Awakened by the Wolf

by Kristal Hollis

The word droned with each beat of his heart. To which Brice’s mind replied with an emphatic “No.”

  He dropped the curl and tucked his hands beneath his head. Each breath he took reeled her scent deeper into his lungs. His body hardened with desire and the effort to resist it.

  As a distraction, Brice focused on counting. Somewhere around eight hundred, sleep dulled his lust. Until Cassie scooted next to him. He’d never fall back to sleep with the curve of her ass burrowed into him.

  Ignoring the prudence of sleeping on the couch, Brice turned on his side. He spooned against her, his arm draped naturally across her hip. When her small hand cradled his, Brice slipped into blissful oblivion.

  * * *

  Pain exploded across Brice’s face. He sat up, howling obscenities.

  Cassie jumped out of bed and turned on the light.

  Brice cupped his nose. “Why the hell did you hit me?”

  “My head bopped your face when I jerked awake because you were squeezing my, my—never mind.” The flush in Cassie’s skin deepened. “It was an accident. I’m really sorry.”

  “You broke my nose.” The throb was almost as bad as the pain in his leg last night.

  “You should’ve stayed on your side of the bed.” The worry etched on her face diffused his temper. Her brave but timid steps toward him ignited something more dangerous.

  “It’s my bed. Both sides are mine.”

  Slowly her hands cradled his face, and she tilted back his head. Her lips parted slightly, and Brice no longer registered pain, because every cell in his body primed him for a kiss.

  His muscles coiled like tightly wound springs. He dug his fingers into the mattress, fighting what he’d never wanted so badly in all his life.

  “No blood, no swelling. Nothing crooked. I don’t think it’s broken.” The strain eased from her face.

  “Are you sure? A wolfan’s nose is very sensitive. What if I can’t smell you anymore?” The waver in his voice was instinctual, intending to draw her closer when he should have pushed her away.

  “I’m sure it’s fine.” But she wasn’t sure at all, because she bit her lip and skimmed her thumbs down the sides of his nose, sending shock waves throughout his body.

  “You should kiss it to make me feel better.” What the hell was wrong with him? He should have put distance between them instead of enticing her to continue.

  Cassie’s contemplative gaze searched his face. Brice’s heart beat an erratic rhythm, and his lungs grabbed short, quick breaths.

  God, if she actually kissed him, he’d lose all control.

  “You big faker.” Cassie shoved him.

  Relieved, Brice caught her around the waist and buried his face in the curve of her neck. He needed her scent as consolation to temper his arousal.

  “I have to get dressed,” she finally said.

  “Call in.” He tried to tug her back into bed with a promise to himself to behave if she’d stay.

  “I’m not sick.” Bracing her knees against the mattress for leverage, she pulled free.

  “I will be if you leave.” The thought of hours bereft of her scent and her company churned his stomach.

  “Maybe you should call a doctor.” Cassie hesitated. “Or do you have vets?”

  “The pack physician,” he ground out, “is Doc Habersham, my dad’s best friend. I can’t call him or anyone else. I won’t risk getting thrown out of the territory before Granny comes home.”

  “Figure something out. I’m not missing work.” Cassie pulled one of her uniforms from the closet. As far as Brice could tell, those were the only clothes she had unpacked.

  He flopped onto the mattress. “Come see me on your break.”

  “I won’t have time. I have to reschedule my car service because you ate my pie.”

  Brice’s tongue swept his lips. “What does one have to do with the other?”

  “It’s a barter with Rafe. He changes the oil in the clunker in exchange for a fresh-baked pie.”

  “I can’t blame him. Granny’s pies are delicious.”

  “Your grandmother doesn’t bake.” Cassie bent over to pick up her shoes, and the bottom of her shorts rode up her legs to give him a glimpse of her panties.

  He swallowed a groan. “Granny made pies for me every time I came home from college.”

  Shaking her head, Cassie turned toward him, a corner of her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

  “You made them?” Brice rose on his elbows. “For me?”

