Rogue Heart

by Samantha Wolfe

  "I wouldn't dare to presume anything about you, sugar," he answers, his eyes sparkling in amusement. "This is just where I'm staying, and I came here because I don't know the area that well."

  "Ah-ha," I reply as I point at him. "And another part of the mystery falls into place." I grin in triumph. "Now I know you're from out of town."

  "I've never met anyone like you." He shakes his head with an incredulous expression. "You are something else."

  "Is that a good or a bad thing?" I ask with narrowed eyes.

  Ronan's eyes slide down my body all the way to my boots, then back up again, now filled with heated desire. "Believe me, it's a very good thing," he says, his voice a low sexy growl.

  I can scent his rising arousal amid his usual earthy musk. I admire the thick corded muscles of his neck and arms, watch his hard chest rise and fall under his tight T-shirt. I hear his heart rate spike. Desire heats my blood, and my clit throbs in time to my own quickening heart. He breathes in deeply, then hums appreciatively as he leans in until his now parted lips are only a few inches from mine.

  "Lyric," he murmurs with hooded eyes, then closes the small distance between us and kisses me.

  And oh sweet Lord, it's even better than the first time.

  His lips move over mine with skilled confidence, sending my already rising libido skyrocketing in seconds. One of his hands slides into my hair, the other cups my chin almost reverently as he tilts my face and deepens the kiss. His tongue strokes into my mouth with intense possessive thrusts that fire my senses. I moan helplessly into his mouth as I tangle my tongue with his, trying to give back as good as I get, despite my inexperience. I know I've succeeded when he growls into the kiss, his hand clutching at my hair and pulling me closer. The next thing I know, his strong arms are scooping me out of my seat and lifting me over onto his lap.

  I end up straddling him with his hands gripping my waist and pulling me flush against his hard body. I can feel is thick erection through our clothes, so tantalizingly close to my sex. I whimper and writhe against him, burying my hands in his soft black hair as we continue to feed on each other like starving animals.

  His fingers snake under the hem of my shirt, and I gasp in delight as his big warm hands glide across the bare skin of my lower back. He brings them around to the front of my body and slides them up to my breasts. He palms them over my lace bra, and groans appreciatively as he brushes his thumbs across my peaked nipples. I gasp at the jolt of electric pleasure that pulses through me and throbs between my legs. Wow. I didn't know my nipples could do that. My arousal heightens even more, and I reach down to pull hastily at his T-shirt. I find warm skin stretched taut over steely muscles and run my hands all over him. The feel of his hard body makes me desperate for more, and the next thing I know, I'm making keening noises as I toy clumsily with the button of his jeans. Suddenly, Ronan's hands find mine, and he stills my frantic fingers.

  "Easy, sugar," he rumbles out as he pulls back from our kiss. "Slow down. I love your enthusiasm, but there's no need to hurry this." He meets my eyes with a sexy smile.

  Embarrassment instantly heats my face. This is one area of my life where I have little confidence. "I'm sorry," I say. "I...um...this is a first for me."

  "What?" he asks, his eyes sparkling in the dim light. "You've never had sex in a car before?"

  My face burns even hotter now, and I avert my eyes from his in chagrin. "I've never had sex anywhere."

  "What?" he asks, his hands stilling over my breasts.

  "I'm...I'm a virgin."

  His entire body stills now, and disappointment flares inside me along with the deepening embarrassment. I feel so humiliated that I pull away from him, intent on crawling back into my seat to lick my wounds, but his hands move down to grip my hips and keep me from going anywhere.

  "Look at me, Lyric," he says in a quiet, yet firm voice. "Look at me now."

  I force my gaze up to his, cringing at what I might find. Rejection. Pity. Maybe even disgust. I'm surprised to find none of those things in his handsome face. Instead, I see shock tempering a dark possessive fire that burns unmistakably in his eyes. Concern quickly floods them and banks the fire as he lifts one of his hands to cradle my cheek gently.

