Claiming the Wolf

by Michele Hauf

  But this once, she wanted to know what it felt like to cry and release the hurt from her heart that had been coiling there for half a year.

  Four

  Hart marched down the hallway and punched the elevator button. Slamming his palm against the white marble wall panel, he growled. He shouldn’t have stormed out of Danni’s place like that. He’d left her all gorgeous and naked with cherry curls spilling over her delicious breasts and wondering what the hell was his problem.

  But she shouldn’t have tried to bite him again. Did she not understand the serious results of her bite? Hell, did it matter anymore? He’d succumbed. Against better judgment and reasoning, Hart had answered the compelling call to drink blood.

  And what did that make him now? Certainly not a werewolf in the usual sense. He’d become something different. Changed. Not right. A creature his pack would sneer at and walk around in a wide circle. The pack would oust him if they ever learned about what he’d done.

  He needed the pack. They were family. An anchor to this realm of mortals amongst whom his breed were forced to survive. Both his parents were dead and he had no siblings. He’d been raised by the pack after Remy had found him wandering the forest edging Bristol, a sixteen-year-old who’d been fearful to go near the city lest he shift without warning. Remy had dreams of living in the cosmopolitan city of Paris, so they’d packed up and headed east and started what was now pack Levallois.

  He’d learned a lot since then, and though he’d never call Remy a father figure, the man had been kind to him and taught him the ways of his breed. Hart knew nothing else. If he were not surrounded by his kind he would become lost, angry, rage amongst those who could not understand him. He’d return to the forest, that sixteen-year-old boy, fearful and uncertain of what the world would throw at him next.

  The elevator doors slid open, but Hart remained in place, and pressed his forehead to the paneled wall. A tilt of his head spied her door, painted red to match the odd spots of color in her white living room. Like blood on skin?

  Why couldn’t he leave? It shouldn’t be so difficult to put distance between he and a blood-sucking vampire.

  Yet something about Danni snagged his attention like a fish to the hook. Something beyond the blood and fangs and the fact she had tried to kill him. Something...soft and needy. Sexy. Strong. Wanting. She’d curled herself against him more than a few times, as if seeking protection, a safe place to be. It twanged at his heart, and tempted him to think about her, to recall their lusty tangle in bed, the fervent sounds she’d made as she climaxed. She’d been wild beneath him, yet had melded into his embrace, willing to let him master her. Danni had abandoned her tough exterior to be soft for him.

  Hart shook his head. He needed to get out of here before he talked himself back down the hallway.

  First, he needed to figure out if he was going to crave blood again. He needed...something he felt course through his system as if one of Danni’s sighs brushed over his skin. Connection? Touch?

  No, a good session with the punching bag will knock some sense into you, bloke.

  When Danni’s door opened and she rushed down the hall, he winced, wishing he’d gotten on the elevator when he’d the chance. And then he did not.

  “You following me?” he asked.

  Standing there in her body-hugging shorts and top, she equally embodied strength and weakness, and all Hart wanted to crush against his chest and never let go.

  “Why can’t you leave?” she defied with a tilt of her head.

  And that was it, wasn’t it? Why couldn’t he leave?

  Turning, crossing his arms over his chest, Hart drew his eyes over Danni’s body. Her nipples were as hard and tight as she held her jaw. Those rigid abs would put an athlete to shame. And her hair had been dipped in candy, yet was soft and fluid, capable of entwining about a man’s—no, he wouldn’t think it.

  “Do you know why I rescued you?” he asked. “Why I worked so hard to get you out of the vehicle when I could have left you at the bottom of the river?”

  “Hell if I know. I tried to kill you. And worse, I bit you.”

  “This.” He grabbed her wrist and turned it upward. There the words tattooed on her skin read, come what will. “I saw this while we were fighting, and remembered it when you were underwater. Vampires don’t get tattoos because they heal too quickly, pushes the ink out even as the tattooist is working. Yet this tattoo was clear, modern, and maybe new. I knew you couldn’t have been vamp long. Am I right?”

  She shrugged, wrapping her free arm defensively across her stomach. “So?”

  “So, in that split second of indecision, my heart said, ‘She doesn’t know what she’s doing. She didn’t want this.’“ He dropped her wrist and looked aside. So difficult not to pull her against his thudding heart and kiss her until their pulses synched. “Am I right?”

  “Surprisingly so. You got all that from a flash of tattoo while we were struggling in a fast moving vehicle?”

  He shrugged. “I’m a quick study. Pick up details most others miss.”

  “And yet you didn’t know I was a woman.”

  “Okay, you got me with that one. You being a woman surprised the bloody hell out of me. So what’s the deal with you? You haven’t been vamp long, have you?”

  “Six months. I didn’t want this nightmare. I was forced.”

  “Then what were you doing in the nightclub trying to get close to a pack principal? Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? Talk to me, Danni.”

  “Does it matter? You’re leaving. You’re disgusted by me—”

  He gripped her shoulders. “Not by you. Never by you. What we just shared? That was incredible. It’s just...”

