got past the furtive glances across the resort lobby.

  “You and I have been friends since we were twelve.” Angeline leaned close enough to whisper in his ear. “You’ve never lit up for me the way you did for her when she walked in that door. Go get her.”

  “You know my situation.”

  “It’s your parents’ situation. Doesn’t have to be yours.”

  Unfortunately, Tristan knew differently.

  “Don’t be a jerk and leave her sitting alone.” Angeline bumped his shoulder. “She’s got that vulnerable look and there are hungry wolves on the prowl tonight. One of them might get lucky enough to eat her up.”

  The low, warning growl vibrating in his throat caught him off guard, but apparently not Angeline.

  She laughed and laughed.

  “Don’t you have work to do?” Tristan grumbled.

  “Don’t you?”

  Chapter 7

  Penelope barely heard anything over the panicked drum of her heart. She was so out of her comfort zone. How had she allowed Cassie to talk her into this?

  In the ten minutes since she’d arrived, Penelope had kept her head lowered and avoided eye contact. Some habits were hard to break.

  She picked up the menu. Her gaze skipped over the fried foods and sandwiches, and landed on the salads, but what she really wanted was that platter of chicken wings the server carted past her.

  Taking a deep breath, she glanced around the restaurant. For singles’ night, the crowd seemed relatively calm.

  Oh, she could spot the hookups, all right, but the frenzied, frantic atmosphere of the few singles’ bars she’d gone to with a friend from work was thankfully absent.

  Through the crowd, she noticed a tawny-haired man at the bar and her heart fluttered.

  Lately, her sex life had stagnated. Not that it was anything spectacular before. She’d been in a few relationships, but none of the men had rocked her world in or out of the bedroom and she really wanted to be rocked. Hard.

  Hard enough to leave her sweaty and breathless. Hard enough for the headboard to chip the paint off the walls.

  She’d settle for one good orgasm.

  Oh, she could give them to herself when she indulged in fantasy, but she’d never achieved the same result with any of her boyfriends. Tired of fantasies, Penelope slid out of her seat and made determined steps toward the bar.

  Tristan, the subject of her latest fantasies, tossed back a shot of something. If she wasn’t such a lightweight drinker, she might do the same. “Courage,” she muttered to herself.

  The closer she came to him, the more militant the butterflies in her stomach became. Maybe that was why the zip of excitement she usually felt when seeing Tristan didn’t manifest.

  Penelope tapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Hi there.”

  He turned slowly. His gaze landed on her chest and lingered before sliding down the length of her body and then all the way up to her face, leaving an icky feeling on her skin.

  Not the reaction she hoped for.

  “Do I know you?” His blue-gray eyes were cold and distant, and no smile touched his tight mouth.

  “No.” Penelope forced a confident smile. “I thought you were someone else. Sorry to have bothered you.” She turned to scurry back to her table.

  “Hold on.” Steely fingers cuffed her wrist and spun her around. “You are definitely not a bother, love.” The man pulled her close, way too close for her comfort. “Join me for a drink.”

  “I have other plans.” She employed the stern tone she used when disciplining the schoolkids in her classroom.

  “Plans change.” His grip remained firm but didn’t tighten. For a second, his gaze lost the hard edge and she glimpsed a shadow of loneliness.

  She almost relented.

  “Let her go.”

  Now Penelope’s internal bells and whistles went off. Tristan stepped close enough that she went all gooey inside and had to concentrate on remaining cool and collected so she wouldn’t melt into a puddle at his feet.

  “We were just about to get to know each other,” the other man said.

  “Jaxen, this is Penelope. She’s my date for the evening. That’s all you need to know about her.” The growl in Tristan’s deep, sexy voice inspired all sorts of electric mayhem throughout her body. She shivered.

  When his arm gently slipped around her waist, the ripple along her nerves twisted into a wild, interpretive dance.

  “Let her go.” With his right hand, Tristan clasped Jaxen’s wrist until he released her, one finger at a time.

  “No harm, no foul.” Jaxen rubbed the red streaks Tristan’s grasp had left on his arm. “Man, you need to lighten up.”

  Penelope glanced at her wrist. Jaxen’s grip had not left a single mark.

  “You need to mind your manners.”

  “Noted.” The muscle in Jaxen’s jaw twitched. He gave Penelope a wistful look, then showed them his back and ordered another shot.

  “Did he hurt you?” Tristan gently turned her away from the bar.

  “No.” And she wasn’t so sure Jaxen would have.

  Tristan laced his fingers through hers. Warm, comforting heat spread beneath his touch.

  “Is Jaxen your brother?” Penelope fell into step slightly behind Tristan as he led the way through the swelling crowd. Mostly people moved out of his way and he made a direct path to a table near the dance floor.

  “Cousin.”

  “You favor each other.”

  “Only in looks.” Tristan’s upper lip lifted in a silent snarl.

  Apparently there was an unpleasant history between the two men.

  “I hope you don’t mind joining me, sweet cheeks.” Tristan’s warm eyes encouraged her company.

