What a Wolf Desires (Lux Catena Series Book 1)

by Amy Pennza

  What a Wolf Desires

  Amy Pennza

  First edition published by

  Scribble Pretty Books November 2018

  1st Kindle Edition

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Copyright © 2018 by Amy Pennza

  Cover design by Mayhem Cover Creations

  Edited by Faith Freewoman

  All rights reserved.

  Created with Vellum

  To Rich. The second one is for you, too.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  An Excerpt from What a Wolf Dares

  About the Author

  Also by Amy Pennza

  1

  She smelled them before she hit the first stair leading up to her third-floor apartment.

  She gripped the railing and tilted her head, testing their scents—sifting through the subtle differences that made each one unique. Five males—two of them familiar. The mix of peppermint and lemon-lime energy drink belonged to her cousin, Remy Arsenault. The more understated pine-and-leather combo could only be Dominic Prado, Remy’s best friend. The other three were strangers.

  She eased down into a slight crouch and calculated the distance from the building to her car.

  Even if she made it, Lizette Butler knew today was going to be a very bad day. She took a deep breath, tensed, and prepared to run.

  “Don’t,” a deep, rich voice said from behind her apartment door. The low, almost hypnotic tone could only belong to Dom. “You won’t get far,” he added.

  Anger boiled up. She surged to her feet. The metal railing under her hand made a pained squealing noise as it bent. She lifted her hand away and carefully patted the abused metal. “Sorry,” she whispered to it. She’d have to slip a note and some money under Tommy’s door later. He was a decent landlord, and he didn’t deserve to pay for her lack of control, even if she had a good excuse.

  “Any day now,” Remy said. Even with distance and the door between them, she could hear the undercurrent of laughter.

  Make that a very good excuse.

  She trudged up the stairs and down the short hall, not bothering to muffle her footsteps. The men in her apartment could have heard a mouse running along the floor. She stopped before the door and stared at the shiny brass 309 tacked on the muddy brown steel.

  From inside, Dom said, “It does no good to avoid what you fear, Lizette.”

  She opened the door and tossed her keys on the table in the tiny foyer. “Who says I’m afraid of you?”

  Dom leaned against the white mantle above the fireplace, the can lights in the ceiling making his black hair glint blue in places. Her cousin Remy lounged in the oversized stuffed chair she’d artfully draped with an ocean blue throw—at least she hoped it was artful. Magazines always made the casual throw blanket thing look so easy. Most of the time, hers looked like someone used it and forgot to put it away.

  The other three males were the muscle, she supposed—grunts sent to deliver the message or order of the day. They weren’t even trying to look friendly or unassuming. Two stood in identical poses in front of the glass sliders, arms folded, legs braced slightly apart. One brushed past her and stopped by the door.

  Blocking the exit.

  She swept a hand toward him and the two by the sliders. “Triplets?” she asked, her voice dripping sweetness.

  Dom cleared his throat. “Your heart sped up when you scented us,” he said, responding to her first question. “That makes you prey. You’ve forgotten all your lessons.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “Yeah, well, I generally don’t come home to such an impressive show of force. What’s with the welcome wagon? You boys looking to escape the great white north? Sorry, but I’m pretty sure all the apartments here are taken, although it’s charming to think of the five of you as roommates.” She snapped her fingers. “Hey, you could pitch an idea for a sitcom!”

  Remy grinned and got to his feet, his green eyes twinkling. He stretched his big arms over his head, the movement making his dark gray T-shirt ride up to reveal the bottom of an impressive six-pack, and his fingers nearly grazed the nine-foot ceiling. He crossed the small room and enveloped her in a big bear hug that lifted her feet off the floor.

  “Hey!” She thumped his shoulder, which was about as effective as kicking a mountain. Usually people were too intimidated by his size to notice his supermodel good looks. His dirty blond hair flowed back from his forehead in a tumble of curls women would kill for, and it was disheveled most of the time—a combination of infrequent haircuts and his habit of running his fingers through it when he was thinking.

  “Sorry.” He lowered her to the ground and then patted her head. “I’ve missed you. You’re the only one with the balls to tease Dominic.”

  “Thanks…I think.” She rubbed her crown. She and Remy needed to have a talk about “nice petting” versus “accidentally killing your pet.”

  One of the males by the sliders spoke. “We’ll have time for reunions later. We should leave now.” He looked her up and down, his dark eyes disapproving. “As soon as she changes into something appropriate.”

  She glanced down at her skinny jeans and cream-colored sweater. What was he complaining about? Sure, the sweater was form-fitting, but it didn’t show any skin. If anything, her outfit was modest compared to what most people wore on campus. Her job as a teaching assistant didn’t have a dress code, but the students seemed to respect her more when she looked like a professor instead of a TA in ripped jeans and sweatshirts. She met the male’s eye and crossed her arms, mirroring his pose. “You’re right, you should leave. Now.”

