I’ve never seen Ascher rattle off so many words in one breath.
“Okay. Start from the beginning and talk slower this time.”
His face twists into a scowl. He grabs my arm, pulling us to a more secluded part of the party. “Pay attention this time,” he snaps.
Huh.
Okay.
“I was minding my business when a woman jumps in my way. I couldn’t move fast enough and she slammed right into me. As soon as my arms wrapped around her—to keep her from falling, because I’m a nice guy like that—my brain decided to short out. I don’t even remember half of what I said to her. My wolf started pouncing, rubbing all up and down my walls, begging to be let out. He keeps telling me that she’s his or ours. I don’t know. Oh, and my dick went from zero to painfully hard in the blink of an eye.”
He paces, running his hands through his hair. “Fuck, man. Her scent . . . I’ve never smelled anything as amazing—like honey and coconut. And she has these gorgeous violet eyes which pop against her black hair. What the hell am I going to do? I’ve never reacted to a female like this before.”
Interesting.
The symptoms he’s experiencing are fitting for wolves who have found a mate. The way he’s describing them, though, sounds like his reaction was more intense. Most wolves don’t react so quickly and strongly. I scroll through the information stored in my head, trying to remember what I’ve read concerning this type of behavior.
There it is.
I knew I’d heard of similar experiences before, in an old book I discovered in our pack’s archives. There was a small notation about fated mates. Is it possible he found his? The odds are small, practically non-existent, and the information available on fated mates is just as obscure. I’ll need to research more before I say anything to him. I don’t feel like dealing with his panic about all the what-ifs.
“Is she from another pack? Did you get her name?”
“I’ve never seen her before, and I didn’t ask. Shit, I was barely holding it together. I can tell you she’s one of the dancers, and her name is Claudia.”
“What are you two whispering about?” Granger asks, coming to a stop next to me. Ascher gives a slight shake of his head, letting me know he doesn’t want to share.
“I was reminding Ascher of all the reasons why he shouldn’t re-challenge himself to eat the entire meat section of the buffet,” I explain.
“Damn,” Granger laughs. “I forgot about that. The look on that female’s face . . . priceless.”
Applause from the crowd has all three of us turning our attention to the dancers in the middle of the room. Sure enough, a woman with short, black and silver hair rolls, moving her body to the beat of the music. She’s quite stunning in a pair of tight black pants and a red top that shows off her curves.
Beautifully detailed images form in my head. Her body would look amazing in a rope dress. Mine. Looks like my wolf is interested in her, too. This adds new variables into Ascher’s predicament, which makes this situation . . . intriguing. I keep my focus on the woman, ignoring Ascher stiffening beside me.
Granger sucks in a breath, stiffening as well. “No. Fucking. Way,” he whispers.
I tilt my head slightly in his direction, curiosity piqued even more. His wide eyes are trained ahead. I inhale, picking up on his subtle arousal. Granger and Ascher are reacting to the same woman—am I as well? The crowd starts clapping, and I look over just in time to see the woman in question disappear into the crowd.
“Excuse me,” Granger mumbles, tearing off in her direction.
Ascher hits my arm. “Did you see her?”
“Yeah. Are you going to go talk to her?”
He runs a hand through his hair. “Should I?” It sounds like he’s already made his choice and wants me to confirm it.
“If you need reassurance, then my answer is yes. If I were you, I’d want to find out more about her. However, the decision is yours.”
Personally, I want to meet this woman who’s intrigued my wolf and me. And, since Ascher has already spoken with her, having him with me will make the introductions smoother. From the change on his face, it looks like my statement helped quell any lingering concerns.
“Okay, yeah, you’re right. Hey, will you come with me? I know that sounds ridiculous, but I could use the backup.”
“Sure. Let’s go find this mystery woman of yours.”
Claudia
Hannah shoves us all into the kitchen. My body buzzes from the energy in the air and the excitement coursing through my veins.
