Pursued by a Werewolf (Mystic Isle, Book 4)

by Blake, Selena

  A spinning round-house kick made the bag shake anew.

  Friends. He hated ‘being friends.’ It was time to push through the barriers she’d erected around her heart. He knew Avery had secrets. Deep down somewhere, the kind that ate at a person over time. Even though she was always happy-go-lucky, friendly...no one was that happy.

  No one focused that much energy on appearing carefree without trying to cover something up. It was all a ruse, he was sure now.

  His fists connected with the bag. Left. Right.

  Friendship be damned.

  Left again. Double jab. The pressure reverberated up his wrist.

  It was time to make her tell him the truth. To break down the walls she’d erected around her heart.

  His plan was a calculated risk. Ease off the gas, become more aloof in hopes that she’d miss him. Resisting her would be hell, especially since he had to put himself in her line of sight, sit back and wait for her to come to him. But pursuing her, no matter how gently, didn’t work.

  She held fast to their original agreement. While she’d been his, exclusively, completely, for those three glorious days, it’d been too short. That time in her arms, getting to know her, only whetted his appetite for more.

  He stepped back and sighed, his heart sinking. What if his plan didn’t work? What if he failed and she never got past her demons? Grinding his teeth, he closed his eyes and dropped his head. She could be stubborn, ornery where he was concerned.

  Letting out a deep, frustrated growl, he jerked his right fist back and plowed it into the bag with everything he was worth. The chains snapped and the heavily padded bag tumbled end over end across the room.

  “Taking your frustrations out on an innocent punching bag?”

  Hunter ripped the Velcro tab on his left glove and turned toward the voice. Charles Latham. The god who owned Mystic Isle was tall, blond, blue eyed, and according to Avery, physically perfect.

  Hunter bit back a snarl of jealousy.

  “Something like that.”

  “Let me guess,” the god said, striding forward with a grace only gods possessed. “Woman trouble.”

  “Got it in one.”

  “A certain black haired beauty?” Latham guessed.

  “Yep.” Hunter ripped off the other glove.

  “Give her time.”

  Something about the way Latham was looking at him led Hunter to believe the god knew something about Avery, her past perhaps, and was giving advice accordingly. Part of him wanted to beg for the information. But the wolf inside him demanded she come to him on her own. Come and submit. His human side said he must stick with the plan. Perhaps she was the one honeybee whose taste buds preferred vinegar to honey.

  “Don’t you mean fly?” Latham asked.

  Hunter frowned.

  “The expression is ‘you’ll catch more flies with honey than vinegar.’”

  “Oh.” Being around an all knowing god took some getting used to. “Right.”

  Still, he preferred to think of Avery as a honeybee rather than a fly.

  Latham’s lips quirked.

  Hunter sighed and put the gloves away. “I’ve given her over a year and a half. Isn’t that enough time?” He picked up his bottle and squirted a stream of water into his mouth.

  “Time will tell.”

  Hunter used a small towel to wipe the sweat from his face. “Sorry about the bag.”

  Latham waved off his concern. “Happens all the time. I bought the company that makes the chain.”

  His attempt at levity made Hunter relax a fraction. He strode across the gym and refilled his water bottle.

  “Tell me this,” he said, walking back over to where Latham stood. “Will I ever be enough? Will I ever get through to her? Or am I just fooling myself?”

  “Does it matter if you’re fooling yourself?” Latham countered.

  Hunter inhaled deeply, then let the breath out slowly as he stared up at the ceiling. It was an unremarkable drop ceiling, standard grid pattern with squares of white cork like material. But he barely saw it. Instead he saw Avery in her little red bikini, deep blue eyes shining up at him from her spot on the volleyball court. There was a smirk on her sexy come-kiss-me mouth.

  Restraining himself that night two Decembers ago had taught him new things about patience. Her giggle was addicting. A sound he’d never heard before and if she wasn’t in his life, a sound he’d never hear again.