  “Like I said—” Cassie avoided his gaze “—your grandmother doesn’t bake.”

  “Damn, Sunshine. Your pies are the best.” One more reason he should have detached himself from Cassie. Sex and food were a wolfan male’s catnip.

  “Thanks. I use my mother’s recipes.” Cassie’s eyes misted. She flinched and hurried toward the bedroom door.

  “I’m not sorry I ate the pie, but I’ll pay for the oil change and anything else you need.” It would be easy enough to transfer money from one of his accounts to hers.

  She stopped, a disquiet fierceness in her eyes. “I don’t want your money. I may not have much, but what I do have, I’ve earned.”

  She walked out, her spine and shoulders stiff.

  Well, he’d unintentionally struck a nerve.

  Brice sank into the mattress. He hadn’t meant to upset her, but if he followed her down the hallway to apologize, he’d only complicate his situation. No matter what his errant instinct demanded, he couldn’t involve himself in Cassie’s life.

  No matter how damn good she smelled.

  Chapter 9

  The old clunker needed five cranks before it started. Cassie backed the car out of the driveway and eased down the dirt road, headlights slicing through the darkness. The silent woods had never seemed more eerie or sinister. Of course, she blamed her knowledge that werewolves did exist on the change in her perception.

  She glanced at the passenger seat Brice had reclined so far that it almost touched the backseat. If only last night had been a dream, or if he hadn’t explained that the members of the Walker’s Run Cooperative were really his entire pack, she wouldn’t have been so nervous.

  Brice insisted the wolf people were just as they appeared—honest, hardworking folks. The co-op provided housing and medical care for its members, paid for their college educations and helped them establish businesses. In turn, its members tithed 30 percent of their salaries or gross profits back to the co-op.

  If members became unemployed or if their businesses failed, the co-op helped them get back on their feet. They had no need for unemployment checks or welfare. This pack took care of its own.

  In contrast, Cassie’s life lacked supportive connections. Imogene was gone, and Cassie could count on one finger the number of friends she’d had in her twenty-four years. A little girl named Grace had been her constant companion in the second grade, and Cassie had loved her like a sister.

  One summer night, Imogene had packed Cassie and their few belongings in the car and left town. Once they settled in a new place, Imogene refused to let Cassie contact Grace. Imogene’s philosophy had been never to look back. Only forward. That way, regret wouldn’t drag her down.

  Devastated by the constant upheaval, Cassie stopped making friends because no matter how many times her mother announced that was their last move, it never was. Until Imogene got sick and died, and left Cassie all alone.

  She rubbed her neck to dispel the sorrow that fastened around her throat. Brice had an entire pack who cared for him. The idea they’d banished him couldn’t be more absurd. As far as Cassie could tell, his parents loved him, and so did everyone else. Didn’t he realize how precious it was to have the support of so many people?

  She backed the car into the far corner of the resort parking lot. In case th
e clunker needed a jump start, it helped not to have her car blocked in on all sides.

  Walking up to the giant lodge doors, Cassie gobbled a granola bar. More to settle her nerves than her hunger. After all, she lived and worked among wolves clothed in human skins. Her heart gave a little flutter, and she suffered a brief moment of hilarity. Her hysterical laugh echoed through the empty lobby.

  From his post behind the registration counter, Shane McQuarrie looked up from his textbook. “Something funny?”

  “No.” The existence of werewolves wasn’t a laughing matter.

  Wahya, she corrected herself. Maybe if she stopped thinking of them as werewolves and saw them as people, she’d feel less nervous.

  He closed his book and slid off his stool. He stretched, the same way he did every morning when she arrived to relieve him. He bent over to stuff the book into his backpack. His khaki pants molded around his thighs.

  He wasn’t quite as tall or as broad as Brice, but they shared a certain similarity in their movements. Quiet. Self-assured. Quick. One second she was assessing Shane from the back. The next he loomed in front of her, tall and pumped.

