Elder: Reckless Desires (Norseton Wolves #6)

by Holley Trent

  “Not a better choice. Just the most lucrative choice for him.”

  She turned her hands over in concession. “I wouldn’t let her see me off when I left with the kids. I knew she’d get herself in trouble.”

  “We’ve created a pretty fucked-up situation for ourselves all around, huh?”

  “I shouldn’t even be talking with you about it.”

  “Right. I reckon if you were back in Jersey, someone would pop you in the mouth for insinuating that everything isn’t all sunshine and roses, but I happen to be a realist. I prefer folks to shoot straight from the hip, if they have to talk at all.”

  “I guess that’s why you and Uncle Adam are friends.”

  Nixon chuckled again, submitted the form he’d been working on, and groaned when another one popped up in its place. “Yeah, that and other reasons. He’s what my mother would call ‘good people.’”

  “I happen to agree.”

  “I sure as shit hope so, seeing as how you’re related to him.”

  “Because family relationships mean so much to most wolves, right?”

  “Touché.”

  “I never want my kids to feel like…I didn’t do enough. That I didn’t try to do the right thing. Knowing what the right thing is, though, is hard sometimes.”

  She’d cast her gaze down again, and he’d reached his absolute limit of times he could watch her do that. He was annoyed as hell at her thinking that if she said anything that was the slightest bit critical that he’d sound off on her.

  “Esther.” He tipped her chin up and made her look at him.

  Just that quickly, her dark gaze went watery.

  Shit. He had no way of knowing what kind of energy he was putting off, but if he were anything like the other men in the pack, she was reading his aura as dark and foreboding. She probably wanted to move away from him.

  He didn’t want that. He didn’t want to scare her—just the opposite.

  “Come on, honey,” he crooned, swirling the pad of his thumb along her jaw. “You can’t blame yourself for all the shit that went down in your life. I don’t know everything that happened to you, and I’m not sure I want to, but the fact that you packed those kids up and got the hell out of Jersey without knowing what you’d find on this end speaks volumes to what kind of lady you are.”

  At her audible gulp and flinch, he pressed his palm to her cheek and brushed back her hair. Silky and soft. His newest fetish. He could spend long minutes running his fingers through it, and she probably would have let him for fear of saying no.

  So he dropped his hands, and hated that he had to. He hated that being a wolf meant she didn’t trust affection. Hated that she probably didn’t believe he was capable of giving it.

  “Maybe you ran because you were scared, but you could have stayed put, honey,” he said. “You could have put your head in the sand like an ostrich and hoped the world went on around you, but you didn’t do that.”

  “I couldn’t. I—” She sucked in some air as if she were going to finally speak her mind, but instead, she shook her head and cast her gaze downward.

  “Look at me, honey.”

  She rolled her eyes up again.

  “Leave the past in the past. The best thing you can do for those kids is move forward, without dragging that old shit along with you.”

  “I should forget their father existed?”

  Good riddance to him, wherever the spineless bastard ended up.

  “If they ask you questions,” Nixon tried for a neutral tone, but he couldn’t help if there was a growl in his voice, “you answer them.”

  “And what about me? How do I stop asking myself all those what-if questions about what more I could have done for him to treat me better? How I could have encouraged him to be a better father to the kids? How I could have made him a better person?”

  “Pretty as you are, last I checked, you weren’t a goddess. There’s a limit to how much you can do, and I’m sure you did all you could using the abilities you had. Maybe you’ll handle things differently now that you have freedom—now that you have choices.”

  “Choices,” she whispered on a nod.

  “That’s right.” He had to stop touching her. Couldn’t help himself, though. One more little touch to her cheek, and he grinned when she didn’t flinch or move. He didn’t want her to think she couldn’t move away if she wanted to. He hoped she wouldn’t, but she did have the choice.

  And obviously her choice was to kiss him.

  It was just a peck to his cheek as she stood, but enough contact to knock the wind out of him.

