by Rosanna Leo
No more excuses.
He faced his cousin. I’m banishing you from the pack.
They all stared at him, faces transformed by disbelief. Okay, so maybe no one had been banished from their pack since the goddamn Enlightenment, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t still an option. Did they consider him a hardliner? A tyrant? So what. They wanted him to lead. He’d lead his way.
What did you say? Flynn demanded, growling his displeasure.
You heard me. Get your things, get out of this resort, and out of my pack.
It should have been my pack!
Maybe if you’d shown an ounce of maturity, Bart countered, it would have been.
His father trotted over to him. Don’t you think you’re being a bit harsh, son? He didn’t mean it.
You put me in charge, Dad. Are you suggesting you want the job back now?
It’s not that. But with Burns out there…
If Jason Burns really wants to hurt me, I’m pretty sure he’d pick a better target than Flynn. It’s my decision. You’ve been enabling him too long. He aimed his gaze at Flynn. Out.
Flynn whimpered. Still in wolf form, he ran over to his Fletcher for support, but his brother merely turned a blind eye, clearly fed up with his brother’s antics as well. Flynn turned to Bart, let out a howl, and said, You’ll regret this.
Bart offered him a wolfish smile. Not in this life. Good-bye, cousin, and don’t even think of sending me so much as an email until you sort your shit.
Flynn gawked at him for a moment, turned, and left. As he did, Bart fought the urge to gag and retch all over the snow. As angry as Flynn made him, as he’d always made him, they were family and he felt for him. However, any leftover angst from youth was no excuse for him to attack pack members just because he needed to let out frustration.
No, if Bart was to be Alpha, his prime responsibility remained the safety of pack members. Hell, he would have acted the same way even before taking on the role.
Even still, his heart hurt a little watching his cousin walk away. All of a sudden, Flynn didn’t appear the brash, big wolf, but the wiry pup who’d come to them after losing everything years ago. Was he wrong to banish him?
No, this was for his own good. He needed to grow up.
Charlotte stood at his side, gently bumping her head against his tense neck. The gesture, so intimate for a wolf, calmed and enflamed him at the same time. So relieved to have her there with him for his first big test, he turned and licked the soft fur between her eyes.
So soft. So pretty.
For long moments, no one moved.
While everyone else stared, unsure what to do, his dad murmured something to the pack about getting a good night’s sleep. Bart roused himself. He walked over to Fletcher, who darted worried glances at his brother as he retreated.
Fletcher, man. Are we good?
The movement of his gray head was non-committal. A bit extreme, don’t you think? Banishment from the pack? Flynn won’t survive. And what about our business? Am I supposed to cut him out of that too now?
Damn. His first major decision and he already had to deal with defiance. You know he won’t learn unless he hits rock bottom, and we’ve all been coddling him too long. It’s your business. If you can find a way to work with your brother, go crazy, but I don’t want him near any other pack members.
His cousin turned away from him. Whatever you say, boss. Alpha knows best. Fletcher loped off in another direction and headed into the woods.
Little by little the rest of the pack dispersed, but not before he got a couple more dirty looks from others. Lena shook her head at him as if he’d just spanked a starving child.
For Pete’s sake.
However, on the plus side, his little brother Nate stared at him, and then slowly bowed his wolf head, remaining in that position for a good few seconds. When Nate rose, Bart acknowledged him with a grateful nod.
Thank God, he’d won one of them over. Already his heart felt a little lighter.
As everyone left, Charlotte tripped over to him. Bart, don’t listen to them. You did the right thing, and they know it. Someone else wouldn’t have had the nerve to make that difficult call. Nate supports you now. The others will eventually, too.
I know, sweetheart. I know. He nuzzled her neck, their earlier conflict all but forgotten. As he drowned in her appealing scent, he bumped noses with her. He knew it was courtship behavior for a wolf, but he didn’t care who saw. Thank you.
