N. Walters - Isaiah's Haven

“I’m fine.” She offered him a smile, but his blue eyes, so much like her own, still looked concerned. “I didn’t sleep well last night,” she offered, hoping he’d leave it at that.

“I’m not surprised.” His gaze went to the front windows and he peered out at the busy street. “We’re all a little tense and will be until we’re sure this Striker guy is gone for good.” He stopped behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, his fingers digging at the knot of muscles there.

She groaned as he worked on a particularly tense spot. “I don’t think we’ve seen the last of him.” That was what had kept her awake most of the night. She vacillated between never wanting to see him again and desperately wanting to see him. It was no wonder she couldn’t sleep. Her thoughts had circled round and round until she’d wanted to scream in frustration.

Of course, the arousal heating her skin, making her body pulse and tingle, hadn’t helped either. She stepped away from her son, not wanting him to become aware of the heat coursing through her body.

His gaze narrowed, but he thankfully said nothing.

“It was quiet last night.” She picked up the clipboard and held it in front of her breasts. She should have worn a sweater instead of a blouse. Her nipples were plainly showing through her bra and the thin material.

“Yeah.” Benjamin raked his fingers through his shoulder-length black hair.

He kept it tied back with a leather cord when he was working, but otherwise he let it flow free. It was straight like hers. Both her boys took after her more than their father. That had always been a sore spot for Maxwell.

“Listen, Mom,” he began. He stopped and paused, glancing out the window again. “I know this time of year is hard for you.”

Oh, God. The last thing she wanted to talk about with her son was the fact she was going into heat. But she’d always prided herself on being honest and straightforward with them. It was a biological fact of their species. And there were two women in this pack so they needed to be aware of it. But still.

Thankfully, Neema had Teague to help her get through it when it was her time. Heck, they enjoyed it. And why wouldn’t they? They loved one another. She’d never had that. Never known what it was like to be with a male who loved her. Maxwell had wanted her. But he hadn’t loved her. Nor had she loved him. That made all the difference.

Benjamin was waiting and looking more than a little disconcerted. She laughed to try to ease his tension. “That’s an understatement,” she answered wryly. As she hoped, he grinned and some of the discomfort left him.

“It’s a fact of life and we’ve dealt with it before,” she reminded him.

“Not with an eligible male wolf sniffing around.”

Meredith tensed and glared at her son. “So that’s what this is all about. You’re afraid I’ll let my hormones rule my judgment.”

He shook his head. “No. Yes. No.”

She straightened her shoulders and met her son’s gaze head on. “Which is it?”

“I don’t know,” he blurted out. “I love you and I’m worried. You didn’t see the way that guy was looking at you last night.”

What was left unsaid was the way she’d looked right back at Isaiah. Her sons were very intelligent, astute men. And so were the rest of the pack. There could have been no mistaking the spike in her arousal around Isaiah.

“I’ll handle it.” She was alpha. It was her job to handle the tough situations. She’d been doing it for years.

Benjamin brushed a lock of hair over her shoulder and offered her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I hope so.”

He plucked the clipboard from her hands. “Let me finish that. Why don’t you go and take a nap. Otherwise you’re going to be beat by the end of tonight.”

Meredith didn’t argue with him. She skirted past the tables with the chairs piled on top, ignored the clang of pots and pans coming from the kitchen, and hurried by the office where Kevin was hard at work.

Her apartment, which was usually her haven, seemed stifling today. She longed to shift, to run. But that was impossible, especially now with the pack on high-alert.

Still, she could shift. She hurried into her bedroom and kicked off her shoes. Slipping out of her clothing, she tossed them onto the chair in the corner. She closed her eyes and embraced her female wolf.

Her skin rippled and tingled and she fell forward, her hands touching the floor. Bones cracked as her limbs reformed. Her jaw elongated as black hair grew from her skin, covering her body in a thick pelt.

Meredith glanced into her floor-length mirror, studying the large black wolf that stared back. She was still in there, but the wolf, with her instinct to run, was at the forefront. It took all her control to keep the wolf from racing to the front door and clawing at it until she was free.

The bed beckoned, but she couldn’t bear the thought of lying there. Not where she’d spent the night thinking of him . Padding out to the kitchen, she lay in a beam of sunshine, soaking up the warmth. Exhaustion beat at her and she closed her eyes, curling her body until she was comfortable.

The wolf’s thoughts pushed her own to the background, allowing her to focus solely on the physical. The wolf was physically aroused, felt the call, the lure of the male werewolf she’d met last night. But he wasn’t here now. Eventually, she settled enough to drop into a light doze.

Her last thought before she gave into sleep was that she hadn’t seen the last of Isaiah Striker.

Isaiah walked into Haven at a little past eleven o’clock that night. He’d fought with himself for hours, forming one argument after another as to why he should stay away. None of them mattered. He needed to see Meredith.

And there she was. As though she sensed his presence, she turned her head away from the couple she was talking to and their eyes met. He’d thought that last night was an anomaly. That seeing her again wouldn’t feel like taking a punch to the heart and a roundhouse kick to the gut. He was wrong.

If anything, the impact was even more striking, her appeal even more pronounced. Like last night, she was wearing a slinky, form-fitting dress. This one was silver and was slit all the way to the top of her thigh on the right side, allowing him a glimpse of her long, shapely leg as she sauntered across the room. Her movements were unhurried. Graceful.

Her hair was up in some kind of twist and anchored at the back of her head. Isaiah’s fingers itched to tug away the clips holding it and watch her glorious locks cascade down around her.

Her eyes seemed darker and more mysterious. Probably a trick of the lighting, but effective nonetheless. Long, thick lashes framed them, brushing against her high cheekbones when she blinked. Her lips were stained a dark burgundy color that highlighted their sensual shape. But there was no welcoming smile to be found.

All the fatigue, all the aggravations of the day washed away as adrenaline coursed through his veins, pumping up his muscles and sending much needed energy racing through his body. He felt alive with anticipation.

Her gaze flicked over his shoulder and he knew he was about to get some unwanted company.

“You were told not to come back.”

Isaiah turned and faced Hank. Waves of aggression rolled off him. The younger male had been away from his post when he’d arrived. It was wishful thinking to imagine he’d go unnoticed for long, not with them watching for him.

“I didn’t listen.” He started to give Hank his back, to let the other werewolf know he didn’t view him as a threat. A low growl rose up from the younger man.

“Control yourself,” Meredith hissed, placing her hand on Hank’s arm. “The last thing we need is one of you out of control.” She included him in her scowl, but Isaiah knew she wasn’t worried about him losing it, but the younger male.