Молли Харпер - The Art of Seducing a Naked Werewolf

As long as Nick was close to me, he’d be in some form of danger.

I thought I could regulate that paranoia. I thought I could handle the constant anxiety. Hell, when I found out that my brother had abandoned Mo in an effort to protect her, I tracked him down, called him a lot of anatomically detailed names, and threatened to rip his head off. But now, the idea of Nick loving me somehow getting him killed had me throwing up in a mossy bank near the tree line. This was definitely a case of “it’s different because it’s me.”

I couldn’t wait and think this through. I had to stop it now. I had to get Nick to leave now. If I let it go on any longer, it would hurt that much worse. Sure, I was basically kissing my life good-bye. No babies. No Nick. No sex. But at least he would be alive. I stumbled toward the woods, toward Grundy, not bothering to tear off my clothes so I could transform. I burst into my wolf state, leaving a trail of scraps in my wake. I ran faster than my four paws had ever carried me, following Nick’s scent across the miles that protected him from my crazy-ass life. I found him on his couch, typing on his laptop.

He grinned at me as I came through the door, and I felt as if I was going to throw up again. He set aside his work and opened his arms to me. “Hey, are you OK? No more shorthand messages without follow-up; they make me nervous.” When I didn’t dive into his embrace as usual, his brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

“Look, Nick,” I said, smiling at him and giving my best “bad news” face. “This whole thing has been a lot of fun. But I think you’re taking all this way too seriously. It’s time for you to move on.”

Nick’s face flushed, then went bone white. “What?”

I sighed, trying to seem exasperated. “It’s time for you to find some other pack to pester. I mean, we had some good times, but I think we both knew this wouldn’t work out in the long run.”

“But we’re mated now, you said—”

“I made it up!” I said, adding a sarcastic little laugh for good measure. “Like human girls who tell the guys who take them home from bars that they ‘never do this sort of thing.’ Weres feed that whole ‘mated for life’ line to humans all the time. It makes you feel special.”

He was staring me down, searching my face for some sign of the lie. And I was this close to folding. Fortunately, Friday-night card games with Pops and Samson had given me a pretty steady poker face. I gritted my teeth and stared right back. Nick’s eyes narrowed. My lips tightened into a thin little line. And suddenly, he was grinning like a loon.

That I had not expected.

“You’re pulling a Lassie on me, aren’t you?” he crowed, laughing.

Now my exasperation was genuine. “What?”

“You’re pulling a Lassie on me,” he said again. “It’s like some old episode of Lassie when Timmy thinks Lassie’s about to be taken away and shot by some old mean farmer for eating chickens. Timmy tells Lassie he hates her and throws rocks at her so she’ll run away.”

“Are you high right now?” I demanded.

“You’re trying to hurt me so I’ll leave. You want to get me out of the way so . . . what, so I won’t get hurt? What’s going on, Maggie? Why are you scared?”

“I’m not scared. I want you to leave because I want you out of my face,” I shot back.

“Not true. You love me.”

“No, I don’t.”

I scowled as his little dimples winked at me, and he said, “Can’t live without me.”

“I don’t like to harp on this, but you do know I’m capable of killing you, right?”

“I think I should move in with you.”

“Oh, my God, you’re such a pain in the ass,” I grumbled.

“A pain in the ass that you’re madly in love with,” he said.

I gave him my best death glare. He gave me that damn smile again, and I folded like a frigging accordion. I groaned as he wrapped his arm around me.

“Come on, baby, tell me what has you so wound up,” he whispered. “You’re Maggie Fucking Graham. You’re not afraid of anything.”

“Not true,” I admitted, tapping my forehead against his collarbone. “Losing you scares the crap out of me.”

“Not going to happen.”

“Samson was shot today,” I murmured into his shirt. “He’s going to be OK, but we couldn’t find who did it. And of course, Cooper came running, bringing Mo and the baby with him. And I started thinking about how stupid that was, because he could be bringing his family right into the whirlwind. I’m not any better than he is. I’m worse, because I want you close to me. And I can’t protect you. I can try, but nothing I do can guarantee that you’ll be safe. I can’t keep anything from happening to you. It would be so much better for you to get as far away from me as you can. “

“Not going to happen,” he said.

“I know,” I grumbled. “Damn it. It was worth a shot.” I looked up at him, my eyes pricking hotly. “I don’t want anybody else. I can’t be with anyone else.” He pulled me close, and I murmured into his neck, “I love you.”

“Who was wrong?” he asked.

“I was wrong.” I sighed.

He poked my shoulder. “Who was right?”

“Don’t push it.”

“I’m not leaving you,” he told me. “I don’t care what you try to do to push me away. I don’t care what comes along. I’m here. If you think I’m going to back down now, you’re crazy.”

“So, you’re going to love me out of spite?”

“Yes.”

I sighed. “Ah, spite, the stuff of fairy tales.”

INSTEAD OF ME DRIVING Nick away, he ended up driving me back home, with a truckload of his stuff. He was moving in with Samson, he said, until Samson was back on his feet and we could build a house between Pops’s place and Mom’s. I didn’t even have to ask; he just knew that was what he needed to do. He said he would start calling construction companies as soon as possible, so we could break ground when it thawed.

Oh, and apparently, we were getting married that summer.

Nick didn’t get down on one knee, but he pulled me into his lap and looped a little sapphire pendant around my neck. He reiterated his whole “not going anywhere” plan and told me that if I ever tried to protect him by sending him away again, I would have two fights on my hands—from the perceived danger and from Nick.

“I can’t say we’re always going to be deliriously happy,” he said as his fingers worked the chain’s catch at the nape of my neck. “But we’ll be together, and that’s a lot more than some people have. So, Margaret Faith Graham”—he stopped when I growled at the mention of my middle name—“cut it out, your mom told me—would you please stop being so stubborn and agree to marry the man who will love you until the day he dies?”

“Yes,” I mumbled, fingering the pretty blue stone. I liked the way it sparkled, a quiet sort of shine that seemed to give off deeper flashes of cobalt within. He could have given me the Hope Diamond, and I wouldn’t have been happier. “I will stop jerking you around. It’s not fair to you.”

“And?” he prompted, cupping his hand to his ear.

“Yes, I will marry you.” I sighed, slipping my arms around his neck. Suddenly, I shifted back and poked him in the chest. “But I’m not wearing a froufrou princess dress.”

His eyebrows quirked, and he tilted his head. “I’d be fine with what you’re wearing right now.”

I glanced down at my naked body. “Nice.”

When we got home and told my family our somewhat bizarre proposal tale—minus the nudity—Mo suggested listening to my grand plans in my head to make sure they make sense before I act. I suggested she take a long walk off the nearest cliff. Then, of course, when she and Mom realized we had about five months to plan a wedding, the squealing began.