  He didn’t catch his breath until she’d crossed the room and picked up her purse.

  “If it’s okay with you, I’m going to go get some things for dinner. Darla can’t live on cake and punch, no matter what she thinks.”

  “You don’t need my permission. The world’s your oyster.”

  She closed her eyes, nodded, and whispered, “Right.”

  At the doorway, she turned—looking him in the eyes—and said, “I’ll see you later?”

  “Hope so. Don’t be a stranger.”

  “I couldn’t be.”

  With that inscrutable comment, she left the office, dragging his heart along behind her.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “If you want him to actually hear you, you need to knock louder.”

  At Ashley’s sultry whisper, Esther nearly leapt out of her sneakers from fright. She clutched her chest and caught her breath while her cousin’s wife snickered.

  “Gods, you let me sneak up on you like that? I wasn’t exactly quiet, and little Adam doesn’t quite grasp the concept of stealth yet.” Ashley pointed to the babbling baby boy on her hip.

  Esther shifted the warm covered dish to her other arm and cringed. “I guess my head was elsewhere. I was—well, thinking.” Thinking about what she’d say when Nixon answered his door. Thinking about how he might react to seeing her there. She’d never been all that good at reading men, but she didn’t want to think he would react badly to her taking him dinner. And she had to. She’d cooked, and she’d fretted, because that was apparently what wolf women did when they liked people. She’d never felt that for Michael. Toward the end of his life, she wouldn’t have cared if he’d starved.

  “Want me to knock for you?” Ashley asked. “I can be your wing-woman.”

  “What makes you think I need one?”

  “You so do. It’s okay if you like him, you know.”

  “How do you—”

  Ashley waved a dismissive hand, effectively silencing Esther, and sighed. “Es, when you let wolves pair off naturally, funnily enough, they’re nice to each other.”

  “I’m not trying to pair off. I’m just—”

  “Bringing him food. Right. Because he’ll waste away if you don’t feed him.” Ashley lifted the foil at the edge of the plate. “Ooh. Is that sauerkraut?”

  “And sausages,” Esther muttered. “Michael hated sauerkraut. I missed it.”

  “Michael was a shit stain.”

  “Ashley—”

  “Nope.” Ashley shook her head hard. “I don’t like speaking ill of the dead, but he got what was coming to him. I’m sorry you got matched with him. Fortunately, I was too young when his turn for a match came around.”

  “I pushed him.”

  The words came out of Esther’s mouth unbidden, and she felt like time ceased to exist. Her body froze, her mouth hanging open and eyes wide with self-inflicted terror.

  And Ashley just stared.

  She kept staring until little Adam gave her ponytail an innocent yank.

  She swallowed, untwined Adam’s fingers from her hair, and made some sounds that weren’t quite words. “Uh. You—”

  “It was an accident,” Esther whispered. “He was drunk, and he lunged for me, and I—”

  “Self-defense. Okay?” Ashley’s whisper was sharp and insistent, so Esther nodded.

  She didn’t know what else to do but nod. “I snapped,” she said af
ter a few seconds of tense silence.

  “About time someone snapped. I’m sorry it had to be you. I wish it had been some woman who wouldn’t have felt guilty.”

  The door creaked open and Nixon leaned into the frame with one eyebrow raised. “What’s with all the mutterin’ out here? Y’all having a party I wasn’t invited to?”

  “Wasn’t much of a party until you arrived, Nix.” Ashley squeezed past him into the house without waiting for a welcome.

  He stared after her, shrugged, and then got out of the way. “Come on in, hon. Jim left the place a mess, but beggars can’t be choosers.”

  “Am I interrupting anything?”

  Nixon pulled Esther into the house and shut the door. “Not interrupting anything. Actually, there’s not much to interrupt. I was trying to crack the Wi-Fi since Jim didn’t leave the password written down, but I reckon I’m going to have to piggyback off one of the folks beside us until I can get in touch with him. I don’t know how long he’s going to be on the road.”

