Emmitt's Treasure: Judgement of the Six Companion Series, book 2

by Melissa Haag

  Wanting to get this over with, I walked up to the bar and ordered a beer and two shots while pulling out a chair for her. She sat and arched a brow at me. Because I ordered for her?

  “Isn’t that what you wanted? Alcohol?” It was hard to keep my tone steady. I wasn’t angry. But it did hurt to know she needed alcohol just to tolerate being near me.

  I handed her the first shot and didn’t miss how she narrowed her eyes at me before throwing back the liquor.

  Then, all my frustration evaporated at the face she made.

  “That was awful,” she said, wheezing a little.

  Man, why was she so cute? I nodded and handed her the second shot.

  “Isn’t there something better than that?”

  “There is, but that will do the trick.”

  She swallowed down the shot in one gulp again then waved the bartender over for a glass of water.

  While she sipped her water, I sipped my beer and concentrated on her scent. The fear slowly faded and amusement crept in.

  “I think I’m ready,” she said, unsteadily.

  “For what, exactly?” I said, warily turning to study her.

  “To get to know you.”

  My pulse leapt at her words, and I couldn’t deny where my thoughts led. Something must have shown on my face because she giggled.

  “Not that. Like you asked.”

  Images of tangled sheets and twined legs evaporated as I understood. She’d gotten drunk so she could get to know the furry side of me. I shook my head, trying to deny my disappointment and stood, offering her a hand.

  She didn’t hesitate to place her hand into mine. The slide of her soft skin brought back the ache I’d been trying to keep at bay since she’d kneed me. Not the one in my nuts, but the one in my chest.

  Thoughts of touching and holding her filled my mind as I led her back to the bike. She stood unsteadily as I mounted, and I had to help her onto the back. But once she sat, she wrapped herself around me. A soft groan escaped me, and I revved the motor to cover the sound. Did she have any idea how close I was to turning off the bike and pulling her into my lap?

  Winifred would kill me. Only that one sane thought kept me from acting on my urge to touch and hold Michelle…and, maybe, the thought of Michelle sobering and kicking my ass and then leaving me forever. Yeah, I’d keep my hands off until she was ready.

  I started out slowly and kept it slow all the way home, not wanting to give up the feel of her pressed against my back. Before we were halfway, she sighed and laid her head on my shoulder. I wasn’t worried about her falling off. No, nothing would happen.

  Her hands drifted north from my waist, and the bike swerved a little. Damn. I slowed down further. Self-inflicted pain. That’s what the ride was. It hurt to have her touch me like this and do nothing about it.

  When the driveway came into view, I considered passing it by but knew she’d sober eventually. She clutched me tighter as we turned and pressed her face into my shirt. Then, she inhaled deeply, scenting me. It almost ended me. Why did she have to be drunk? Why couldn’t she do this sober?

  Thankfully, the sun had set and the lights were out in the house when I pulled into the garage. I didn’t need Jim’s smartass, and probably accurate, observations right now.

  Michelle lifted her head as soon as I shut off the bike. Her fingers continued to trace patterns over my chest. Each swipe of her finger over a nipple brought me that much closer to shifting.

  “What was in that little cup?” she asked with a slight lisp.

  “Tequila.” Hopefully, she didn’t notice the growl vibrating the word.

  “It didn’t taste good.”

  Her roaming fingers left me, and she struggled to get off the bike. After the third time she brushed against me, I twisted and put my arms around her as I stood.

  In less than a second, we were both standing next to the bike, facing each other. She blinked at me dazedly. The weak light from the porch painted her face in dusky shadows, making it easy to follow the movement of her tongue as she licked her soft, parted lips. I fisted my hands to keep them at my sides.

  “What now?” I asked, softly.

  “Show me.” As she spoke, she swayed a little and reached out to lay a hand on my arm. Her fingers immediately started roaming again. There was no reservation in her touch or her gaze.

  “What exactly?” I asked, my heart pounding.

  “You said you’re a werewolf. Show me what that means exactly.”

