by Renee Rose
“Don’t make me call my brother, Carlos. One word from me and he’ll rip you apart.”
I hate the direction this is going. I fucked everything up. Her brother might try, but I’m certain no wolf could keep me away from Sedona, if I’m under challenge. But I don’t want to fight her family. “You could have sent him after me at Monte Lobo, but you didn’t.”
Her bravado cracks and pain flits over her face. “You let me go,” she whispers.
I can’t decide if she’s thanking me or admonishing me. The idea that she wouldn’t want to be released never occurred to me, and believing she might have been hurt by my actions makes me want to stab a knife through my chest. But she wouldn’t have wanted to stay. That’s impossible.
The agony of not knowing what she means makes me bold. Without touching her with my hands, I crush my mouth over hers, pushing until her head bumps the door. Once I have leverage, I lick into her lips, twisting mine and tilting my head for the best angle.
If she hadn’t kissed me back, I would have retreated—no matter what my wolf wanted—but she melts into the kiss, her tongue meeting mine, lips moving against mine. Until she bites my lower lip, hard enough to draw blood.
I freeze as she holds it fast, tugging backward. When she releases it, there’s a blaze of anger and defiance in her beautiful blue eyes. “Back off, Carlos.”
I immediately retreat, hands in the air.
Fuck. Stop thinking with your dick, asshole.
“Sedona, please. No claims on you. I just want”—I rack my brain for right thing to say— “A date with you. Let me take you to dinner—to breakfast—anything. Meet me in a public place. I won’t touch you, I just want a chance to be near you. To talk. Please?”
Sedona nods, but she’s ducking her head back to the door, not meeting my eye. “Yeah, okay. Tomorrow night. Seven o’clock.” She unlocks her door and steps into her apartment, clicking it shut without a backward glance.
My wolf fist pumps, but my brain knows better. She has no intention of meeting me tomorrow. She just said whatever it took to end the conversation.
I tunnel my fingers through my hair and stare at the tile floor of the hallway.
Carajo.
I won her body with the help of the full moon and a confined space. But how do I win her heart?
7
Sedona
Three a.m., my alarm goes off. I’m up, out of bed and dragging out my small purple rolly-suitcase. The same one I’d taken to San Carlos just over a week ago. A lifetime ago.
If I were smart, I’d go to the bank and drain my accounts to take cash, but there’s no time. I found a flight to Paris at quarter to seven, and I plan to be on it. I need to get out of town, out of the country, now.
You should be free to make your choices, he told me. Yeah, right. He may believe that in theory, but the minute Carlos finds out I’m carrying his pup, I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t drag me back to the dungeon cell himself. He won’t be able to help himself. Just like he couldn’t keep from marking me. Alpha wolves are dominant wolves. Possessive. Controlling. Even domineering.
“He has no claim on me,” I mutter, as I toss shirts and changes of panties into my bag. A dress, a pair of boots. My lips tingle at the memory of his kiss, and I wipe the ghost of his touch away. “I was just a convenient piece of ass. I am not his mate.” Ignoring my wolf’s protest, I stuff another pair of jeans into the suitcase and zip it up. I have no clue what to pack for Europe, but I’m guessing they have places that sell clothes. If I need something, I can buy it. That’s if my dad doesn’t shut down my credit card to force me home.
Thank the fates I’d gone to the trouble of getting a passport to go to San Carlos.
My phone dings when the Uber arrives. I wave the driver off when he tries to help me throw my suitcase in the trunk and do it myself, then jump in the back of his car, twisting around to scan the area around us. No one is around, but the back of my neck prickles like I’m being watched.
I check in at the airport, buy a bottle of water and tell my racing heart to calm down. There’s no way he knows I’m here. But telling myself that doesn’t help. I can still feel him, as if he’s just touched me and stepped away. I barely slept last night and when I did, my dreams were all of Carlos. My skin is itchy with the need to shift, as if I might be under attack at any moment.
