Rogue Heart

by Samantha Wolfe

  A slow grin stretches across my lips as I realize I'm about to get the chance I've been waiting so long for. Maybe after this the guilt will fade, and I can move on and find a new life. This is the very first time I've ever even thought about a life past avenging my parents. Maybe this life could even be with Lyric? I could stop killing and become a different person, a person that deserves someone like her. These thoughts help settle my nerves and calm my racing heart. I loosen my grip on the knife, all my muscles in my body coiling in readiness to launch my attack.

  "Sounds good," he says as I already start to slip between the shrubs to get closer. "I'll talk to you later, L-"

  "Dad!" a deep rumbling male voice suddenly calls out.

  I freeze and look past Weylin to see a hulking mountain of a man hurrying along the back of the building toward us. He's at least six-foot-four with a thick head of hair and a full beard, both so dark they're nearly black. Fierce golden-brown eyes are fixed on Weylin, and they look entirely too familiar.

  "Gotta go," Rett says into the phone. "Looks like Wyatt's got a crisis for me now. The fun never ends. See you later." He ends the call and tucks the phone in his pocket as he steps toward his oldest son, who was only eight years old the last time I saw him. If it hadn't been for those golden-brown eyes of his, that look just like his mother's, I wouldn't have recognized him at all. Wyatt's scent reaches my nose, and I can smell the wolf on him. Ah, he grew up to be trueborn too.

  I slowly glide backwards to make sure I stay hidden and pray like hell the wind doesn't shift. The last thing I want is to be discovered and have to take on the two of them. One trueborn is almost more than I can handle, let alone add one that has several inches and fifty pounds of muscle on me.

  "I think we've got film yeast in one of the fermentation tanks," Wyatt explains in a gruff and irritated tone.

  "Son of a bitch," Rett snarls out. "Let's go take a look," he adds in resignation.

  Then the two of them walk away in the direction Wyatt came from, mentioning a bunch of technical sounding crap I can't follow, including something about using sulfur dioxide to catch the yeast before the infection gets too far. Whatever the hell that means. When they're finally out of sight and gone, I realize I've been holding my breath for God knows how long. I gasp in a harsh breath of blessed oxygen and close my eyes as I start to tremble from the adrenaline wearing off. In its wake, comes the sudden realization of what I just did, and how close I came to failing.

  What the hell was I thinking trying to take him out in broad daylight like this? That's just it, I wasn't thinking at all, and it almost ruined everything. There's no way this would've worked. This should have been a covert intelligence-gathering mission today, not an impulsive and impromptu hit without a thought put into it. Shit, I need to get the hell out of here. I need to go before my fucked-up head has me doing something else rash and idiotic.

  I whirl and am relieved to find that I'm still alone back here as I shove the knife into its sheath under my jacket. I swiftly return the way I came from and slip into the public area of the orchard again. I don't see anymore Weylins as I take my time winding through the crowds of people on the way back to my rental car, even though I want to fucking run. I climb in and I start the car, wondering what I'm going to do next, because I need to rein in my emotions and make a goddamn plan, or I'm going to get myself killed.

  I'm just about to put the car in gear when I hear my burner phone ringing inside the glove box where I left it. I immediately fish it out, knowing there's only one person who could be calling me on it. I lift the phone to my ear and answer in a soft low rumble, "Sugar."

  "Ronan," she answers, her sweet and melodic voice filled with longing and need, yet still edged with that tart sassiness of hers that I adore.

  And just like that, the tension vibrating and roiling around inside me instantly drains away. It's replaced with a calm serenity that feels so fucking good that the only plan I'm going to make right now is with her.

  17

  LYRIC

  "Are you about done with your tirade?" I say into my phone in irritation. "Because as the messenger, I really don't appreciate being shot."

  Silence abruptly falls over the line for a beat before I hear a long heavy sigh. I grin smugly. One guilt trip, successfully applied.

  "Listen," Dad finally says, his gruff voice moderated for the first time since he greeted my call. "I'm sorry. You know I'm not angry at you, and I know this isn't your fault." When I don't immediately respond, I hear him sigh again before he continues speaking. "We can't do anything about it on a Sunday anyway, so let's sleep on it and between you, me, and Emmett, we'll figure it out tomorrow. Okay?"