  She wanted to see me? Our gazes held as I struggled with my desire to show her and my fear of her reaction. Would she run again? She certainly wouldn’t get very far in the state she was in.

  Unable to resist, I reached up and gently touched her cheek. Smooth and soft. Warm and welcoming. That was who Michelle was meant to be. Home. But in order for that to be a reality, I needed to figure out her past and conquer her fear.

  “If I show you, will you answer some questions for me?”

  She nodded, a shy smile pulling at her lips. My palms grew sweaty.

  “Turn around for a second.”

  Watching the change would really freak her out, no matter how tipsy she was. Plus, I didn’t need her to see just how turned on I was when I stripped.

  As she teetered in a slow circle, I used my speed to disrobe. Setting the neat pile of my folded clothes on the ground, I gave in to the urge to shift. The pain of the shift didn’t outweigh the relief of finally letting it go.

  She was still pinwheeling her arms for balance when I settled on my paws and shook out my fur. Knowing she needed help to steady herself, I stepped closer. Her fingers brushed my coat. We both stilled. A shiver ran through me when she saw me and ran a hand along my spine.

  The instant of my birth and the finale of my death would be nothing compared to the moment Michelle finally Claimed me. I ached for it.

  “Hi, there,” she breathed.

  Her hand drifted to my head and played with my ear. If this was the affection I would receive when in my fur, I was never going back to my skin again.

  She idly looked around the garage. “Did you see where he went?”

  She didn’t know it was me? I sighed.

  Her gaze drifted to my neat pile of clothes, and she grinned. Her attempt to bend down and pick up my shirt almost landed her on her face. I moved quickly, using my side to keep her upright. Once she had the shirt in hand, she straightened and pressed the material to her face. A partial groan and growl escaped. She was doing it again. Scenting me. The woman was hell-bent on driving me crazy with mixed signals. Did she fear me or want to inhale me?

  When her eyes didn’t open for a few seconds, I realized I was going to lose her to sleep and nudged her.

  “Good boy,” she said, opening her eyes and patting my head again.

  Heaving a sigh, I used my teeth to try to pluck the shirt from her hands.

  “Bad,” she scolded, in a stern voice. Then, she tapped my nose in reprimand.

  I snorted and slowly started the change back, giving up on the shirt. Hopefully, once she saw some skin, she’d understand who I was and maybe turn around. All the petting hadn’t helped calm me down.

  As soon as my chest and shoulders were furless her eyes widened comically. “Oh!” she said, spinning on her heel, still clutching my shirt.

  I pushed through the rest of the change and quickly pulled on my pants. The rasp of my zipper caused her to groan. I grinned as I scented her embarrassment. It was much better than fear.

  “Is it too late to ask for another shot?” she whispered.

  “Yep.” We were way past that.

  She swayed on her feet, and I decided she’d had enough. Scooping her into my arms, I turned toward the house. She sighed and rested her head on my chest. I looked down at her peaceful expression. Her eyes had already drifted closed again.

  “Now, you promised to answer a few questions,” I said softly.

  Chapter 8

  She nodded, burrowing in a little as she set her palm aga
inst my bare chest. For a second, I couldn’t remember what I’d wanted to ask her.

  I swallowed hard and tried to focus.

  “If you’re not worried about David, who are you worried about?”

  When she didn’t answer, I lightly jostled her in my arms to wake her up again.

  She smiled up at me.

  “Can I sleep in your shirt tonight?”

  The image of her in my shirt created a gnawing need in my gut. Yeah, she’d be sleeping in my shirt tonight, and if I were lucky, she’d be sleeping in my bed within a week. First, though, I needed her trust.

  “Why did David keep you locked away?”

  “Blake told him to. I really liked when you kissed my neck even though I tried not to.”

  How was I supposed to think with comments like that? My gaze fell to her neck. Did she want me to kiss her again? I really wanted to. She sleepily smiled up at me, beckoning. So tempting. My fingers twitched with the need to follow the direction of my thoughts. But if I did, I wouldn’t find out about her past and tomorrow, we’d be right back to her smelling like fear.