  “I know. The blood. Which, in case you haven’t figured it out by now, is sort of a necessity when dealing with me.”

  “Yeah, I get that. And apparently me, too, now.” He rubbed the heel of his palm over his temple. “I’m lost here, Danni. I have to quit blaming you for biting me. What’s done is done. So what’s next? Am I going to need to drink blood often? I don’t want to go after mortals. That would kill me. But could I drink your blood? All the time? And that assumes you’d even let me.”

  He exhaled, and as he leaned forward into the breath, Danni slid her arms around his neck and pressed her body to his like he’d wanted to do moments ago. Felt too good for a burly old bruiser like him to fall into a gorgeous woman’s tender embrace, but he wouldn’t—couldn’t—resist.

  “I like you, Hart. More than I should. I’ll help you figure this out, if you want me to.”

  Nodding, he laid his head on her shoulder. Wrapping his arms about her, he pulled her into his world, knowing it would never again be the same, yet hoping she might ignite the spark that would light his way. He wasn’t too proud to admit he didn’t want to go it alone; he needed her direction.

  “Come back inside,” she whispered. “We’ll talk.”

  “I have to return to the pack. Need to check in with Caufield and see what’s on the schedule for the night. I’m security. Can’t be avoided.”

  “What about this?” She tapped the scar on his neck and Hart shivered at the minute erotic thrill tracing over his flesh. “If they see it...?”

  “They’ll not be pleased. I’ll have to hide it until I suss things about the new me.” He kissed her. Her mouth opened for him, giving and taking no more or less than he desired. And curse him, but he desired her. “Can I give you a ring later?”

&n
bsp; “Don’t call, just come over. I’ll be waiting for you.”

  * * *

  He wasn’t needed for guard duty tonight, yet Hart had gotten an earful from Remy as the pack principal had sat behind his big mahogany desk toying with paperwork. Hart could never decide if it were a ruse to make Caufield look important, because what the hell kind of paperwork did a principal need to do?

  They were on the lookout for the vampire who had attempted to assassinate Remy, he’d learned. Assassinate? He didn’t think Danni had gone so far, though he’d not asked her exact intentions. She was tough and could hold her own against him, but to slay a werewolf? And in a nightclub with guards close by? It didn’t fit. But Remy seemed to like that idea, and the pack was circulating word to be on the lookout for a tall vampire dressed in black.

  That basically described ninety-percent of the longtooths skulking about Paris. But with his night open, Hart knew exactly how to spend it. And that involved finding a tall vampire who may or may not be dressed in black.

  * * *

  Danni rubbed essential oil on her wrist. It was light and tinged with the scent of spring freesias. It had been a long time since she’d gathered fresh flowers into a bouquet. When a teen, and she’d lived in the US with her family, she’d fancied going into the Weber family’s greenhouse business. That was until she’d dated a guy who’d served in Iraq for three deployments. She’d been impressed with his patriotism and utter drive, and had realized it mirrored her own.

  After they’d broken it off she’d enlisted. She’d served a deployment in Afghanistan, and had been thinking to sign on for redeployment six months ago when she’d stumbled into Slater in the Exsanguine nightclub while on a trip to Paris. He’d seduced her, lured her to his lair, and hadn’t flashed fangs until she’d been lying beneath him, blissfully satisfied. He’d transformed her against her will. Only months later had she pieced together that Slater had been on the hunt for someone like her. Tough, skilled in military training, and alone in the city, away from her family.

  The tribe had set her up in this apartment, given her spending money, and generally left her to live and learn. Yet tribe Zmaj did expect her to do their bidding—at the threat of her brother’s life.

  If she could return to the teenaged Danni and turn her head away from the lure of the military, and the one night in Paris she’d gone out to have drinks and scam on all the sexy men, and instead pick up a pot of soil and fertilizer, she would in a heartbeat. She’d wanted the world once. Now she only wanted her soul.

  She hadn’t lost her soul after becoming vampire, only, it had been irreversibly damaged and altered beyond recognition. Danni still existed inside this body somewhere. But some days she felt she was losing grasp on the mortal she had once been. She now used other mortals to survive. How wrong was that?

  A knock at the door startled her from wiping the kitchen counter. She’d spent the afternoon baking and the kitchen smelled sweet and chocolaty. Tossing the wash towel into the sink, she pulled her hair forward over a shoulder and checked her clothes. A dusting of flour whitened the hem of her dress, and she frantically wiped it away as she walked to the door. Yes, a slim, fitted jersey dress because she’d wanted to look feminine tonight. Because, hope upon hope, she’d expected company. And hell, she could do the girlie look when she wanted to. Though she was barefoot, high heels were not her thing.

  A froth of yellow daisies greeted her in the open doorway, and above that bouquet, Hart’s smiling gray-blue eyes.

  Danni’s heart skipped a beat at sight of the flowers. No guy had ever... Sudden memories of her family’s red-and-white painted greenhouse, lush with flowers and shared laughter, threatened to bring an impossible tear to her eye.

  Hart sniffed the air. “Is that...?”

