Only he couldn’t make that mistake. She had plans for her life. He had plans for his. Neither included the other.
If he hadn’t left Walker’s Run five years ago, maybe something would’ve evolved. Since their paths lay in different directions, the most he could dare with her was friends.
He navigated the dining room dotted with the few remaining guests. The rest Cassie and Hannah had checked out before noon.
Their easy camaraderie had roused a pang of unexpected jealousy Brice hadn’t had time yet to contemplate. He’d spent the first part of the morning arguing with his mother over her plan to set him up on mini-dates to introduce him to the single daughters of the Alphas arriving for his grandmother’s memorial. Afterward, he met with his father and Henry “Cooter” Coots, the pack’s chief sentinel, to discuss how to handle the influx of Wahyas soon to arrive. Although the Walkers had treaties with the Alphas expected to attend, not all were allies of one another. Extra security measures were required to minimize frictions.
Brice’s uncle, Adam, would bring reinforcements from Atlanta. Family alliances guaranteed ready assistance at any time. Booker Reynolds also offered to provide sentinels, though Gavin had respectfully declined.
On that matter, Brice and his father had agreed. It would be foolish to entrust the safety of the pack to an outsider. Even if the outsider was Adam’s best friend.
Reynolds had grown up with Brice’s mother and uncle in the Peachtree pack and had moved away after he’d claimed a mate from Asheville. Not long after, his mate and her father, the Alpha of Black Mountain, died in a single-car accident. Reynolds inherited the Alphaship by rite of marriage since he had no challengers.
He never claimed another mate, insisting he couldn’t bear to replace Priscilla. The assertion didn’t quite ring true to Brice. As a young wolfling, he’d noticed how Reynolds’s smiles were a little too wide, his looks lingered a little too long and his voice softened a note too much whenever Abigail Walker appeared.
Brice knew Reynolds would never be a real threat to his parents’ mateship. They were true mates, fused heart and soul through a mate-bond.
Not all Wahyas were fortunate enough to forge those precious emotional ties. Those who did couldn’t be divided, except by death.
While Reynolds might harbor an infatuation with Brice’s mother, he wouldn’t challenge Gavin. At least Brice hoped Reynolds wasn’t that stupid. Abigail Walker would strike down any fool who threatened her family. Brice’s father would do the same.
Brice entered the lobby and irritably sized up the tall, broad male slouched against the guest services counter. Wolfan, Brice’s instincts told him. An intrinsic awareness alerted Wahyas to their own kind like a keen recognition of sameness but not necessarily kindred.
Drawing closer, Brice detected a curdled odor. He swallowed the bile gurgling in his throat. Cassie wasn’t so far away that he’d succumb to another bout of vomiting. He hoped.
Cassie didn’t seem to notice his approach, her eyes trained on the wolfan guest. As she slid a key card toward the male, his massive hand flattened her palm to the counter. He dragged beefy fingers along the back of her hand, then curled them around her wrist. A flush brightened Cassie’s skin. Alarm flashed in her eyes.
Brice’s slow canter revved into a fast trot. The soured smell smothering his senses grew more pungent. His stomach remained steady as the muscles in his back tightened to steel his spine.
“Get your fucking paw off her,” he said with deadly calm.
“Mind your own business, boy.” A growl in his throat, the man turned around slowly, confidently.
“Miss Albright is my business.” Sliding the lunch tray onto the guest services counter, Brice restrained the urge to pound the man into the ground and keep on going until he came out on the other side of the world.
The man’s gaze landed on the scars at Brice’s neck, jumped to Brice’s right eye and then moved to the left. Surprised recognition flickered across the man’s blocky features.
“I take it you know who I am.” Unease slithered through Brice. Something about the man seemed familiar, but Brice couldn’t quite place him. “Who the hell are you?”
Instead of answering, the wolfan took his time sizing up Brice.
“Vincent Hadler,” Cassie said, slathering liquid sanitizer on her hands. “He arrived with Mr. Reynolds a few minutes ago.”
