by A. J. Colby
Stop that! Pull yourself together woman, I scolded myself, schooling my features into benign passivity. I was not thinking wicked, sinful things about him. Nope, not at all. Not me. I had a boyfriend, I didn’t need to be drooling over other men.
And just where is that boyfriend? a bitter voice chimed in at the back of my mind.
Squashing that thought and the lump of emotion in my throat, I raised my hand in a halfhearted wave. “Hey.”
Taking a long pull from his beer, Hank set it down on the counter with a dull thump. “Hey,” he said, mirroring my greeting, though where mine had been shy and awkward, his was tense and suspicious.
“Can I get you a drink, Riley?” Juliet asked, ignoring the sharp look her brother shot in her direction. “Beer? Wine? Wheat grass?”
“Ah... beer would be great,” I replied, eyeing the dark bottle on the counter beside Hank’s large hand, wondering what it would feel like to have his hands caress parts of me the way they had cradled that bottle. Warmth swelled in my belly at the same instant my own spicy scent filled the room. I thought I saw Hank’s pupils dilate a little at my scent, but dismissed it as nothing more than the play of the light in his eyes. After all, he didn’t appear to be very happy to see me.
Juliet may have been able to dismiss his significant look, but I hadn’t missed it, or its meaning. Regardless of whatever response he had to my scent perfuming the air, I wasn’t welcome there.
Accepting a bottle of beer from Juliet, I took a long drink. The beer was refreshingly cool and gave me something to do with my hands other than grabbing Hank and finding out if his lips tasted as delicious as they looked. I was still pissed at him from our meeting the other day. He didn’t look like he’d cooled off much either, but I couldn’t stop my brain from supplying several very interesting ways we could burn off the tension between us.
Get a grip on yourself... I’d rather get a grip on him... stop that! the dueling halves of my brain bantered back and forth.
Blocking out the continued pros and cons for tearing off Hank’s clothes or bolting for the door, I reminded myself yet again that I had a boyfriend who I liked very much, and focused on sucking down another gulp of beer.
Silence reigned in the kitchen, sucking the warmth out of the room, and after several uncomfortable moments I made up my mind. Setting down my beer with a little more force than intended, I watched foam creep up the neck, threatening to bubble over.
“You know, I think I’m just going to head out. Thanks for the invite, Juliet. Maybe some other time.” Before either of them could respond I bustled out of the room and down the hallway, eager to get out of there.
I’m such an idiot.
In the kitchen I heard a distinctive meaty thump followed by Hank’s muffled exclamation.
“What was that for?”
“This is your fault, you ass,” Juliet accused in a fierce whisper.
“What? Ow! Quit hitting me. I am your pack master.”
“Yes, and you’re also my dim-witted big brother. Now go out there, tell her you’re sorry, and invite her to dinner.”
Hank’s heavy sigh rolled through me, stirring sensations I’d really prefer it didn’t. His slow, sullen steps thumped down the hallway, spurring me to motion. Balancing awkwardly on one foot I pulled on my boot, ignoring his reluctant approach. I’d already gotten both boots on and was wrapping my scarf around my neck by the time he shuffled to a stop a few feet away.
“You don’t have to leave.”
“And you don’t have to do that,” I said, avoiding his gaze as I wrestled my hair under my hat.
“Do what?”
“Apologize, ask me to stay, and any other orders your sister gave you upon threat of violence.”
“I am sorry and you are welcome to stay.”
“Thanks, but I really should get going. It’s a long drive back up the mountain.”
Hank’s large, warm hand on my arm stilled my motions, rooting me to the spot as the power thrumming in his fingers sent a wave of warm energy through me. An answering swell of heat rose in the middle of my chest, awakening the wolf inside. She was curious about the pack master and his sister; she wanted to stay.
“Stay for dinner.”
“Are you asking, or telling?” I asked, trying to pull my arm out of his grip. At first he didn’t look like he would let go, but then he opened his fingers, the swell of his energy receding along with the warmth of his touch.
“I’m asking.”
