Wolf's Heart: Bayou Wolves #3

by Anne Marsh

  Jesus. If I put her down now, would she run? I’m not risking that, so I shuffle her around in my arms, pry the key out of her fingers, and get us inside and up the stairs without being spotted by any of my family. That’s a miracle right there, but I’ll take it. My room is kinda empty since I use it for sleeping and not much else. I have a four-poster bed that’s some kind of antique from a gazillion years ago and a chair, but that’s it. I should order some crap from a Pottery Barn catalog or something, but I haven’t had time for interior decorating. Running with two packs takes a shitload of time.

  My phone buzzes, and I’d lay money on it’s being Cruz. In addition to being the Alpha of our pack, the sheriff of Port Leon, and my older brother—all of which guarantee he sticks his nose in my business and tells me how to manage my shit—he’s practically omniscient. He’s probably heard about my impromptu date with Keelie Sue and wants to know what the fuck. It’s what I would ask in his position.

  I look around for a place to stash Keelie Sue. Isn’t like I have many choices. I have the bed… or the floor. Bed it is. I let her drop, she squeaks (naturally), and I turn away to take my call. Caller ID promises I’m about to have fun times with Cruz.

  “You really wanna rip into me now?” I start with the easy questions.

  The pause on the other end doesn’t last long. “You really wan’ to take over the Breed?” My brother sounds downright mellow. All that calm is an act. Cruz loves the rules, he loves our pack, and he loves me. Not that we talk about our feelings, but some things go without saying. My pulling a disappearing act with Keelie Sue breaks the rules and sets me up to be the new Alpha of the Breed. Can’t be part of Cruz’s pack if I have my own, so keeping her around puts me on a collision course with my brother, and neither of us wants that since the whole love-and-affection train runs both ways. Still, the Breed needs a reorganization in the worst way, and I can do it. Only question is whether I’ll do it well.

  “Not a question of wanting,” I admit. I lean against the wall and watch my Friday night companion sit up. She doesn’t bolt for the door, although that might have something to do with my own proximity to the exit. I’d be on her before she could get a hand on the knob.

  Cruz curses. “Tell me this is just sex.”

  I eye Keelie Sue again. She’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, but she’s more than a hot body. More than a free meal ticket and all-access pass to pack leadership too. It would be convenient if I could bang her and leave, but I don’t see that happening. “Could be,” I agree.

  But it isn’t. Stupidest idea I’ve ever had, but I don’t just want to grind my dick into every hole Keelie Sue has. That would be too simple.

  “You screw with an Alpha’s daughter, and he’s either goin’ to castrate you or promote you,” Cruz growls. “You really wan’ to fuck her that badly?”

  Possibly. Unfortunately that’s only the tip of my sexual iceberg. I want way more than sex, but I’m not telling my brother that wrapping an arm around a female and holding her close is on my to-do list. He doesn’t need the ammunition. “Someone needs to do something about the Breed,” I point out.

  “Someone doesn’t have to be you,” Cruz tells me, sounding more tired than pissed off now. “I’m workin’ on it. You know that. That’s why you’re in the fuckin’ club in the first place. You’re my wolf.”

  Keelie Sue shifts on the mattress, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. She puts her head down and her breath shudders out of her in a little sigh. Or maybe it’s a fucking sob, because apparently, I scare her half to death. What she hasn’t figured out is that I’m not Cruz’s wolf anymore—I’m hers.

  KEELIE SUE

  I can’t make out too much of his brother’s side of the conversation, but several things are perfectly clear. First of all, Cruz Jones already knows what happened tonight. He knows that my dad offered to mate me to his future replacement. Since Cruz also knows that I’m here with Jace—wherever here is—he has to believe that Jace is seriously considering the offer. And that explains the extreme displeasure in his voice.

  Through the curtain of my hair, I watch Jace shake his head. “I’m not your wolf,” he says finally, sounding impatient and terse, and nothing like the wolf who offered to spank me until we both enjoyed it. Oh. God. I need to not think about playing kinky sex games with Jace, but I can’t douse the heated arousal that unfurls in my body.

