Carnal Secrets

by Suzanne Wright

  The guilt had lingered deep inside—guilt that she had survived and hadn’t been able to save her twin, despite how little sense it made. “Vanishing twin syndrome” people called it. During her teens, that guilt had led her down a path of self-sabotage as Shaya had felt that she hadn’t deserved to be happy. With support, she had eventually given herself permission to live a full and healthy life, honoring her twin and using her as her motivation. But the pain, the emptiness, was still there.

  Losing Nick before she’d even had the chance to know him was exactly like it had been with her twin. She hadn’t had the chance to know Mika, to have a life with her…and now she would never have a life with her mate either.

  Her wolf was going through a similar pain. She didn’t understand why Nick hadn’t staked his claim, and she viewed his actions as a rejection. But although her wolf was angry with Nick for rejecting her, she was also angry with Shaya. Her wolf still wanted to be in close proximity to her mate, not understanding that Nick had no intention of ever claiming her and that he would make life difficult. Awkward animal.

  Snapping out of her ponderings, Shaya walked to the reception desk to say good-bye to Mrs. Harley, who was at that moment taking her receipt from Paisley. When Mrs. Harley tried to give Shaya a most generous tip, she shook her head. “That’s too much.”

  “Honey, I’ve been going to have my hair done regularly for a long time. Usually, my stylist patiently listens as I moan and groan about all the trouble going on in my life—things that were always difficult to talk about with family members.”

  “You don’t moan,” objected Shaya. If anything, the woman was a delight.

  “Not around you,” agreed Mrs. Harley. “Because for the two hours that I’m with you, I totally forget all about my problems and find myself laughing and joking with you. What’s more, you always have me walking out of here feeling good about myself. So, honey, you will take this tip.” She forced the large tip into Shaya’s hand, winked, and walked right on out the door.

  “You have a way with people,” Kent told her. “They like being around you, even seem to gravitate toward you. Considering you haven’t been here very long, you’ve built yourself a nice clientele. You should be proud of yourself. I’ve never known anyone to form connections with people so easily.”

  Yeah, she was quite good at forming connections with people—lasting ones, in fact. She just had a really hard time forming deep connections. Although she craved one, she was too distrustful and guarded to allow it to happen. Was that really any wonder when her first real relationship had been an absolute mind-fuck?

  She’d been just sixteen when she met Mason. She had been infatuated with him, practically worshipped him. He had told her he felt the same, that they were true mates. Still plagued by a feeling of emptiness after losing her twin, she had been so desperate to feel some sort of connection that she’d bought it hook, line, and sinker. Later she had realized that she had given her virginity to an asshole who liked to target young females and convince them they were true mates.

  After that, she had flitted from guy to guy, never letting anything deeper develop. Not that she’d been a slut or anything, but she hadn’t been in a serious relationship—determined to wait for her true mate…a guy she had spent the past half year trying desperately to hate. She was failing miserably with that. How could she possibly hate her mate, even if he was a prick?

  Well, at least she didn’t cry herself to sleep anymore. That was an improvement. She’d even started dating again. Not that the dates had amounted to anything, as apparently she was flypaper for losers lately. The world seemed to be against her meeting a decent guy. As much as it would make sense for Shaya to want to keep things simple and stick with meaningless encounters or short affairs after Nick hurt her the way he had, she wanted more than that.

  Yes, part of it was that she wanted someone who could cancel out the mating cravings, someone who could fill the space that her true mate would never fill. But another part of it was that seeing her friends so happily mated made her hunger for the same. She wanted a guy who would care for her, a guy she could trust and depend on. Was that really so bad?

  Apparently so. Either that or he simply didn’t exist. Ah, maybe that was it.

  Shaya almost banged into the reception desk as a ticked-off Paisley accidentally-on-purpose bumped into her as she passed. Oh, for the love of God. Shaking her head, Shaya went over to her station to clean and tidy it. It was as she was sweeping up the hairs that were scattered on the floor that Paisley returned to her side.

