Wild Wolf Claiming Read online

  “Um, hi,” she whispered, the huskiness of her voice sliding over his skin like a sensual touch.

  “Hi,” he rasped, still clenching his fists to keep himself from grabbing her and pulling her closer.

  “I’m sorry about the wait,” she said in a rush, all breathless and beautifully flushed. “It’s, um, kinda crazy in here tonight. What c-can I get you to drink?”

  You, he thought, rubbing his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He’d never done it before, but he wanted to sip from Skye Hewitt’s beautiful body. Wanted to lay her down, push her legs wide and lick his way inside her. Penetrate her pink, drenched sex with his tongue, fucking her with it until she came against his face in a hot, sweet rush. And then he wanted to drink from her, savoring her orgasm as he swallowed her down, drop by decadent drop.

  As if she could read his carnal thoughts on his face, she blushed a deeper shade of pink, and he had to fight back the low, excited growl that was rumbling deep inside him. They were both eating the other up with quick, heated glances. An appreciative visual sweep over her thick-lashed eyes, while she took in the corded length of his throat, his Adam’s apple moving beneath his skin as he gave a hard swallow. The sounds of the busy diner faded away as she took in the bold shape of his nose and the angle of his stubble-covered jaw, his own gaze hungrily locked on her pink, bee-stung lips. She had the kind of mouth that women paid crazy amounts of money to try to replicate, but never actually looked real unless it was.

  It all took less than a handful of seconds, and yet, each moment in time felt like a piece of sun-warmed taffy being stretched out as long as it’d go.

  It was maddening to think that if she hadn’t been noticed by some evil asshole intent on making her a part of his unwilling harem, Elliot might have never found her. The idea of never coming face-to-face with her made his insides churn with dread, and yet...wasn’t that wrong, seeing as how he was here because she was in danger?

  Unless... Was she meant to catch the kidnapper’s eye all along, just so Elliot could walk into this greasy diner and find her? Was that how fate worked—one shitty circumstance for an amazing one? It seemed twisted and wrong to him, and he hated that her entire world was about to be turned upside down. But part of living with his past was to always be brutally honest with himself, and he knew there wasn’t a chance in hell that he would change the connection between them. Even if he had to give his life to get her out of this situation, he would take the deal, just for this opportunity to meet her. To be close to her.

  But, God, he hoped it didn’t play out like that. He wanted this moment with this woman, and then a thousand more. A lifetime of them, as they learned each other and grew together. And maybe, just maybe, he would be lucky enough to one day earn her heart. He didn’t have the slightest idea how that could be possible, given...given everything that he’d done—but Christ, it would be sweet.

  Shifting from one foot to the other, she finally cleared her throat and gave him another shy smile. “So, um, do you know what you’d like?”

  You, deliciously naked and needy, desperate for me to please you, he thought, while his wolf rumbled in approval, completely on board with that idea. But to Skye, he simply asked, “What do you recommend?”

  “You look like you’re a pretty healthy eater.” She tilted her head a bit to the side, a teasing look in her eyes as she added, “But even though they’re a far cry from nutritious, our chocolate milk shakes are to die for.”

  Elliot watched her flick a quick look at his dimple as he smiled. “Then definitely bring me one of those.”

  She bit her lip and lifted her brows, big green eyes full of warmth and humor. “The cold should also feel pretty good on your throat.”

  He smirked as he slowly shook his head. “You’ll never let me forget that, will you?”

  “That I saved your life?” she asked with a cheeky grin, before softly laughing. “Heck no. It’s not every day that I get to feel like a hero.”

  Thinking she was completely charming, even if she was teasing him, Elliot lowered his voice and leaned forward on the table with his arms crossed. He’d slipped his jacket off when he’d come inside, and he couldn’t help but notice that her attention had shifted to his biceps as they pressed against his black Henley. Lowering his voice, he said, “I guess I should say thank you, then. You know, for saving my life and all.”