  Jace isn’t mine. If he isn’t Cruz’s, then to whom does he belong? If my dad wins, I lose. The only reason I can imagine Jace walking away from his family is if he decides to start his own pack… or if he acquires a ready-made pack. The Breed wolves are nothing like the Jones wolves, or so I’ve heard. That doesn’t mean that I want Jace to play a starring role in my personal life—even if my sex life is open to debate. Plus, I have no proof that Jace is interested in anything more than a fast pass to Alphadom.

  I’ve heard that there are packs that believe in fated mates. Once upon a time that sounded kind of romantic to me—guy sees you and falls madly in love because you’re the most beautiful goddess he’s ever seen? That’s fantasy fodder right there. Then I realized that Mr. Wolf couldn’t possibly know much more about his bride than her cup size and the color of her hair. As a basis for long-term happiness—or even a less awkward morning-after—it sucked.

  Jace ends the call and jams the phone back into his pocket. My reprieve is over. I run through my options as he strides back to the bed and stands over me. I can lie back, hope that he won’t hurt me too badly, and let Big Red mate us like bunnies. Jace is probably banking on my going with that option.

  Alternatively, I can make a break for it. I won’t get far. He’ll bring me down, and then we’ll be back to the having-sex-because-I-have-to option. Option three… kill the man. Somehow. I’m no MacGyver to take down a man with my bare hands. None of my options are working for me.

  He drops onto the bed and plants a knee beside me. The mattress dips and I scramble away. It isn’t dignified, although Jace pretty much killed my dignity for the night after he hauled me out of the club over his shoulder, flashing the world my undies.

  “Shit,” he announces roughly.

  We’re in total agreement there. That one word sums up my current situation. He snags my wrist and tugs carefully, pulling me back into the center of the bed. He’s too close, too big, too… male. My brain broadcasts a run, bitch! message on a loop, but then my wolf surprises me. My wolf actually thinks pressing closer is the best idea we’ve had all night. He can protect me, and the sex might even be awesome. He might be rough and more than a little rude, but I like everything else about my biker wolf.

  “You think I asked for this?” I blurt out the words, then bite my lip. Probably should go for something sexy, something that might convince the man to bend to my will in this one little thing.

  “Nope,” he agrees, much to my shock. “You think I’m that hard up that I need my girl to be forced to be with me? I’m not into manhandling you or rape, got it?”

  “Understood.” Maybe he’s the one with other, better options, because it’s not like he’s starved for sex. I’ve seen more than one club pass-around with her lips wrapped around Jace’s dick. The wolves aren’t shy, and sex is as common as beer, particularly in the shadowy corners of the club’s base. I moved on quick because I’m not into porn shows, but I couldn’t help but notice a few things. Like how his eyes never stopped examining his surroundings and how his hand stroked lightly over the girl’s head. Kind of like she was a favorite pet, or maybe he was a little bit bored. If that had been my mouth sucking him deep, I’d have made him pay attention to me. Lips, tongue, or teeth—it would have been up to him.

  Surprise number two? He lets go of my wrist. The other wolves would have been all over me by now. He nudges my chin up so he can look me in the eyes.

  “I mate you, I get the pack.”

  “Sounds like it,” I agree. I don’t have to like the truth.

  Then Jace surprise
s me. “How do you feel about it?”

  I freeze because that has to be a trick question. Or code for remove your clothes and let’s make our family merger a reality. The pack leaders don’t ask for my opinion—and it isn’t an oversight on their part. My dad doesn’t want to know how I feel, and he damned certain doesn’t place any kind of value on my insights or opinions. I’m a tool, a commodity.

  “If you need to think on it, I’ve got all night,” he says, amusement filling his voice. I don’t think he’s laughing at me, but I also don’t know what the joke is. He rolls onto the mattress and stretches out his legs. The man certainly fills out a pair of blue jeans.

  “I don’t want another mating,” I admit.

  “First one didn’t go so well,” he agrees and his words aren’t a question.

  Not so well is an understatement.

  “You need to talk about it?” He sounds pained, and I bite back a snort of laughter that is as unexpected as it is welcome. My dad practically gift wrapped me and threw me at Jace—and Jace carted me off caveman style. Now he’s offering to be…

  “You want to be girlfriends now?”