What an amazing feeling it was to be out there. Once my brain focused on the routine, I found myself lost to the beat of the music. Everything around me faded.
I was free.
“You ladies were phenomenal! And the crowd certainly enjoyed it. Okay, we have one more dance to do. If you’re not in the next routine, get your trays ready. We only have thirty more minutes.”
Everyone nods and begins bustling about, grabbing glasses and wine bottles. I pick up my tray, humming the song I danced to, and push the door open with my foot.
“What the . . .”
Mine.
I freeze in place as the adrenaline still spiking my blood kicks up a notch.
It can’t be.
There’s no way.
The door swings back, knocking into me. “Oh crap,” I gasp. I steady the tray the best I can, moving back into the kitchen, but not without making a mess first. Half of the wine glasses topple over. I stretch my arms out in front of me as a few crash to the floor, liquid splattering in every direction.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit.”
Luckily, there’s no one in the kitchen to witness my dramatics. I set the tray down and look around for something to clean up the mess. I spot a stack of rags and grab a handful, spreading them over the spill and using my foot to push them around.
Mine. I ignore my wolf. I have bigger things to worry about than her obsession with him.
It can’t be him, can it?
I mean, it looked just like him.
Did he see me?
What should I say if he approaches me?
I groan. “This is too much.”
The door flies open, startling me out of my downward spiral into the land of incessant worrying.
“Hey, you okay? What happened?” Hannah asks, eyeing the spill on the floor.
“I . . . uh . . . wasn’t paying attention and tripped over my feet. Oopsies.” The laugh I force out is the fakest sound I’ve ever heard. Her brow lifts. Clearly, my acting skills are subpar. She scrutinizes me and I inwardly cringe as her gaze penetrates me like she can see right through my lie. The last thing I want is to explain how I know Granger. That conversation will lead to other questions, and now’s not the time to address those.
“Do you need a break?”
I bat the air with my hand. “No, I’m good.” She frowns in disbelief. “I swear. It was an accident.”
“Fine. Let me help you clean up.” She grabs a broom, helping me clean up the broken glass. Once the floor is done, I dampen a rag and wipe off my pants, feet, and shoes. Hannah rinses off my tray and sets more glasses on it, then fills them up.
“Thanks.”
“No worries. You’ve got about ten minutes left. Hand out what you can, then come back.”
I smile like I’m not freaking out inside, wondering if Granger is standing on the other side of the door and head back out to the party. I stick to the shadows for a second, scanning the crowd, but he’s nowhere in sight.
I take my first deep breath since I seeing him. It does little to stop the trembling in my hands or my knees—that’s getting worse. Between the pounding in my heart, the flush to my cheeks, and the stir low in my stomach, I can’t identify which emotions are warring within me.
I feel like a basket case. Just all over the damn place.
Apparently, there’s a part of me—one I must’ve suppressed—that’s excited about seeing him again. I don’t want to admit it, beca
use admitting it would give the feeling more weight. Moreover, another part of me wants to hide because of the way we left things. He was supposed to be a one-time fling. We were never meant to see each other again.
“Excuse me, can I take a couple of those glasses of wine?”
The voice pulls me back to reality. I clamp down on my emotional turmoil, locking the conflicting feelings away as tightly as I can.
“Yes. I’m sorry.” I extend my arm to let the man take what he wants. Lifting my chin, I fill my lungs and muster up all my courage, hoping my feet will follow.
I inch my way out of the dark corner on high alert, paranoid that someone might jump out at me. When nothing happens, I swiftly make my way around my section, trying to get rid of the drinks as fast as possible. With my tray now empty, I rush back to the kitchen.
I’m halfway there when I spot Ascher strolling in my direction. My stomach flips with enough force that my feet falter, and I mentally sigh in relief that my tray doesn’t hold anymore wine that can be spilled.
“Hello, Claudia.”
Damn, he is beautiful.