  "Okay," I immediately respond this time, answering his question as well as accepting his apology.

  I know he's been under a lot of stress lately as he tries to expand our burgeoning hard cider business while simultaneously running the orchard and cider mill during its busiest season. When he's stressed his quick temper will show itself, a trait Emmett and I both share with him, though we're not as adept at controlling it like Dad is most of the time. Apparently, the email I just read to him, indicating that one of our distributors was attempting to renege on the terms we agreed to, was enough to set him off. I don't blame him. The guy we're dealing with is kind of a jerk.

  "We'll do a conference call, and you, me, and Emmett will lay down the law on that ass-hat," I tell him. My older brother Emmett plans to take over the family orchard one day, and he's been enthusiastic about learning the business and a huge help to Dad these last few years.

  Dad snorts out an amused laugh. "Sounds good. I'll talk to you later, L-"

  "Dad!" Wyatt's deep booming voice cuts Dad off in the background, and I can hear the worry in my big brother's tone. Sounds like my father has another problem to deal with today.

  "Gotta go," Dad says. "Looks like Wyatt's got a crisis for me now. The fun never ends. See you later."

  "Bye, Dad," I say before he ends the call.

  I set my phone down on the desk next to my laptop and stare at the long list of emails I was going through. I take care of all the computer-related stuff for the orchard, including managing the web site since I have an on-line graphic-design degree, as well as the emails. I don't usually spend my Sundays going through them, but I was too distracted to work on my current web site design project. I didn't usually do my freelance work on a Sunday either, but I'm seriously behind since I've been busy with moving and...other things. You know, like a certain gorgeous black-haired man who took my virginity and stole my heart over the last few days.

  I sigh as I turn in my chair to face my rather large attic bedroom in Harmony and Wyatt's A-frame cabin with its pitched ceiling made of pine and white walls. Bright cheery sunlight is shining in through the windows on either end of the long room and the two skylights above, illuminating the boxes against one wall that I still need to unpack. My eyes flick over to my nightstand and the burner phone sitting on it.

  I've been ignoring its presence all morning. I wanted to call Ronan immediately upon waking, but I didn't want to bother him if he was busy trying to find his parent's killer. The last thing I want to do is distract him in any way. I know how much it means to him to avenge them, and how much pain and guilt he carries over it. It makes my heart hurt for him, and I worry about the fragile state of his emotions. I wish he didn't constantly reject the comfort I can give him through our mating bond.

  I shake my head as I shift my gaze from the temptation of the phone to my bed. My fluffy white comforter is in a contorted heap with the matching sheets after a long night of tossing and turning in between vivid sex dreams about Ronan the few times I dozed off. I was even forced to ease the throbbing between my legs several times in an attempt to get back to sleep. Thinking about him makes me physically ache for him all over again. I long for his scent and the feel of his arms around me and his hands and lips on my skin. I sigh yet again. I miss him so much. What would it hurt to call him? What would it hu
rt just to hear his voice for a few moments? I hem and haw for several minutes, my rational mind battling my body and emotions, until they finally get the better of me.

  Before I even realize what I'm doing, I'm up and moving toward the nightstand. I grab the phone and sit on the edge of the bed. Then I flip it open and call the only contact programmed into it before I can second guess myself. It rings twice before I hear the sweet sound of his voice.

  "Sugar," he says, his voice soft, yet still low and gruff.

  That one word sets off the pleasure centers in my brain and makes my lady bits sit up and pay attention with happy tingles. A smile spreads wide across my lips. The man has turned me from a clueless virgin into a sex-starved nymphomaniac overnight.

  "Ronan," I reply in a sweet yet still wanton tone that does nothing to hide my desire, my need. I take a shuddering breath and add in a soft whisper. "I miss you."

  "Can you meet me at the cabin?" he asks, the stark longing in his deep voice unmistakable. I can't resist it at all.

  "Yes," I immediately answer without a single second thought or reservation.

  I tell him I'll be at Rowdy's cabin as soon as I can. Luckily, I already showered as soon as I got home last night so Harmony and Wyatt wouldn't scent Ronan on me this morning when they returned from their hunt and ask questions I couldn't answer. I certainly didn't want to show up for Ronan all filthy with my hair pulled up into a snarl on top of my head like I normally spent my Sunday mornings.

