Wild Wolf Chasing Read online

  Her long hair moved over her shoulders as she shook her head. “No.”

  “Then you definitely don’t need one,” he told her, walking over to the room’s only window and moving the faded curtain aside a few inches to check the parking lot. The same three cars were parked there, along with their two trucks, the lights on the Christmas tree in the front office twinkling at a headache-inducing rate.

  “It’s not a bad idea,” she argued, still talking about arming herself. “You can’t stick around and protect me forever, Max.”

  “Just try me,” he muttered under his breath.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” Letting the curtain fall back into place, he finally took a moment to look around the room, thankful that even though it was decorated in a style from about fifty years ago, it at least looked clean. He’d have loved to take her someplace nicer, but the beauty of the motel was that it was well off the beaten path, so hopefully the men searching for her wouldn’t come across it.

  Slipping the Glock into the back of his jeans, he rolled his neck over his shoulders and fought back a grimace. His body ached from the fights, especially his left shoulder, which usually gave him hell, seeing as how it still bore the thick scars from the Lycan who’d bitten him nearly a decade ago. It seemed so odd that that single action had resulted in such life-altering consequences, but then maybe not so odd at all. People experienced things all the time that threw their world into turmoil, from car accidents to natural disasters to medical emergencies. They weren’t the kind of things you could prepare for or ever expect. They just hit you out of nowhere, and from that point on, your life was never the same.

  In Max’s case, that painful, skin-tearing bite had not only thrown him into a world of pain—he’d been thrown into a different world altogether. One where the strange noises in the night were so much more than his imagination or tall tales he’d grown up with on the bayou. A world in which creatures, like the Lycans, lived hidden among humanity, their existence a closely-guarded secret, except from their victims…or those humans who were drawn into their world through a variety of reasons, from love to a simple case of shitty luck.

  For Max, it had been both, seeing as how his sister had married a Lycan…and he’d been “turned” into one. And now Vivian Jackson had been pulled into it too. Because once you learned the things she’d learned that night, you could never unlearn or unsee or unknow them. You could never forget. They stayed with you for-fucking-ever, and he hated that for her as much as he’d hated it for himself.

  Looking over to where she stood beside the bed, he leaned back against the wall by the window and watched as she pulled her hair up into a high ponytail, the dark circles under her beautiful eyes telling him she was just as exhausted as he was. “Since I answered your question about the gun, will you explain why you didn’t call the cops tonight?”

  “You mean after what happened at the apartment?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest as she returned his steady gaze.

  “Yeah.”

  She shrugged. “Call it a family thing.”

  “Your mom doesn’t like the police?”

  She shook her head again as she frowned. “No, my dad. He had some weird ideas about things, law enforcement being one of them. And then later, when he was gone, I was always afraid they’d come and take me away.”

  “Was your mom abusive?” he asked, trying hard to sound calm, instead of snarling like an animal.

  “God, no. Nothing like that. But we…” She pulled in a deep breath, and then slowly let it out, her sweeping brows drawn into a thoughtful frown. “We had some hard times after he took off. And I was a child. I was afraid of a lot of things back then.”

  He pushed his hands into his front pockets, hating the idea of her being a frightened little girl. “I’m sorry, Viv. That had to be rough.”

  “Yeah, well, it was a long time ago.” She forced a small smile onto her beautiful lips, clearly ready to change the subject. “Are you hungry? It’s super early, but we could probably have something delivered.”

  “Naw, I’m okay. I had some junk food in my truck that’ll hold me over.”

  “How do you have a body like that and still eat junk food?” she asked with a soft laugh, reaching for the thin length of leather that hung around her neck and pulling what appeared to be a gold pendant over her head.

  He shook his head and grinned. “It’s one of the perks of being a Lycan. Our metabolisms are much faster than a human’s.”

  “Then you must be starving.”

  He was, but not for food. And since what he craved was nowhere near ready to crawl into bed with him, he figured it was a good time to change the subject himself. “That’s an unusual necklace,” he said, watching her rub her thumb over what he could now see was an ornate V.

  Her brows knitted again as she lowered her gaze to it. “Yeah. It’s odd, but I… I think my dad might have left it for me.”

  “You mentioned something, in one of your messages for Skye, about going back to your apartment for something of your mom’s. Some box that had your dad’s stuff in it.”

  “Yeah. The box is in my backpack. And this necklace is one of the things that was inside it.” She lowered her chin as she stared down at the pendant in her hand. “Weird, huh?”

  “It looks old.”

  “And it’s heavy. I think it might be solid gold, rather than just plated.”

  “A V for Vivian, huh?”

  “Who knows?” Her shoulder lifted in another tight shrug. “His name was Vincent, so maybe it was his. But I don’t remember ever seeing him wear it. And it doesn’t really look like men’s jewelry.” She set the necklace down on the spindly bedside table that held a small lamp, then ran her hands over her arms, looking more restless than cold.

  “You doing okay?”

  “I don’t know.” She exhaled a rough breath, crossing and uncrossing her arms again as she looked over at him. “I’m exhausted, but my body just keeps buzzing. Like I could swim a hundred laps or jump hurdles for hours on end. It doesn’t make any sense.”