But that’s silly. Carlos wouldn’t attack me. He said he just wanted to talk. Go on a date, like a normal couple.
What would it be like to date Carlos? The thought of sitting across from him at a candlelit table appeals more than I’d care to admit. If only we’d met under different circumstances. I indulge in a silly fantasy—Carlos is visiting the States, maybe setting up trade for his pack. We meet by chance—pass each other in a hallway, or he comes to my art show. No, he’s ahead of me in line at Starbucks. He scents me, recognizes what I am and turns, his dark eyes glimmering with interest.
We flirt. He asks me to dinner. I’m charmed by him, attracted to his good looks, enthralled with his intelligence and accomplishments. He tells me about Monte Lobo.
Ugh. Or not. A happier topic, then. He tells me funny stories from his college days. Woos me into bed with him. My first time is jittery and exciting. He makes it ultra-romantic, pouring fresh wine into glasses. He’s gentle and sensitive.
Hmm. Or not. Somehow this fantasy falls totally flat. I guess I prefer the wild roughness of the way he took me in Monte Lobo.
Did you just want to make me chase you?
A new fantasy floats into my mind. We’re in the woods, but in human form. I’m running, he’s giving chase. He tackles me to the ground, pins my wrists over my head as he shoves into me. I throw my head back, cry out at the mixture of pain and pleasure. He claims what he desires, so impassioned, he’s unable to stop himself. I moan and writhe beneath him, resisting, but only because I love feeling his strength, having him hold me down and force me…
I squeeze my thighs to alleviate the pulse of heat starting there. Twitch them together when that doesn’t work.
Damn.
I’ll feel better once there’s an ocean between us. I’ll have some space and time to consider my options, decide how to proceed. Maybe when I get home, I’ll allow Carlos to court me, as he suggested.
Except then what? Am I going to get serious with the male from a pack that bought me? That considers me a prize for their alpha? How would a relationship look? Would I move to Monte Lobo?
Never!
And I couldn’t ask an alpha wolf to abandon his pack for me.
No, the best thing is to keep this pregnancy a secret and never have contact with Carlos again. Maybe when our pup reaches adulthood, I’ll tell him or her the truth about how he or she was conceived.
But I have eighteen years to figure that part out.
For now, my decision is made. No more Carlos.
I may be marked, but it doesn’t mean I can’t find happiness with another wolf. One who will defend me and my pup against Carlos and his pack.
Why does that thought bring on a nasty wave of nausea?
Okay, maybe I won’t find another wolf. I’ll marry my art, find happiness that way.
Promise me.
I rub my chest as if I can will the ache away. It probably won’t always hurt this bad. Will it?
~.~
Carlos
I buy a University of Arizona t-shirt and ball cap and aftershave at the airport sundry shop. I step into the men’s room and slather the aftershave over my face, neck and hands to mask my scent. I change out of my button-down, wrinkled from the long night I spent dozing in my rental car outside Sedona’s building. I purposely bought the red t-shirt in a size too large, so I won’t call attention to my muscled shifter physique. Not that I think women will throw themselves at me, but I’d rather blend in as the average American today. Or average Mexican-American, of which there are plenty in Tucson. If I concentrate, I can even speak without any accent.
I rip the tag off the ball cap and p
ull it low over my eyes, then survey myself in the mirror. It will do. Now, I just need to remember to reapply the aftershave during the flight, and with any luck, Sedona won’t scent me while I’m on the plane with her. All the way to Paris.
It was tricky to lurk behind her, close enough to overhear her book her flight, but far enough away not to trigger her sensitive sense of smell, but I did it.
I adopt a casual walk as I head out of the bathroom and pass our gate, choosing instead to sit at the one across the way. The one that gives me an excellent view of my beautiful mate.
