The Wolf's Choice Page 3

  “Well, even wolves can perish because of a lack of knowledge.”

  “I’m glad to see you haven’t changed.”

  “And you’re still as forward.”

  “But you like it, though.”

  She bit the corner of her lip, and he sucked in a breath. Damn.

  “I have to go. Ryker’s waiting for me. I’ll come find you, Rebecca Ferguson.” He wanted to linger, to walk with her. Okay, maybe 30 percent of him wanted to do that, the rest begged to drag her into the nearest empty room and do unspeakable things to her.

  He had to pry his hands off her and ignore his wolf’s whining. They would catch up with her later. Their mate. The knowledge had settled inside of him a long time ago.

  She waved then started walking down the street, away from him. He couldn’t lose her again.

  Chapter Four

  Was this fate’s way of mocking her? She had decided not to get involved with anyone, and who did she bump into? Blaine Walker, the one guy on the planet who had worked some strange magic over her. She’d stripped in front of him for goodness sake!

  Rebecca ran a hand through her hair. She’d acted so stupid, focusing on his hands, mouth, voice, his everything. She had forgotten how tall he was. And how much she liked being in his arms.

  Under the rough beard and honed power, she could still make out the boy she met at the swimming hole.

  She fanned herself. She must be a picture, standing here on the sidewalk. But she couldn’t stop fanning herself any more than she could stop obsessing about Blaine after their encounter.

  What is he doing here? She should’ve asked him. Instead, she commented on…. What did she say? She couldn’t remember.

  Blaine Walker.

  She could die right now.

  He oozed sensuality. At seventeen, his pre-man body had given hints of it, now in full-blown werewolf maturity, it sent her hormones into overdrive in a you’re a man, I’m a woman now take me caveman-style way.

  No man had ever caused her to lose her cool. Her psychologist would’ve had a field day with that.

  She touched her neck where her pulse beat frantically under her palm. There was no reason to overreact. They were acquaintances catching up.

  With resolve, she pulled herself together and went in search of food.

  Returning from her shopping expedition, Rebecca entered the library. The warm atmosphere dropped to downright cold—definitely not the same as she had left it.

  Niq wore an anxious expression as he organized a shelf, and her father’s hulking figure took up all of the space in the one corner she had allocated for the youngest of Los Lobos’s children. Dark and menacing really didn’t fit with Winnie the Pooh.

  She took in his neat pair of blue jeans and buttoned-up gray shirt. Dad didn’t care much about fashion. His hair was in need of a cut, the black strands almost falling to his forehead. His skin tone, compared to hers, was milky white but didn’t show any signs of aging.

  The bags suddenly weighed heavy in her arms.

  “Would you please take the groceries through to the kitchen, Niq? I bought you a chicken sandwich with mayo. You can start without me.” She gave him a reassuring smile to dispel the worry from his face.

  “I can stay with you.”

  His bravery made her heart swell with love for him. Her father was the dominant in the room. He could exercise his authority over both of them.

  “My dad and I need to talk in private.”

  Niq glanced to the corner.

  “It is okay.”

  With reluctance in his step, Niq left them.

  “What are you still doing here, Rebecca?” He didn’t make a move to cross the space between them.

  “Well, good day to you, too, Dad.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You had a good life in Manhattan.”

  “My husband cheated on me.”

  “You can still build a life there. You don’t belong here.” Her father, always straight to the point.

  She shouldn’t be surprised, yet her breath caught, and she blinked away the sudden burn behind her eyelids. “That’s not what Drew says, and he is the alpha.”

  Drew knew she couldn’t shift, and, as far as he was concerned, her condition didn’t pose a problem to the pack.

  “Will you go against me?”

  This didn’t make sense. The threat of Magnum was gone, had been for a while now, and her dad hadn’t told her she could come home. That hurt. “Why do you object to me living among the pack?”

  His face closed off like it did when she questioned him. In the past, she stopped—trying to get him to open up felt like talking to a brick wall. But she needed the emotional concrete wall he put up to fall. She needed him, for once in her life, to explain to her why he didn’t want her.

  “Being part of a pack isn’t easy for humans.”

  The revelation blindsided her. She’d believed he didn’t care about her. “Really? Because I’ve met a number of content humans right here.”

  “Your mother, she….”

  “She what?”

  He closed off again.

  “What are you saying? Did she regret being with you?”

  His eyes glowed at her challenge. She hadn’t meant to be confrontational, and she took a step back. She wasn’t afraid he would attack her, but she needed him and his wolf to calm down.

  “I’m the alpha of this family. I choose what’s good for you.”

  A chill ran down her spine. “You can’t order me to leave. I’ve been here for over a month. I’m building a library. Dad, please—”

  “You shouldn’t have come.” He shook his head, but his shoulders sagged.

  “You didn’t miss me even a little?”

  “Of course I did.” His voice turned gruff with feeling.

  Tears welled. She tried to keep them away.

  He held out his arms, and she crashed into him. She’d missed him more than she could say. She hadn’t known the depth of how abandoned she felt until she came back to Los Lobos.

