Awakened by the Wolf

by Kristal Hollis

  Brice nodded.

  “Don’t be foolish,” Michael snapped. “The Woelfesenat has gift-wrapped a council seat for you. Some wolfans would kill for this honor.”

  Brice leveled his gaze. “I’m not killing anyone.”

  “No one expects you to.” Philip frowned at Michael. “There is, however, another matter that needs our attention.”

  “Our attention?” Brice stretched his right leg, careful not to extend it too far into the aisle.

  “A pack of insurgents are terrorizing a remote area of Romania. The council wants them handled before the situation gains unwanted global attention.” Michael wiped his chin and squinted at Brice. “You will assist Philip with the negotiations.”

  “My grandmother’s memorial is Saturday. Find someone else.” Brice tipped his glass to his lips and caught an ice cube between his teeth.

  “There is no one else. Keep a bag packed. You may need to leave at a moment’s notice. And if you refuse—” Michael’s gray eyes turned arctic “—know that although the council wants to change its ways, some things inevitably remain the same.”

  Brice’s gut fisted. The force of the reaction ricocheted up his esophagus, and he choked on the tiny ice chips he had just swallowed.

  “That wasn’t necessary.” Philip glared at Michael. “If the situation deteriorates, I’ll travel ahead. Brice can join me later.”

  Brice stopped coughing, and a deathly chill invaded his blood. “I’ll do whatever I can to help Philip after the memorial, but threaten me again, Michael, and Romania will be the least of your worries.”

  * * *

  “Jeez!” Cassie slapped her chest. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “A couple of minutes.” Mouth stretched in a lopsided grin, Brice reminded her of a mischievous imp. A mischievous, six-foot-four imp whose stormy eyes and tousled hair would’ve made her heart race even if she wasn’t tachycardic from dancing and the fright of getting caught.

  Clutching the broom, her makeshift dance partner, Cassie hurried across the living room to turn off the small radio on the entertainment center.

  “Practicing the moves I taught you last night?” The seductive amusement in Brice’s voice caused her thready pulse to gallop.

  “No.” Cassie fanned her face. “Exercising.”

  In two strides, Brice stood beside her, reached around her shoulder and readjusted the radio dial. A soft ballad replaced the country rock tempo she’d turned off.

  “You need to cool down your body or your muscles will cramp.”

  Before she could protest, Brice tossed aside the broom and spun Cassie into his arms. She felt much too comfortable with the proximity, yet she had no willpower to break away.

  The hypnotic melody charmed her body to follow his lead in a slow, erotic sway.

  Wispy romantic thoughts cluttered her mind. Useless thoughts that had no place in her head. But there they were, drifting along, serene and nonimposing. Like the iceberg that sank the Titanic.

  All afternoon, Cassie had lectured herself against the dangers of getting too cozy with Brice. He was the piper. She was the hypnotized mouse. Following him down this path would ruin everything she worked so hard to achieve.

  If she had listened to her own good advice, they wouldn’t be slow-dancing right now, and she wouldn’t be thumbing her nose at the future. Nothing good would come from moving beyond the friendship stage. Despite Brice’s ridiculous revelation that she was his mate, Cassie knew better than to believe in fairy tales.

  He hooked his thumb beneath her chin. Hypnotically, Cassie rose on her toes as he leaned down. The instant their mouths touched, she forgot why kissing him was a bad idea. The possessive way he held her, wrapped in a protective bubble of suspended time and space, made her want to believe in the strange connection he claimed existed.

  In a few short days, she’d not only grown accustomed to his company but also craved his nearness, and his touch. Her defenses refused even a pretense of raising a shield to protect her from the fallout.

  Vaguely aware of Brice walking her backward as they kissed, Cassie offered no protest when he nudged down on the couch. His hands roamed her body, his mouth skimmed her throat and his teeth scraped against her tender earlobe.

  A waterfall of sensations cascaded through her senses. Dizzying. Daring. Devastating.

  She scrunched her fingers in his hair. Pulled him closer. Claimed his lips in an urgent, sweeping kiss.