  “Not really,” he says, and it’s kind of cute the way his voice gets all growly when he’s embarrassed. “But if you’ve gotta get things out, I can figure out how to listen.”

  My Alpha gave me an order. I look over at him cautiously. He seems relaxed, his hands stacked under his head. No matter how big the mattress is, though, I can’t avoid bumping into him, and each casual touch sends another lick of heat through my stupid, traitorous body.

  “There’s nothing I want to say about Bolt.”

  There was plenty of speculation about how, exactly, my first mate died. My dad paired us together, and we went off into the bayou for “a romantic honeymoon.” Which was bullshit, pure and simple, but I’d been far too young to run. So I went. I got on Bolt’s boat, and I let him take me out to his hunting cabin. He did things to me, and I survived. He then proceeded to drink too much Jack Daniels, and when he got back into the boat… there’s a reason why everyone warns against drinking and driving. I didn’t have to do a thing. I stood on the dock and watched him drive into a cypress, and then I stood and watched while the gators finished him off. I’d have pushed him in, but I hadn’t had to. Mother Nature and his own stupidity had taken care of everything for me.

  “Okay,” he agrees, to my surprise. “We don’t gotta talk about him.”

  “Thank you,” I say, and he snorts.

  “You don’t have to thank me for that.” He rolls closer as he says it, and I can’t hold back a flinch. He’s so big, and we’re absolutely, totally alone. Whatever he decides, I can’t stop him.

  He freezes. “Fuck.”

  Now, see? That’s exactly what I’m worried about. I slide backward on the mattress a few more inches. Pretty soon, I’ll be on the floor. His hand finds my hip, anchoring me when I teeter on the edge.

  “Have I ever hurt you?” Jace sounds annoyed now, but not angry. So things could be worse. I saw him tear into a prospect once. The kid had done something Jace hadn’t liked, but my takeaway had been that I couldn’t survive that kind of anger.

  The coiled tension in the large body next to mine is unmistakable, but I have no idea how to fix the situation. Since the room and the bed don’t provide many hiding places, I settle for a shrug. There’s nothing I can say anyhow—or at least nothing that he wants to hear.

  “Your daddy’s gonna ask if I touched you,” he whispers roughly. He unzips my borrowed jacket and then his thumb rubs a slow, heated circle over my hipbone. To my surprise, some of my panic subsides. The rhythm is comforting, different from the pattern I would set, but not bad. Is it an accident, or did he notice that much about me?

  “You’re touching me now,” I point out. “So you can say yes with a clear conscience.”

  “You bet,” he drawls. His thumb doesn’t stop its slow, hypnotic glide, dipping beneath the sweatpants to find my bare skin and the lacy band of my thong.

  “So this is all for show?”

  He gives me a wicked grin. “Nope. This part’s for me and you, sweetheart. But you need to answer a question for me.”

  I stare at him, waiting. He’ll ask. I’ll answer. I just have no idea whether it will be enough, whether it will be what he wants. What about what you want? I shut the little voice down. What I want is to leave this room behind me, and then leave my pack. Right now the man holding me so lightly is my ticket to both events.

  “Am I hurting you?” There’s no missing the thread of amusement in his voice.

  There are all sorts of hurt, but I go with the literal interpretation. Figure that’s what he wants to hear anyway. “I’m fine,” I tell him and he nods.

  “I wanna kiss you now,” he rasps. He moves and my back hits the mattress. I’ve never liked feeling trapped, and he presses me down, his body controlling mine. He rests his hands on either side of my head, his fingers tangling in my hair, wrapping the strands around his wrist.

  Kissing isn’t my thing. It’s way too personal. I don’t need to know which brand of toothpaste he does—or doesn’t—use. But he isn’t asking. He’s telling.

  “Why are you really doing this?” I whisper.

  “Because I want to,” he tells me, giving me more of his weight. I can breathe. Barely. I can also feel the heat and the strength of him through my thin tank top, my nipples hardening against the lace of my bra. I don’t know whether I’m more scared—or turned on. “And because you’re so goddamned gorgeous, I could just eat you up.”