As she trotted away, he took in the sight of her lovely wolf. Such a majestic animal with its strong legs and beautiful silver-gray coat. He could stroke her forever, losing himself in her luxurious fur and in those big, pale eyes. Eyes that teased, that seemed full of mystery, and yet so kind as well. He recalled their earlier exchange, so fraught with sexual promise and soon-to-be-explored lust. How was it they seemed to waffle between full-on sexual overdrive and sweet consideration?
Maybe that was what a relationship should be. Excitement and comfort, all at once. He wasn’t sure, but he knew he’d certainly explore the excitement part soon.
Before she disappeared into the veil of trees, Bart summoned her. Charlotte? Where are you going? I need to know.
She looked back and tipped her head, regarding him from a more pensive angle. Just to my cabin.
Wait for me. I’ll take you back.
She huffed, once again full of pique. Collecting on your promise so soon? Her voice held just as much curiosity as it did scorn.
Not right now. But I will.
After circling back with his dad and a couple of the others, he made his way over to her. In silence, they walked back to her cabin and he saw her inside. After making her promise to lock up tight behind him, he left her alone.
But unable to leave her altogether, Bart remained in his warm wolf form. Without announcing his intentions to her, he quietly curled up on her front stoop. Protected against the winter chill by his guard hairs and insulating undercoat, he hunkered down for the night and slept with one eye open. He’d just feel better that way.
Chapter 6
Thanks to her herculean efforts, Charlotte managed to spend the night in her bed, rather than run to Bart’s bed or just run away, period. For some reason, her encounters with him, both the panty-melting kisses and watching him act the Alpha with Flynn, left her unsettled. She’d had trouble sleeping, and when she did finally drift off, her sleep was colored by hazy images of Bart’s face as he leaned in for another devastating embrace. For some reason, he seemed to be all around her, watching her, and the idea dismayed and excited her at the same time.
She acknowledged she had a past and had kissed her share of men. She knew what comprised a good kiss and what didn’t. Despite all her experience, no kiss had ever floored her quite as Bart’s had. With a few well-placed flicks of his incredible tongue, he’d opened a Pandora’s Box inside her, and she now frantically searched for the lid, eager to slap it down on her frazzled emotions.
What had she agreed to? She must be a bigger fool than she originally thought, to allow Bart to think he could sway her with a few clumsy romps. He’d never change her mind, not even if the sex was mind-blowing. Not even if he made her feel…
Shaking her head, she dismissed the thought. She didn’t do feelings and always prided herself on remaining pleasantly detached. No, Bart was too full of himself for her to get carried away by ridiculous, childish emotions. They didn’t fit into her master plan. Okay, sure, she could admit she’d lain awake all night waiting for him to collect on his bizarre sex challenge. Maybe she’d even been a bit disappointed when he didn’t come. However, she knew the pack concerns weighed on his mind right now.
In fact, perhaps he’d even forgotten about the challenge.
She settled on that happy thought. Rising early, her body unable to remain prone, she went off in search of an early-morning coffee. She hoped she’d be able to clear her head with heaping mugs of caffeine. Once in the restaurant, she ran into Fletcher, who was already nursin
g his own black Columbian. Even though she wasn’t quite sure what to make of this particular wolf man, she stopped at his table and said, “Morning.”
His head popped up, dark circles coloring the skin under his eyes. She could see he’d been trying to keep it together, ever the calm brother, but he was still whiter than parchment. “Oh, hi Charlotte. Have a seat.”
She declined, unsure why, but somehow knowing it might bother Bart if he caught them together. Not that anything unseemly would happen. Even still, she remained standing. “That’s okay. I have to do some work this morning. Are you okay after last night?”
Even during this short exchange, his distracted gaze darted everywhere. Did he miss his brother, despite their animosity? Despite his apparent hostility to Flynn at times, he must be worried about his sibling. He must also feel guilty about challenging Bart. “Sure. Even though your boyfriend overstepped the mark. It didn’t take long for the power to go to his head, I see.”
Okay, maybe he didn’t feel so guilty. “I’m sure Bart did what he thought was best.” She cleared her throat. “And he’s not my boyfriend.” Boyfriend. What a word. She didn’t think she’d ever had a boyfriend before. Lovers, yes. Hookups, sure. Boyfriends? No. Leave those to Marcia Brady.