  "There's no need to be embarrassed about it," he says as his thumb caresses my lips. "I don't think any less of you." He frowns next and pulls my forehead down to touch his, then sighs in resignation. "But I'm not worthy of a gift like this." He shakes his head. "You shouldn't give it to a man like me, sugar."

  My disappointment morphs into anger.

  "Well, good thing it's not up to you who I give it to." I jerk my face back to glare at him. "I'm a virgin, not a fucking child."

  I pull away from him and crawl back into the passenger seat. I turn away from him with my arms wrapped protectively around myself as I stare out the window, incensed and utterly humiliated by his rejection.

  "Lyric," he says in a pleading voice, his hand brushing my upper arm.

  "Take me back to the club," I say without looking at him.

  "Lyric."

  I whirl and shoot him a venomous stare that has him actually flinching away from me. "Take me back right fucking now."

  He presses his lips together with a pained expression for a moment before finally sighing in resignation. He nods and turns away, then starts the Mustang and backs out of the parking spot without another word. Tense silence falls between as he drives me back to The Spur and Buckle, but I don't even try to fill it this time. I have nothing to say to him. When we're almost to the club, a text has my phone vibrating in my pocket. I take it out to find a message from Harmony.

  You've been gone awhile. Everything okay?

  No, everything is definitely not okay, but I'm not telling anyone about tonight...ever. It's beyond embarrassing.

  I'm fine. I'm on my way back in now.

  I shove my phone back in my pocket as Ronan turns into the club's parking lot. I don't see the police anywhere, so at least there's that. Not that I care what happens to him now, because I don't, damn it.

  "Just drop me off here," I say, eager to get away from him, despite my she-wolf's feelings to the contrary. But I'm so angry at this point that she has no hope of wresting control away from me right now. I grab the handle and push the door open before the car can even come to a complete stop.

  "Lyric," Ronan calls out to me in an apologetic tone as I climb out, but I slam the door shut before he can say anything else.

  I can feel his eyes on me as I march toward the club's entrance, and I feel a pull to run back to him, but ignore it. Despite my she-wolf's agitation over my decision, and the fact that each step away from him feels more painful and difficult to take than the last, it's for the best. I guess Ronan was right about one thing, he isn't worthy of me or anything else I deluded myself into thinking was happening between us.

  7

  RONAN

  The first hazy light of day filters through the fog shrouded trees as I pick my way through the frost-coated underbrush on wolf's paws. My panting breaths plume out like steam in the chilly air as I approach the Mach 1 and shift next to the driver's side door. My bones and tendons move and change with soft snicking noises as my skin prickles with retracting jet black fur. I shake off the lingering pain as I stand upright and touch the crystal pendant still hanging from my neck.

  I was surprised and pleased to discover that in my wolf form, it had the opposite effect and masked any hint of my human scent. Thanks to the enspelled necklace I could get in, do the hit, and no one would ever know a rogue werewolf had been in the area. It's going to be the perfect hit, the perfect revenge. A smug and feral grin spreads wide across my lips as I open the car door, grab my clothes, and swiftly pull them back on.

  I lower myself into the Mustang, and my eyes drift over to the passenger seat as my nose picks up the lingering hint of honeysuckle and wolf. It has my thoughts returning to Lyric, and my grin instantly evaporates. I've felt this emptiness inside ever since dropping
Lyric back off at that fucking club last night. I tried to fill it by driving out of town to the first woods I came across, parking my car out of sight, and spending the night as the wolf. It didn't help, the hunt, the chase, the kill, none of it. She kindled a light inside me that I thought was long dead, but then it got snuffed out when I rejected her and pissed her off. But what was I supposed to do? I couldn't sully her light with my darkness. I couldn't take her innocence, knowing that after this job I would simply disappear, never to return. She deserved better, no matter how good she made me feel. I did the right thing, despite my wolf's incessant urges to go look for her, to claim what he deludedly sees as ours. It's not happening, even if I did know where to find her, and I have no intention of breaking my longstanding rule never to associate with other trueborn either. I can feel the wolf's roiling anger bubbling inside me at my decision and shut him down with a low growl of irritation. Nothing else matters but avenging my parents, and he can just fuck off.