  “Just so you know—” Nel sat in the chair he pulled back for her “—I like Nel. But I don’t like doll, darlin’, love, sweetie, sweetie pie or sweet cheeks.”

  He took the other seat. “Sweet cheeks is a compliment. When you smile, you look so damn sweet I want to eat you up.”

  “Oh.” A light heat spread across her face, down the column of her throat and across her cleavage. “I changed my mind, you can call me sweet cheeks.”

  He glanced around the room before settling his gaze back on her. “I was working resort security Friday night and heard you cry out in the woods. Did you get hurt?”

  “No, but I was scared. There was a terrible noise, then a wolf came up to me and...I thought heard your voice.”

  Surprise and disbelief blinked in Tristan’s eyes.

  “I know it was my imagination kicking into overdrive because I was frightened.” Penelope fiddled with her fingers. “And I was really hoping to see you again.”

  “Yeah?”

  She needed sunglasses to protect herself from Tristan’s smile. She also needed to divert away from flirting with him because, well, she rather sucked at it.

  “I was scared, Tristan. To know you were nearby and didn’t help—” Her voiced cracked.

  “Nel, when I heard you call out, it was impossible for me to get to you. My wolf accompanies me on patrol, so I sent him instead. I trust him with my life. I knew I could trust him with yours.” Tristan’s hand covered hers and the angst tying her stomach in knots dissolved into a calm, soothing assurance. “My wolf will never hurt you. I’ll stake my life on that.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Tristan.” His brow creased. “With the population we have, it would become confusing to give separate names to the wolves.”

  “Everyone should have a name of their own.”

  “Trust me, he doesn’t mind being called Tristan.”

  “He told yo
u that, did he?”

  “As a matter of fact, he did.”

  Penelope nearly giggled because of the teasing tent in Tristan’s eyebrow and the broadening, impish smile he flashed at her.

  “Am I forgiven?”

  Nel studied his face. He had a strong brow that dipped over warm, deliciously decadent eyes, a straight nose of just the right proportion, high cheeks, a masculine mouth tempered by a delicate cupid’s bow and soft-looking lips, and a powerful jaw shadowed by dark gold stubble.

  How could she stay mad at someone with a face of exquisite perfection?

  “Forgiven.”

  “Here ya go.” The server placed a glass of white wine in front of Penelope. “Figured you’d rather have this here than at the table where you were.”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “Ready to order?”

  “A Caesar salad will be fine.”

  “That’s an appetizer, right?” Tristan’s gaze slid past Penelope and to the left.

  “Um, no. It’s supper.”

  “For a rabbit.” He turned his attention to the server. “The usual, and add an order of grilled chicken wings.”

  “Want another beer? That one’s probably warm by now.”

  Tristan handed the server the nearly full beer mug. “Water is fine.”

  “Sure thing, Slick.” The server sauntered toward the kitchen.

  “Slick?” Penelope asked Tristan.

  “A nickname. Angeline and I have been friends for years. She calls me Slick. I call her Sassy.”

  Penelope felt a slight prick of envy. She’d lost her first friends when her parents died and she had to move. In college, she’d had some acquaintances and quickly lost touch with them after graduation. More recently, her small social circle included a few coworkers and the sister of Penelope’s last ex.

  “So, what’s your usual order?” she asked Tristan.

  “Sixteen-ounce rib eye, medium rare, a loaded baked potato and fried okra without the batter.”

  “You’re going to eat all that plus a plate of chicken wings?”

  “Nah, I got those for you. I saw the way you looked at the platter on the table next to us. Besides, after supper I’m hoping you’ll be my dance partner. You’ll run out of steam before the second song if you don’t have protein in your stomach.”

  “I’m not a much of a dancer.” Mostly because she’d never learned.

  “Good thing I’m an excellent teacher.” Tristan exuded an easy confidence and openness Penelope would find sexy even without his perfect features.

  “I bet you’re excellent at a lot of things.” Vivid visions of all the things she would like for him to do to her flashed through Penelope’s mind.

  “Yes.” Tristan’s smile turned wicked and decadence smoldered in his dark sinful eyes. “I certainly am.”

  Nel’s body charged with awareness, heat erupted from her core, and raging desire flooded her senses.

  With no experience to handle a man like Tristan, the safest thing to do would be to cut and run.

  Unfortunately, her legs had turned to jelly.

  Chapter 8

  Anticipation coiled inside Tristan. He couldn’t wait to get Nel in his arms, hold her close and work up a sweat. He’d be a liar to deny he wanted more, but dancing was all he dared.

  Another quick visual sweep of the restaurant confirmed there were no simmering or escalating troubles, especially since Jaxen had left with Deidre. Even when he wasn’t looking directly at Nel, Tristan was intimately aware of every move, every breath, every sound she made.

  Methodically, she wiped her hands on a napkin and tucked it beside her empty plate. Her soft sigh sounded sad, disappointed, drawing his full attention.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Her voice sounded tight and she avoided his direct gaze. “How much do I owe you for dinner?”

  “Nothing, it’s my treat.” No one had ever mistaken a date with him before. Maybe he was losing his touch.

