by Anne Marsh
Too bad crazy had never felt so good.
As she zipped and buttoned, however, the feel good feeling evaporated. Luc and Jackson were having a low, terse argument and she didn’t need to be a genius to figure out that she was starring front and center in their debate.
”She goes where I go,” Jackson snapped.
“You have an obligation to keep her safe. What part of draggin’ her reluctant ass out there fits that description? You bring her out there, you put her into play on a battlefield. The skin hunters would love to get their hands on her.”
“No one will touch her.”
“You can’t guarantee that.”
“You wan’ to take her as your mate, you keep her safe. There’s nothin’ safe about a midnight hunt in the bayou.”
“The skin hunters came back for Dag’s mate. She stays with me.”
Luc cursed. “Not good enough.”
“And she’s a vet.”
“Who already patched you up.”
“Not me.” There was a loud rasp as Jackson zipped up the bag. “There was another wolf out there. He’s goin’ to need help.”
“He may be dead by now.” Luc sounded almost as if he were discussing the weather. Sports scores. Something he really, really didn’t give a shit about. Except that there was that flash of something in his eyes. He cared.
He just didn’t want anyone to know.
Jackson’s answering curse said her self-proclaimed mate was on the same mental page as his Alpha. “It’s a definite maybe. I couldn’t take him with me when I ran. He’s injured and close to losing himself in the wolf.”
Right. Time to stage an intervention. She had no idea what losing himself in the wolf meant (although it sounded bad), but she was an expert in injured animals and the thought of leaving any creature out there, alone and hurting when she could do something…nope. Not happening on her watch. Sucking in a breath, she pushed the bathroom door open. Both men turned and stared at her. Yeah, they weren’t exactly channeling their inner welcome wagon.
“Tell me about the other wolf.”
When Luc didn’t immediately answer her, she glared at him. Screw this whole Pack hierarchy thing. Whatever rules Jackson played by, those weren’t her rules. Luc wasn’t the boss of her—even if her libido had managed to suggest two positively decadent fantasies in the five-second space while he stared right back at her. Jackson shifted behind her, his front pressed against her back.
Great. He thought she needed backup.
Then Luc gave a short bark. Wow. The sound might actually qualify as laughter.
“I like her,” he said to Jackson.
“Does he always talk about other people in the third person?” Maybe it was wolf etiquette, but it was more likely arrogant alpha male attitude. Yeah. There were adjectives that alliterated and that came to mind as well. Asshole topped her list at the moment.
Then he smiled. Oh, wow. She suddenly understood exactly how this werewolf pack reproduced. Luc was dangerous all right. His amused smile softened the hard edges of his face just enough that she started imagining what he’d look like if he let loose.
“You’re still not goin’ into the bayou, sweetheart. Tell me what to do and I’ll bring him out here to you.”
“I can think of plenty of things for you to do.” She’d bet Jackson’s badass brother had never taken an order in his life. Jackson wrapped an arm around her waist. His breath ruffled her hair as he leaned down.
“You’re playin’ with fire. My brother bites.”
“Tell me how to patch up the wolf,” he clarified. “And I only bite sometimes.”
“Uh-huh.” She had issues with his words, but frankly she wasn’t stupid. She’d push him some, but she wasn’t actually going to stick her hand in the lion’s mouth. She simply wasn’t that trusting and they didn’t have that kind of relationship. He could try again in ten or twenty years. “Tell me what you remember of the wolf’s injuries.”
As Jackson ran through what he’d seen, she pulled supplies from the cabinet and packed a bag.
“You’re going to need to sedate him before you move him. When you get to him, eyeball his weight. I’m going to give you enough tranquilizer to take down someone Jackson’s size. If your wolf is much larger or smaller, you’ll need to adjust.”
“You think you can guess what it would take to knock Jackson on his ass?” Luc had clearly decided to be amused by her snark. That was fine by her. She could take the path of least resistance today.
“Absolutely.” She added bandages and saline to the bag. “I did it once. I’ll do it again if he doesn’t take care of his side.”
Jackson’s dark flush was positively cute. Apparently, alpha werewolves didn’t get tranqed by their females. Good to know.
“I sedate him. Then what?”
”Triage. Check for broken bones and bleeding. Splint and bandage anything you find. If he has open wounds like Jackson did, then I need you to wrap any exposed surfaces before you move him. Otherwise, you’re going to get half the bayou in there on your way back here and he’s going to need the constitution of an ox to fight off the infection.”
“You’re goin’ to carry him the whole way?”
Luc shook his head. “I’ll get him away from the vamp nest and then Landry or Dre can come up the bayou and get us in their boat.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
”I need to check your side.”
Jackson pulled his T-shirt up, exposing his side. And the cut muscles of his abdomen and enough golden skin to start her drooling. God. He was gorgeous. He also absolutely, positively didn’t care who saw him naked. At the moment that was definitely an advantage. She tugged him over to the exam table and flipped on the overhead light. He healed impossibly fast. What had been a near-fatal injury was now a set of thin pink lines wrapped around his side. If she hadn’t seen it, she wouldn’t have believed it. He probably didn’t even need a Band-Aid at this point, but she wasn’t taking changes. Pulling on a pair of latex gloves, she squeezed some antibiotic ointment onto her fingertips and painted the scratches with the goo. She’d protect him the best she could.
