Kristal Hollis - Awakened By The Wolf

Relieved, Brice caught her around the waist and buried his face in the curve of her neck. He needed her scent as consolation to temper his arousal.

“I have to get dressed,” she finally said.

“Call in.” He tried to tug her back into bed with a promise to himself to behave if she’d stay.

“I’m not sick.” Bracing her knees against the mattress for leverage, she pulled free.

“I will be if you leave.” The thought of hours bereft of her scent and her company churned his stomach.

“Maybe you should call a doctor.” Cassie hesitated. “Or do you have vets?”

“The pack physician,” he ground out, “is Doc Habersham, my dad’s best friend. I can’t call him or anyone else. I won’t risk getting thrown out of the territory before Granny comes home.”

“Figure something out. I’m not missing work.” Cassie pulled one of her uniforms from the closet. As far as Brice could tell, those were the only clothes she had unpacked.

He flopped onto the mattress. “Come see me on your break.”

“I won’t have time. I have to reschedule my car service because you ate my pie.”

Brice’s tongue swept his lips. “What does one have to do with the other?”

“It’s a barter with Rafe. He changes the oil in the clunker in exchange for a fresh-baked pie.”

“I can’t blame him. Granny’s pies are delicious.”

“Your grandmother doesn’t bake.” Cassie bent over to pick up her shoes, and the bottom of her shorts rode up her legs to give him a glimpse of her panties.

He swallowed a groan. “Granny made pies for me every time I came home from college.”

Shaking her head, Cassie turned toward him, a corner of her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

“You made them?” Brice rose on his elbows. “For me?”

“Like I said—” Cassie avoided his gaze “—your grandmother doesn’t bake.”

“Damn, Sunshine. Your pies are the best.” One more reason he should have detached himself from Cassie. Sex and food were a wolfan male’s catnip.

“Thanks. I use my mother’s recipes.” Cassie’s eyes misted. She flinched and hurried toward the bedroom door.

“I’m not sorry I ate the pie, but I’ll pay for the oil change and anything else you need.” It would be easy enough to transfer money from one of his accounts to hers.

She stopped, a disquiet fierceness in her eyes. “I don’t want your money. I may not have much, but what I do have, I’ve earned.”

She walked out, her spine and shoulders stiff.

Well, he’d unintentionally struck a nerve.

Brice sank into the mattress. He hadn’t meant to upset her, but if he followed her down the hallway to apologize, he’d only complicate his situation. No matter what his errant instinct demanded, he couldn’t involve himself in Cassie’s life.

No matter how damn good she smelled.

Chapter 9

The old clunker needed five cranks before it started. Cassie backed the car out of the driveway and eased down the dirt road, headlights slicing through the darkness. The silent woods had never seemed more eerie or sinister. Of course, she blamed her knowledge that werewolves did exist on the change in her perception.

She glanced at the passenger seat Brice had reclined so far that it almost touched the backseat. If only last night had been a dream, or if he hadn’t explained that the members of the Walker’s Run Cooperative were really his entire pack, she wouldn’t have been so nervous.

Brice insisted the wolf people were just as they appeared—honest, hardworking folks. The co-op provided housing and medical care for its members, paid for their college educations and helped them establish businesses. In turn, its members tithed 30 percent of their salaries or gross profits back to the co-op.

If members became unemployed or if their businesses failed, the co-op helped them get back on their feet. They had no need for unemployment checks or welfare. This pack took care of its own.

In contrast, Cassie’s life lacked supportive connections. Imogene was gone, and Cassie could count on one finger the number of friends she’d had in her twenty-four years. A little girl named Grace had been her constant companion in the second grade, and Cassie had loved her like a sister.

One summer night, Imogene had packed Cassie and their few belongings in the car and left town. Once they settled in a new place, Imogene refused to let Cassie contact Grace. Imogene’s philosophy had been never to look back. Only forward. That way, regret wouldn’t drag her down.

Devastated by the constant upheaval, Cassie stopped making friends because no matter how many times her mother announced that was their last move, it never was. Until Imogene got sick and died, and left Cassie all alone.

She rubbed her neck to dispel the sorrow that fastened around her throat. Brice had an entire pack who cared for him. The idea they’d banished him couldn’t be more absurd. As far as Cassie could tell, his parents loved him, and so did everyone else. Didn’t he realize how precious it was to have the support of so many people?

She backed the car into the far corner of the resort parking lot. In case the clunker needed a jump start, it helped not to have her car blocked in on all sides.

Walking up to the giant lodge doors, Cassie gobbled a granola bar. More to settle her nerves than her hunger. After all, she lived and worked among wolves clothed in human skins. Her heart gave a little flutter, and she suffered a brief moment of hilarity. Her hysterical laugh echoed through the empty lobby.

From his post behind the registration counter, Shane McQuarrie looked up from his textbook. “Something funny?”

“No.” The existence of werewolves wasn’t a laughing matter.

Wahya, she corrected herself. Maybe if she stopped thinking of them as werewolves and saw them as people, she’d feel less nervous.

He closed his book and slid off his stool. He stretched, the same way he did every morning when she arrived to relieve him. He bent over to stuff the book into his backpack. His khaki pants molded around his thighs.

He wasn’t quite as tall or as broad as Brice, but they shared a certain similarity in their movements. Quiet. Self-assured. Quick. One second she was assessing Shane from the back. The next he loomed in front of her, tall and pumped.

He stepped close. Too close. “Were you staring at my ass?”

“No.” She snatched open the cabinet beneath the counter and stashed her purse. “Why?”

Passing behind her, Shane gave Cassie a sociable bump. “Just hoping. Maybe then I could convince you to go out with me.”

“You’re too young.” Cassie logged into her computer time card.

“I’m nineteen.” He circled around the registration desk and leaned on the counter.

“I repeat, too young.”

A flirtatious gleam lit his smoky-gray eyes. “Come on. Give me a chance. We’ll have fun. I promise.”

“I don’t want fun. I want stability.” Cassie pulled up a list of the morning’s expected checkouts.

“The two don’t have to be mutually exclusive.” Shane’s grin betrayed far too much interest in her.

Cassie didn’t feel any attraction toward Shane. Oh, she enjoyed his company whenever they worked together, and he was a sweet guy. A different time, a different place and maybe he could’ve been the little brother she never had.

Curious, she asked, “Are you a member of the Walker’s Run Co-op?”

“Naw.” His amicable expression didn’t change. Still, something in the way his pupils flickered seemed off. “Maybe someday.”

Abigail Walker emerged from the corridor leading to the Walkers’ private residence. Her dark green Chanel suit complemented her golden complexion and deepened the mossy color of her eyes. She smoothed her tight chignon of coal-black hair, looking every bit the regal lady of the manor.