  He stepped close. Too close. “Were you staring at my ass?”

  “No.” She snatched open the cabinet beneath the counter and stashed her purse. “Why?”

  Passing behind her, Shane gave Cassie a sociable bump. “Just hoping. Maybe then I could convince you to go out with me.”

  “You’re too young.” Cassie logged into her computer time card.

  “I’m nineteen.” He circled around the registration desk and leaned on the counter.

  “I repeat, too young.”

  A flirtatious gleam lit his smoky-gray eyes. “Come on. Give me a chance. We’ll have fun. I promise.”

  “I don’t want fun. I want stability.” Cassie pulled up a list of the morning’s expected checkouts.

  “The two don’t have to be mutually exclusive.” Shane’s grin betrayed far too much interest in her.

  Cassie didn’t feel any attraction toward Shane. Oh, she enjoyed his company whenever they worked together, and he was a sweet guy. A different time, a different place and maybe he could’ve been the little brother she never had.

  Curious, she asked, “Are you a member of the Walker’s Run Co-op?”

  “Naw.” His amicable expression didn’t change. Still, something in the way his pupils flickered seemed off. “Maybe someday.”

  Abigail Walker emerged from the corridor leading to the Walkers’ private residence. Her dark green Chanel suit complemented her golden complexion and deepened the mossy color of her eyes. She smoothed her tight chignon of coal-black hair, looking every bit the regal lady of the manor.

  Until the image of a wolf poised on its hindquarters, wearing the same dress, pearl earrings and ruby-red lipstick, jarred Cassie’s mind.

  The insane calm of last night’s shock broke. Her palms started to sweat. Acid bubbled in her stomach and threatened to expel her paltry breakfast.

  No matter the proper term, the people she worked for were freaking werewolves. What was she thinking, coming to work as if nothing in the universe had changed?

  “Shane, Cassie,” the wolf queen greeted them.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Walker,” Cassie said without meeting her boss’s gaze.

  “Mornin’, Abby.” A subtle tension crept over Shane’s body. His fingers squeezed the backpack straps slung across his shoulder, and the friendly curve of his smile tightened.

  Strange. Shane adored Abby and often went above and beyond his job duties to please her. Not a brownnoser, he simply seemed to crave her approval.

  “Any word from Brice?” Despite the softness of Shane’s voice, his words sounded clipped.

  “We haven’t been able to reach him.” Abigail’s professional demeanor faltered as sadness leached color from her eyes and face. “He’ll come home, though. I know he will.”

  The genuine emotion in her voice convinced Cassie that Brice’s mother loved her son, banishment or not.

  Shane relaxed. “If you need anything, call me.”

  “Thank you, Shane.”

  He nodded his goodbye to Abby and winked at Cassie as he left.

  “Cassie.” Abby’s dark brows pinched her forehead. “If Brice calls or comes in, let me know immediately.”

  Guilt squeezed Cassie’s throat. Brice hadn’t mentioned if Wahyas were mind readers, but she begged her thoughts to focus on anything except him. Less than two miles up the road, inside the cabin, lying in bed, naked. Absolutely, deliciously naked.

  Cassie nodded, not trusting her voice. She hated lies, but technically, agreeing to Abby’s request wasn’t a lie. Brice hadn’t called or come inside the resort.

  Unless he did, Cassie would keep his secret. He’d asked for her silence and trusted she’d be true to her word.

  Still, the deception pricked her conscience. Ideally, Brice would come forward before the splinter of half-truth festered into a poison that would taint the rest of her life.

  Chapter 10

  Brice sauntered out of the bathroom, towel-drying his hair. All day he’d missed Cassie’s warmth. Her company. And he was jonesing for the smell of her skin.

  Several hours ago, he awoke to crippling nausea. Cassie’s scent had faded from the sheets. Out of desperation, he’d riffled through her laundry until he’d found something to settle his queasy stomach. Nothing, however, smelled as good as the real woman.