  She brought her beautiful gaze back to his, and smiled again. “Anytime.”

  “Wanna share my milk shake with me?” he asked, enjoying the way his head went a little fuzzy as he pulled in another deep breath of her incredible scent. With Skye Hewitt around, he wouldn’t ever need alcohol to get a buzz. He could just bury his face in the tender curve of her shoulder and breathe her in, so warm and sweet and delicious.

  She blinked a few times at his question, and then blushed a little brighter. “Um, that would be lovely, but we’re too busy for me to take a break right now.”

  “Maybe later, then,” he murmured, knowing damn well that he was going to have to sit her down and explain why he was there before too long. Max could be back with Vivian at any moment, and it was probably best if he talked to Skye before they arrived.

  Softly, she asked, “Do you want anything to go with the shake?”

  “A bacon cheeseburger and fries?”

  “Good choice.” Then with another shy smile on her lips, she turned and headed back to the kitchen service window, where she pinned his order to one of the silver clamps. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder, and it looked like she gave a small laugh when she caught him staring right at her. Her blush bloomed brighter, and then her attention was drawn away by one of the other waitresses who came up and started talking with her. Elliot kept a careful eye on them, relaxing only when it became obvious that Skye and this woman were friends, unlike the scrawny bitch who had been so rude about her.

  When a plate of potato skins was suddenly set in the window, Skye grabbed it and carried the order over to one of the tables that were closest to the door. Though Elliot was dimly aware of the chime that signaled the door being opened, he didn’t pay any attention to whoever was coming inside. He was too preoccupied with watching Skye share a laugh with an elderly man at another table, before putting her arms around the old guy’s shoulders and giving him a gentle squeeze.

  The girl...yeah, she was something else. Watching her, he wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that half the people there came in simply to be around her, and his mouth had just started to twitch with another appreciative smile when reality came crashing into the moment with the blunt force of a hammer.

  “I want everyone to fucking stay where they are!” a harsh male voice suddenly shouted from near the entrance, causing the entire diner to fall silent in fear. “Just dump your cash on your tables and keep your mouths shut!”

  Son. Of. A. Bitch! Elliot blinked as he shifted around a little more in his seat, taking in the asshole standing by the hostess’s station with a deadly, narrowed gaze. Damn! He’d been so drunk on Skye, he hadn’t been paying proper attention to his surroundings, which was unacceptable. He’d been doing this job for too long to let some jacked-up junkie in need of his next fix sneak up on him.

  “I mean it!” the guy yelled, waving his gun around with a trembling hand. “Any of you even think of giving me any shit, and I will pull this trigger!”

  Sliding out of the booth and to his feet, Elliot held up his hands as he took a step toward the pale, twitchy male whose angular face had probably been handsome before it’d been ravaged by drug abuse and hard living. “You don’t want to do this,” he said as calmly as possible. “Trust me. Your best option is to just turn around and get the hell out of here.”

  “Not a step closer,” the robber snarled, suddenly reaching out and snagging Skye’s upper arm. She cried out as he yanked her against him, while keeping the gun pointed at Elliot.

  “Skye, look at me,” Elliot demanded, his low voice vibrating with rage. It took everything within him n
ot to release his fangs and claws in front of the frightened humans and tear this dude’s throat out. But one of the founding tenets of his pack was that their species never be revealed to the masses—ever—under any circumstances.

  “Shut up!” the guy yelled, but Elliot ignored him.

  “Will you trust me and do what I say?” he asked her, flicking his attention back and forth between the junkie’s wild gaze and her frightened one.

  “Why?” she mouthed, and he knew she was asking him why she should give him her trust. Why he was helping her.

  “Because I know how to handle these types of situations.”

  “Are you a cop?” the robber shouted, wrapping his arm around Skye’s throat. She reflexively reached up and curled her hands around the guy’s forearm, the panicked look on her face making Elliot ache.