  “I was just wondering, have you always suffered from gingervitis?”

  Shaya rolled her eyes. The red hair comments were a regular thing, and she was used to them at this point, though she was tempted to point out again that her hair wasn’t ginger in any case.

  “I guess it must be nice being Ron Weasley’s sister, though.”

  Sigh. “Seriously, Paisley, you don’t need to keep this up. I honestly couldn’t like you any less than I already do.” Shaya walked to the trash can and emptied the clump of hair into it before returning the brush and dustpan to the cupboard.

  Paisley trailed behind her. “As if being a carrottop isn’t bad enough, you’re—”

  Shaya sighed again. “Can’t you see I’m trying to pretend you’re not here? When you speak, you kill the illusion.”

  Paisley curled her upper lip and made a move toward Shaya, but Kent was suddenly there. “That’s enough,” he told the blonde.

  “She’s only been here, like, two minutes and everyone’s fussing over her!”

  Shaya shrugged. “If what you want is the same treatment, maybe you could try working. Just sayin’.”

  Snarling, Paisley sharply twirled and returned to the reception desk, but the comments didn’t stop. By the end of her shift, Shaya had come close to stabbing the blonde with her own scissors. Instead, she grabbed her things, gave Kent a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and left. As her car had died recently and she couldn’t afford to fix or replace it, she made the fifteen-minute walk to her home. For a change, her closest neighbor—who was a hundred yards away yet still managed to be a pain in her ass—wasn’t holding a house party that could wake the dead.

  She let herself inside her home, secured the door shut behind her, hung her jacket on the coatrack, and kicked off her shoes with a groan of relief. The fluffy, magnolia-colored carpet felt amazing under her throbbing feet. Although coming back to an empty house never gave her any pleasure, it was certainly nice to let her feet breathe.

  She had only walked two steps into the living area when she realized she wasn’t alone. At the same time as it registered just who the familiar scent belonged to, a deep, rumbly voice spoke.

  “Do you always leave your windows open when you go out?”

  Abruptly, she turned to the corner of the room and gaped at what she saw. A contradictory mixture of shock, pain, anger, and—though she hated it—a slither of happiness hit her, almost stealing her breath. Sprawled on one of her cream leather armchairs, with his arms crossed behind his head as if he owned the space around him, was the last person in the world Shaya wanted to see. Holy fucking shit.

  So beautiful. She was so damn beautiful that it almost hurt Nick to look at her. Despite not being small, she was petite and almost pixie-like with her heart-shaped face, small nose, clear skin, and clusters of adorable freckles that he wanted to trace with his tongue. His wolf was pacing—content yet also restless, and more alive around Shaya than in any other situation. Nick was feeling much the same.

  He’d found her. He’d finally found her.

  A fierce longing—both emotional and physical—pounded through him, making his body roar to life. He raked his gaze over her, reacquainting himself with every line and curve. “Hello, Shay.”

  Shaya almost jumped as that goddamn masterful voice snapped her out of her stupor. He had the most authoritative voice she had ever heard. It didn’t demand compliance, it expected it. And it called to the submi
ssive side of her nature. “What are you doing here?” He looked as he always did—dangerous, alluring, and deceptively relaxed. Nick Axton was never totally at ease.

  Nick shrugged. “You’re my mate. You’re here. Where else would I be?”

  He’d said it like it was a mathematical equation. Shaya’s irritation was overshadowed, however, by the lust creeping over her. His appraisal of her was so thorough and intense that she felt as if he’d touched her. It reminded her of the night they had first met—he had barely taken his eyes from her, had watched her like a hawk. The difference was that there was now a determination in his gaze, a promise that she didn’t understand.

  Shaya inwardly groaned. Why didn’t the universe like her? She didn’t think she was bad, as people went. She recycled, and she donated to charity, and she didn’t use products that had been tested on animals. Why, why, why couldn’t fate have kept her hidden from him?

  As Nick stared into those shock-filled bluish-gray eyes that were usually twinkling with an impish benevolence, he raised his brows. “You look surprised. Did you honestly think I wouldn’t find you? Did you really think I wouldn’t come for you?”