  The thought of never seeing her again made his chest seize up. He rubbed the thick wall of muscle over his heart and took a deep breath. Even breathing was painful when he thought of losing her.

  How was it possible to be so crazy about a person who obviously didn’t feel the same way? He wouldn’t go so far as to say she wanted nothing to do with him, because she’d made it clear that she enjoyed his friendship.

  “No. It wouldn’t matter.” Hunter hadn’t so much as looked at a woman and felt the slightest interest since the moment he’d laid eyes on Avery. And he knew he never would again.

  That knowledge had scared him. No, it had terrified him at first.

  “Then that’s your answer. If she’s the one you want, the one person you need above all others, then you must discover a way to reach her. You and you alone can find the way to her heart.”

  Hunter wasn’t so sure about that. He’d thought that a year of slow and steady friendship would chip away at her one-night-only rule, prove to her what she was missing.

  “It’s up to you to tear down the walls and earn her trust and make her fall in love again. It won’t be easy and I’m willing to bet she’ll try your patience in ways you’ve never been tried before. But it’ll be worth it. She’ll be worth it. You know that…or you wouldn’t be so crazy over the thought of losing her.”

  Hunter stared at the golden haired god for several long seconds. He was tanned, toned, and sophisticated. Confident to the core. But this was a sex resort, his sex resort, and Latham was handing out relationship advice as if he ran a matchmaking service.

  More importantly, everything he’d said had been spot on.

  “Am I right?”

  “Completely.”

  “Where do you want to be three weeks from now?”

  Hunter looked down at the thick rubber mat covering the floor and thought about the question. If he had his way, he’d whisk Avery off to a chalet in Switzerland and keep her in bed for a month, at least.

  “And a year from now?” Latham asked, obviously having read Hunter’s mind.

  Cuddled up in a log cabin somewhere in the western United States waiting for a long cold winter to trap them inside.

  The thought brought a smile to his lips.

  “And a hundred and fifty years from now?” Latham asked, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

  Hunter met the god’s gaze. “I want to show her the first blush of sunrise over Paris.” By then she’d be old enough to withstand sunlight and the world would be their oyster.

  “There you go. Keep the end game in mind.” Latham turned to leave. But he paused at the door and glanced over his shoulder. “Speaking of oysters… Pearl’s plane just landed. She’ll be excited to see you.”

  Years ago, he’d saved the princess’s life. They’d become friends after that but he hadn’t seen her in two years. As much as he wanted to catch up with her, he needed all his concentration on Avery and his plan. But maybe his plan could use a little adjustment. “Thanks Latham.”

  He needed a nap so he’d be fresh for Avery’s yoga class. But first a shower. And then he’d see an old friend about a favor.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Avery Cooper would know that ass anywhere. Once upon a time she’d sunk her fingertips into the perfectly round globes of flesh as its owner had thrust into her with abandon. She’d enjoyed it too much.

  But that had been almost two years ago, when she’d never expected to see him again. Then one of her best friends had fallen for his brother. And she’d suffered through a dozen meetings with the ridiculously h
andsome werewolf since then. Suffered because he was so insanely charming and good looking and he made her want to forget her rules and hard won independence. He was the first man who’d caused her to long for more and that made him especially dangerous in her book.

  “Didn’t take you for the yoga type,” she murmured, squatting down next to where he crouched atop a blue yoga mat. She had to hand it to him, he was limber.

  But then, she’d known that. Firsthand experience and all.

  Hunter Ciolek’s hazel eyes changed from green to brown depending on mood and light. She’d been around him long enough to memorize the hues. Right now they were a muddy green and not exactly surprised to see her.

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

  The corners of his kissable mouth turned up and his eyes lit with mischief. True, there was plenty she didn't know about him. And plenty that she did. Like the fact that those lips could drive her wild with hot kisses, whisper her name in a way that melted her spine, and should be considered weapons of mass destruction when it came to the tender nerve endings between her thighs.