Hesitating, I watched the play of emotions on his face, frustration flickering to attraction and then shame, before settling on chagrined desperation. “Please,” he repeated, gracing me with a lopsided smile that creased the skin around his pale blue eyes. “Juliet won’t let me hear the end of it if you say no.”
Knowing I’d likely regret it, I pulled off my hat and stuffed it into my jacket pocket. “Fine. When do we eat?”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
JULIET BUSTLED ABOUT the kitchen, moving in a never-ending symphony of tinkling bells as she carried plates and silverware into the adjoining dining room, all the while smiling a secretive, knowing smile.
Definitely trouble, that one.
“Can you take the cornbread?” Hank asked, interrupting my speculative thoughts.
“Sure.”
Accepting the dish piled high with thick wedges of steaming cornbread layered under a gooey coating of honey and butter, I trailed after Juliet into the dining room where a large farmhouse style table had been set.
Setting the cornbread in the center of the table, I moved to take a seat at one end when Juliet’s feather-light hand on my shoulder made me pause.
“Why don’t you sit here?” she asked, directing me to the place setting in the middle of the table, though I had a feeling it wasn’t really a question.
“Ah... sure,” I replied, sitting in the indicated chair.
A moment later Hank came into the room, balancing three steaming bowls in his arms like a longtime waiter. My stomach growled as soon as he set the bowl of chili down in front of me, and eagerly I snatched up my spoon, ready to dig in.
“Hank, will you say grace?” Juliet asked, sliding into the chair on my left with a flourish of billowing skirts and chiming bangles.
Nodding, Hank claimed the seat at the head of the table, his chair looking as though it couldn’t possibly accommodate his impressive physique. Bookended between the siblings, I laid down my spoon and mirrored their actions of laying my napkin across my lap and bowing my head.
“Blessed Father, we thank you for the bounty of this feast. We ask that through this food you nourish our bodies and minds so that we may live in your divine image,” Hank rumbled in a reverent voice that boomed with power and faith in the otherwise silent room.
Daring a furtive look at my hosts I felt awkward and out of place, Hank’s words foreign.
“In Cain’s name we pray. One moon, one soul, one wolf,” they finished in unison, before looking up and sharing a smile.
Sensing my discomfort, Juliet turned to me with a smile. “Haven’t you ever heard the Wolf’s Prayer before?”
“Um... no. That one’s new to me,” I replied, accepting the proffered bowl of shredded cheese from her, glad to have something to focus on besides how much I felt like an interloper in their happy little family. “My grandfather used to say the Lord’s Prayer at meals,” I added with a shrug.
“Mundanes,” Hank and Juliet chimed together as if that explained everything, while sharing a meaningful look. I’m sure it hadn’t been meant as a slight at my upbringing, but I felt my hackles rise nonetheless, tension settling between my shoulders.
Oblivious, Hank continued to offer an explanation as I dumped a handful of cheese into my chili. “The Wolf’s Prayer is a common one among our people. It reflects our belief that we’re descended from Cain.”
I was vaguely familiar with the basics of the were beliefs, having taken the required religious education classes throughout school. Their faith was b
ased on the notion that they were the progeny of Cain, the son of Adam and Eve who had murdered his brother Abel in a fit of jealous rage. Cursed by God to forever bear the burden of his rage and bloodthirstiness, weres lived a dual existence of man and beast. I hadn’t bought into it when I was a teenager, and I wasn’t sure that I believed it now either. Not wanting to insult my hosts, I just nodded my head.
We fell into contented silence as we all turned to eating Hank’s chili, which turned out to be the best damn chili I’d ever had.
* * *
Sitting back in my chair, smothering a burp behind my hand, I felt my eyes begin to droop. Stuffed and warm, I could have drifted off to sleep right there. The sound of my hosts rising from the table roused me from my food-induced coma, and lurching into action I grabbed my empty bowl and pushed back my chair.
“Can I help with the dishes?” I asked, gathering up my spoon and napkin.
“Nope, just sit and relax,” Juliet said, snatching the bowl out of my hand before I could protest.