  At those words, a surge of anger shot through Shaya. He had no right to be here, no right to seek her out when he didn’t want her. She didn’t need to have him watching over her and meddling in her life. That wouldn’t be a life. He would never allow her to find someone else and be happy, regardless of the fact that he didn’t want her for himself. He’d proven that by trying to scare off Dominic when he’d mistakenly thought they were a couple.

  She knew that even if he mated with another female—a shaft of agony speared through her at just the thought of it—he’d never let Shaya have her own life. He’d left her no choice but to leave, and now the bastard wanted to mess up the life that she’d managed to make for herself here. Unfortunately, her wolf wasn’t moved by those details. Now that the shock had worn off, her wolf’s primary instinct at that second was to go to her mate, to touch him and take him inside her; to allow him to claim her, and to claim him in return. Great.

  What Shaya wanted to do was snatch the nearest heavy object and hurl it at Nick’s head. But she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her lose it. No. He’d made it clear through his past indifference that he didn’t want her. She’d give him that same indifference now. She spoke in a crisp, cool voice. “Well you’ve found me. You’ve seen me. You know that I’m fine. Now you can leave.” Before he could respond, she headed for the oak kitchen and quickly switched on the coffee machine. She sensed that he had followed her into the room, felt his power almost burning her back, but she paid him no attention as she fixed her drink.

  “I didn’t come here to check on you,” he said. “I came here to take you back.”

  She chuckled humorlessly. “I’m not going back to the Phoenix Pack just so you can always know where I am and be in my business, scaring guys away. If you think I’m going to live life as a spinster, you’re about as bright as Alaska in December.”

  The very idea of her with someone else always made Nick see red. His wolf, who was still pacing predatorily and eager to get to his mate, growled at the idea. Nick’s voice was quiet but dangerous. “Is there a guy, Shaya? You better hope there isn’t, or he’s dead. And don’t think I don’t mean that.”

  She knew he meant it, the interfering bastard. Cup in hand, she pivoted to face him. Although he hadn’t taken more than two steps into the room, his large, powerful build practically dominated her kitchen, making Shaya feel cornered. Like a prey by a predator. Involuntarily, her eyes briefly darted to the door. Nick, still staring at her with an intensity that would unnerve any female, stepped in front of it as though to block her avenue of retreat. Wow, did he actually suspect she’d run like a frightened little fawn? He should. She was seriously considering it. “Who I’m with and what I do is none of your business.”

  He took one slow step toward her. “You’ll always be my business, Shay. You’re my mate, you’re mine.”

  Although his voice had been gentle, there was steel in his words. That steel only served to fuel her anger. But the anger wasn’t enough to drown out the lust heating her body. Hell, lust wasn’t a strong enough word. The closest word she could think of was desperation. Yes, she was absolutely desperate to jump on him and run her fingers through his short ash-blond hair; desperate to feed the need, feed the urges, and to answer that yearning for total completeness that she knew he could give her. She was actually shaking with it.

  Shaya wished she could say that the only reason she wanted him was because he was her mate, but that would be a lie. No, this male who radiated authority was walking temptation with his powerful muscular build, sensual mouth, and penetrating dusky-green eyes that demanded total attention. Power hummed around him, and he exuded dark, primal, animal energy. Moreover, he was charged with a raw, magnetic sexuality. His natural dominance was like a magnet to her submissive side, and it promised to answer every craving she had. In other words, he was her personal wet dream…which meant it was vital that she got him out of her home.

  Giving herself a mental slap, she returned her focus to the conversation. “Yours?” She snorted. “I don’t think so.”

  Nick arched a brow. “I might not have claimed you, but you’re still mine.” His voice was soft and controlled, but even he heard the menace in it.

  The possessiveness practically emanating from him pleased and seduced her wolf, just as his natural dominance that promised total safety did. But it wasn’t enough for Shaya—her submission wasn’t something he’d earned on any level. “I never had you down as the delusional type. Huh. I guess you never can tell. You can let yourself out.”