He watched her as she worked. When she finished and snapped the gloves off, tossing them into the garbage, he nodded, like he’d just finished a mental conversation with himself. “My place or yours. You take your pick, shug.”
Luc looked at her expectantly. Apparently, he was in full agreement with his brother’s plan. Too bad she’d be disappointing them.
“Uh, hello? Independent woman standing right here.”
“Not today,” Luc said impatiently. “Welcome to the Pack.”
She turned to Jackson. “He’s not the boss of me.”
Great. She sounded like she was five years old.
The look Luc gave her said he agreed with her unspoken mental assessment. Crap. She hoped this werewolf thing didn’t come with mental superpowers or mind-reading.
“I could be,” he growled.
“Uh, no.”
Luc shifted closer, his big hands cupping her shoulders and working beneath the straps of her tank top. She was part of a werewolf sandwich, pinned between two large male bodies. Luc was absolutely trying to be intimidating—and it was working. Unfortunately for her, she also found the position sexy as hell. She filed that tidbit away to think about later.
Instead, she focused on the anger bubbling up inside her. Yeah. She’d had this line of bullshit served to her before. She slipped out from between the two of them, knowing they let her go. Jackson gave her a look that was pure pissed off. She didn’t care. She didn’t need his approval to validate her, because she’d go right on ticking without him. So what if she wanted to play games with him? Take a time-out and run her hands over those shoulders of his? Lose herself in the twinkle in his eyes? He liked to laugh, this Breaux of hers.
“Go away,” she said firmly. She stabbed a finger in Luc’s direction. “You—go get that wolf. And you…you get out of my clinic and go back to wherever y
ou came from.”
“You don’ mean that.” He leans against the wall, hands on his hips. Casual nudity clearly didn’t bother him one bit. Fine. She’d enjoy the view and then she’d send him on his way. He didn’t get to tell her what she did or didn’t want. That wasn’t how her life worked.
She refused to get into a do too do not conversation with him. There was no winning that kind of battle. She let her eyes run over the man lounging in her office. Jackson clearly was used to getting his way. She bet he flashed his charming smile and the bayou girls happily dropped their panties for him. Honestly, she’d been ready to do the same five years ago. Although, she hastily reminded herself, only after she’d decided to treat herself to a night of Jackson. She hadn’t gotten what she wanted then and he wasn’t getting what he wanted now. It seemed fair to her.
“I have a business to run,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t sound all trembly and melty like her insides.
“It’s Sunday.” Jackson laughed at her with his eyes again. “You’re closed today. It says so on your sign.”
“Closed doesn’t mean that I don’t have work to do,” she pointed out. She did have things to do. A monumental, never-ending to do list that seemed to grow longer every time she checked a task off. She loved owning her own veterinary practice and making her own decisions. She’d also known that starting the business was going to require plenty of sweat equity and probably more than her fair share of tears. Or chocolate. She preferred binge eating to crying.
“Take the day off?” This time he phrased his words as a request rather than a demand. She’d known his brand of charm was lethal, but she’d thought she could withstand it. Apparently, she’d been wrong. Parts of her melted for this man when he coaxed and teased.
Jackson could smell Eden’s frustration—and arousal. Any other man would have been clueless. He was Pack and a werewolf. He had an edge those other men didn’t have.
Unfortunately, he was still clueless.
He could do something about the arousal. Hell, he’d all but begged her to let him take care of that particular problem for her. He’d do a better job than that vibrator of hers anyhow. Her ponytail bounced all over the place as she tried to put him in place and take control of the situation. He grinned. She could try.
Unfortunately for her, she was up against a werewolf who knew exactly how to take charge. She wouldn’t mind nearly as much as she pretended to mind either.
Her hands skimmed over his bare skin, checking her earlier handiwork. He’d heal fast like all his kind, but he liked her concern. Hell, he was as bad as the fucking kittens. She touched him and he wanted to flop over and beg her to touch more. To run her hand down his belly and lower. No way he left her alone.
He’d been looking for his mate. All of his brothers had. Without a mate, the werewolves slowly became more wolf than man. Eventually, a man stopped shifting back and ran in his wolf form forever. He’d needed to find his female and let her anchor him to his human form. But he’d been looking for her because it was his responsibility. His duty to the Pack. He could protect his clan better if he controlled the wolf, rather than the wolf controlling the man. So he’d looked for her.
Now that he’d found her, however, she soothed him. Maybe his wolf had known on some subconscious level. Or maybe the wolf just liked the calm tenderness in her touch and in her gaze. For some reason, that ornery, grouchy half-feral beast had dragged itself out of the bayou and straight to Eden’s doorstep.
His uncivilized ass was certainly out of place in her cheerful clinic. The elegant black and white animal photography on the walls of the waiting room had been shot by a local artist. There was also a boatload of rattan furniture, scratched up along the sides by her damn cats, and mountains of colorful pillows. He wouldn’t mind sitting there, waiting for her to finish up what she needed to do. Watching over her while she talked to herself and her computer, chewing on her lower lip as she worked through some problem.
