by Diana Seere
“Don’t be a brat.” Lilah led her through a plain, nondescript door to a quiet hallway. “Yours is the last one on the left. Your bags are already there. We put a little card with menus next to the phone—all you have to do is text your request to have food and drink or whatever brought to you. If you forgot your bathing suit, you can ask for one of those too. The spa is amazing.”
“Is this a house or a hotel? You’ve got room service?”
“It’s heaven, Jess,” Lilah said, giving her a final squeeze. “Enjoy yourself!”
Derry could smell her when she landed in Billings.
Perhaps that was an exaggeration, but if it was, the exaggeration was slight, for her pending arrival obliterated every other element of the universe. He had no appetite. Coffee made him nervous. Wine tasted like vinegar. His clothes constricted, scratchy cloth designed as a social convention that was just a polite form of torture.
And scents.
Oh great God, the scents.
Jess’s rose above the cacophony of olfactory chaos this wedding represented. Three days to go, and already thousands of tendrils of perfume, cologne, makeup, deodorant, wine, beer, coffee, arousal, desperation, manipulation and more assaulted him like bullets and daggers, like fists and feet, like rocks hurled from a short distance straight at his teeth.
How had he never, in all his years, been so crowded by the dissonance of competing odors? The world smelled like a tuning fork struck by a second one, the two out of frequency, driving his nerves to an insanity from which no one could recover.
He used to find solace in parties and crowds, the joyful unraveling of men and women plied with wine and song a bath of humanity he could dip into at will.
Now it was a primordial soup of odious irritation.
Derry found himself twitching at the slightest unexpected movement, leg tapping incessantly, his impatience living on the surface of his skin and yet—why? He had nowhere else to go. As best man, he had three jobs: a bachelor party, a toast, and to offer the ring during the ceremony.
A fourth, he reminded himself: to dance with the maid of honor.
Jess.
Her name rippled through his subconscious mind a thousand times, as necessary for his survival as oxygen and water.
The cute little server from the club, the one who’d joined him, Freddi, and Isla in the limo, walked past with a tray of crudités in tiny shot glasses, dipped in guacamole.
She approached him where he sat, in a lounge chair two sizes too small, and dipped her sweet cleavage so that he caught an eyeful.
“Care for a taste?” she asked, her voice seductive.
Of Jess.
Gillian—that was her name—flinched as if slapped.
He’d said that aloud, hadn’t he?
“Of just… a little,” he mumbled, trying to cover his slip. He grabbed two of the little appetizers and took one to his mouth, upending the vegetable sticks and dip as if doing a shot of tequila.
As he chewed, she gave him a skeptical look.
“Is she here?”
“Who?”
“Jess.”
“Jess who?”
The skeptical look deepened to disgust.
“Jess Murphy. You know. The woman you kissed under the mistletoe at the club. The woman who threw Gatorade all over you at the club. The woman you fucked in the wine cellar at the—”
His hand was around her wrist, gripping hard, the other about her waist as he pulled Gillian in close.
“Stop talking, please.”
“Huh. So I was right. The rumor’s true.” He heard the sneer in her voice. Damn it. She was guessing. And he’d handed her the answer. “Poor girl.”
He simmered, emotion turning into a boil. The crisp November air did nothing to quell the spark that had ignited his change. He wasn’t in true danger of shifting. Not yet. And yet…
“Men like you never change,” Gillian said, glancing to the left. Derry could tell she was like Isla, fishing for an audience, trying to catch someone’s eye to validate herself.
She had to define herself by how others saw her. So different from Jess.
So much like him.
The old him.
“Men like me are none of your concern.”
“Considering it’s my job to serve nothing but men like you, I’d say you’re wrong.”
“If all you ever plan to do is serve men like me, Gillian, then you might want to ask yourself why you’re working for people you so clearly disdain.”
“It’s that easy, is it, Mr. Stanton? Just go out and change my life because I want something different?” Her tone became more vicious. “I tried that. A few weeks ago. You might remember that night? The one where you ditched me with your two little friends.”
“What does that have to do with—”
“Women like me sleep with men like you so we don’t have to continue serving men like you.”
Stunned into silence, he stared at her.
“You use us. We use you. I’m going to find a man who understands this, a man who can give me more than you ever could. You’ve missed your chance. You’ll never see me again.”
He clenched his jaw. “How lovely for both of us. I wish you every success in realizing your dreams.”
“I know what you think, but Jess Murphy isn’t any different from me, or Isla Monroe, or Freddi von Eisenthorpe. She’s just better at playing the innocent virgin. You fell for it hook, line and sinker.”
He kept his face impassive, but inside, he reeled. Could Lilah have been wrong about her sister? That Jess was more experienced than she pretended? She wouldn’t be the first little sibling to hide secrets from an older one.
A cold, cruel smile twisted Gillian’s face. How had he ever found her attractive?
Words failed him. What was the point of this conversation? His nose detected her bitterness, an acrid scent of tangy fear that she exuded. Every word out of her mouth was true—in her mind. And that nasty terror seeped out of her pores like poison.