  "See you soon, sugar," he replies, the contentment and relief in his voice pleasing me.

  We end the call and I leap to my feet to get dressed, hurriedly yanking on jeans and a sweatshirt, plus my cowboy boots. I glance in my dresser mirror and pull a brush through my hair a few times, and I'm ready to go since I don't routinely wear makeup. I grab my purse off the dresser and shove both my phone and the burner in it, then whip the door open and take off downstairs at a fast clip.

  Half-way down I hear a familiar male voice calling out my name and I slow. Shit, I'd been alone today, up until now, since Harmony and Wyatt are at the orchard. My visitor is Beckett, my second oldest brother, and now I need to get rid of him. Curse our family's open-door policy. I shake my head with an eye roll, then school my face into a passive expression as I walk into the open living room/kitchen with its vaulted ceiling and traditional yet rustic-edged decor. I see my brother standing just inside the door.

  "Hey there, little lady." Beck greets me with a fake drawl, smiling warmly as he lifts his hand up to tip a nonexistent hat and nods at me.

  Beck is the shortest of my brothers at six-feet and the leanest, though still muscular and fit. Beck is also the sweetest of my brothers and the spitting image of Mom with his short dark-blond curls and golden-brown eyes. He's dressed in the usual uniform of the men in my family, a T-shirt and jeans with a pair of heavy scuffed up work boots. Nice clothes and working at the orchard don't mix, especially since Beck is the mechanic and general handyman for the entire operation.

  "Harm told me you were holed up in your room working today so I thought I'd give you a break and take you to lunch at the diner." His gaze flicks down to my purse. "But I guess you have other plans?" he adds with a flicker of disappointment in his expression.

  "Yeah," I answer as I walk nonchalantly past him to the front door. "I've got some errands to run."

  "Want some company?" Beck asks as he opens it for me. "I don't have any pressing reason to be back at the orchard for a while."

  "No, I'm good," I reply.

  Beck frowns with a furrowed brow and blinks in surprise as I walk past him to get outside. "Oh," he says, his disappointment obvious. "Okay."

  A twinge of guilt strikes me at his reaction. He and I are pretty tight, and I almost never turn down an opportunity to spend time with him. Usually, I tell him about anything and everything going on in my life. He's the best listener ever and always has good advice, so not telling him about Ronan feels wrong. I need to get out of here quickly before I give in to the guilt and spill my guts to my brother.

  "I'm running late, so I'll see you later," I say as I hurry down the porch steps and head over to my truck in the gravel driveway nearby. Luckily, Beck didn't park me in with his old truck.

  "Okay...bye," Beck calls out after me.

  I catch sight of him still standing on the porch with a bewildered expression as I open the driver's door and climb in. Ugh. I'm such a shitty sister right now, but it can't be helped. I won't betray Ronan and tell anyone about his presence here, even my own family. His trust is precious to me, and I won't risk ruining it since I'm certain it's something he rarely gives to anyone, if at all.

  I start the truck and back out of the driveway, then take off at a fast clip to get away from Beck as much as to get to Ronan. The drive is pleasant since it's a gorgeous temperate autumn day with white fluffy clouds dotting the sky and the sun shining brightly up above. The turning leaves of the trees look like fire with brilliant shades of gold, orange, and red lining both sides of the road. By the time I pull up next to Ronan's electric blue Mach 1 glittering brilliantly in the sunshine, I'm giddy with eager excitement and a bit of nerves too since this is all so new to me.

  I hop out of the truck and practically run across the yard to the tiny cabin's front door and up onto the little porch. I don't even bother knocking. I just whip the door open and barrel inside. I immediately see Ronan across the living room in the cabin's small kitchen. He's standing next to a little round kitchen table currently covered in multiple plastic shopping bags, while slipping off a shoulder holster holding a huge knife and gun. His sword in its scabbard is leaning against one of the wooden chairs. The dichotomy of something so normal and domestic like groceries sharing the same space with such deadly weapons isn't lost on me, or the fact that Ronan and I are just as different ourselves. His yin to my yang in perfect harmony with one another.