“Vincent Hadler,” Brice spat the name. No wonder his hackles had risen. The man was known for being a cruel, sadistic bastard. “Your reputation precedes you.”
Hadler tipped his head in a smug nod, and a sardonic smile twisted his mouth.
“That wasn’t a compliment.” Brice dropped his voice to a threatening whisper. “As a visitor to Walker’s Run, you are required to abide by our rules. The first of which is not to harass our females. Failure to comply will result in immediate expulsion from the territory.”
Hadler’s smile stretched into a sleazy grin. “The redhead might be worth it.”
Brice’s tightened gut pounded against his rib cage. The wolf inside him snarled, slashing at the tethers of civility in a desperate power play for the freedom to shred the wolfan into a bloody pulp.
“Miss Albright is invariably off-limits.” He forced his hands to relax at his sides. “If you violate that directive, the consequences will be quite severe. I doubt your Alpha will appreciate the fallout.”
Despite his fondness for Brice’s mother and his alliance with Walker’s Run, Booker Reynolds was an elitist. He believed humans were, by nature, inferior to Wahyas. Having his security officer pick an intentional fight over a human female would likely have additional repercussions for Hadler, provided he survived the ass-whipping Brice would serve him.
From Hadler’s smirk, Brice knew the man considered the warning a challenge. So be it. If he inched one fingernail out of line, the arrogant male would get his ass handed to him on a pure silver platter, not a knockoff sterling one.
A swoosh echoed through the lobby as a brass luggage cart pushed open the heavy wooden doors.
“Shane?” Cassie scrunched her brow. “What are you doing here? You’re not on the schedule.”
All the color had drained from his face and skin, turning him ashy gray. The young man averted his eyes and lowered his head when he stopped next to Hadler.
“He’s my gofer for the afternoon,” Hadler said, following with a cold, hard laugh.
An almost imperceptible cringe blinked over Shane’s body. Icy contempt flashed in his eyes. The seething tension surrounding him was palpable.
“Let’s go, boy.” Hadler’s boots clomped against the wood plank floor to the elevator.
Dutifully following, Shane appeared to hold his breath as his knuckles whitened in a death grip around the bars of the luggage cart.
Those two definitely had a lot of unpleasantness between them. Of course, considering Hadler’s reputation, there would be a lot of unpleasantness between him and most people.
Brice knew what battles to pick and choose. His primary concern was Cassie, but he’d ask the sentinels to keep an eye on Shane. Quietly.
* * *
“I didn’t need your help.” Cassie arrowed her gaze at Brice. His butting in would only make Vincent Hadler more difficult to deal with. “This wasn’t the first time he played handsies with me.”
“What?” Brice’s boom rattled the lobby chandeliers.
“Keep your voice down and relax. Your face is turning purple.” Thank goodness the lobby was empty. She hated being a spectacle.
Brice sucked in a deep breath through his nose. When he exhaled, an inaudible count parted his silent lips.
All night Cassie dreamed those full, strong lips were kissing every inch of her body, making her beg for things she’d asked of no man, until she finally awoke on the couch, her face pressed against
her pillow, wet from her slobber. As she watched the slight movement of his mouth, her lips tingled with the phantom pressure of their fantasy kiss. Her insides turned warm and gooey.
“I know how to handle jerks,” Cassie announced a little too sharply.
Brice was the one she had no experience managing. Devastatingly beautiful men didn’t take notice of her. Brice did only because of circumstance. He wasn’t really seeing her. She blamed the Florence Nightingale effect. His misguided notion that her scent was healing his nose and his grief over Margaret’s death colored his perception.
She had no such excuse for her doe-eyed behavior, and if she didn’t want a bout of puppy love scrapping her plans for the future, she needed to get a firm grip on her Brice-inspired, way-out-of-control hormones.
“He’s looking for a reaction,” Cassie continued. “I refuse to give him one.”