  Remy opened his mouth, but Dom cut him off before he could speak. “Aiden.” His voice was quiet, but it carried unmistakable authority. The man who’d slut-shamed her bowed his head.

  It was an impressive display of power, and if Remy had done it, she would have whistled and slow-clapped. But things were different with Dom. She held her breath when he turned his gaze to hers. He wasn’t here for a social call or a family reunion. There was only one reason why five males from her pack were in her apartment, and it wasn’t a good one.

  At least not for her.

  Dom pushed away from the mantel and stood with his hands at his sides, ready for a chase. Or a fight. “We will leave, but you’re leaving with us.”

  Her heart pounded. Dammit. He was right. She’d forgotten her training—or just hadn’t used it in a long time. There had been no need when the only time she saw another wolf was in a zoo or on television.

  She glanced around her apartment, noting how they’d positioned themselves in strategic locations. The male behind her ensured she couldn’t leave through the front door, and the two by the sliders would stop her before she even touched the glass, let alone jumped off the balcony. Remy hovered in the doorway leading to her bedroom, which was inconvenient, considering it had a nice, big window perfect for escaping a bu
nch of werewolves.

  Remy winked at her, clearly enjoying the role of good cop to Dom’s bad cop.

  The only other room was the kitchen, and it was windowless. She was out of options, unless she was willing to fight tooth and nail—literally—against being dragged home.

  Home. She glanced around her tiny apartment. It was small, but she’d picked out every piece of furniture and knickknack herself. She painted the artwork above the fireplace at one of those art and canvas parties with a group of girls from the college. The stack of books on the table next to the slipcovered sofa was part of a growing to-be-read pile she’d intended to dig into that very night, right after some much-needed Netflix binge-watching. She’d carved out a life for herself these past five years, and the apartment was a physical, tangible representation of an independence she couldn’t, wouldn’t give up.

  She met Dom’s gaze. “What does he want with me?”

  “I expect Max will tell you when you see him.”

  Max. Shivers rippled over her skin. Maxime Simard, pack Alpha and petty dictator.

  She gritted her teeth. Her heart still pounded, and she knew they could hear it. They could smell her fear, too. “Has our lord and master ever heard of email?”

  Dom refused to be drawn in. “We have our orders.”

  “And if I refuse, what? Club me over the head and drag me back caveman style?”

  “I don’t think it will come to that.”

  He took no pleasure in this. That’s what she told herself. And it was true to a certain extent. From birth, wolves were trained to master their emotions and physiological reactions. It was crucial to blending into the human world. In medieval times, sprouting fur or fangs in public got a person burned at the stake. In modern society, it ended up on YouTube. These men had been trained to do a job, and they were doing it. It wasn’t personal. They weren’t here to punish her or disrupt her life.

  Although just then, Aiden inhaled deeply and deliberately. His nostrils flared, and his slight smile let her know he’d scented her fear…and relished it. For the merest second, he let his wolf roll over his eyes, the color shifting from ordinary brown to an unnatural blue.

  She jerked her gaze away before her own wolf could respond. He’d challenged her, knowing she had no choice but to submit. Even at her best, which she wasn’t at the moment, there was no way she could take on a fully grown male in his prime.

  Remy, who was closest to him, sucked in a breath. “Aiden.” The command in his voice transformed him from a friendly blond lumberjack to a menacing werewolf. He took a threatening step toward the other male, who dropped his head and raised his arms, palms out in a show of submission. “Forgive me. It’s…close in here.”

  Dom, who’d moved toward the pair, rested his hand on Remy’s back for a brief moment before stepping past him. He stood toe-to-toe with the chastened male, whose head bowed even lower under Dom’s glare. “You know who she is, Aiden. Don’t be foolish.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Dom leaned closer. “You won’t make this mistake again.” He made it a statement.

  Aiden lowered his brown head until his chin touched his chest. “I will not, Beta.”

  Well, that’s new. Lizette paid little attention to pack politics, but even she knew the top wolves among the Alpha’s inner circle. The Beta was the second-in-command and served as the Alpha’s eyes and ears within the pack. Part enforcer, part trusted adviser, the Beta position inspired both respect and fear. Remy jokingly called it the “werewolf consigliere.”

  Lizette looked at Remy and caught her breath. There was nothing good-natured about his expression now. She followed his gaze to Dom, who still towered over Aiden. Had Remy fought Dom for the Beta position and lost? They’d been Hunters—wolves handpicked by the Alpha to watch his back and further pack interests—since they were teens, and best friends since childhood. Like most best friends, they were competitive, but it had always been a friendly competition.