“Maybe she’ll have better luck than me, Derry.” The use of his first name was like being lashed with a whip. Gillian’s whisper was a garrote, her face inches from his, her lips pressed against his cheek before she added, softly:
“I hope you can get it up for her.”
And with that, Gillian walked away, and in her absence rushed a swirling rage that crested the dam of his human body like a scene from a disaster movie.
She’s just better at playing the virgin.
You fell for it.
Maybe she’ll have better luck.
I hope you can get it up for her.
What if Jess’s sharp words after the mistletoe kiss had been real? Her own sister had warned him. Lilah’s words thrummed through him like a gong:
Jess isn’t interested in you.
I just don’t want to see her heart broken.
His chest cracked in two, the rush of air and need and despair filling the void. What if Lilah had really been warning him away? Did she think he was that grossly shallow?
Did everyone?
What if it had been genuine? What if Lilah had been telling the truth about her feelings?
The world tightened into a tiny dot.
And then it imploded into fur and bone and roars and the sudden rush of trees and light, the scent of sun and ozone, as he raced into the woods to become the other half of himself.
Being human had become unbearable.
Chapter 12
Enjoy myself, Jess thought. Yeah, right.
With a yawn, she dropped her tablet containing the unfinished chemistry problems onto the bed. It was a four-poster, big enough for a king, solid as granite. An elephant could do Zumba on the mattress, and it wouldn’t wobble a centimeter.
That gave her ideas. Had Derry slept in this bed? It seemed like it was designed for him. She closed her eyes, drifting into another dream about a big man with big hands and a big appetite. A shiver rippled through her, tightening her nipples into erect points.<
br />
Chewing her lip, she slipped her hand under her sweatpants. She was already wet. God, since that night in the wine cellar, she’d been continuously aroused. She was like a walking girl-erection.
When would she see him? Was he close?
He was the most attractive man she’d ever laid eyes on. Not just in real life—anywhere. Paintings or sculptures, TV, online, movies, amateur or professional porn. Every preference she’d ever had for a man, he satisfied it. And surpassed it.
The sensual curve of his lips, the thick band of muscles between his neck and shoulder, his silky dark hair, the dimples above his ass… Well, she was just imagining those since she hadn’t gotten a good enough look before, but what she’d seen was mouthwatering. There was no point denying it. When she closed her eyes, she saw him.
Right now, she saw him shuddering his release as his thick cock pounded into her and he shouted her name: Jess, Jess, Jess.
Her breath caught, overwhelmed by the forbidden fantasy.
Night after night, she’d stopped herself from indulging in this… in this natural biological act of self-love.
And then broke down and did it anyway.
Maybe, if pleasuring herself while she imagined Derry kept her away from the real man, it was the right thing to do. She pressed her palm over her aching vulva and tried to imitate what he’d done to her. She’d never felt anything like that before—or since, no matter how hard she tried. The climax had been far beyond any orgasm she’d ever had, and for all that she was a virgin, she’d had many. She’d been alone a long time. She’d always been alone.
It wasn’t just his looks. If only it were. He was funny, dangerously smart, quick with his tongue.
Oh, his tongue…
She spread her knees wider, wriggling down into the luxurious sheets, and cast her mind back to the dark, quiet cellar where the only sound was his flesh against hers, his rumbling voice, their fevered breath, her pounding heart.
What else could he do to her? She tried to imagine…
No.
She sat up, pulling her hand away.
No. She couldn’t do this. She had to stop thinking about him, especially when she was in bed with her hand down her pants.
She kicked off the down comforter. What she needed was fresh air. Cold, bracing fresh air that cleared her mind. Then she’d finish her chemistry. Because she was a student and she had dreams. Impressive, admirable dreams, not the kind she’d be ashamed to share with anyone. If she continued to lie around masturbating like a teenage boy with his first private internet connection, she’d never get to med school, never be a doctor, never demand the respect she craved.
That’s what it was about, wasn’t it? Proving to the rest of the world that she was good enough? All her life, she’d been dismissed at a glance. She was the checker at the grocery store, the girl with secondhand, unfashionable, plus-sized jeans, the night-school wannabe who wasn’t good enough to mingle with the real undergrads.
Tonight, however, she pulled on her sexiest, most trendy jeans, and a designer parka with fur trim, and strode out of her room like a woman who knew she was worth something. Why was she doubting herself so much lately? She hadn’t felt this way since—
Well, since the frat party. That public humiliation, when she’d been so young, naïve, and vulnerable, had been the lowest point of her life. It had taken months to recover.
Sometimes she wondered if she ever had.
Not wanting to run into the crowd in the great room, she ducked out a door at the end of the hall. She found herself standing on a wraparound deck overlooking a small lake that shimmered in the moonlight. A silhouette of mountain peaks framed the lake and house, and above everything, a white dusting of stars, more than she’d ever seen in her life.
She already felt better, just to be outside and breathe. She was in control of herself again. All she needed was oxygen, exercise, and fully zipped jeans.
It was too dark to explore the wilderness to the right of the lake, but she remembered the path Lilah had shown her to the cabins in the woods. Jess wasn’t going to knock on any doors, just explore a little, stretch her legs.