Her hair is loose this morning, spilling over her slender shoulders, framing her perky breasts. She’s dressed in a pair of jeans that ought to be illegal on any female with an ass like hers and she’s squeezing her thighs together like…
Fuck me! Is she pleasuring herself?
Sedona’s cheeks flush and she continues to press her knees together, shifting her hips like she’s turned on.
I almost fail to swallow the growl that rises in my throat as I cast my gaze around the seating area with a glare. Who has her turned on like that? I will fucking kill them.
But I don’t see any male who would arouse her excitement.
It must be her own thoughts, then.
Could she be thinking of me?
That thought nearly brings me to my knees, the desire to spread her creamy thighs and apply my tongue to the pink heart there so overwhelming it makes me dizzy.
Sedona. My beautiful she-wolf.
I shift to rearrange my straining cock in my jeans. I need her like I need air to breathe.
Thankfully, they call our flight, and Sedona gathers her things and stands. Another minute and I would’ve been on the floor between her knees.
Giving my presence away.
I pick up my bag and stand, entering the middle of the throng, blending in. We board the plane and somehow, I manage to pass Sedona without her noticing me. I take my seat across the aisle and back a few seats and pull my cap even lower over my face.
After the plane lifts into the air, Sedona pulls out a sketchbook and flips it open to a blank page. With quick movements of a black ink pen, she sketches something I can’t see from where I sit.
I ache to know what she’s drawing. I’ve never even seen my mate’s art—that guts me. There’s so much I don’t know about her—what she likes, what she doesn’t. Why she wants to go to Paris.
I don’t even know what I’m doing. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, is the nagging thought that the council conveniently got rid of me before I made them pay for what they did to Sedona. Before I could interfere with the status quo that only benefits them. My pack needs me and I’m out of pocket again.
But my wolf compelled me to follow Sedona. Now I’m creeping around like a stalker, hiding in plain sight from my mate. What is my plan? To convince her to date me in Paris?
I actually scoff out loud.
If my presence in Tucson upset her enough to leave the country, what makes me think she’ll ever accept me after I’ve followed her halfway across the world? I came to find out if she’s pregnant—to provide for her, and protect her.
But it’s too soon to know if she’s with pup, and she obviously isn’t interested in my provisions or protection. Courting her isn’t an option, either. She clearly doesn’t want to see me. And I won’t ever claim her against her will. So that leaves me where I am—lurking in shadows. Watching. Waiting to find out if she’s pregnant. Ready to protect her if she needs me.
So what will I do if she is carrying my pup?
Consternation grinds in me.
My options totally suck.
Capture her. Or let her go.
Fuck.
8
Garrett
Sedona doesn’t answer her phone or her door, despite the fact that her car is parked outside. A month ago, I would’ve shrugged such a thing off as another irresponsible college student move. But after what happened to her last week, my paranoia spikes sky high.
I pound on her door with my fist, cracking the solid wood. “Sedona!”
Trey and Jared shift behind me. The rest of my pack will be arriving in a few minutes to move Sedona’s things to my building.
“You have a key, you know,” Trey reminds me.
I curse and pull out my keyring, finding the master to the entire building and inserting it in the lock.
Inside, Sedona’s apartment is a mess. Not a mess like it’s been ransacked, just her usual chaotic disaster-area. She definitely hasn’t put any effort into getting packed for the move, but I’d told her not to.
I look around the room, my skin prickling with unease.
“She left you a note, G.” Jared hands me a piece of notebook paper with Sedona’s hasty scrawl.
Garrett,
I’m heading out of town for a while. Don’t worry about me, I’m fine—just need some time alone to think and process.
I love you.
XXOO Sedona
I crumple the paper up in my hand and hurl it at the wall, unable to stop the roar of frustration that leaves my mouth.
Of course, my pack—minus my beta Tank, who is still tied up with the job I gave him of keeping a lid on Foxfire, Amber’s best friend—chooses that moment to show up. They crowd into the room, their hulking bodies filling the small space until it feels like my nightclub on a Saturday night. I bark orders to get things packed up and loaded onto the truck and step outside to try calling my little sister once more.