  I’m not beautiful, but the look in his eyes is heated. He isn’t just giving me the words—he means them. Having a wolf shifter describe me as edible—when he has his mouth inches from my throat—should scare me half to death. And I don’t feel entirely comfortable.

  I give his chest a little push. “What if I don’t want to?”

  “I could convince you.”

  He settles his penis against my stomach. He’s hard, and if I need more proof that he believes his own speech, I have it. Unexpected heat rushes through me, a new, surprising throb bursting into life between my legs. I might not like fucking shifters, but Jace Jones is the sexiest man I’ve ever seen and he’s inches away.

  “Let me,” he teases roughly, his breath brushing my cheek, my mouth. If I struggle, maybe he’ll let me go. Or maybe not. He’s a wolf and a predator, and he has me pinned beneath him. The wolf won’t hesitate to take what it wants—the pack survives because of its ruthless instincts. I don’t know if Jace is more wolf than man or the other way around, but part of me doesn’t care.

  The part of me that is a living, beating heartbeat between my legs. Stupid, reckless, intoxicating pleasure shoots through me.

  “You can try,” I say, knowing that no one dares Jace.

  He grins slowly, and then that wicked, wicked mouth of his covers mine and he kisses me. I expected hard, his tongue invading my mouth. I expected him to take—instead he gives and suddenly I know exactly why all the women at the club seek him out. He kisses me slow and deep, his tongue licking over my lips, coaxing me to open up like it was my very own idea and a good one at that.

  I open with a sigh, and he slips inside my mouth. He explores every inch of me, his tongue learning me in a sensual game of hide and seek. I hide. He seeks. And when he catches my tongue with his, I moan. Surrender feels so good. I kiss him and kiss him, curling my fingers into his shirt to drag him closer.

  All the way closer. Jace Jones has me spread on a mattress beneath him, his penis pressed against me, and all I want is more. More of the heat burning through my body, more kisses. He’s dangerous, and I forgot that because he’s so very good at touching me.

  Stupid. I force myself to remember what’s at stake. I want out of the pack. I want to decide for myself what I’ll do, where I’ll go—and who I’ll fuck. Jace threatens all of that with one kiss. When I pull back, he lets go of my mouth, but holds on to the rest of me. I push back into the mattress, but
where can I go? His arms cage me in place, his legs hold me down. And I like it far too much.

  I’ve never liked anything so much, which means I need to get away.

  “This isn’t a good idea,” I breathe. “I don’t want a mate.”

  He rests his forehead against mine, his breathing rough. I’m not the only one who got lost in our kiss. “It’s just a kiss.”

  Nothing is that simple in the pack. I shake my head.

  “We both know that’s not true.”

  His mouth brushing against my hair is unexpected. “You got a plan to leave?”

  I shrug, willing him to let it go. “I’ll figure something out.”

  He shakes his head, because he’s clearly calculated my chances of walking away from Big Red and the Breed, and come up with the correct answer. Zero. Zilch. Nada. I was born a wolf, and I’ll die a wolf. I just am hoping to postpone the dying day at least a few decades.

  “You think about it. Think about taking me as your mate.”

  Truth is, mating isn’t my choice, any more than those girls that Big Red has collected have a choice. He’ll trot them out at the party, and his wolves will take their pick. And part of me, the part that’s part lonely and all crazy, likes the idea of taking Jace.

  My dad threw me at him, and he chased me and kissed me… but the one thing he hasn’t done is hurt me. And that makes him the exception in my world.

  “Go to sleep, sweetheart,” he says roughly, his voice rumbling out of the darkness above my head. He’s close enough that his words seem to brush my hair. My cheek. Close enough that I feel each small exhalation. Jace doesn’t talk much, but he makes his words count.

  “You in the business of telling me what to do now?” Asking questions is stupid when the man I’m asking has me trapped, but I feel like I’m finally waking up. Kind of like when you fall asleep in the afternoon and one minute the room is full of light, and the next it swims in later afternoon sunshine, shadows teasing the corners and your sleep-fogged eyes.