Rhyannon Byrd - Dark Wolf Running

She coughed to clear her throat, then shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s just that you’re not usually this tense, Pall. You look ready to crack.”

He shrugged, not knowing what to say.

“So what’s going on with you two?” she asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

“Don’t know.” He rubbed his jaw as he glanced at the bottle of whiskey that sat on the sideboard against the far wall. Rolling his shoulder in a restless gesture, he kept his voice low as he said, “I want her. But I’m worried about her, too. So I’ll put the other on the back burner for the time being and help her deal with whatever’s going on.”

“You want her how?” Carla questioned.

He arched a brow. “How do you think?” His tone was dry.

Not one to mince words, his partner asked, “You’re just looking for sex?”

Wyatt scowled. “Do we really need to have this conversation? Because not to sound juvenile or anything, but it’s kinda freaking me out, seeing as how you’re one of the closest things to family I still have. And I sure as hell wouldn’t talk about my sex life with my sister, if I had one.”

“Yeah, I get that. And I’m sorry about the ick factor. You know I love you—but I like Elise, too.” A notch started to form between her pale brows, just visible beneath the edge of her bangs. “I don’t want to see her get hurt if you’re only looking to get laid.”

“I’m not going to break her heart,” he muttered, shoving a hand back through his hair in a telling act of frustration. “Hell, a woman like her would never fall for a guy like me in the first place. But it doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun together.”

The notch on her forehead got deeper. “What do you mean by ‘a guy like me’? What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” he grunted. “Just drop it.”

She didn’t respond right away. She just sat there staring at him from the edge of her seat, studying him, making him feel like a bug pinned down under a microscope. He didn’t care for the feeling. And now he really wanted that damn drink. Heading over to the sideboard, he poured more than a little whiskey into a glass, then walked back and took a seat on the sofa.

“Gee, thanks for offering me one, too,” she drawled wryly. “And you know what I think? I think you’re full of bullshit.” He started to argue, but she cut him off. “And you’re blind if you don’t think that Elise is interested in you. Like really interested. Yeah, she’s skittish. She has good reason to be. But when you’re not looking at her, she’s watching you. She can’t keep her eyes off you.”

A wave of heat swept through his insides, and it didn’t have a damn thing to do with the mouthful of whiskey he’d just downed.

“Whoa!” Carla pressed a hand to her chest and gaped at him, really playing up the drama. “Did you just smile so big your dimples flashed? Holy shit!”

“Lay off,” he groaned, closing his eyes as he slumped down and dropped his head against the back of the sofa. But he couldn’t stop his lips from twitching.

“Man, and I didn’t even have my camera to document this momentous event. This is a tragedy of, like, epic proportions. I haven’t seen a genuine, full-fledged smile out of you in months!”

He cracked one eye open to glare at the obnoxious little imp. “Are you going to keep giving me shit all night?”

“Probably,” she admitted with a smirk.

Cursing something foul under his breath, he tossed back another hefty drink of his whiskey, clenching his teeth as it burned his throat.

“Whoa,” she said again, only this time she wasn’t teasing. “Easy there, Pall. It wasn’t my intention to make you want to get shit-faced.”

“Yeah?” He snorted as he wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist, then dropped his head back again. “Then what exactly were you going for?”

She was silent for a moment, and then she took a deep breath and said, “Look, I know the reason why this partnership between us works. Yeah, we’re friends, and I would go to the line for you. But we get along so well because we don’t push. I know you have shit in your past, and you know I have shit in mine, but we never hound each other for the gritty details.”

Sitting up, he braced his elbows on his spread knees and stared at her over the square, rustic coffee table. “Then why are we even having this conversation?”

The look in her brown eyes was troubled. “Because for the first time since I met you, I think there’s a reason to.”

Swallowing the last of his whiskey, he said, “My past has nothing to do with the present, Reyes.”

A crooked smile touched her lips. “Come on, Pall. You’re too smart to actually believe that.”

“If we’re spilling blood here,” he muttered, setting his empty glass on the table, “why don’t you go first?”

Quietly, she said, “Because I’m not the one playing Russian roulette with a woman on the edge.”

The silence stretched out, both of them refusing to back down. He blew out a rough breath and finally said, “Look, I know you’re only trying to help. But stop. I don’t need it.” He moved to his feet. “And now it’s time to call it a night.”

Carla didn’t argue. But she gave him a knowing look that said she had his number and wasn’t letting this go.

Knowing there wasn’t a chance in hell he was going to get any sleep, Wyatt locked the door behind his irritating, if well-meaning, partner, then stretched out over the long sofa and grabbed the remote. He barely noticed what was playing on the TV as he clicked it on, too busy thinking that it was the strangest damn thing, how after a lifetime of being a werewolf, it’d taken a woman to truly awaken the savage, predatory animal inside him.

Not that he hadn’t already possessed a primal, predaceous side. You couldn’t do the job he did without one. But that primitive, possessive, animalistic part of his nature had never bled into his sexual relationships. Being a hunter, he was one of the best, the Lycan part of his soul as skillful a predator as there could be—and he put that talent to good use. But like Carla had insinuated, his past had shaped the fabric of his character, and he knew he approached sex differently than his fellow male Runners. While they struggled to master their more aggressive desires, he’d never worried about losing control with a woman when he had her beneath him. He’d seen what violence could do to a female at an early age, and he wanted no part of that. Instead, his sexual relationships had been, for lack of a better word, fun. Something he could walk away from easily, and never something that made him feel as if he were coming out of his fucking skin.

At least, that was how it’d always been for him before. Now, in some kind of ironic twist of fate, the one woman Wyatt needed to treat with tender restraint had awakened a side of him he’d never even known existed. A dark, savagely dominant side that wanted to conquer and possess. That wanted to take Elise Drake beneath his fevered body, drive himself into her with all the primal ferocity of his beast and make her writhe. Make her scream and shout from the searing, relentless burn of pleasure, until her cries were hoarse and her nails were raking down his back. Until she was as wild and as out of control as he felt every time he so much as thought about her.

And now you need to cool it, you idiot, before you start howling like a sex-crazed maniac and end up scaring the hell out of her.

Cursing under his breath, Wyatt turned the volume on the TV up a little, but he still wasn’t really watching the sitcom that was on, too focused on the redhead showering in his guest room. He’d heard the rattle of the pipes start while he’d been talking to Carla, and now he was in a world of hurt, thinking of Elise standing naked and wet beneath the steaming stream of water, her beautiful body slick and soft and in desperate need of comfort. A comfort he was more than willing to provide, if she would only give him the chance.