  Brice cupped her bottom, pressing her pelvis against his erection. She scraped her fingernails down the back of his shirt, scaling lower and lower until her fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his jeans.

  The barest movement of their compressed bodies pulsed a sexual fever through her veins. On fire, she squirmed. His hand slid beneath her shirt, glided up her abdomen and cupped her small breasts. He flicked her nipples, and fiery ribbons of desire streaked her core causing her to wiggle her hips.

  Brice groaned, deep, primal, possessive, making her sex wetter. He tugged and angled her beneath him. Although they were fully clothed, the exquisite friction of his palm grinding against her mound caused her sex to clench with need and expectation.

  How in high heaven did she keep getting herself in this situation? The madness had to stop before she lost herself completely.

  His fingers slipped inside her panties and his mouth swallowed her protest. She bucked at the sensation of his fingers sliding along her folds in a maddeningly steady rhythm until her entire body was primed.

  Brice’s lips brushed her ear. “Come for me, Cas.”

  She didn’t need his permission, but the sexy desperation in his gravelly voice broke the last string in her restraint. She exploded as a deluge of mind-numbing sensations pounded her being. She tasted Brice’s kisses on her tongue, smelled his scent in the air, heard the erratic race of his heart slow to a leisurely canter and sensed his presence all around her, buoying her through the rapids.

  An eternity of bliss marked the minutes it took for her senses to return to reality.

  Her brain was ready and waiting.

  What have I done?

  She shoved away from Brice. “No, no, no, no!” Panic shrilled her voice. “I shouldn’t have let this happen. I don’t know what came over me.” Her statement wasn’t entirely true. What came over her was an incomprehensible lack of judgment induced by an undeniable and totally irresponsible affection for Brice.

  “Easy, Cas.” Brice caught her arm. “We did nothing wrong.”

  Wrong, no.

  Catastrophic? Yes.

  “We cannot do this again.”

  Brice was the type of man with whom she could fall helplessly in love. Any intimacy with him opened up vulnerabilities she was too weak to defend. She wasn’t prepared to contend with his rejection, wasn’t strong enough to survive when it inevitably occurred.

  “Never. Ever. Understand?” She disentangled from his hold to the sounds of muttered curses. Running might trigger his animal instinct for chase, so she walked away. Each purposeful step anchored her to her course—the kitchen. A much better choice than the bedroom in case Brice attempted to seduce her again. The kitchen had a lot more artillery, including iron skillets.

  Cassie peeked through the oven glass. The tarts were perfectly golden. She pulled them out and placed them on the cooling rack, then began wiping down the counters, pretending what happened between them was no big deal. Too bad it was truly momentous.

  Brice was the first man she’d kissed, the first man to touch her intimately and the first man to bring her an orgasm not achieved by her own hand. Damn him!

  A few years into the future, she would be willing and ready to venture down the path of mutual sexual gratification. Now was too soon. She still had too much to lose.

  A few strands of hair fell around her fa
ce. She unfastened the silver barrette. The moment the clasp sprang open, Brice’s fingers dived through the freed curls.

  “Stop.” Cassie stepped back and pointed at the counter. “Don’t eat those strudels. If you’ll excuse me, I have things to do.” Gathering her dignity, she marched through the claustrophobic kitchen.

  “That’s it?” Feet planted, arms barricaded across his chest, Brice blocked her exit.

  “What else is there to say?” The flush creeping over her skin undermined her forced nonchalance.

  “I have a hell of a lot to say.” Brice’s agitated voice bounced around the small kitchen. He rubbed the worry lines in his brow. “I’m trying to be patient, but this seesaw of you wanting me and then shutting me down is driving me bat shit crazy.”

  “I made a mistake.” Cassie’s own frustration sharpened her tone. “I’m not interested in becoming anything more than friends.”

  Brice shoveled his fists through his hair, knotting the strands in his fingers. “Goddammit! Weren’t you listening to me last night? You’re my mate. My true mate.” The confusion and frustration in Brice’s eyes drove guilt into Cassie’s soul. “What are you afraid of?”