  His eyes are already fixed on me as he sets the shoulder holster on the table since I know he heard me pull up a few moments ago. His gaze glitters with affection, then quickly heats into fiery desire, his decadent lips pulling into a wicked smile that lights up his gorgeous face. My God, I love him, and the raw emotion sticks in my throat as it swells up inside me, thankfully stealing my voice before I can say the words and freak him out.

  "Lyric," he say, his tone thick with longing as he takes an unconscious step toward me.

  All I manage is a low mewl as I fling myself across the room to meet him. I reach him before he can even take a second step and leap up, throwing myself at him with another needy whimper. He catches me and I wrap my arms and legs around him, latching on like a monkey as his hands grab my ass to support me with our bodies pressed against each other. Our lips crash together fiercely, teeth clacking and tongues tangling in a feral and passionate kiss. His heat and scent envelope me, and I suddenly realize that something isn't right, that something is missing. I can't feel him, his lust or his emotions, none of it, and it feels so very wrong that it physically hurts and has tears burning my eyes. I pull away from the kiss to see Ronan's deep frown and distraught gaze, and realize he feels it too. Our bond is missing.

  "Ronan," I say softly, then sob as I grip the back of his neck tighter. That's when I feel the chain of the spelled pendant beneath my fingers and have an instant epiphany. Not only is that fucking thing concealing Ronan's wolf, but it must be blocking our mating bond too. Without hesitation, I slip my hands under the collar of his T-shirt and grab the necklace. "Off!" I say as I yank it up over his head.

  And just like that, the mating bond instantly snaps back into place between us as I toss the thing to the floor like it's some dirty diseased thing. The sheer relief I feel is immeasurable, and so is Ronan's as his emotions roll into me in a warm and comforting wave. I feel whole again, complete in every way.

  "Thank fuck," he growls out, then kisses me again.

  This time the blistering heat of our mutual lust consumes us, and all thought or reason abandons us. The kiss turns savage
and bruising, both of us moaning and gasping as our frantic hands tear at each other's clothes until we're both naked. I find myself on my hands and knees on the wooden floor with Ronan's warm body poised over mine, his hard muscular chest against my back. I arch my spine wantonly, rolling and grinding my ass shamelessly against his pulsing erection with a low moan. He growls in response as he roughly shoves my knees apart with one of his, his soft demanding lips finding the back of my neck as he lines his cock up with my sex. Then he drives deeply into me with a hard snap of his hips, letting out a deep possessive snarl as he sinks his teeth into my skin.

  He stills with our bodies finally joined, his teeth worrying at my neck as our pleasure crashes together and ignites me with sweet fire beneath him. I wail as it boils over through the mating bond and quakes through me. My insides clamp down furiously around his cock and it pulls a long groan from Ronan that has him shuddering against me.

  "Fuuuuuck," he calls out as my violent orgasm plays havoc with his control.

  I feel every nuance of his internal struggle as I crack my eyes open and watch his fingernails dig little crescents into the hardwood floor on either side of my hands. He barely wrests himself back from the brink of release just before mine finally wanes, and he's left trembling and gasping for air, his breath hot against my skin.

  "Good God, Lyric," he says between ragged breaths. "It feels so fucking good inside you."

  I couldn't agree more. There's no pain at all this time, just the pure bliss of being filled by him completely as his cock throbs inside my still spasming pussy. But it's not enough. I need more.

  "Please," I cry out.

  His reply is to pull back and thrust into me as he bites me yet again. And this time he doesn't stop. He pushes into me again and again, his pace steadily growing faster and faster until he's pounding into me like he wants to crawl right up inside me. He snarls out my name over and over again as he takes me with fierce and brutal abandon. I can feel his joy in our joining, feel exactly how much he wants and needs this, and relishes my pleasure. I abruptly fly apart once more, this time screaming and bucking beneath him as he fucks me through it, dragging it out until I actually start to swoon as it ebbs. My elbows buckle, and I almost collapse beneath Ronan. But his strong arms latch around me and pull me up onto my knees, holding me up as he continues rutting into me. One hand wraps possessively around my throat, and the other slithers down to my pussy. His fingers unerringly find my clit and press into it with firm and unrelenting pressure.