  He shook his head in response to the asshole’s question, but kept his sharp gaze locked tight on Skye. Then, for the second time, he asked, “Will you trust me and do what I say, baby?”

  Her eyes went wide at the husky endearment, and he kept his focus on her as he directed his next words to the bastard trying to use her as a human shield. “You so much as cause her even one second of pain, man, and you’re going to be dealing with me,” he warned. “And you really don’t want that.”

  “Fuck you!” the guy spat.

  Elliot felt his wolf seething just beneath his surface, and knew he needed to end this quickly. Any hope he’d had that the idiot would rethink his plan and run was gone, and now his time was up. “Wrong answer,” he scraped out in a voice that was more animal than man, his hard gaze still locked tight with Skye’s. “The instant I get my hands on him,” he told her, “you drop and crawl away.”

  “Are you fucking crazy? I swear I’ll shoot you, you stup—” was all the robber got out, before Elliot went into action. He was not only stronger than a human male, he was faster than one. It took him no more than a second to charge the asshole, knocking the gun out of his shaking hand and squeezing the wrist of the arm he’d wrapped around Skye so strongly he felt the bones crack. The asshole screamed as Elliot jerked his arm up with enough power that it dislocated his shoulder, allowing Skye to drop away from him and quickly crawl across the floor, exactly like Elliot had told her to do. Then he pulled back his free arm and knocked the bastard out with a single punch.

  “Yes!” the older woman working the hostess’s station shouted, coming around the podium and kicking the junkie in his ribs with the pointed toe of her shoe. “And you stay down, you slimy jerk!”

  All of a sudden, a great roar of cheers exploded across the diner, and Elliot found himself being hugged by one human after another. The mother of the family Skye had been waiting on even planted a kiss on his cheek before bursting into tears of relief that her children and husband were safe. It was a surreal moment, and all he wanted was to find Skye and get the hell out of there before someone called the cops and he ended up having to deal with the local PD.

  He searched the crowd for her, worried when he couldn’t spot her, a raw sound on his lips when he finally caught sight of her coming through the swinging door that led to the kitchen. For a brief moment, he wondered what she’d been doing back there. Then he forgot all about the question as their gazes locked, the grateful look on her face making him feel like he’d just saved the friggin’ world.

  He began making his way through the crush toward her, and she did the same. “Are you all right?” he asked, the moment they reached each other. The question felt heavy on his tongue, his arms aching with the need to pull her close and wrap her up tight against him. But he hadn’t earned the right to touch her yet, and he didn’t want to frighten her.

  “I’m fine, thanks to you,” she said with a soft smile. “That...what you did...it was amazing.”

  “You don’t need to thank me.” Not for protecting you, baby. It’s what I was born for. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m good.” She stepped a little closer to him, the difference in their heights making her have to tilt her head back a bit to see his face. “I just... I can’t believe you came at him like that when he had a gun.”

  “He wasn’t going to shoot anyone.” And if he had, Elliot would have survived the shot. As a Lycan, it was damn difficult to kill him with a bullet. “I was more worried about you. There was no way I was letting him keep his hands on you a second longer.”

  She blinked up at him, and he thought, Because you’re mine, doing his best to appear like a normal guy so he didn’t scare the hell out of her. But inside, his wolf was seething with fury, prowling like a caged beast, with only one thought churning through its mind:

  No matter what it takes, we protect what’s ours...

  Chapter 3

  Skye Hewitt stared up at the gorgeous, dark-eyed stranger standing in front of her, and couldn’t help but remember how he’d called her “baby” when the robber had been using her as a human shield. She’d been so stunned by how hearing that word on his lips—in reference to her—had made her feel, she hadn’t been able to find the words to answer him to save her life. Literally. Lucky for her, though, he’d trusted her to do as he’d said anyway.

  Now, with another one of those sexy, kind of crooked smiles that he’d given her earlier curving his lips, he shook off the visceral tension that seemed to be coiling around him, and said, “I guess we haven’t really been introduced yet, have we? I’m Elliot Connors.”