“You sure? I’m an excellent dish washer.”
“Sit,” Hank said, pointing at my chair, though the warmth in his voice softened his command.
I sat back down in my chair and crossed my hands over my swollen belly. Bustling around me like darting hummingbirds, they had the table cleared in 60 seconds flat, leaving me alone in the room. Their sibling banter interspersed with the clatter of plates and cutlery being loaded into the dishwasher was a sharp reminder of how lonely my life had become in recent years. Once upon a time, my life had been filled with such affectionate interactions, but those days were long gone and I had yet to teach Loki how to scrub a pan.
Within two minutes, I was fidgeting in my seat and resorted to piling the crumbs from my cornbread into a little golden pyramid. That kept me occupied for all of a minute and all too soon I was shifting in my seat again like a toddler on a sugar high. Flopping back in the chair with a sigh, I let my gaze roam over the room, passing over a pastoral landscape that spoke more of an older woman’s touch rather than the tastes of a young bachelor. The massive china cabinet filled with gold rimmed cups and saucers looked to be a remnant of their mother as well, and I wondered what had become of their parents. Were they gone like mine? Did they have only each other to cling to?
Unable to sit still any longer, I rose from the table and wandered towards the kitchen, drawn by the sound of their voices. I didn’t make any effort to disguise my approach, but the sound of my sock-clad feet was lost beneath the sounds of their industry. I was about to fess up to my inability to sit still for more than five minutes when Juliet’s voice filled the air.
“Ask her.”
They say that curiosity killed the cat, but let me assure you that it can be just as irresistible to a werewolf, so I lingered in the doorway waiting to hear what she was prompting her brother to ask me.
“Ask her what?”
“About tomorrow.”
“What about tomorrow?” Hank replied, his voice filled with brotherly affection.
The sound of flesh striking flesh was accompanied by his rumbling laughter.
“Okay, okay! I’ll ask.”
“Ask me what?” I said, stepping into the kitchen to see them looking at each other with a mix of affection and exasperation.
Before her brother could respond, Juliet replied with a wide, beaming smile. “We’re going running tomorrow. You should come with us.”
“Ah... thanks, but I’m not really a fitness kind of gal. I’m more the Oreos and Netflix marathon type.”
Hank and Juliet shared a look that said I had missed something before bursting into laughter. I didn’t think they were being spiteful, but I got the distinct impression that I was the source of their amusement.
“What?” I asked, fighting to keep the hurt out of my voice.
“I didn’t mean that kind of run, Riley.”
I felt heat creep up my cheeks as realization dawned and dropped my gaze to my pink and purple polka dot socks.
“You should join us,” Hank said, sobering when he caught my expression.
“I don’t know...” I replied, searching my brain for a polite way to turn them down without sounding like the total chicken shit I was.
Approaching me with damp hands Juliet grasped my fingers and gave them a friendly squeeze. “Please? It’ll be so much fun. You’ll get to meet some of the people from the pack.”
“Um...”
Seeing my hesitation, and perhaps sensing the fear behind it, Hank steered his sister back to the sink to finish cleaning the kitchen. “Think about it?”
Not trusting myself to speak without the anxiety bubbling in my gut coming through, I just nodded.
* * *
“Milk and two sugars, right?” Juliet asked, handing me a cup giving off curling wisps of steam.
Nodding, I accepted the mug and leaned back against the kitchen counter. I could feel my face twisting into a grimace as I watched her doctor her coffee with some weird soy, gluten-free, non-dairy concoction that looked like yak piss. Looking down at my own coffee, I gave it a tentative sniff, worried that she’d put the same stuff in mine. As much as I’d have hated to offend her, there was no way in hell I was going to drink that hippy stuff. Juliet’s laughter brought a flood of warmth to my cheeks when I glanced up and realized I’d been caught in the act of inspecting my coffee.
Busted.
“Don’t worry, yours is just milk,” she said with a smile.
“That’s right. I refuse to drink that soy crap,” Hank rumbled as he came into the room to collect the full trash bag from under the sink.