“I saw your blush from across the lobby, Cas.” Brice reached leisurely across the guest services counter, the movement fluid, self-assured and direct. He lifted her hand. “Hadler is playing a game you can’t win. Don’t try.”
Good advice, although she didn’t need it where Hadler was concerned. She had no desire to ride happily ever after into the sunset with him. Brice was the one she needed to guard against. “I don’t play games.” Especially ones that could break her heart.
“I grabbed us lunch.” He touched his nose to the inside of her wrist. Soft puffs tickled her arm as he breathed. Funny how the wicked heat flashing through her body caused chills to sprout on her skin.
“I’m busy,” she said, too breathy for the slam-the-door impact she intended. “Eat by yourself.”
“I did, after you skipped out on the pancake breakfast you promised to make up for burning the toast.” Brice’s loose hold on her arm held firm despite Cassie’s tug.
“What was I supposed to do? Your mother called me in to cover for Natalie. She has morning sickness again.” Cassie ceased her useless, halfhearted struggle. Her reward? Brice pressed his lips to the back of her hand in a slightly wet kiss, as if he were tasting her skin. She swallowed the giddiness before it manifested into a giggle. “For the record, I never promised pancakes. I merely suggested.”
“Never tease a hungry wolf.” Brice’s soft growl rolled through her body like a sensual wave. The floor seemed to disappear in the tide. Only Brice’s steady presence kept her buoyed amid the dangerous surf.
“Now, have lunch with me.” An irresistible smile fanned his face. “Or I’ll starve due to lack of food and your company.” Something darker than a light tease shimmered in Brice’s eyes. Something primal and powerful. Something that beckoned her closer and closer. Like the promise of exotic cheese to a mouse about to be caught in a trap.
“I, uh, can’t leave the front desk unattended.” Cassie’s stomach protested, even though skipping a meal was child’s play. After Imogene became ill, Cassie ensured her mother had enough food to eat and the medicines were paid for, but Cassie existed on instant soup and peanut butter. Sometimes the cheap meals ran out before her next check, and she’d simply chomped ice until she had money. Then the cycle would start again.
She reached for the Styrofoam cup of ice stowed beneath the counter, skimming her eyes over all the food on the tray. A little thrill fluttered in her chest at Brice’s kindness, and she refused to wonder if he’d gone to the kitchen with the intention of asking her to lunch, or if the invitation was merely an afterthought following the unpleasant incident with Hadler.
“Start without me. I’ll join you when Hannah gets back at two. One of her sons had an event at school today.”
Brice’s gaze flickered to the huge harvest moon clock on the wall behind the guest services counter. He picked up the lunch tray. “Fifteen minutes. Not a second more or I’ll swing you over my shoulder and carry you into the break room.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Although every cell in her body knew he would. He absolutely would. Anticipation, rather than dread, caused her nerves to tingle.
“Fourteen minutes, fifty-nine seconds.” Brice’s singsong tone harmonized with his arrogant swagger as he walked away.
Oh, she hoped he choked on all that smugness. Then she’d have to give him mouth-to-mouth. Her body cheered.
Stop!
Mouth-to-mouth would be futile without attempting the Heimlich maneuver, which meant she’d have to stand behind him, press intimately against him, wrap her arms around his torso, feel the curve of his sculpted muscles beneath her palms as her fingers crawled to the spot below his breastbone and squeezed.
Electricity swept through her, shorting out the strength in her legs. Before Brice she’d never had trouble standing on her own two feet.
Grateful for the empty lobby, Cassie slumped in her stool and chomped the ice in her cup. She’d scrimped to pay for her college education, and with graduation on the near horizon, she couldn’t afford Brice’s distraction.
Focus, focus, focus!
She couldn’t wait to get off tonight. Her biweekly run at the high school track would give her plenty of uninterrupted alone time to come up with critical additions to the roommate rules before crawling into bed and snuggling against Brice. Warm and cozy tucked beneath his arm, she slept better than she ever had. Her body sighed.