  He moved quietly through the living room to the kitchen. His heart kicked up a notch at the sight of Cassie at the pantry. The slow, steady rise and fall of her chest drew his attention to the shapeless taupe blazer that practically flattened the gentle swell of her breasts. Breasts he knew were soft and pert, and just full enough to fill the cup of his hand.

  His palm warmed. Damn if his hand didn’t remember copping a feel in his sleep, and itched not only to do it again but also to strip away the drab, boxy skirt grievously camouflaging the slender curves that had tormented him all night. Twice he’d been forced out of bed to release his desire.

  Still, he preferred those less-than-fulfilling interruptions to the cold sweats and panic that usually disturbed his sleep.

  “How was work, Sunshine?”

  Cassie jumped back from the pantry, wide-eyed, clutching a package of ramen noodles. Her startled look heated, charging the air. The current electrified his skin as her gaze devoured every inch of him.

  “Do you ever keep that thing covered?” The huskiness in Cassie’s voice caused his thing to twitch.

  “You like seeing me naked. I can see it in your eyes.” Securing the towel around his hips, Brice padded barefoot across the cold tile.

  “What you see is my brain being fried from too much exposure to all your glory.”

  “You think I’m glorious?” Brice unfastened her silver hair clip. Red ringlets splashed over his hands and slid through his fingers. He held fast to one curl and stroked the luxurious strands across his cheek. A thrill zipped straight down to his groin.

  “That’s not what I meant.” A slight tremble parted her lips.

  Brice ached for a kiss and so much more. Her taste on his tongue, her scent on his skin, her luscious legs wrapped around his hips. A deluge of erotic dreams had eroded his resolution to keep things platonic.

  Cassie’s scent wove a spell of need and want that smothered reason. Helpless to resist, he slipped his arm around her waist and lowered his face to hers. She squinted and puckered her mouth, but not to receive his lips.

  The unexpected rejection jolted Brice. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t want this.” She gestured a between-you-and-me hand signal. “I have plans for the future and you’re not in them.”

  Damn. That stung.

  Even though he agreed they ha
d no future together, he disliked hearing her say it.

  “You need ground rules.” Cassie wormed out of his hold and faced him with a straight back, squared shoulders and both hands on her hips.

  Her eyes slanted with censure. She pointed her jaw and scrunched her mouth like his fourth-grade teacher when he’d neglected to do his homework three days in a row. When he’d been a wolfling, the no-nonsense, better-get-your-shit-together look had mortified him into compliance. Now that he was an adult male in his prime, that look on a feisty, petite human female did something entirely different.

  “I don’t like rules.” He smiled.

  “Too bad.” Cassie’s frown deepened. “Rule number one, no more prancing around naked.”

  “Why?” Brice leaned back against the counter, stretched his legs in front of him and crossed his ankles. “Are you afraid you’ll jump me? Fuck me until I’m senseless? Go ahead.” He held up his arms in surrender. “I won’t resist.”

  Cassie’s mouth opened in a silent gasp. The pinkness of her skin surpassed the shades he’d seen last night, and he wondered how far he could push before her choke hold on her passion broke.

  “Where would you like to start? The bedroom? The living room?” Brice moved in front of her, hooked his finger beneath her jaw and tipped her face up. “Right here in the kitchen?”

  Soft, rapid puffs flared Cassie’s nostrils. The delicate vein beneath the porcelain skin of her neck pulsed with an escalating canter. Her pupils grew large and dark. “Um.” She moistened her lips.

  The scent of her budding desire reached his nose, but the disconcerted hesitancy in her eyes cooled his urgency. He wouldn’t press her to do something she’d regret.

  “When you’re ready, tell me where you want me. I’ll be there.” Primed and panting. He walked to the sink and filled a glass to the rim with cool water. Pacing himself with small sips, he took his time draining the contents, giving Cassie opportunity to collect herself and him a chance to dam up the flood of testosterone gushing through his body.

  Cassie audibly huffed. “Behavior like that is why you will adhere to rule number one.”