  Her dismissal pissed Nick off, but he’d known this would happen. He’d anticipated her resistance and anticipated that she would be eager to get a few things off her chest before even considering leaving with him. He could sense that, despite how calm she looked, she was absolutely livid. “This is a nice place,” he said as he took a turn around the dining area that was attached to the kitchen. The house was warm, stylish, and bright. “How’ve you been?”

  The genuine interest in his voice surprised Shaya, considering the impression he’d given her was that he saw her as nothing but an object to whom he had rights. Sipping her coffee, she watched through narrowed eyes as he strolled around like he owned the place. His casual body language displayed a quiet, relaxed confidence; there was no fidgeting, no wasted movements, no twitchy motions with Nick. Every single movement was sure, fluid, and deliberate. God help her, she found all that confidence and control sexy as shit.

  It galled her that she was drawn to this person whom she would happily shoot right in the head. She forced a chirpy tone. “Great, thanks. I’ll feel even better once you’re gone.” Her wolf, on the other hand, didn’t like that idea. A little voice in Shaya’s head insisted that she didn’t either, but she ignored it.

  “Aren’t you going to offer me a coffee?”

  “No. You’re not a guest, you’re an intruder. Plus, there’s no point, since you’re leaving right this second. Have a safe journey.”

  Nick grinned. He liked her sassy attitude. “Sure. I’ll leave. Get your stuff together.”

  He’d clearly been held back a few grades if he thought that would ever happen. “Whoa there, did you not hear me before, Beavis?”

  “Beavis? Are you saying I’m dumb?”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  Seeing the pain in her eyes that her aloof tone was trying to hide, he sighed. “Baby, I know I hurt you, so I don’t blame you for being severely pissed at me—”

  “I’m not pissed at you—although I’ve visualized you sliding down a barbed-wire banister a couple of times.”

  He winced. “That bad, huh?”

  She nodded slowly, her voice hard. “That bad. But hey, don’t beat yourself up about it. I’ll do that.”

  Nick believed her. There was that temper he’d heard all about. “I’ll mak
e it up to you, I swear. Once I get you back to California, we’ll—”

  “I already told you, I’m not going back to the Phoenix Pack.”

  “I didn’t come here to take you to the Phoenix Pack.”

  Okay, he’d totally lost her. Something in his expression made her wary. “I don’t understand. What do you want from me?”

  “I want you. All of you.”

  The flash of determination in his eyes made her suck in a breath. No, he couldn’t possibly mean what she thought he might. “What does that mean?”

  “I’m here to claim you.” The last thing he’d expected was for her to hurl a teaspoon at his forehead. Shit, that actually hurt.

  “Claim me? Now there’s a fucking joke. I’d rather French kiss a goddamn barracuda than mate with you!”

  Nick cursed in surprise as Shaya lifted one of the wooden breakfast stools and launched it at him. He barely ducked in time to dodge it. When he stood tall again, it was to see another stool coming at him. He caught that one, using it as a shield against the next stool. Then she was racing out of the room.

  Before she could escape from the house, Nick dashed after her. But she didn’t open the front door. She reached behind the rack of coats in the hallway, pulled out a baseball bat, turned sharply, and swung it at his head. Motherfucker. He jumped backward, barely avoiding it. “Dammit, Shay!”

  Where had his sweet mate gone? Having a bad temper was one thing, but the female in front of him was a merciless psycho. Proving that, she swung the bat again—this time at his abdomen. Although he jerked away, he only managed to dull the impact of her swing. It still connected hard with his abdomen, making him instinctively bend over as the breath whooshed out of him. That was when the bat came flying at his head again.

  Pissed-fucking-off, Nick caught the bat and yanked it toward him. He’d expected Shaya to try to keep hold of it, expected that his move would have tugged her to him. It didn’t. She let go of the bat and made a dash for the living room—God knew what weapon she was hiding in there. Not wanting to find out, he flung the bat aside and dove at her.