Daring to take a sip of my coffee I only just managed to refrain from moaning aloud as it burned a hot path down my throat. It was the perfect end to a delicious meal and an evening of good company, even if it had gotten off to a bit of a rocky start.
Over the rim of my mug, I watched Hank bend to retrieve the trash, and couldn’t help admiring the way his jeans pulled taut over the curve of his ass. Images of my nails pressing into the perfectly rounded flesh rose unbidden, but not unpleasant, in my mind. Averting my eyes as he straightened, I met Juliet’s gaze and froze. She’d seen where my eyes were directed, and from the amused tilt of her mouth, had easily read the hooded expression on my face.
Ah, fuck.
Staring down into my cup, watching the steam rise up from the surface, I tried to smother my mortification. I had a boyfriend, one that I might more than just like and who accepted me in all my twisted fucked-up-ness. So why the hell was I fantasizing about the muscle-bound pack master? I felt my brow dip into a frown as I puzzled over my unruly thoughts. It had been years since I’d been willing to let anyone into my life the way that I’d let Holbrook in, but here I was, imagining the myriad ways I’d like to let Hank in, too.
A light flickered on outside the window over the sink, drawing my gaze up from my coffee. Under the protection of the back porch’s overhang, Hank was bathed in the yellow glow from the bare bulb. He’d donned a thick flannel jacket, the red and white plaid playing surprisingly well against his tanned skin. I wouldn’t have ever thought there could possibly be anything sexy about someone taking out the trash, but seeing him heft the full trash bag I wondered if his large hands could toss me around with such ease.
Stop it! You have a boyfriend, remember? the voice in the back of my mind chastised, though it lacked its usual vehemence. I hadn’t heard from Holbrook for days, and the longer his absence stretched out, the more the seed of doubt in my gut grew.
“He’s single, you know,” Juliet said beside me, her voice jarring me out of my circular thoughts.
“What?” I asked, feigning innocence though the mischievous glint in her eye said she wasn’t buying it for a second.
“Hank. He’s single. He’s a bit of a grumpy ass sometimes, but he’s a great pack master, and an even better man. He makes good money too, if you’re into that sort of thing.”
“I’m seeing someone,” I replied, though even
I could hear the hesitation in my voice. To emphasize my point, and perhaps save myself from temptation, I turned my back on the window and the man beyond.
“If you say so,” Juliet said, hiding her smile behind her mug.
“It’s... complicated,” I heard myself mutter, cringing at the cliché of my words as they left my lips.
“Love always is,” she replied, a ghost of some dark emotion drifting across her face for a single heartbeat.
Frowning, I looked back out the window, watching the light gleam on his tousled hair and the trail of steam billowing from his mouth with every breath, making him look like a bronzed dragon.
A bronzed, sexy dragon... Oh, for fuck’s sake!
When Hank came back into the kitchen, cheeks flushed from the cold, I felt my heart thump and my stomach tighten. Arousal bloomed in the pit of my stomach and I prayed that neither of them would be able to smell the desire pooling between my thighs. It would be bad enough for Hank to smell the lust on me, and even more so for his sister to know just how badly I wanted to tear his clothes off and have him take me hard and fast pressed up against the counter.
My face felt so hot with a mixture of lust and embarrassment that I was sure it must be visible from space. I fought to tear my gaze away from Hank, but I didn’t seem to be able to stop my eyes from roving over him as he stripped off his jacket, the muscles in his arms and shoulders rippling beneath his shirt. Disappointment fluttered in my chest when his shirt didn’t follow his jacket, and, finally wrenching my gaze away from him, I turned and gulped down the rest of my coffee, wincing when it scorched my throat.
Placing my empty mug in the sink I turned to see the siblings looking at me with matching expressions of bewilderment, though Juliet’s held a hint of smugness.
“Thanks for dinner and the coffee, but I ah... should head out. It’s getting late.”
“You’re welcome to stay here,” Juliet said with a smile that likely would have looked innocent and sweet as cream to anyone else, but I recognized it for the meddling it was. “I’m sure we could find room for you, couldn’t we Hank?”