She took the steps down from the deck to a wide path around the lake, its boundary marked by low box lanterns flickering every few feet in the ground. Soon she reached the edge of the windows of the great room, where dozens of guests were still loudly enjoying themselves. Now she saw that her path led directly to a pair of French doors into the house, into the party, the last place she wanted to go.
Just as she was turning to go back the way she’d come, she saw the bottom step of a long rocky stairway that led up the hillside. The path lanterns came to a stop at its base. The steps looked older than the house, the mortar spread by hand, the stones uneven and covered largely by tree roots and fallen leaves.
But it seemed to lead in the direction that Lilah had pointed, into the woods where she and Gavin had their cabin. After a brief pause, Jess left the lit path and began climbing the steps into the wooded darkness.
It smelled rich, clean, earthy. Nothing like the city back home. This was pine bark and lake frost and crisp, glacial air. She drew it into her lungs and held it, savored it. No wonder Lilah was eager to share this place with her. Jess looked forward to coming again when there weren’t so many people around.
Although there seemed to be plenty of privacy here. The steps climbed higher than she’d expected. Had the driveway been that far above the lake? It was too dark to see more than a few feet in front of her, and the woods had thickened around her, blocking her view of the well-lit house.
She smiled, powerfully drawn to the mysterious staircase. This was just what she’d wanted to find, a place to distract her from how badly she needed to get laid, once and for all.
Well, more than once, and that wouldn’t be all.
Him.
Oh damn. She was still thinking about him. If anything, being out here in the woods was making her feel more turned on. So alive. Just one more biological organism in the vast, eternal universe.
As she reached the top rocky step, she discovered another manicured path lit with lanterns curving to the left. This must be the one Lilah had pointed to. The woods had thinned out, letting her see the stars again, and she was amazed that they were bright enough to illuminate the tops of the trees. To the right, the path snaked into the dark forest, no lanterns illuminating it. To the left must be the main house.
But going back there didn’t appeal to her right now. What was there except chemistry homework and a big, empty bed?
She turned and went the other way. It was dark, but the path was flat and inviting.
She had no idea how that small decision would utterly transform her life.
As she walked, the path curved steeply uphill. She took out her phone and aimed it at her feet, using it as a flashlight. The trees began to grow closer, their long branches crowding her from either side, but she continued, irresistibly drawn forward.
Something she needed was ahead of her, something that needed her. It was strange but undeniable. With each step, reality fell behind her like an unread book. What she wanted was out there.
She was still hiking ten minutes later, even more desperate to get… there. To find it, whatever it was. The effort was making her sweat, so she unzipped her parka and paused for a moment to catch her breath and listen to the sounds of the forest. No sirens, no honking taxis, no shouting drug dealers, no gunfire, no traffic—just nature.
And something else.
Like music, it had a beat, deep and throbbing.
And a scent. She inhaled, tasting it on her tongue, drawing it into her lungs.
Irresistible. Caramel? Cinnamon? No, something more masculine, like coffee. Cedar?
She dragged her tongue across her upper lip, trying to place it. She licked her bottom lip, hungry for more.
And then she realized it was Derry.
Him.
She was hearing and tasting and wanting him, not like a lonely, obse
ssive girl, but like a wild animal acting on instinct. Every one of her senses was tense and alert, fixed on his presence ahead of her in the darkness, not more than fifty paces away. Thirty-seven. She could feel it, feel the distance that separated them as if it were a physical object, feel him.
Derry.
But something was wrong. He was thrashing about, moaning, upset. Sudden terror for his safety burned through her like an acid cocktail. He was hurt, she could feel it. She could feel his suffering.
Without a thought, she sprinted into the darkness. “Derry!” she cried. “It’s Jess! Are you all right?”
Twenty-three paces to go. She’d been tired a minute ago, but now she was filled with boundless energy. She could run for miles.
“Derry!”
She heard the sound of cracking branches and rustling leaves. Had he fallen? Was somebody hurting him? She had to run faster.
Still a dozen paces remaining. The cracking sounds had stopped, but she could feel him there just outside the short beam of her cell phone flashlight. “Derry, why aren’t you answering?” Heedless of the unknown dangers in the shadows, she strode off the path to close the gap between them. Anxiety tightened her chest, making her lungs burn with the strain.
There! There he was!
But—
Not pausing to question what she saw, Jess rushed forward and put her hands on his fur.
Yes, fur.
“Are you all right?” she asked, feeling the sloped shoulders for broken bones, grabbing his paw to search for thorns or blood.
Paws. He had paws. She held the phone up to his face to see his eyes.
Ah, yes. Those were the same. Dark blue, intelligent, gentle. He was looking right at her, right into her soul. A brown bear with blue eyes.
And then he jerked away and lumbered into the shadows. She chased after him, light lifted, wanting to see it all. Needing to see it.
Her panic had faded, but the urgency remained.
She wasn’t thinking about how this was as impossible as Gavin being a wolf. Her brain wasn’t propelling her into the forest. She was running on instinct, hungry to learn everything about him. Now. She had to see him now.