  “You’ll do as I say.”

  She nodded into his chest.

  “Any wolf that comes sniffing around will have to deal with me. You can tell that Walker pup, too.”

  She stiffened. “How do you…?”

  “I was on my way here when I saw the two of you.”

  “There’s nothing there.”

  He rested his chin on her head. “Good.”

  Rebecca squeezed her eyes shut. It hadn’t been an outright lie, but it hadn’t been the complete truth, either.

  She invited him to have lunch with them, and, after a while, Niq defrosted but kept close to her while he eyeballed her father the whole time.

  She found Niq’s antics amusing. Her father didn’t have to worry about anyone sniffing around her, not with Niq as her knight in shining armor.

  ***

  Ryker had him on protection duty, and he finally got a breather after a week of patrolling. The enforcer tested him to size him up. Blaine believed he’d done a pretty good job by imprinting every individual scent in town.

  Though a certain scent he needed to do a closer inspection of.

  The lights on the ground floor were out, but, on the second level, two rooms were lit behind half-closed blinds, casting streams of light on the street. He could make out a faint silhouette behind one window, and then the figure moved out of view.

  He scanned the street from his vantage point. Elijah had been in the area a lot over the last couple of days. He would have to retrace the older wolf’s steps and come at the library from the backyard where a set of stairs led to the upstairs apartment.

  He stayed within the shadows of the nearby buildings. Los Lobos’s population was small. He didn’t need the whole town knowing he’d visited Rebecca until he confronted Elijah.

  A group of rowdy youths tried to enter The Den—the only bar in town. The owner, Gee Rivermoon, a werebear, wasted no time kicking th
em out—to the amusement of the other patrons. Since the last time Blaine was in town, Gee had gotten extra strict on allowing anyone under eighteen years old into the bar.

  How the bear ended up in Los Lobos and part of the Tao pack, no one knew. Gee might know everything about everyone, but he kept his lips locked like Fort Knox about his origin story.

  Blaine crept into an alley. A growl came from behind him, and he spun around.

  “Why are you skulking around?”

  Ryker. The big man stepped out of the shadows. At six foot tall, he didn’t tower over him. Though Blaine had to hand it to him, not many could creep up on him. The wind must be blowing in a different direction, smart bastard.

  “I’m on my way to Rebecca.” No use lying.

  For a tense moment, they stared at each other. He didn’t reply, only pushed past him and went on his way.

  Blaine exhaled. He didn’t feel like having a scrimmage with him. Ryker had watched him since he’d gotten the promise from Drew. Ryker didn’t trust him. This didn’t bother him. Time was a true test of trust.

  He snuck into the backyard and up the stairs, the rickety door no match for him. His experience in undercover work came in handy. He stepped into the dim kitchen and spied rows of cupboards and a circular wood table in the middle of the room. He crossed the room in two strides. Then he heard Rebecca humming a tune.

  He moved on the balls of his feet in the direction of her voice.

  Rebecca full-out sang now. He chuckled—she couldn’t hold a note. The short hallway flooded with light coming from her room.

  He came to an abrupt stop as need slammed into him like a cruel thing. His wolf wanted to howl, but he suppressed the urge. A king-sized bed looked like a cloud, with snow-colored sheets and puffy pillows taking up most of the space. Medium-sized lamps atop matching nightstands gave brightness to the room. A sole lounge chair stood to one side. Some of her clothes and a towel were thrown over it. Heavy rugs lay scattered on the wooden floor.

  Rebecca danced, hips swaying, in front of a full-length mirror, her body covered in sheer black lace. She wiggled enticingly and cupped her breasts.

  Blood rushed through his veins as lust engulfed him.

  Her voice held a husky quality, and he wondered how he could’ve thought she couldn’t sing. He took a step forward.

  Rebecca dropped her hands to her sides. He curiously noted she didn’t have any shoes on. She ran her fingers over her stomach and cocked her head. “Maybe I need to layoff the cinnamon rolls.”

  “You’re perfect.” The words burst out, and he instantly regretted them.

  “Ah!”

  He wanted to kick himself. Why did he have to speak? He could’ve snuck back into the kitchen, caused a racket to alert her he was there. Of course not creepy.

  “No it’s all right, I won’t hurt you.”

  But she kept screaming.

  He moved toward her, and she retreated, a hand going to her chest. Then an expression of sheer horror covered her face. She grabbed the white towel from the chair and wrapped it around herself. Funny enough, covering her body made her even sexier. He would love to remove the fluffy material and lick—

  “Get out!”

  “I didn’t mean to scare you.” He ran a hand over his head. She fogged up his brain.

  “You didn’t? Seriously? Are you insane?”

  Maybe. “I told you I was coming by.”

  Her mouth gaped.

  He nodded. “I should’ve called first.”

  “You think?” She panted out a breath. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “A couple of minutes, give or take.”

  The knot on the towel started to loosen.

  “How did you get in?”

  “I’ve acquired a certain set of skills from my line of work.” He gave her a toothy grin.

  “You know this is beyond disturbing, right?”

  “It’s the only way I could see you.”