  Once I'm back at the motel, I park and run in for a quick shower and change of clothes. Then I take off on foot. I find the car rental place I scoped out yesterday, and get myself the most inconspicuous beige sedan in the lot under my alias. Then I drive northeast toward Wolcott for some reconnoitering. I need to find Weylin without being obvious about it. Simply asking around in a small close-knit town like this could tip my hand early and send my quarry running before I can even locate him. That's not fucking happening.

  I try my best to ignore the inkling and invasive thoughts of her and stay focused on my objective, but keeping her out of my head proves difficult. It's like she wormed her way inside, and I can't push her back out again. Fuck, if I don't get my shit together, this distraction could get me killed. I've never done a hit on another trueborn before, and the risk is high, especially going up against a wolf like Weylin, who is older and more experienced. I have to do this just right, and that requires careful planning and thorough preparation.

  The morning fog has been burned away by bright sunshine by the time I reach Wolcott. I drive down Main Street through a tiny picturesque downtown. Multiple little shops occupy the old brick buildings on each side of the perfectly kept street, including a post office, a diner, a hardware store, and even a little book store among them. The diagonal parking spots that front all the buildings are already mostly full this morning. Halloween decorations grace the wrought-iron street lights that line the sidewalk, with more in almost every window. I can even hear Halloween-themed music playing from outdoor speakers that must be mounted on the surrounding buildings. It's like a goddamn post card, and I shake my head in disbelief. These poor people have no idea of the monster they're harboring among them, but I'm going to rectify that before I leave town.

  I spend the morning driving around getting a feel for the area, and in the tiny hope of setting eyes on Weylin. That hope is dashed and my stomach is snarling hungrily by midday. So I head back down Main street, deciding to get something to eat at the diner I saw and scope out the locals more closely.

  I end up parking several buildings over and walk the short distance to the diner, returning the few friendly greetings I receive with an uncomfortable nod. I don't like the attention since the less people who notice me here the better. I enter the restaurant and suddenly feel like I just stepped into a time machine as I gawk around the mostly full room. Between the dark-red tile floor, the fading wood-paneled walls, and the long Formica lunch counter with its dark-red vinyl stools, I feel like I just got sent back to the 1950s.

  Within seconds of entering, I'm approached by a curvy blond woman with a big saccharine smile that looks so fake it puts me instantly on edge. She's maybe a decade younger than me with big tits, even bigger hair, and enough plastered on makeup for every woman in the room. She saunters up to me, all batting eyes and heaving bosoms. Her too tight shirt is cut entirely too low with the words "Wolcott Diner" stretched across her chest. She doesn't even try to hide the thoroughly salacious gaze she sweeps up and down my body.

  "Well, hello there," she says in what I assume she thinks is a sexy come-hither stare. It's not. "Welcome to the Wolcott Diner. I'm Stephanie. Would you like to sit at the lunch counter, or perhaps at a table in my section where I can take care of all your needs?" Her voice is more whiny than sexy as she tries to place lurid emphasis on the last word and actually winks at me. Is she for real?

  I frown at her and watch her smile fade at my lack of reaction. "I'll take that booth in the back corner," I say as I nod in that direction. Whether that's in her section or not, I don't care. I need a wall at my back and a clear view of the room.

  Her shoulders droop as she grabs a menu off the nearby hostess stand, and her smile has evaporated completely by the time she turns to lead me to my booth. She slaps the menu on the table top, and stalks away with swaying hips that do nothing for me. There's another ass I'd much prefer to ogle, then I scowl as I have to push thoughts of Lyric out of my damn head again.

  I'm relieved when an older woman approaches a few moments later and announces that she's my waitress. She takes my order, then walks away as I settle in to unobtrusively observe the room for a while. It quickly becomes apparent that everyone is all up in everybody else's business here in Wolcott. By the time my food gets delivered, and thanks to the table next to me full of busybodies, I know who's screwing who, who's getting a divorce, and who got snubbed in their family will when their great uncle recently passed away. I shake my head incredulously as I dig into my chicken-fried steak. I'm about two bites in when a shout from the kitchen has me stilling with my fork halfway to my mouth.