  “You can use mine, I guess. I don’t know what the password for that one is, either, though. You’ll have to ask Colt. I think he set up the router.”

  “No hurry. Just don’t want to get smacked with a huge phone bill for having to use so much roaming data. I was finally able to pick up at least that kind of signal, and that’s not ideal.”

  “Oh.” She looked down at the crinkled foil edges around the plate.

  “Is that pork?”

  She laughed quietly. “Good nose, huh?”

  “Yep.”

  She handed the plate to him, notched her hair behind her ears, and set off looking for Ashley. At least, that was what Esther told herself she was doing. Anything to get her feet unstuck, and to just be moving with purpose, rather than nervously gawking at the man.

  “Hey, how ’bout that? Sauerkraut.”

  She turned on her heel at the counter to see him. “If you don’t like—”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t like it.” He balled up the foil and tossed the wad toward the recycling crate. “I wonder if there’s any mustard here. Gotta have mustard.”

  She wrung the hem of her overlong shirt against her belly and shifted her weight. “That’s the way Kevin eats them. More mustard than meat.”

  “I’m sure he’ll grow out of that taste bud flaw in good time.” Nixon grabbed a fork from the utensil drawer and settled against the counter with the plate. “You didn’t have to feed me, but I will never turn down a home-cooked meal.”

  Actually, I did have to feed you.

  Her grin twitched a bit at the edges, but she was just out of practice. Most of her brazen smiles in recent history had been given to her children, or to the few ladies in her old pack she could call friends.

  Ashley reemerged from wherever she was in the back of the house and hitched little Adam up a bit higher on her hip. “You look like you’re all settled in, but do you need anything else?”

  “Besides the Wi-Fi password?” Nixon asked. “Nah. Not sure how long I’m going to be here, anyway.”

  “Where are you going?” Panic gripped Esther by the throat, and didn’t let go until Nixon shrugged and said through a mouthful of boiled potatoes, “Maybe downtown.”

  Man’s gonna give me a heart attack already.

  “Family housing not good enough for you?” Ashley asked.

  “Nothin’ wrong with it,” Nixon said. “Just less maintenance with an apartment. And I’m sure Jim is a great guy to live with, but if he really is biding his time waiting for the young Miss Modesto to get a bit more seasoning, I’d just be in the way pretty soon. I can’t get too comfortable here.”

  Ashley narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t make any rash decisions.”

  “You’re warning me as if I make of habit of doing that.”

  “I don’t know if you do, but I figured you could use the reminder, anyway.”

  Ashley’s tone was unmistakably impertinent, and though Esther’s immediate instinct was to tell the woman to ease off for her own good, she remembered where she was. Esther wasn’t in a typical pack anymore. She was in Norseton, and in Norseton, the lady wolves had a tendency to run their mouths, and the men apparently didn’t mind too much.

  Nixon sputtered his lips and speared another piece of sausage with his fork. “I’ll behave—at least until I figure out who’s in charge around here. I don’t think any of y’all could say for sure, not even Adam.”

  “Whatever.” Ashley rolled her eyes and then strode to the front door. “I’ve gotta put this dude to bed. I’ll see you two in the morning.”

  “I’ll walk with you.” Esther started toward the door.

  Ashley shook her head and wagged a finger at her. “I’m just walking across the courtyard. The buddy system doesn’t apply for trips that short. Hang out here for a while. Maybe critique Nixon’s sorry bed-making skills or something.”

  Nixon snorted and, with his back turned to the door, didn’t see Ashley mouthing, “Don’t. Say. Anything.”

  Esther furrowed her brow.

  Ashley pointed to her wedding band.

  Oh. Michael. A cold chill shot down Esther’s spine. Damn it.

  Ashley shook her head hard, pantomimed “I’ll call you,” and then stepped outside into the night.

  The screen door slammed against the frame, and Esther wrung her shirt hem some more and stared at the spot where Ashley had been standing.

  Not say anything?