Mine. My wolf lifts her head and jumps to her feet.
Seriously? I snap at her. How many men are you trying to collect? You’re giving me a complex.
Ascher closes in, his essence tingling over my body as it wraps around me. His cheeky grin has a flush heating my cheeks.
“I’m glad I got to see you before the night ends.”
I’m preoccupied with keeping drool from dripping from the side of my mouth, so words fail me again.
Why, why is this happening to me?
Say something. Anything.
“Uh . . .”
Way to go.
“I’d like you to meet one of my best friends. This is Milo.” He steps to the side, revealing another man standing behind him.
Holy shit.
Milo is fucking gorgeous.
Milo smiles, steps forward, and extends his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Oh, wow. His voice is softer than Ascher’s but just as sexy. Inhaling, his scent invades my nose, cloaking me in a blanket of calm. Reminds me of a crisp fall morning with a little sandalwood mixed in. As soon as our hands touch, my entire arm lights up, sending little sparks straight to my center. My brain grows fuzzy, my breathing rapid and shallow. Jeez, between his touch and both their scents, I’m done for.
Flutters in my stomach—check.
Weakened legs—check.
Mouth watering but parched—check.
Soaked panties—double check.
Mine. The desire for this man from my wolf seeps into me. She lets out a low growl that almost sounds like a groan.
Or was that me?
Did I groan?
“It’s nice to meet you, too.”
I hold Milo’s gaze, captivated by his eyes. Each one is a different color—sky blue and honey. His shaggy, chocolate-brown hair falls near his eyes. My fingers itch to reach out and brush it away. My eyes roam over the gages in his ears and two piercings on his bottom lip, one on each side of the cupid’s bow. He’s the same height as Ascher but leaner in frame and dressed in opposite fashion as well. A plain black shirt with jeans and combat boots.
I don’t mentally undress him like I did Ascher. Instead, I’m imagining him peeling each article of clothing off me, worshiping every exposed inch of skin until I’m writhing with so much need I feel like I’m about to explode.
The sound of someone clearing their throat pulls me out of my fantasy and I suppress a yelp. Glancing down, I see I’m still holding onto Milo’s hand. I drop it like I just got caught stealing from the cookie jar and take a step back, my cheeks no doubt reddening by the second.
“I wanted to tell you how amazing you were out there earlier.” Ascher flashes a dimpled grin.
“Thanks,” I mumble, my eyes falling to the floor. I’m burning so hot I’m starting to sweat. Is it possible to melt from embarrassment and lust?
“Hello, Little One.”
Never mind. The question is now, is it possible to combust from embarrassment, lust, and guilt?
The deep velvet voice that haunts my dreams from time to time whispers behind me. His woodsy balsam fragrance overwhelms me as he joins Milo and Ascher. Standing in front of these three men with their mixed gazes on me sends every nerve ending in my body into overdrive. If I listen closely, I can hear my ovaries crying; they’re weeping in ecstasy.
“Hello, Granger.” The amount of control it takes to keep my composure is taxing.
“You two know each other?” Ascher questions, his eyes bouncing between me and Granger.
This has turned awkward faster than I thought it would. Granger’s face gives me no clues as to how I should react. I just met them; do they deserve an explanation? My eyes bounce from Granger to Ascher, finally settling on Milo. For some reason, the way he’s studying me makes me want to tell him everything.
“We met a couple years ago when Blave and I went on a work trip to Wyoming,” Granger explains.
“Trip? What trip, and why wasn’t I there?” Ascher asks.
“You weren’t old enough.”
Ascher tilts his head back, staring at the ceiling with hands on his hips. “Trip?” he mutters. “Oh.”
He whips his head toward Granger, eyes the size of saucers. “That’s the—” He doesn’t get the chance to finish because Milo flicks him in the ear. “Ow! What the fuck was that for?”
“No one cares about the details of a trip two years ago. How about we move on?”