  He cocked his head a bit to the side. “You’re probably just having an adrenaline crash. Not surprising, after what you’ve been through tonight.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.” She grabbed her backpack off the foot of the bed. “I’m, um, just going to grab a quick shower. I won’t be long.”

  Pushing away from the wall, he walked across the room and took a seat on the ratty sofa as she headed into the bathroom, the door closing behind her. Glancing up at the smoke detector on the ceiling, Max wondered how much shit she’d give him if he disconnected it and smoked a cigarette. Figuring he’d wait to ask her, in case she was someone who found the smell vile, he pulled his phone out as he heard the shower start and shot a quick text to Monroe, letting him know that he had Vivian and would be in touch soon. He didn’t call because he didn’t plan on going into any greater detail than what he’d just shared, seeing as how what was going on with Vivian wasn’t anyone’s business but hers.

  And ours, his wolf murmured.

  “Christ,” he muttered under his breath. “Don’t you ever sleep?”

  And miss all this? I’ll sleep when I’m dead.

  He grunted in response, too tired to carry on an annoying conversation at the moment, even with a voice in his head. Instead, he shot a text off to Elliot next, telling him that Vivian’s phone was broken, but she was with him and was okay. His gut cramped as he typed in the next part, which was nothing more than some bullshit about how he was going silent for a few days and would explain later. Then he tacked on for him not to worry, as if that were somehow going to make up for the fact that he was cutting off communication easier for his partner to swallow. But he didn’t know what else to do. Not when there was a strong chance that Elliot would see right through his bullshit and know something was up. The guy had always been able to read him like a book, and he’d rather look like a dick than have to ‘fess up to a life-mate connection tha
t he still hadn’t wrapped his head around.

  He finished the text off by telling Elliot that he would contact him again as soon as he could, and to watch their backs, warning him that the assholes coming after the girls were everywhere.

  You really think that pathetic pile of bullshit is going to work? his beast grumbled.

  “Whether it works or not, it’s all he’s getting.” With a scowl, he hit send, but the cell phone service was apparently crap in this area, because unlike the text he’d shot off to Monroe, this one failed to go through. Knowing the phone would keep trying to send the message until it was finally successful, Max slipped the phone back in his jacket pocket and leaned back, the ancient piece of furniture creaking beneath his weight as he rested his head against the top of the sofa and stared up at the water-stained ceiling.

  You know, you could just stop dicking around and tell him what she is.

  Voice low, he said, “Great plan, dude. Except that other than ‘ours,’ I don’t have the faintest idea what she is.”

  And it was true, because there was no possible way a human female could have done what Vivian did back in that parking lot. And the scene at her apartment back in Charity was starting to make a hell of a lot more sense now.

  Actually, scratch that. It didn’t make any sense, because he didn’t have a goddamn clue what was happening. He didn’t recognize her mouthwatering scent as any species he’d ever encountered before—only that she was his. Other than that, the only thing he knew with any certainty was that the connection was screwing with his head…and his control. He’d never felt his inner beast stay this close to his surface before when he wasn’t fighting in a battle, and it was freaking the shit out of him. Not to mention the bastard wouldn’t shut the hell up.

  Keep saying things like that and I’m going to start thinking you don’t love me.

  “Love you? I have news for you, shithead. I don’t even like you.”

  Shithead? Grow up, Doucet.

  He gritted his teeth, wondering if he’d lost his effing mind. Christ, what would the others think if they saw him arguing with himself?

  He lifted his head when the bathroom door opened, his breath getting a little stuck in his throat as he watched Vivian walk back into the room on her bare feet, her toenails painted a pretty shade of pink. She’d changed into a pair of black yoga pants that made him think all kinds of dirty, carnal things about the way they clung to her thighs and ass, and a slouchy, pink, off-the-shoulder top that matched her nails, and was somehow even sexier than the skintight tank she’d been wearing at the Velvet Rope. He’d honestly never seen a more breathtaking female, and he rubbed at the center of his chest a little with the heel of his hand, feeling like he’d just been dealt one hell of a blow.

  “Were you talking to someone?” she asked, setting her backpack down on top of the dresser as she glanced at him over her shoulder. Her freshly scrubbed face was completely devoid of makeup, making her look even younger than twenty-three.

  “Nope,” he lied, not about to admit to arguing with his smart-ass wolf. “You were probably hearing next door’s TV. They had it blaring just a minute ago.”

  “Oh.” She used the towel draped over her shoulder to dry her wet hair. “Isn’t it kinda early for that?”

  “If they do it again, I’ll deal with them.”

  She gave him a pointed look as she moved to the twin bed that was closest to her and pulled back its faded bedspread. “Just don’t get us kicked out of the place,” she said, hanging the towel over one of the bedposts. “If we don’t sleep, we’re probably going to slip into comas.”

  A husky laugh rumbled up from his chest as he watched her prop the pillow up against the scarred wooden headboard, her warm, made him want to get inside of her scent like a hard drug on his system, ramping him up with primitive, visceral need, until it was all he could do to keep from going diamond-hard behind his fly.