  Esther should have been happy that Ashley hadn’t responded to Esther’s sloppy manslaughter confession with hostility. She should have been ecstatic that Ashley was on her side, but Esther was so used to the tables being turned on her without warning. Where she was from, betrayal was normal. Trusting was hard.

  Faith was hard.

  “Kids really did abandon you, huh?”

  Nixon’s voice pulled Esther out of her own head, and she pinned her focus back on his face.

  His friendly, smiling face.

  She scoffed quietly and shifted her weight. “I guess I’m happy they’re bonding with the people here. I’m used to having a small network of folks who I could trust them to be around, and they’ve always been pretty discriminating about who they let get close, too.”

  “Yeah, I guessed that about them. Especially with Seven. I think he’s got pretty good instincts, but most wolves do up until they stupidly try to tamp them down.”

  “How do you know his instincts are good?”

  “Spent a lot of hours beside your front door when you were conked out, honey.” He laughed and turned his plate ninety degrees clockwise.

  There was nothing left but green beans, which she hadn’t actually expected him to eat, but she always included a vegetable anyway on the off chance Darla would accidentally get some into her mouth.

  Nixon forked up some beans and swallowed them without a single grimace.

  Huh.

  She began to mentally compile a list: Things Nixon Will Eat.

  “He’s very inquisitive,” Nixon said. “Notices things you wouldn’t think a kid would be paying attention to. He gave his uncle a very thorough grilling about what he does for a living.”

  She groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. Of all the people Kevin would have a loose verbal filter for, Anton was a safe party, but she hated that she hadn’t been awake to coach Kevin on verbal restraint. She needed the kids to operate more or less on the status quo, at least until Esther had gotten a good feel for Norseton’s dynamics.

  “We also played a lot of poker from our respective sides of the doorway.”

  She dropped the hem of her shirt and put her hands on her hips. “Nixon!”

  He snorted. “I’m just fuckin’ with ya, Momma. Go Fish is more his speed, but Vic said he was going to teach him to play Spades.”

  Nixon leaned over and massaged the hinges of her jaw, laughing some more. “Quit grinding. I don’t think he really meant what he said, but you can never tell with Vic. He’s got a questionable sense of humo
r, that cousin of yours.”

  Esther should have been concentrating on her teeth and how she needed to stop gnashing them, but instead, her focus was fixed on Nixon’s hand so near her lips, her nose.

  The feel of it. His scent, woodsy and alluring.

  Lickable.

  She didn’t lick him, though, even though his palm was dangerously close to the seam of her lips. Even though she craved a taste of him.

  She rolled her gaze up to his sultry amber one, and damn near fell into his thrall.

  “Quit grindin’. Seven’s a novelty, is all. No other kids in the pack around his age, or Darla’s. Of course the others are gonna to take an interest.”

  She blinked, but the fog in her head didn’t clear any.

  “Wouldn’t hurt for him to learn early on how to beat the old guys at cards. Maybe we’ll even keep the cussin’ down to a minimum. One fuck per game. How’s that?”

  His massage of her jaw hinges devolved into a more tender, sweeping of his fingertips along her jaw. Down her neck.

  “Did you ever learn to play?” he asked.

  She struggled to swallow as his hand played over her throat. “C-cards? No. Not really. I’m not good at games.”

  “That’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

  He was closer, suddenly.

  Or maybe I am.

  She’d moved into his touch, like some pathetic animal seeking warmth on a bitter cold day.

  “You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he whispered. His lips were so close to her ear.

  When’d he get there?

  For that matter, she didn’t remember him looping his free arm around her back, either. Didn’t remember him pulling her so close that she could hear his heart beating, loud and strong. Steady.

  Hers wasn’t so steady. Her heart raced and forced the blood up her neck and to her face, to the cheeks that burned hotter than the plate she’d brought him. She could hardly catch her breath.

  His fingers danced over the scars at the top of her chest, and instinctively, she reached to push his hand away.