  Elliot...mmm. The sexy name fit him, because...like, seriously. This guy was by far the sexiest freaking thing she’d ever seen. Tall and lean and muscled in that way that didn’t come from being a gym rat. No, this guy looked like a soldier. Someone who did brave, dangerous things for a living, and he had the body of a god to show for it.

  It no doubt made her a hussy, but she couldn’t stop herself from imagining what he would look like without the black Henley, worn jeans and kick-ass black boots. Just thinking about him in the buff, with all that dark golden skin on display, stretched tight over rippling slabs of muscle and masculine cords of sinew, had her pulse roaring in her ears, while lust poured so thickly through her veins it was probably written all over her face.

  Heck, from the way he was looking at her, it had to be. Because he definitely looked like he was trying to figure out what she was thinking.

  Then she realized that he was still waiting for her full name, and she laughed as she shook her head at herself. “I’m Skye. Skye Hewitt.”

  “It’s lovely to meet you, Skye.”

  “You, too, Elliot.”

  He grinned in a way that had his dimple showing again, and she was pretty sure her ovaries spontaneously combusted. Holy freaking cow, was he hot. And nice. And, oh...not to mention brave as hell, going up against that guy the way he’d done. It was like he hadn’t even cared that the junkie had been pointing a gun at him. He’d only seemed to be worried about her, and that little fact was dangerously close to melting her into such a huge, embarrassing puddle of I’m crushing on him so bad and seriously want to have his babies it wasn’t even funny.

  When she heard the sirens in the distance, she cleared her throat a little, just in case her voice came out all rough with lust, and told him, “I called the cops as soon as I got away from him. That’s what I was doing in the kitchen.”

  She could have sworn she heard him mutter “Shit” under his breath, but when she looked up from his broad chest to his face again, he didn’t look angry or upset. She honestly didn’t know what to make of him, her emotions all in a jumble where he was concerned. Desire, gratitude, awe and no small amount of disbelief. The guy could have any freaking woman he wanted, and yet, he was looking at her as if he wanted to pull her into his powerful arms and kiss the ever-loving hell out of her.

  “Come on,” he said, jerking his chin toward the door. “Let’s go outside and talk to them where it won’t be so loud.”

  Skye went and grabbed her purse and coat from the break room, then had a quick chat with her manager. When she
came back and joined Elliot near the booth where he’d been sitting before all the madness had started, she saw that he’d pulled on a black jacket that looked incredibly good on him. He gestured for her to take the lead, and she purposefully didn’t look at the jerk-off that was still passed out on the floor, a couple of the younger male customers keeping watch over him until the cops arrived. Elliot opened the door for her, then followed her outside, the chilly December air making her huddle deeper into her coat. They stood together on the sidewalk in front of one of the diner’s massive windows, and she was about to ask him what he was doing in town, curious about what had brought him to a place like Charity, his accent making it clear he wasn’t a local, when the first cop car pulled up in front of them, parking at the curb on the far side of the road.

  This time, she was the one who muttered “Shit” when she caught sight of the stocky, good-looking policeman climbing out the passenger-side door. She blinked as he made his way toward them with an arrogant stride, hoping her vision might clear and the guy would suddenly morph into someone she didn’t want to kick in the balls every time she ran into him. But no such luck.

  This cocky jerk wasn’t just a cop. No, coming straight toward them was one Officer Derek Carlton—her freaking ex-boyfriend from hell!

  At that moment, Skye kind of wished there was a hole in the ground that could just conveniently swallow her up. The last thing in the world she wanted to do was talk to Derek, and especially not in front of Elliot.

  Please, God, don’t let him be an ass. If he embarrasses me, I’m going to kill him. Or castrate him.

  Seriously, what next tonight? Maybe it would start raining a little fire and brimstone. Or a tornado would sweep through the center of town. Who knew? They might even be attacked by a deranged, ax-wielding Santa. That certainly seemed to be where her luck was headed.