  The few days they'd spent together two solstices ago had rocked her world like an earthquake. Her knees still knocked together when she thought about how many times he'd made her come in a seventy-two hour period.

  That's why she didn't think of it often.

  Thinking about it led to wanting a repeat performance.

  She hadn’t had sex in over a year, so the itch was like a case of full body poison ivy at this point. The problem was she had zero interest in any of the men she’d seen recently. She’d actually gone on a date because she couldn’t drum up the interest in anything more than a few drinks and idle chit chat.

  This was all his fault, she thought, staring at Hunter’s perfect profile. She hadn’t felt the same since the night they’d met.

  Despite their agreement that they could be together while they’d been on the island, he never missed an opportunity on or off Mystic Isle to touch her, talk to her or tempt her. Why had she slept with the one guy who was truly nice, sexy as sin and related to Ceara’s mate?

  Pulling herself out of memory lane, Avery concentrated on his form and pointed out a few corrections before quickly moving to the next person. She couldn't afford to think of Hunter Ciolek as anything more than a student. She couldn't afford to think of him at all.

  Thinking of him made her want to see his handsome face and killer body. And seeing made her want to touch. And touching, well that just led to sex. Hot, sweaty, wild, werewolf sex.

  More than that, it made her want wild werewolf sex over and over. Not to mention waking up next to said werewolf day after day. When she let down her guard he made her laugh and laughing was a sure-fire way to her heart.

  And that was the crux of the matter. She couldn't risk her heart. She’d done that once and once was more than enough.

  As the class ended, she braced herself, knowing that Hunter would seek her out. She wasn't ready to face him. The last five times they'd seen each other she'd known well in advance that she'd be spending time with him. That heads up had given her time to steel herself against the gorgeous eyes, bulging biceps and ass that wouldn't quit. Seriously, what kind of exercise did the man do to achieve an ass like that? It boggled her mind.

  Maybe she should ask him.

  “Ask me what?” His deep voice startled her from her thoughts and she whirled around to face him. There was a self-assured smile gracing his lips and damn, if she didn’t want to kiss them.

  Instead, Avery pivoted, slinging her yoga mat bag over her shoulder.

  “Stop reading my mind, Ciolek,” she said, resisting the urge to stick her tongue out. He read her mind far too easily and his nearness, not to mention that yummy accent she loved so much, made her edgy. Calming the excited flutter in her stomach was much harder.

  She quickly tossed up a mental shield and took a long drink of water.

  His expression didn’t change.

  “It's good to see you, Avery.”

  “You too. Haven’t seen you in a while.” She hated that she noticed. Or even remembered the last time their paths had crossed.

  “I was in Siberia.”

  Ceara had mentioned that during one of their visits. Avery hadn’t been willing to ask why he’d gone even though she’d wanted to know. She found herself thinking of him at odd times, wondering what he was doing and who he was with.

  “Freeze your fanny off?”

  She could see the answer to that herself; his ass was just as perfect as the day they’d met.

  “Not really. Had lots of time to think.” He studied her for a long moment. He looked like he wanted to say more; his lips were parted ever so slightly.

  “Well, thanks for the pointers.” Oh there he went again with the nice guy stuff.

  He gave her a quick once over, the left corner of his mouth tugging up, and then he strode off, sunglasses in one hand, water bottle in the other.

  That was it? In the time that she'd known him, he'd never passed up the opportunity to invite himself to lunch or help her with her bags. Subtly seductive innuendo was par for the course.

  He stopped at the French doors that led out into the terrace and glanced back at her. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you looked at it, she couldn't make out the look in his eyes. And then he was gone.

  Alone in the boxy workout room, she stared after him, emptiness needling her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Avery mentally shook off her dejection and flashed back to the cottage to shower and change. She was supposed to meet up with Ceara and Maxim in the main courtyard just after dark. There was no doubt in her mind she’d be seeing Hunter again at some point. But she promised herself that’s not why she tried on two different outfits before settling on the coral sundress and gold sandals.