No, no, no!
She needed to think about the future. Brice’s presence in her life was an aberration. Soon he’d return to his life in Atlanta. When he did, Cassie wanted no fallout from his departure. She simply wanted to continue her steady plod toward stability and financial freedom, because in the end, the only person she could depend on was herself.
Chapter 18
With three seconds to spare, Cassie entered the break room. Brice sat at a round table for two, his right leg propped on the second chair. The tray of food in front of him remained untouched.
She expected that he would have finished his portion and most of hers by now. He was making a habit of doing the opposite of what she expected.
He squinted in concentration as his fingers skimmed the touch screen on his cell phone. Although he didn’t immediately look up as she approached, a killer smiled curved his mouth, and the air crackled with electricity.
“Angry Birds.” Standing, he shoved the phone into his pocket. “I’m addicted.”
“I pegged you for a sudoku man.”
“Why is that?” Brice pulled out her chair.
Cassie froze. No one had ever done that for her.
His hand nudged the small of her back, and a cuddly warmth spread through her body. She sat down to keep from snuggling against him.
“I’ve been your grandmother’s housekeeper since I was fourteen. After your weekend visits from college, I’d find your crossword puzzles stuffed in the strangest places.”
“Really? Where?” Brice settled in his chair. Curiosity brightened the vivid hues of his beautiful eyes. His lips parted with an expectant breath as he waited.
Cassie’s heart raced with a panicked beat. Brice was nothing like Vincent Hadler. Putting them in the same category sickened her stomach, but if she was going to survive being Brice’s roommate, she needed to handle him with the same indifference she’d shown Hadler.
Avoiding the hand Brice stretched toward her, Cassie placed her napkin on her lap. “The most bizarre place I found your puzzle book was inside the egg carton in the refrigerator.”
The sound of Brice’s deep, rich, sexy laugh looped through her belly. Hadler’s cold, harsh laughter, the few times she’d heard it, slithered over her skin, leaving behind a grimy film she couldn’t wait to wash off.
“I must’ve been in the middle of a puzzle when I got hungry.” Brice grinned. For the first time since they’d met, Brice resembled the buoyant little boy and mischievous young man captured in the photos decorating the walls in Margaret’s home.
“It seems odd that we never met before Saturday night.” His wistful sigh seeped into his eyes, and Cassie had a compulsion to confess the secret she’d kept from all but her mother.
“Or have we?” Brice scooted closer to the table. His knees brushed against hers and ignited a sinful tingle in her core. “Tell me, Cas. Have we met before?”
“Sort of.” Cassie crossed her legs. A lot of good that did to stop the irresistible sensation of Brice seeping into the deepest places of her being. She wanted to get mad, bolster her defenses to keep him at arm’s length as she did everyone else. Brice had ignored the tactic before, he probably would again and the effort to erect the walls he so effortlessly skirted required more energy than she had at the moment. “You were unconscious at the time.”
A soft breath parted his lips. “You came to see me in the hospital?”
“I was visiting my mom.” Cassie shrugged. “When I went down to the cafeteria for tea, I overheard some nurses talking about your parents’ decision to take Mason off life support. They were speculating about you, too.” She paused, remembering the irrational panic that drove her to find Brice’s room. A frenzied fantasy, really, that if she could make it to him before they turned off the machines, if she saw him, touched him, he would be all right.
Of course, it had been a ludicrous delusion. At the time, Cassie hadn’t known Brice, although she fancied a strange connection to him. After all, every week she cleaned his room, washed the clothes he dropped on the floor, picked up the books he scattered through Margaret’s house and discovered the puzzles he abandoned when something else had snagged his attention.
Cassie’s heart pounded as hard as it did on the day she stepped into the hospital room and saw Brice wrapped neck to foot in blood-streaked bandages. Tubes protruded from his arms and covered most of his face. The erratic beep of the monitors and the mechanical hum of the machines that kept him alive chased away her sleep for months.
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