It goes straight to voicemail. Just like last weekend. But she left a note this time. And she’s probably not answering because she doesn’t want me to stop her.
I pull out my phone, forcing myself to take a deep breath first to keep from crushing it in my palm. I send a text to Sedona, Please call or text me to let me know you arrived safely.
There. Not too intrusive, but clear and firm. The real problem will be keeping my dad from going ballistic. Like when she disappeared, I’m in the position of deciding how much information to feed him and when. And of holding him back from interfering, when my own instincts scream to go barreling after her and make sure she’s safe.
But maybe there is a way to make sure. I pick up the crumpled note and shove it in my jeans pocket. “I’ll meet you guys at her new place,” I tell Jared and head outside for my motorcycle.
Amber hates being put on the spot as a psychic, but the more she practices using her gifts, the more she’ll come to accept this magical side of her. And who better to push her than her new mate?
I speed back to my apartment building and find Amber still asleep in bed. Which is where she should be, considering it’s a Saturday and I kept her up most of the night, screaming her releases until she went hoarse.
She rolls over, smiling and humming softly when I come into the room. Her naked body is twisted up in a lavender sheet and I can’t resist the urge to yank it off and simply stare at what now belongs to me.
Amber leans up on her elbows, studying me. Not in the suddenly sex-addled way I’m staring at her, but with concern. As if she can read the emotion I brought in with me.
“What is it?”
I crawl over her and run my tongue over her still-healing wound from where I marked her. Unlike Sedona, whose bite mark closed immediately, Amber is human so her flesh doesn’t regenerate as quickly as ours. My saliva helps speed the process, though.
She tilts her head to the side and makes that adorable humming noise again, but she keeps at me. “What happened?”
“Sedona’s gone. She left a note that she’s leaving town. I’m guessing she’s acting on her desire to see Europe.” I pull the crumpled note out of my pocket and hand it to her. Not for her to read the words, but to sense the energy. We found this method worked in San Carlos with Sedona’s clothing.
Amber takes it, but holds my gaze. “Maybe she needs some time to regroup. A change of scenery.”
“I know. But I hate the thought of her all alone—unprotected. They might go after her—” I s
hut up when I see Amber’s gaze lose focus.
She stares through me for a moment, then murmurs, “She’s not unprotected.”
I stiffen. “Who?” But I already know who and it makes me want to kill the motherfucker.
“Carlos is following—not to hurt her,” Amber adds quickly, her focus returning to my face. “He needs to protect her, but I don’t think he wants to compel her.”
My most protective urges relax but I grumble as I settle beside my incredible mate. “I still don’t like it.”
Amber blinks several times before she speaks in a faraway voice, “The pregnancy ensures her safety… but not his.”
~.~
Sedona
My phone buzzes with an incoming text. I set my sketchpad and pencil down on the bench I’m sitting on and fish the phone out of my purse. It’s from Garrett. By some miracle, he hasn’t sent some alpha bullshit message demanding I come home or hole up in my hotel room until he gets here. Instead, this text is a list of resources—the pack leaders in each country of Europe and where to find them or how to contact them. It’s sweet, but totally unnecessary. I don’t need help. Unless it’s in the form of a date with a vampire to get my memory of Carlos scrubbed.
But then I guess I’d be pretty confused about how I got pregnant. Le sigh.
I haven’t heard from my parents yet, which means Garrett must not have told them. My mom had planned on coming down to be with me in Tucson the minute I got home, but I talked her out of it, which I know hurt her feelings. I just don’t want to be babied by my parents right now.
I rub a line on my sketch of the ancient statue Winged Victory of Samothrace. I added Nike’s head and arms back in but created the drawing in simplicity—a children’s book version of the Greek goddess. I have to say, her wings are exquisite.