Except that what he really wanted to do was far more than watch.
There had to be some way he could help her. Overlaying the frustration and arousal was exhaustion. Purple smudges beneath Eden’s eyes and he hadn’t missed the way she eyed the Mr. Coffee in the corner. He knew how to brew a pot of coffee. He could do that much for her. Except that he was no domesticated pet and there was trouble brewing in the bayou, trouble he’d likely brought straight to her doorstep. He rubs the healing marks on his side. He knew all about trouble, but this pretty, prickly veterinarian of his didn’t. She drove him crazy with her orders and her lush little body and that had him glaring at her. He was a werewolf and a natural-born Alpha.
She was just a female.
Hah.
She was his everything and, if he wasn’t careful, she’d find out and then she’d be the one in control.
“I’m goin’ to see Luc off and then I’m comin’ back here. We’re goin’ to settle this.”
“Uh-huh.” The unmistakable note of feminine disbelief in her voice promised their battle wasn’t over yet.
Jackson stepped outside the clinic with Luc, catching the truck keys his brother tossed him. Luc wasn’t looking at the truck, however. Instead, his gaze was firmly fixed on the clinic and the woman inside. The corner of his mouth tugged up, relieving the stern expression on his face.
“You better watch out. She might lock you out.”
“She promised me two days.”
“Uh-huh.” Luc leaned back against the clinic, like he had all the time in the world and he wasn’t about to head off into the bayou on a rescue mission. “You marked her?”
“Tonight.” Hell, he was looking forward to it. The wolf had wanted to mark Eden the moment she’d driven up to the clinic with her load of kittens. He should resist—but he wasn’t going to. Eden was the best thing to ever happen to him and he was bastard enough to hold on tight. She wasn’t getting away from him.
Luc turned his head and fixed Jackson with his stare. His brother always had been uncomfortably good at the stare-into-your-innards look. “You sure about her?”
“She’s my mate.”
“You walked away from her once.”
“You called.” And he wouldn’t make that mistake again.
“And you left.” Luc wasn’t letting this one go. Hitting his Alpha was out of the question and a fistfight in her parking lot wouldn’t endear him to Eden either.
“How would you know the first thing about matin’? You don’ have a mate.”
And shit. That was a conversational no-fly zone in the Pack. Luc gave him the cold stone face. Oui. His brother hadn’t changed his mind. Luc had a mate all right, but he’d let her go. Or the female had run. Jackson wasn’t sure which was the truth, but one thing was for certain. Luc’s mate was nowhere nearby and she was off-limits in every possible way.
Luc stared at him. If he’d been in wolf form, he’d have Jackson pinned by now, his teeth closing lightly over Jackson’s throat. A fucking warning shot over the bow because do not go there? Yeah. Jackson had ignored that no trespassing sign.
“Let’s make this about you. You have a mate.” Luc went for the conversational jugular instead.
Jackson nodded, not happy with his hey-yeah-I-agree act, but he’d never deny Eden again. They belonged together.
“You treat her right. You look after her. You keep her safe. She comes first.”
His Alpha wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know bone-deep, heart-deep. Eden was the one thing that made sense in his crazy world and giving her what she needed—what she deserved—was his one rule. He didn’t need Luc to tell him how to treat his mate. All he had to do was listen to his heart.
Luc wasn’t done yet. “I gave our brothers the same talk. You don’ need to look at me like you’re wonderin’ if I believe you’d hurt Eden or walk all over her feelings.” He paused for a heartbeat and then snorted. “Which you’re goin’ to do, boy. You’ll trample her feelings almost any day that ends in ‘y.’ You got to work on th
at one. We all do. We’re like bulls in the emotional china shop.”
“Rafer, Dre and Landry, Dag—they all got this figured out. I won’ fail either.” He could learn. Hell. He’d buy a fucking book and memorize the thing if he had to. He would not screw this up any more than he already had.
“You remember that first night with Lark?”
That question was a surprise—and a happy memory. The Pack shared. What one had, they all had. And they’d all been turning slowly wolf when Rafer had discovered his mate. She’d been willing to welcome them all and that one night in her bed had him holding on, holding out for a mate of his own. She’d been sweet and curious. Not his, but she’d welcomed him and he’d honor her for that for the rest of their lives. He’d needed. She’d given.
“Of course.” Hearing Lark’s name now was a surprise. “She’s a fine female. She loves our brother. She loves us.”
Luc nodded. “Damn straight. The question is: do you love her?”
Leave it to Luc to dish out an impossible fucking question. Lark wasn’t one of his brothers—but she also wasn’t Eden. He had feelings all tangled up and nameless inside him. He wasn’t a Hallmark card.
When he didn’t answer right away, instead doing his best impression of a fish out of water, mouth gaping, Luc examined him. Jackson had no fucking clue what his brother and Alpha saw written on his face, but maybe it was finally, finally the right answer because Luc nodded and shut down the speech.
“I believe you will,” Luc said. “Figure it out, that is.”