  “Brownies, fresh from the oven. Want one?”

  “Want one?” He dropped his lower jaw. “Uh, yeah?”

  “Come sit down and let me treat you. The flowers are pretty.”

  “I picked them up at a cart by the river on the way here. I don’t think I’ve ever brought a woman flowers before,” he said thoughtfully. “These seemed to call out your name. Just silly daisies.”

  “They are not silly.” She took the bouquet and, realizing she didn’t have a vase, put them in a glass water pitcher and filled it with cool water. “Thank you. This is the nicest thing a guy has ever given me.”

  “Can’t be true. You must receive gifts from guys all the time.”

  “Nope,” she said abruptly, and pulled out a knife from the drawer. “Guess I’m not worth the effort.”

  “You’re worth my effort.” He slid onto the barstool and watched her carve up the pan of brownies.

  “And why is that? First you save me from a watery hell, and now flowers. What next?”

  He shrugged. “Diamonds?”

  Danni tilted her head expectantly.

  “I don’t know why I said that. Sorry. Diamonds are out of my price range.”

  “Mine too. Though seriously? Give me a cool leather wristband cut with skulls and I can so rock it.”

  “Not a frills and lace kind of girl, eh? Though that dress looks amazing on you. Your body is so hard and toned.” An approving growl rumbled in his throat.

  “I’m former military. We don’t do the frill.”

  “Military? Impressive and believable. You’ve been trained. Gave me hell in the car the other day.”

  “Yeah, well, we’ve moved beyond that, right?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “So, these are my mother’s recipe. They’ll knock you off your chair.” She slid a double-size slab of gooey, moist chocolate onto a plate, along with a fork, and set it in front of Hart.

  He made to pick it up with his hands, but she waggled a finger at him. “Nope, what you have there is a heavy-duty Weber brownie. Meant to be eaten with utensils.”

  Conceding with a tilt of his head, he picked up the fork, but before digging in, he asked, “Why do you have brownies? I thought vamps...?”

  “We don’t eat. I know, it’s torture to bake and fill the house with this delicious aroma—but not. Brownies were my favorite treat when I was mortal. Now I make them every so often to smell, and, you know, remember.”

  “I think I can understand the part about missing things and wanting to remember them. They do smell great.” He forked in a bite, and then another, and followed with a close-lidded moan. “Oh, Danni, these are ace.”

  “Does that mean good?”

  “Oh, yeah. And they’re thick and chewy, like my mum used to make. Mercy.” He forked in another bite, and went for another.

  She pressed her fingers to his fork. “Slower. Please? Tell me what it’s like.”

  His brow raised and he nodded in understanding. Forking in a bite, Hart chewed the morsel slowly, again, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “The perfect blend of chocolate and chewy that sort of melts in my mouth, yet isn’t so gooey it gets stuck in my teeth. And no frosting. Frosting always ruins it.”

  “I know, right?”

  “And look! You gave me an edge piece.” He grinned, ear to ear. “I love the edges. You’re so good to me.”

  She propped her chin in hand and watched him devour one piece, and when he pushed his plate toward the pan, she served him another. The look on his face was blissful, orgasmic as he savored the sweet treat, drawing the fork out slowly. With each bite, he shook his head in reverence and smacked his lips more than a few times.

 
“Walnuts,” he muttered between bites. “I love walnuts.”

  “You can come over for brownies anytime, Hart. Watching you eat them is almost better than sex.”

  “Whew!” He set the fork on the empty plate. “If you’d have said it was better than sex, I would feel greatly incompetent right now.”

  “Oh, never, lover. Sex with you is on a scale I don’t think has been designed yet.”

  “Speaking of sex...” He waggled the scarred brow.

  Danni lifted her head, suddenly aware of things outside her apartment. Her hearing had increased since her transformation, and she now heard footsteps striding down the hallway. A familiar tingle shivered up her neck, and she knew.

  “You have to leave.” She grabbed Hart’s hand and tugged him off the stool. Where to go? The apartment didn’t have a back door.

  “Why?”

  “He’s coming.”

  “Who?”

  She shoved him toward the patio door. Outside, a narrow balcony about a foot wide and railed with wrought iron, jutted over a small, enclosed courtyard below.

  “Someone from my tribe. You can’t be here. I was supposed to bring him information on your pack. Can you climb up on the roof?”

  He leaned over the railing, eyeing the roof above with a twist at the waist. “Yes, but are you sure? Are you afraid of him? I should stay here and protect—”

  A knock on the door sounded.

  Danni shoved him outside completely. “Just make yourself gone.”

  She turned and rushed to the door, pausing to eye the patio doors to ensure Hart could not be seen. He wasn’t there. Must have jumped or climbed to the roof. Another knock was cut off as she opened the door and smiled at Slater, the tribe’s resident recruiter and token bad guy. He went by a last name, but she’d never heard his first name, and had no interest in getting chummy with the guy who had maliciously selected and stalked her, bitten her and changed her religion forever. Good thing she’d been baptized. Holy objects couldn’t harm her, yet the idea of it gave her a shiver.