  “You,” Cassie answered forcefully, because it was true. Entertaining Brice’s affection would set up her heart for a long, hard fall. “You’re going to wreck my life.”

  “I won’t, I promise.” Brice’s reassurance flooded her heart and soul. All the while, her mind entertained images of him whistling a tune while she fell off the cliff at Walker’s Pointe.

  “I’m not your alcoholic mother. I’m not going to hustle you from place to place. I’m not going to promise you things I can’t deliver. And, I’m never going to abandon you.” He blocked her against the counter. “You can depend on me.”

  “I don’t want to depend on you. I don’t want to depend on anyone.” Cassie ducked beneath his arm to escape before his male wolfiness overpowered her good sense. Again. “I think it’s best that I sleep on the couch tonight.”

  “Hell no!” He towered over her, shoulders broadened, chest puffed, hands cinched at his waist, fingers thumping his hip pockets. “Even if I need to tie your hands to the headboard tonight and every night hereafter, you will sleep next to me where you belong.”

  “I don’t belong. Not with you. Stop pretending that I do.” Cassie bulldozed past him before he changed her mind.

  “Fuck it!”

  The slamming kitchen door tolled through her being like an ominous church bell.

  Cassie collapsed onto the couch. Clutching the throw pillow to her chest didn’t smother the ache in her heart. She’d made the right choice, for both of them. Despite his insistence to the contrary, Cassie didn’t belong with him among the rich and wolfy. No matter how much she might wish that she did.

  Chapter 27

  Brice lifted a tumbler to his lips and gulped plain, cold water instead of whiskey so the smell of liquor wouldn’t stain his breath when he returned home to assure Cassie that his feelings weren’t a fluke. No woman had gotten under his skin the way she did. No woman had plagued his thoughts or turned him inside out the way she could.

  Walking out of the resort lounge, Brice watched his parents greeting the pockets of people gathered in the lobby. So far, everyone seemed genuine in their sympathies and alliances. Yet somewhere in the midst of smiles and social politeness lurked a menace. The sentinels, after relentless security drills, were on full alert.

  Brice’s instinct urged him to interrogate the entire room, though he conceded Tristan’s effervescent charm would yield better results. Especially since Brice’s mood wasn’t conducive to niceties tonight.

  He breathed in a lungful of cinnamon and remembered the first tease of the scent in Cassie’s hair. The radiant happiness for him on her face.

  Mine! his wolf insisted.

  Brice only had to convince Cassie of the same. From the start, he knew she’d be a challenge. Her resistance stemmed from her inability to trust him. He needed to find a way to prove her heart, her life, her future were safe with him.

  “Nice to see you socializing.” Doc joined Brice.

  “Did I have a choice?”

  “You always have choices, even if you don’t like them.” Doc took a handkerchief from his pocket to clean his glasses.

  “Where’s Rafe?” Brice had hoped to commiserate with his friend.

  “Running the woods.” The sparkle Brice remembered in Doc’s eyes seemed diminished. “Ever since he lost Lexi, he refuses to participate in pack events. Don’t take his absence personally. You know that if you ever need him, he’ll be there for you.”

  “I wished I had been around for him,” Brice answered quietly.

  Doc gave Brice a quick pat on the back. “All that matters is that you’re here now.”

  But for how long?

  At any moment, the Woelfesenat could demand his presence in Romania. He needed to work fast to cement his relationship with Cassie and patch the one with his father. Granny would expect no less.

  “Try to relax tonight. Doctor’s orders.” Doc waved at Philip and Michael headed toward the lounge, and he left to join them.

  A possessive arm latched around his waist. “Hello again, lover.”

  Brice’s stomach dropped in a dead armadillo roll.

  Wearing a white silk gown slit up the sides to reveal mile-long legs in strappy heels, Victoria stood nearly nose to nose to him. Her flawless skin shimmered beneath the soft lighting.