Ascher glares at Milo, whose face remains impassive. Watching them, I could swear they were communicating with each other somehow, but wolves don’t have that type of telepathy. Ascher finally nods, turning his full attention back to me.
O . . . kay.
That’s not weird at all.
“So, how do you three know each other?” I know Ascher and Milo are friends, but what is Granger to them?
“We’re all friends, along with Blave, who’s around here somewhere,” Milo answers.
Wait.
Hold up.
What are the odds that all of these guys are not only friends, but I seem to have some unexplained intense attraction to all of them?
“We grew up together. Blave is the future Alpha of our pack, and we’re his Betas.” Ascher interjects.
I swallow back a laugh at the absurdity of this situation. I mean, why not tack on the fact that they’re Betas? Totally makes sense. But let’s take it one step further and point out that they’re unmated Betas.
Looks-wise, they are walking wet dreams without even adding in their position within their pack. Females must constantly be falling at their feet, trying to snatch one of them up.
My wolf snarls at the thought of someone touching what she has deemed hers. Even though I roll my eyes at her nonsense, for a fraction of a second, the idea of another woman rubbing her hands all over them pisses me off, too, and I don’t know why.
Claudia
“I’ll admit, it’s nice seeing you again. Are you living in the area now?”
The softness in Granger’s voice doesn't match the intensity in his eyes, which is a little unnerving. I can’t tell if he’s surprised to see me—because I’m shocked—or if he’s fighting the urge to throw me against a wall and pick up where we left off. I wouldn't be opposed to the idea.
Most likely I’m reading too much into his expression, projecting a need I long ago buried and assume it’s being reciprocated.
“I moved here over a year ago.”
“I’m guessing you live nearby if you’re here with Hannah.”
He must be the 'friend’ Ascher mentioned that knows Hannah.
Friend . . .
Close friend, or just an acquaintance?
How well do they know each other?
A low growl sounds off in my head, and before I can stop myself, my mouth starts moving. “How do you know Hannah?”
I internally smack myself. Not so much for aski
ng the question, but for my tone—like a jealous girlfriend’s.
Why does this happen when I’m around him?
Maybe there’s an On/Off switch I’m unaware of when it comes to keeping my mouth shut about sensitive issues.
Filter.
I need a filter.
I read all three of their faces, hoping beyond hope no one picked up on the change in my tone. No such luck; it’s clear they all noticed. Granger is smirking—figures—Ascher’s head is tilted, and Milo’s eyebrow is raised. The back of my neck heats and I fight the urge to bolt.
“I met her through a mutual friend a few years ago. This is the second time we’ve hired her dance studio for one of our parties,” Granger explains.
Something about his answer doesn’t satisfy me.
I should leave now, cut the conversation off before my mouth decides to ruin it further. Years have passed since the night we met, and we only spent a few hours together. Yet, I can’t seem to shake the gnawing ache in my stomach, no matter how often I remind myself that what he does or has done is of no concern to me.
“Hmm, how about I answer the question you truly want to ask?”
I blink in confusion. There’s nothing else I need to know . . . is there? Ascher rubs a hand over his mouth, trying to hide his grin and doing a terrible job. Milo remains expressionless except for the amusement twinkling in his eyes.
“Hannah is an acquaintance. Nothing more.”
The relief that eases the tightness in my muscles should worry me. The fact that I want to clap for joy should also worry me. Hell, I should be even most concerned about all the prancing around my primal side is currently doing.
However, none of that worry is registering properly, leaving me standing still and gaping at him. Guess I’ll continue riding the denial train for a while longer. I clear my throat, locating my voice once again. The second I open my mouth, a familiar musk floods my senses, coating my tongue, and making me gag.
The hairs on the back of my neck lift, every muscle seizes, the blood pumping through my veins turns to ice, and my back goes ramrod straight.
The Chase Is On (Pack Everhart Book 1) Page 11