  “Who’s Blake?” I asked.

  “I like you without a shirt. A lot.” Her fingers danced along my skin again, heating my blood. Then, suddenly, her expression changed from dreamy to concerned. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  “I have you, honey. Let’s get you ready for bed.”

  She nodded, and l started toward the house. Inside was quiet. I had no doubt both Winifred and Jim were awake, though.

  When I started up the stairs, Michelle looped her arms around my neck and pressed tightly against me. My thoughts returned to snuggling and kissing her neck. I was climbing a true stairway to heaven.

  At her closed door, I hesitated. Not willing to let her go just yet, I shifted her weight to one arm and opened the door. The soft sounds of her brothers’ breathing came from the bedroom. I stepped inside and nudged the door almost shut behind me.

  Her eyes fluttered closed, and her hold around my neck grew lax.

  I wanted to kiss her.

  “But I won’t,” I said softly.

  She turned her head slightly and opened her eyes. When she saw me, she smiled. “So handsome.”

  Her lids closed again, and I wondered how much she would remember tomorrow.

  My resolve to leave her alone weakened. I lowered my head, watching for any sign of aversion. Her lashes remained on her cheek as I touched my nose to her temple. Inhaling, I trailed my way to her neck. Her scent soothed the need that had been growing since I first saw her, but created a new ache that demanded more.

  “Mmm...”

  The sound of her throaty groan caused my teeth to lengthen and my arms to tremble. But, I didn’t stop my exploration. Reaching the curve of her neck, I pressed my lips to her skin and held still. She sighed a little and relaxed further.

  I shook with the need to run my tongue over her skin. To taste her. To bring us one step closer to Claiming, then Mating. Mine. Her reaction now, even though she was drunk, helped assure me that there would be a time when she would come to me willingly.

  I pulled back and jostled her a little. As soon as her eyes opened, I set her on her feet. Being upright seemed to bring a clearer level of awareness to her gaze. She looked up and studied me for a moment before turning away to follow the path to her bedroom. She swayed on her feet, but I didn’t move to help her. If I touched her any more, I wasn’t sure I’d have the strength to leave again.

  Waiting by the door, I listened to her undress. She didn’t get into bed as I expected but reappeared in the hallway, dressed in my shirt. The hem kissed the tops of her thighs. Cutoffs showed just as much skin but somehow, seeing her in just my shirt made that same skin so much more delicious.

  I fisted my hands, wanting desperately to close the distance between us. The hesitation in her eyes kept me in place.

  “Good night, Emmitt.”

  With her words, she blushed slightly. A hint of her interest in me perfumed the air, and I smiled. She was mine, and soon she’d realize it.

  “Sweet dreams, Michelle.” I turned and walked out the door, waiting in the hallway until I heard her crawl into bed.

  Rolling my shoulders to ease some of the tension, I started down the stairs. Jim and Winifred were waiting for me at the bottom.

  “How did it go?” Winifred asked.

  Exhaling heavily, I motioned to Jim’s apartment. She went to the fridge and grabbed three beers. No one said anything as I opened mine and took two long swallows.

  “Well, I think. I shifted and she didn’t run away screaming. So that’s something, right?”

  Winnifred nodded and sipped her beer.

  “She said some things to me that aren’t right. When I found her, a man named David was trying to take her back to wherever she’s from. David mentioned two other names. Blake and Richard. Last night she told me someone kept her brothers locked in their room.”

  Jim growled low and I nodded.

  “But when I told her I wouldn’t let David come near them again, she gave me a funny look and said she wasn’t afraid of David. I think one of those other two were keeping her and her brothers locked away.”

  “Old boyfriend, maybe?” Winifred said.

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Humans can get possessive, too. And when they do, they tend to cross lines. It’s the only thing I can think of that would make sense. It would also explain why she fears you more than Jim. She’s interested in you, and the last man to be interested in her locked her away. Wouldn’t you be afraid of that happening again?”

  I nodded slowly. It would make sense.

  “But then, who was David?” Jim said.

  I wished I knew.