  Brice pried her fingers from his side. “A bit overdressed for a casual cocktail party.”

  “I wanted to look divine for my mate.” Her cold lips chilled his mouth.

  Brice turned his face. “Don’t kiss me again or I will put you in your place.”

  “My place is in your bed.” Unflappable assurance oozed from her practiced smile. An exquisite beauty most men, wolfan and human, would covet.

  Before her betrayal, he’d considered her a friend. Now he found nothing remotely appealing about Victoria Phalen.

  “I’ve said this twice before. This time, you need to listen.” Brice lowered his voice to a threatening growl. “You will never be welcome in my bed.”

  “I know you’re angry I tried to trick you into a mate-claim.”

  Tricked? She’d fucking drugged him, and if he had claimed her, he would’ve been miserably and irrevocably bound to Victoria.

  He would’ve missed out on Cassie.

  Primal wolfan hormones flooded Brice’s body.

  A mate-claim with Victoria would’ve shortened one of their lives. Only death severed a mate-claim and he’d allow nothing to keep him from Cassie for long.

  “Your father commanded you to take a mate by Christmas and expects a wolfling on the way soon after, so let’s forget the past and jump straight to the good stuff.” Victoria’s smile turned manically Cheshire.

  Brice closed his hand over hers and squeezed until she grimaced. “I’ll decide when it’s time to claim my mate, and she isn’t you. So sink your paws into some other wolf and leave me the hell alone.”

  Instead of heeding his words when he released her hand, Victoria hooked his arm. “Let’s join your parents.”

  Brice’s temper strained against his propriety. Victoria practically floated as they navigated the lobby. Her aristocratic nod to the guests they passed tested Brice’s ability to refrain from rolling his eyes. By the time Brice and Victoria reached their destination, his mother had splintered off, encompassed by several visiting Alphenas and a rather annoyed Booker Reynolds. Brice’s father, Adam, Dennis Stratton, Alpha of the Eau Gallie pack from Florida, and his son, Eason, were ensconced in the pros and cons of Alpha succession versus trial by combat.

  Despite the nails clamped in his bicep, Brice lifted Victoria’s hand and passed her to Adam. “Please keep your
packmate on a shorter leash. I’m tired of her yapping at my heels.”

  Before Brice spun away, he caught the desperate look of a drowning man in the eyes of Stratton’s son.

  “Eason,” Brice said. “Join me in the lounge? I’ve heard you’re researching the Bimini Road. Discovered any mermaids?”

  Relief eased Eason’s pinched features, and he laughed. “Not yet, but I keep hoping.” He bowed his head, first to Gavin and then to his father, before accompanying Brice.

  Even though Brice couldn’t see Victoria’s seething glare, the volcanic heat of it seared his back as he walked away. No doubt he would later find the truck’s tires slashed and the sides of the cab keyed.

  Oh, well. He grinned. It wasn’t really his truck anyway.

  * * *

  Cassie opened the gate to the deserted high school track field. The tiny can of pepper spray tied to her wrist clanked against the ground as she grabbed her ankles to stretch her back and calves.

  Her empty stomach gurgled. The fight with Brice had stolen her appetite. The harder he tried to smooth things over, the more adamant—and hysterical—she became.

  She couldn’t give in to the errant feelings he awakened. Doubting that she could handle heartbreak any better than her mother, Cassie refused to start down any romantic path until she was utterly and completely self-sufficient.

  Cassie never knew her father, but Imogene had loved him ’til the day she died, even though he’d left her devastated. The Struthers curse, she called it when drunk. Apparently Cassie was descended from a long line of women who fell hopelessly in love with the wrong men and never recovered.

  Well, she wouldn’t fall victim to poor choices. Brice and his misguided notion about her being his mate was utter nonsense. She hadn’t believed him for one second. The yearning in her heart meant nothing except that this had been an emotional few days. Next week, everything would get back to normal.

  Returning to an upright position, Cassie pulled her foot behind her until it rested against her thigh. Counted to thirty. Switched legs.