Because fate had always been a sadistic sonofabitch who loved nothing more than clamping onto her nipples and twisting, like a deranged high school bully doling out purple nurples, Bart chose that moment to walk up to the table. He glared at Fletcher, but the glare he reserved for her was truly special, laced with intimate knowledge and depraved promise.
“Charles,” he drawled. “Glad to see you found someone to have coffee with, you know, seeing as you don’t have a boyfriend to keep you company.”
What? He wanted to play semantics with her? Last she checked, he hadn’t made any official romantic declarations, unless you counted his stupid challenge. He’d only promised to fuck the resistance out of her, a silky threat which had kept her up at night. Bart Cairo had no right to act the Alpha man with her. Yes, she felt for him and his family situation, but he didn’t have any claim to her, other than the imaginary one in his inflated head.
Toronto was starting to sound better and better. So was having coffee with Fletcher, for that matter. She aimed her gaze at Bart’s cousin. He wasn’t a bad-looking dude: sandy hair and the same piercing dark eyes many of the Cairos possessed. And muscles. She didn’t know a single shifter male without them.
Maybe she should stop worrying about Bart so much and just have coffee with his cousin. Even though something niggling inside her soul told her not to. Feeling a little sick all of a sudden, she remained standing.
Fletcher gawked at her, seizing on her indecision. He stirred his coffee, his spoon clinking on the porcelain mug. And then he cocked an eyebrow at Bart, who already had a lovely stream of smoke coming out of his nostrils. His eyes flashing with an almost indistinguishable feral edge to them, he grinned at her. “You know, Charlotte, I’ve been meaning to get to know you better.” He pushed the little bowl of creamers toward her. “Any friend of my cousin’s is a friend of mine. Have a seat.”
Have a seat. It seemed simple. Why aren’t you having a seat? Sit down, you mental case!
And still she remained standing. Next to Bart. “Um…”
Bart, scratching his thighs in a nervous display Charlotte had seen many times, stared at her in a new light. As if he saw something in her eyes completely unfamiliar and fascinating to him. As he gazed at her, he gulped his hot, black coffee and winced at the burn. And then he took turns glaring at the two of them some more.
Already feeling out of her depth, as if her world was being turned upside down, Charlotte stood quietly and stared at her beverage.
Fletcher took the opportunity to steer the conversation. “So, Charlotte. You fascinate me. Tell me more about your work in religious studies.”
Finally, a topic that felt safe. Shifting her balance between her feet, she felt a gush of verbal diarrhea pour out of her. “Oh, well, I don’t know how many people would call it fascinating, but I like it. I guess I first realized I was interested in religion when my folks took me to church as a kid. I’m Catholic, but the priest’s sermons about how women were subservient to men rankled me. I made the decision to study religion then and there, you know, so I could find examples of strong women in history.” She thought back to some of her research and seized on a topic, suddenly excited to share. “I think my favorite example is Hildegard of Bingen, a Christian mystic and Benedictine abbess…”
“Oh, right,” Fletcher murmured, staring at a passing waitress’ ass. “That’s awesome.”
Charlotte shut up and bit her lip, silenced by his clear disinterest. She stared at her coffee and frowned.
Bart chimed in, his voice quiet. “I remember you talking about Hildegard of Bingen. Not only was she an abbess, she was a composer and philosopher. She was eventually canonized as a saint and made a Doctor of the Church, I believe. Saint Hildegard.”
Charlotte couldn’t stop her jaw from dropping. “You know that?”
He rubbed his cheek under his scar. “Well, you talked about her so much, I decided to get a library card and check out a book about her.” He shrugged and grinned. “She was a cool chic, you know, for a nun.”
Charlotte didn’t think she’d ever had a case of butterflies in her stomach, but right now something fluttered around down there. Her wolf just smacked her on the head, pointed at Bart, and said, See? She’d never seen Bart pick up a book on anything other than coffee table books on classic Mustangs or motorcycles. And yet he’d gone out of his way to read a tome on a female Christian visionary, and he’d actually absorbed the information, rather than using the pages as kindling in his fireplace.