  The darkness of night arrived with a barely-there sliver of moon that hung like an ornament in the sky. Torches with scented oil lined the edge of the sandy path, flames dancing as Avery made her way back to the hotel. The shower had helped sort out her turbulent emotions, which she decided to chalk up to teaching yoga during the day when she was normally sleeping.

  Half a dozen yards from the lovely stone terrace, she heard a forceful whisper. Pausing, she sought out the voice. Through the bushes she saw one of the bartenders. Cal, she thought his name was.

  “Why?” He asked, his voice hoarse as if he’d been talking for hours. “Why can’t we be together?”

  “You know why—” came the reply. A masculine reply.

  Curiosity piqued, Avery leaned to the right and tried to see who Cal was talking to. She’d flirted with him shamelessly her first night on Mystic Isle. He’d been friendly, sweet even, but obviously not interested in her. Which was fine, it hadn’t been long after that that she’d met Hunter.

  Dang. Couldn’t she go an hour without thinking of the handsome wolf?

  “So one night is all we have? All we’ll ever have?” Cal asked, his voice full of emotion. His words were p1`ing.

  Suddenly Avery didn’t want to hear the rest of the conversation. Not only did she not want to be caught eavesdropping, she didn’t want to get caught up in the emotional turmoil. She had enough of that on her own.

  Silently, she continued along the path until she came to the terrace. The neutral colored stone was dotted with luxurious seating, flickering torches and small, frothy palms. She skirted her way around the stone planters to the courtyard where a fountain trickled, enhancing the romantic atmosphere.

  Ceara Blackwell, a raven-haired beauty, was tucked into the corner of an outdoor love seat, goblet in hand. Her feet were propped up on a combination coffee table/fire pit and she had a serene, far-off look on her face.

  Having a handsome werewolf at your beck-and-call would do that, Avery supposed.

  “You'll never guess who was in my yoga class this evening,” she said.

  Though he’d been his usual teasing self during class he’d made no indic
ation that he wanted to see her outside the yoga studio. Something akin to disappointment left her feeling oddly deflated.

  But wasn’t that what she’d wanted? To be his friend without complications? Without him wanting more? What did she care if he was here to enjoy the fruits of the island?

  Ceara's dark brows inched upward. “Who?” She pointed to the goblet on the table, offering it to Avery.

  Avery settled into the adjacent armchair and swirled the contents of her cocktail round and round. “Your brother-in-law.”

  Mate-in-law? Avery was never sure about the semantics of immortal relationships.

  “Hunter's here?” Ceara's smile could have charged batteries. The way her violet eyes brightened, there was no mistaking her feelings about Maxim’s brother. She’d adapted very well in a pack of werewolves, better than Avery had anticipated.

  The once shy, sheltered vamp was now a stylish force to be reckoned with and from everything she’d seen Ceara had both Ciolek men wrapped around her pinky-finger. But Avery knew Ceara’s relationship with Hunter was strictly platonic. The young vamp had eyes for her mate and only her mate.

  “You didn't know?” Avery asked, watching her friend closely. Ever since Ceara had found her mate in Maxim, she'd been not so subtly pushing Avery to find her own raison d'être.

  Ceara shook her head and the thick dark waves of her hair shimmied around her shoulders. It wouldn’t surprise Avery in the least if her friend and former coven mate was once again trying to play matchmaker between herself and the younger Ciolek.

  “What are you lovely ladies talking about?”

  Avery glanced way up to see Ceara's mate smiling down at them. Like Ceara only had eyes for him, he only had eyes for his woman. One would have to be blind and deaf to miss the energy passing between the two of them. They'd been together a year and a half now and they still mooned over each other like lovesick teenagers. Truly, it made Avery a little heart sick. But she pasted on a welcoming smile.

  “Your brother,” she told him.