  She grabbed at the top of her towel as it started to slip. “I need to get dressed.”

  “Of course.”

  There was a pause. “You should leave.”

  “Yes, of course.” His voice came out hoarse. He cleared his throat.

  She walked toward him, and he zeroed in on the sway of her hips. He loved the contrast between her honey-gold skin and the white towel.

  She slammed the door shut, barely missing his nose.

  Nice. His wolf wasn’t impressed with him. And he wasn’t impressed with himself, either.

  ***

  Mortified, she fought with her T-shirt which had gotten stuck between her elbow and neck, almost cutting off her circulation. Once free, she hopped into a pair of leggings.

  What happened didn’t just happen. Blaine Walker didn’t break into her apartment and catch her dancing in her underwear. This was one of those times in life when having super-wolf hearing would’ve come in handy.

  Barefoot, she stomped out of her room. Blaine hadn’t left like she told him to. He stood, looming in the small living room. She hadn’t changed the rustic furniture that came with the building. Two of her paintings hung on the walls. A few of her silver and glass ornaments covered the coffee table. She’d added oak pole floor lamps with white shades, one on each side of the couch, and simple drapes to soften the chairs.

  She hadn’t completely moved in yet; she still had unpacked boxes stacked to the ceiling in one corner.

  “I wanted to talk to you.”

  “And that requires you to break into my home?”

  “No.”

  She crossed her arms.

  “But it does keep Elijah off my back.”

  A jolt went through her. “What does my father have to do with this?”

  “He wouldn’t like me being here.”

  “He also wouldn’t like you breaking into my apartment.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Everyone knows Elijah doesn’t want you mixing with the males of the pack.”

  “What my father wants isn’t any concern of yours.” Annoyance at his presumptuousness raked through her.

  “It is when he stands in the way of what I want.”

  They stared at each other. She didn’t need to ask him for specifics. Being close to him again, feeling his body heat, how hers rocked toward his even as she tried to resist the pull, she knew all too well.

  She hadn’t been able to touch ground or keep him off her mind. Hence the silly dance in front of the mirror. Her psychologist had recommended she do it to relax before she approached Conrad, only this time when she danced, she marveled at what Blaine would do if she did it for him.

  She hadn’t meant for phantom Blaine to be replaced by actual Blaine!

  “You shouldn’t have come, and you definitely should not have broken into my apartment.”

  “Do you think it’s possible for me to walk in here in broad daylight with Elijah keeping tabs on you?”

  “I don’t think you’d have a problem defending yourself.”

  He flashed a smile. “Touché.”

  She studied his features and noticed something she hadn’t before. “What happened to your eyebrow?”

  “Close call with a bullet.” The small gash appeared more prominent when he frowned. “Don’t change the subject.”

  She shook her head. “I wasn’t.” He’s distracting me. “Would you like something to drink?” It didn’t seem like he would be leaving any time soon.

  “A beer would be nice.”

  “I don’t have beer.”

  “Whatever’s on tap will be good.”

  She gestured for him to follow her. Her kitchen wasn’t small in comparison with the living room, but, with him there, the airy space became as stifling as a closet. Her hand trembled as she reached for two long-stemmed glasses and poured them each some Chardonnay.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Rebecca met his gaze. He unnerved her. She didn’t need the volcanic emot
ions he’d awakened in her. She gulped half her wine—which went straight to her head. Drinking alcohol might not have been a smart move. She needed her wits when dealing with Blaine. She didn’t want to examine too closely why that would be important.

  “Apology accepted. If you know Elijah’s keeping an eye on you, why did you risk it?”

  He hesitated. “To get to know you better, Rebecca, and for you to get to know me.”

  There was something behind what he said, but she didn’t call him on it. In fact, she should kick him out because, standing there with him in her dimly lit kitchen, having him around didn’t seem like a bad idea.

  “You should leave,” she blurted before her befuddled brain could lead her astray.

  “Rebecca….”

  “I didn’t invite you up here. You should respect a person’s right to privacy.”

  He had the decency to look embarrassed.

  She didn’t give him time to finish his drink or come up with a counter argument. She grasped him by the arm and marched to the door. His muscles flexed under her fingers and seemed to beg her to run her hand over them. Or that could be the alcohol talking.

  “Rebecca.”

  “I know my name.”

  His chuckle tickled her ears.

  “We’ll talk about your creeping ways tomorrow. You do realize these aren’t the hard streets of Brooklyn, right?”

  “You’ve been checking up on me?”

  She snorted. “This, Blaine Walker, is a small town. And in small towns—”

  “People talk.”

  “Exactly.” She had him on the threshold but couldn’t seem to budge him any farther.

  “I’m going to learn what makes you tick, Rebecca Ferguson, and you’re going to get to know me.”

  “It’s that important to you, huh?”

  A light gleamed in his eyes. She swallowed hard. His gaze made her nervous, but the good kind of nervous that tempted her to pull him into the kitchen.

  “Good night, Rebecca.”

  Before she could gauge his intention, he planted a feather-light kiss on her lips and then he was gone.