She wasn’t sure what she felt right now, but her wolf whimpered with such blatant desire, it might have been a pussycat meowing for its morning bowl of kibble.
All of a sudden, the very idea of having coffee with Fletcher made her want to spit. She moved a step away from the table, shakier than she’d ever been.
“Hey, Charles,” Bart said. “You look pale.” He put a hand on the small of her back.
Charlotte flinched, moving away from his fiery touch. What was happening to her? “I’m…I’m fine.”
Fletcher dragged his gaze away from the waitresses long enough to lob a question her way. “Charlotte, why don’t you have dinner with me tonight? I’ll show you around the resort.” He winked.
“I know my way around the resort. I live here.” Asswipe.
“Oh, right,” he said, frowning at his own stupidity. “So, dinner’s out?”
“Dinner’s so out.” She hobbled away from the table, unsteady on her feet.
Of course, Bart followed her. “Don’t mind my cousin. Fletcher’s design firm is successful for a reason. He sleeps with all his female clients. He doesn’t know how to relate to a woman without putting the moves on her.”
As she exited the restaurant, she whipped around to face him, her emotions riding high. “And what about you?” she demanded. “Mr. You-will-be-at-my-disposal. What makes you any better, other than your new penchant for reading about long-dead mystics?”
“That’s different,” he muttered, scowling.
“Oh, please. Save your breath.” She turned and began to flounce away.
Bart chased after her and grabbed her elbow, pulling her into a quiet hallway. Once there, with no one looking, he pinned her to the nearest wall and flattened his body against hers. As much as she hated herself for being so weak, her body responded, and her hips curled upward against his erection. Damn! Why did he keep doing this to her? And why did she keep reacting the same way?
“You wanna know how it’s different between you and me?” His warm breath fanned over her face, and she fantasized about feeling it caress her whole body. “I’ll show you.”
Without any warning, he slid his hand under the waistband of her pants and into her panties. As she gasped in simultaneous horror and sweet
lust, he reached his fingers toward her pussy. His middle finger eased between her lips, so wet with longing, and penetrated her. While there, he took the opportunity to curl his digit inside her, and found her G-spot with no trouble at all. A few expert caresses and she almost unraveled on his finger. However, he pulled out and displayed his finger to her, all wet with her moisture. “This is what makes it different.”
Right in front of her gaping face, he inserted his finger into his mouth and sucked off her juices. The sexual detonation sparked in her core shot through her in so volatile a fashion, Charlotte almost fell to her knees. If she had, she would have gladly taken his cock in her mouth until she got to taste him in return. However, with obvious effort, her knees knocking, she remained standing.
“Next time I taste you,” he whispered, swallowing with apparent difficulty, “it’ll be with my face between your thighs. Your pussy in my mouth. I won’t let you go until I eat my fill, and I’m a hungry bastard.”
She grappled for a pert response. Hell, she struggled for air. She offered him a sour grin. “And you accused me of being a tease. You don’t even finish what you start, big man. Very bad form.”
“You are a tease and a flirt, and I’ll tell you something. It ends now. The next time I see you even considering flirting with any man other than me, I’ll throw you over my shoulder and then over my knee.” His voice made him seem so angry with its ragged reverberations, but he reached out a gentle hand to brush a hair off her forehead. “Don’t think for one minute I don’t see through you, Charlotte.”
Her heart stopped. “What the…?”
“I know you avoid relationships because you’re scared of exposing your heart, in case it gets broken.”
She turned her face, mortified.
He touched her chin and made her look at him. “Don’t even try to hide from me, sweetheart. I had you pegged ages ago. Why do you think I’ve been so patient? What I haven’t figured out yet, though, is what led you to put your heart in a vault. But I will get to the bottom of it.” He turned his head to the side and regarded her with a clarity that stunned and terrified her. “I’m going to tear all your defenses away, Charlotte.”