  "Carry out order up for Weylin!"

  Could I actually be this fucking lucky for once in my life? I turn incredulously to see an older man inside the kitchen lining up several full plastic bags in the pickup window. The busty blond flounces over with a wide grin and grabs the bags, then takes them over to the checkout counter by the entrance. She starts scanning the street outside through the large picture window at the front of the diner with an eager expression. She fluffs her hair and readjusts her shirt so even more cleavage is visible. Jesus, her nipples look like they're about to pop out for the whole world to see.

  A few moments later, I see two men walk past the window and enter the diner. The first one through the door has short dark-blond curls and what looks like golden-brown eyes. He appears to be in his mid to late twenties, and looks vaguely familiar to me. The second man is an entirely different story as a jolt of instant recognition hits me. I blink in shock as the piece of chicken on my fork plummets back to my plate, and I stare at the guy in stunned disbelief. He's entirely too young to be my mark, but he looks exactly like the man I remember hovering over my father's body all those year ago. The man whose face is indelibly burned into my memories for all eternity. He has the same dark hair, pale blue eyes, and lean muscular build as the man who stole everything from me. I breathe in to try to pick out his scent, but can't thanks to all the other people in the room and the distance between us.

  "Hi, Emmett," the busty blond coos as he walks up to the check-out counter.

  I remember that name immediately, and the fact that Rett Weylin had four kids and that Emmett was the youngest. He would have been three the last time I saw him. I eye the other man again and see the similarities between them. They're definitely related and I seem to recall his name being Beckett, Emmett's slightly older brother. Shit. It's been a long time, and I look a lot different than when I was thirteen, but what if one of them recognizes me? I lower my head and start shoveling more food into my mouth, not even registering the taste as I continue covertly watching the two brothers.

  Emmett pays for the food and Beckett gathers up the bags while they banter back and forth, basically ignoring the blond's too obvious flirting. They don't seem anymore impressed with her than I am. When they finally turn to leave the diner, I realize the opportunity that just presented itself to me. I'm already pulling my wallet out and slapping some bills down on the table next to my barely touc
hed food as they walk out the door. I rise to my feet and follow them, ignoring the blond's batting eyes and whiny goodbye. I stalk out onto the sidewalk just in time to see them getting into an old black Jeep Wrangler on the other side of the street. Good. I didn't lose them.

  I hurry down the sidewalk to my rental and slip inside to start the engine. When I back out onto the street, it's just in time to see the Jeep driving through the only stop light in town. I grin eagerly and follow them at a safe distance, hoping like hell that they lead me right to their fucking piece of shit father. Do they have any idea what he's capable of, that he killed my father, his own best friend, and was responsible for the chain of events that led to my mother's death too? I ignore the tiny little voice inside that tries to tell me that I won't be any better than him for what I'm planning to do to this family. After all, I'm doing them a favor before he betrays them too.

  I tail them discretely out of town and along the back-country roads out into B.F.E. I have to stay so far back to keep from being noticed that I almost lose them twice. Eventually, we end up on a tree-lined road that I know borders the Wolcott Nature Preserve. I see the Jeep turn off the road up ahead and disappear from sight. I follow in their wake, then slow as I pass a small paved driveway. I look through the thick trees, but can't spot the Jeep or the house I'm certain is there. I see a mailbox next to the drive that has a small metal cutout of a howling wolf mounted to the top and the name Weylin painted on the side.

  Fuck. Yes.

  Anticipation shivers through me. After all these years, I found him. Now I can finally fulfill the promise a terrified thirteen-year-old orphan made to his family after losing everything. Finally, it would be over, and maybe I could let go of some of the pain that still afflicted me every day. Maybe that deep sucking wound in my heart, that so often still feels fresh and bleeding, and is currently throbbing in my chest, could finally begin to heal. Good God, I fucking hope so.