  We stayed up talking for another hour. Before Winifred went for her nightly run, I asked for some aspirin in case Michelle needed it in the morning.

  Sleep eluded me as I lay on the couch. Michelle hadn’t lied when she said she needed a friend. More than that, she needed someone she could trust. But, what more could I do to show her she could trust me? Revealing what I was and that werewolves existed was my biggest secret to share. It was my way of showing Michelle that I trusted her. She could destroy lives with that simple fact, not that I thought she’d say anything. She kept secrets; she didn’t tell them. And, that was the problem. She needed to trust me so she could tell hers. I couldn’t help her until she did.

  * * * *

  The faint sound of a floorboard creaking brought me instantly off the couch. I filled a glass of water and grabbed the pills before taking the stairs two at a time.

  Werewolves didn’t get hangovers, but my mom did, and it didn’t take much alcohol. I didn’t want Michelle feeling like that. Plus, I just needed to see her. Would she remember all of last night? Would her fear of me be gone? Would she be ready to see me as her Mate?

  I knocked and waited. When nothing happened, I knocked again. Louder. From inside, I heard Liam use his nickname for Michelle. He was trying to wake her up. Good boy. I kept knocking to help.

  A faint groan reached me.

  “Mimi,” Liam said, softly. “Someone’s at the door. I think it’s Uncle Jim.”

  Uncle Jim? Liam and I obviously needed to do some more bonding.

  Another groan.

  “Should I get the door?” Liam asked.

  When I heard footsteps, I stopped my knocking and waited with the pills and water ready. Anticipation coiled in my chest. A moment later, the door flew open.

  Her dark hair was a messy halo around her head. Sleep marks creased one cheek, and she had a hand print on her neck. And she was scowling.

  Trying to hold back a smile was impossible. Especially when she was still wearing my shirt. I held out the water and pills.

  She took the glass and swallowed down the pills without a word. The tilt of her head and the movement of her throat pulled my gaze. I was dying for a taste of her. Could she tell? Did she know that was why I was up here?

 
“I heard Liam moving around and wanted to know if he’d like to come down and eat breakfast with me,” I said.

  Her eyes met mine, and I watched emotions play across her features. When she cringed, I knew she was remembering last night. I waited for her reaction, but the scent of her fear didn’t return.

  “I’m never drinking again,” she whispered.

  I grinned. We were good. Not Mates or even friends, but we’d get there.

  “I like your pajamas,” I said, still smiling at the beautiful woman who owned my heart.

  She looked down at it and frowned. “We’re not on speaking terms today,” she said. But I saw the humor in her eyes.

  I laughed. She didn’t have a chance. Mine.

  Liam walked down the hall, dressed for the day. I waved him over, ready to bond so Michelle could get more sleep.

  “Send Aden down when he’s up.”

  * * * *

  We were all sitting at the island when I heard her on the stairs. Jim quickly reached out and grabbed seven more pancakes from the mountain on the platter in the middle of the island.

  “Jim, save some for Michelle,” Winifred said at the same time I moved the pancake platter further out of his reach.

  “She won’t be hungry,” Liam said quietly. “She never is when she has her headaches.”

  The sad way he said it gave us all pause. Then Michelle walked in. Winifred went back to helping Aden cut his sausage, Jim went back to drowning his pancakes in syrup, and I forgot everything.

  She’d showered, and her hair was up but still damp. The tank top hugged her curves and her jean cutoffs hugged her—

  I looked up as she kissed her brothers so she wouldn’t catch my wandering, and very appreciative, eye. In the light of the kitchen, she looked pale. And the sidelong glance she gave the food told me she wasn’t yet feeling well.

  Winifred gave Michelle a once-over from head to toe. Quickly focusing on fixing Michelle a plate, I pretended not to notice when Winifred turned to glare at me. The scent of old booze, particularly tequila, was hard to miss.

  Emmitt, she’s under my protection. Do not allow her to consume that much alcohol again.

  Yes, ma’am.

  “What do you guys want to do today?” Michelle asked her brothers.