  The menace rolling off Remy was anything but friendly. His green eyes glittered wolf-blue for a second—so fast she would have missed it if she hadn’t been looking at him. They flickered back to normal, but he kept his gaze trained on Dom’s turned back. An inhuman growl rose from his chest, so low no human could have heard it. The little hairs on her nape lifted.

  She looked at Dom just in time to see the muscles in his back tense. He spoke without turning around. “Something to add, Remy?” He didn’t raise his voice, but his tone made her stomach flip over. The room seemed too small to contain the people and furniture inside. A grinding pressure descended, making her chest ache with the effort of breathing.

  Then Remy closed his eyes. He shook himself the way a dog might when it gets out of a pool. It was like someone flipped a switch or opened a window. The awful pressure lifted. Around the room everyone exhaled.

  Remy shrugged. “I’ve got nothing to add, Dom.”

  Lizette sagged against the foyer table where she’d tossed her keys. This was why she lived alone. Life with werewolves was too damn intense.

  Dom swung around and pinned her with a no-nonsense stare. A human would instantly peg him as military, although wolves rarely bothered to insert themselves into human conflicts. And anyway, Dom didn’t need weapons to assert his will. Rumor had it he was directly descended from the Capitoline Wolf in Rome. Humans spent so much time arguing about the statue’s age and origins, they never got around to wondering if there was any reality behind the ancient myth.

  Lizette knew better. Dom might not be related to the fierce she-wolf who’d suckled the founder of Rome, but he was a formidable opponent. Although it rankled, she wasn’t about to test him. If she’d learned anything over her years of dealing with testosterone-poisoned males, it was to pick her battles. And this was just a skirmish. The real battle lay two hundred miles north, in a tiny town steps from the Canadian border.

  If she had to concede defeat, she was going to do it on her own terms—and before someone got blood on her area rug. She marched to her bedroom, Dom on her heels. “All right,” she said over her shoulder. “Let me grab a bag.”

  She shut the door in Dom’s face with a satisfying click.

  Lizette’s hands shook as she threw clothes in the large pink duffel bag she used for the gym. She didn’t even bother removing the dirty yoga pants and sports bra at the bottom. “This is temporary,” she said under her breath. “He promised me. It’s a temporary thing.”

  “Like a vacation, hmm?” Remy said from the doorway. He closed the door and leaned against it, his long, muscled body concealing most of the white woodwork. The bright color was one of the reasons she picked the apartment. After years in the brooding Lodge, with its gloomy, ever-present stained walnut, she’d been instantly drawn to this cheery, feminine space.

  “I don’t remember inviting you in.” She tossed a few bras in the bag.

  “You should, ah, put one of those on,” he said meaningfully.

  She glanced down at her chest. Not being blessed with curves, she sometimes went without a bra. It was cold in Albany that morning, and she wore a puffer vest to work, figuring no one would notice her braless state, but removed it on the drive home. The heater in her old Honda had two settings: nuclear and surface-of-the-sun.

  She grabbed one of the bras she’d thrown in the bag and faced away from him so she could do the whole arms-out-bra-clasp-arms-in shimmy thing. “It’s gross for you to point that out, you know.”

  “You pointed it out first, if you get my meaning.”

  She snorted against her will. She tugged her sweater into place and turned back to him. “What was that about?” she mouthed, gesturing toward the living room.

  His smile disappeared like the sun behind a cloud. “Nothing.”

  “Is it the Beta position?”

  Surprise flitted across his face. “I don’t give a shit about that.”

  “Well, what is it, then?”

  He shook his head. His mouth flattened into a stern line that said sh
e’d get no answers from him, no matter how much she teased and cajoled.

  She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

  “Just…don’t ask right now.” He glanced away. “Please.”

  The “please” got to her—along with the miserable look on his face. Something was definitely going on between him and Dominic. It was the first time she’d seen anything come between them. Werewolves lived longer than humans—about a hundred and thirty years—and they reproduced sparingly. Most mated pairs had just one offspring. A fortunate few like her mother’s parents managed to give their child a sibling. Small families were the norm, which meant friendships were usually close-knit and lifelong.

  Dom and Remy might not be related by blood, but they were as close as brothers. Whatever was bothering Remy, it was big.

  She wanted to press him, but she knew he’d come to her when he was ready. “Okay,” she said. “Let me know if you feel like talking.”

  “You need help packing?”

  She gave him a look to let him know she recognized the deliberate change of subject. “No, thanks. I’m almost done. I don’t need much, since I won’t be staying long.”

  “Mmmm.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “What?”

  She zipped the duffel with a little more force than necessary. “What does he want?” There was no need to define he. Only the Alpha had the authority and resources to send five Hunters to upend her life.

  Remy shrugged.

  “You’ve got to have some idea.” She pitched her voice as low as possible. The others could probably still hear, but they’d have to be actively listening…which they probably were.