  “Oh, okay. Um, thanks for dinner.” She inhaled a slow, deep breath. Her spine straightened and her shoulders stiffened. “It’s been a long day, so I’m going back to my cabin.”

  The sudden crash of disappointment left him speechless.

  Damn. How did he screw this up?

  They both stood and Tristan hooked his fingers through Nel’s to make sure she didn’t walk off.

  “One dance?” He gave her his best puppy dog look.

  “One,” she finally agreed.

  Despite the band’s fast beat, Tristan pulled Nel close and set their own slow pace. He waited a few more beats before asking, “So, how did I mess up at supper?”

  “You barely looked at me once the food arrived.”

  “I hadn’t had a decent meal since yesterday.” He was wolfan. Even when he wasn’t starving, food was a pretty big deal.

  “Hunger has nothing to do with roaming eyes.”

  “What?” Tristan halted their dance. Absolutely and unequivocally, he had not scoped out any woman tonight, aside from Nel.

  She looked up at him, her eyes clear, guileless, and a direct window to the vulnerability she was trying not to show.

  “I’m not the most desirable woman here tonight...”

  To him, she was. To prove it, he tipped her chin intending to give her a gentle kiss.

  But the moment her lips parted, Tristan’s rational mind disengaged and primal instinct took control. He swept her mouth, probing, claiming, branding her as much as she probed, claimed and branded him.

  Thankfully, she broke the kiss because he couldn’t.

  “You were saying?”

  She touched her fingers to her lips as if they tingled as much as his did. “That was an unfair distraction.”

  “But it was good, right? Good enough to adjust your perception?”

  “Do you find me boring? Because every few minutes you look away.”

  Tristan scratched his jaw. He was such an idiot for not mentioning it, but he’d done it for so long he no longer realized when he was doing it. “I’m partially blind.” He enticed her back into his arms, but she resisted getting as cozy as they were before. “I have no left peripheral vision. Whenever I sense movement on that side, I look.”

  “Oh.” Nel’s expression softened and he hated the sympathy that pooled in her big, beautiful eyes. “I’m sorry for the misunderstanding.”

  “Don’t be. I’m glad we cleared the air.”

  “Since we’re on the subject of clearing the air...” Nel inched closer. “Is it my imagination, or have you also sensed this thing...this energy bouncing between us?”

  He did, and wondered what it was. Even more so, he wondered what to do about it.

  * * *

  A fast country tune belted from the speakers. Penelope was swirling across the dance floor before her brain caught up with her body. Song after song, it seemed the rhythm never slowed. Neither did Tristan.

  Penelope’s laughter chased her all around the twirl Tristan spun her in until she landed back in his arms and he dipped her deep. Slowly, he brought her upright and flush to his body. She was panting too hard from exertion for her breath to hitch. Otherwise, it would have.

  “You are a fast learner. No one will ever believe you didn’t know those moves before tonight.” Tristan seemed in no hurry to have her step back. His hands palmed her low back, holding her in place. “Ready for the next one?”

  “I don’t have the energy to keep up the pace.” Her sigh was really an attempt to catch her breath. When she’d vowed to make up for lost time, she hadn’t meant to do it all at once.

  “We can slow it down again.” He drew her closer. So close her cheek rested against his chest.

  Admittedly, they’d hit a rough patc
h during the evening. However, Tristan impressed her with his earnestness in discussing the problem and his honesty in solving it.

  He was a true gentleman. Even now, squashed together as they were, his hands rested respectfully on her lower back, not copping a feel of her ass, which hopefully would not grow a size larger from the chicken wings she’d eaten at Tristan’s insistence.

  He didn’t seem to mind she wasn’t a size two, or even a ten, and she certainly appreciated the solid bulk of his muscular build. The face of Adonis, a body built for sex and a devilish Southern charm that could entice a woman to drop her panties without a second thought.

  So what was he doing with her?

  Yeah, they had some kind of inexplicable connection. Electricity sizzled between them and had from the start. She had no idea what it meant, but a definite idea of where she wanted it to lead.

  Unfortunately, despite the kiss and smoldering looks Tristan gave her, he hadn’t suggested anything more than a night of dancing.

  Maybe her fantasies had colored reality.

  “Hey!” Tristan’s hand glided up and down her back. “You’re all tensed up.”

  “Sorry. My mind wandered.”

  Tristan stared down at her. In the dim light his eyes looked puzzled, contemplative. “I must be rustier than I thought.”

  “Rustier at what?”

  “Entertaining a date.” He shrugged. “It’s been a while since I’ve been on one.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope.” His smile flatlined. “I’m not celibate, by any means, but those aren’t dates.”

  “What are they?”

  “Hookups, for lack of a better term.”

  “So, why is this a date and not a hookup?”

  Tristan’s eyes warmed. “I’m not angling to bed you at the end of the evening.”

  “Why not? Aren’t you attracted to me?”

  “I think I proved I am when I kissed you.” Tristan trailed the back of his hand along her cheek. “You aren’t the kind of woman a man turns to for a one-nighter. You are a now-and-for-always kind of woman.”

  “You’re assuming an awful lot about someone you just met.”

  “Am I?”