  While her best friend had been about as tough as a marshmallow when Max had met her, Vivian Jackson was all hard, wary edges. It should have turned him off, since he’d never gone for the brittle type before. But his past tastes apparently didn’t count for shit when it came to her, because even now, when she was exhausted and dressed for comfort, Max could honestly say she was the sexiest, most captivating woman he’d ever set eyes on. Every single thing she did, from breathing to flicking her hair over her shoulder, and even her snark and the attitude she’d suddenly throw his way when he irritated her, screamed sex to him. And not the carefree, blow-off-some-steam kind. No, he was talking about a bed-wrecked, sheet-shredded, change-you-on-a-molecular-level kind of fuck. The kind that, despite his reputation as a player, he’d never actually experienced for himself, partly because he’d never met a woman who could dismantle his control before…and partly because he kept himself on a tight-ass leash when it came to sex.

  At least, those were the reasons he’d always told himself. But now he was starting to wonder if the reason he’d never literally broken a bed before during sex was because he’d never been buried balls deep inside the complicated, fascinating, sometimes-infuriating Vivian Jackson.

  Let’s remedy that as soon as possible, the wolf rumbled, and for once, the animal made him laugh out loud. But as quickly as the humor had overtaken him, Max shoved it the hell down, pissed at himself for lowering his guard with the beast.

  And, seriously, why was he even torturing himself with this shit? Her evocative scent might be lying on his tongue like a taste—one he wanted to immerse himself in until he was practically drowning in it—but this was hardly the time or place, which meant he was just going to have to suck it up and deal.

  Suck it up.

  And deal.

  A bitter laugh slipped past his lips and he shook his head. It shouldn’t be too hard, seeing as how he was used to doing without the things he wanted. His human life, for one. And hell, from what he could tell, Vivian didn’t even like him. He could scent her desire at times when he’d catch her checking out his body, but he wasn’t counting on that to win him any ground with her. Not when she seemed so uninterested in the rest of him.

  A jaw-cracking yawn overtook him, and he thought about heading outside for that much-needed smoke, the nicotine probably the only thing at this point that could keep him from collapsing. He’d been sleeping like shit for months—hell, for years, if he were going to be completely honest—the nightmares his constant companion, and it was catching up to him.

  You know, I’m really not so bad, the wolf drawled. You’d see it for yourself, if you’d just stop being such a dick.

  I’m the dick? he laughed inside his head.

  You judge without even knowing me.

  “Piss off,” he muttered out loud.

  “What?” Vivian asked. She’d been sitting cross-legged on the bed, brushing her long hair over her shoulder, but had stopped at his curse and looked up at him.

  “Um, nothing.” He scrubbed his hands over his face, feeling like an idiot. “I was just…talking to myself.”

  The corner of her lips twitched with a smile as she started moving the brush through her damp hair again, the dark strands looking glossy and sleek in the golden lamplight. “You’re a weird, complicated, hot mess of a man, aren’t you, Max Doucet?”

  His chest jerked with another gritty laugh. “You have no idea, babe.”

  He watched her brushing her hair for another minute or so, getting lost in the soothing motions, his eyelids growing heavy. It was a mesmerizing, almost hypnotic thing to watch, and he found it damn hard to fight the temptation to go crawl onto the bed with her, wrap her up in his arms, and sleep for like a thousand years. But even if he were lucky enough to get her to agree, there was still crap they needed to discuss. The sooner, the better.

  “I know you must be ready to catch some sleep, but first, we need to talk.”

  She slid him a wary look as she moved back to her feet, returning the brush to her backpack. “About what?”

  “More than we’ll cover
this morning, no doubt. But we’ll start with what you are.”

  She cut him a shuttered look. “You already know that one. I’m a cocktail waitress in a seedy strip club. Yay me.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Just because I worked in a strip club doesn’t mean I’m a stripper,” she said tightly, her cheeks flushed. “Not that there’s anything wrong with it, if that’s what a woman wants to do. But despite what I said about stripping for money earlier, I only ever served drinks at the Velvet Rope.”

  “That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” he muttered, sitting forward and bracing his elbows on his spread knees. “So stop trying to cause another argument.”

  Her pulse hammered at the base of her throat, but she didn’t say a damn thing.

  “What. Are. You?” He stood up and headed toward, her blue eyes growing wider the closer he came. “Because you’re sure as hell not human, Viv. Not completely.”

  She paled except for the twin bright splotches of pink on her cheeks, the spattering of freckles that covered the bridge of her nose standing out in stark relief. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she argued, but he didn’t believe her.

  Moving closer, he stared down into her stubborn, upturned face, studying her, feature by feature, as he breathed in more and more of her mouthwatering scent. Her pale blue eyes burned with frustration, her full lips trembling as she wet them with the tip of her tongue. Christ, he could get lost for hours just thinking about the things he wanted to do to that pink, tender-looking mouth, but there wasn’t time. Not if they were going to live to see another day, and Max was determined to see that they did, no matter what it took. No matter what he had to sacrifice to keep her from harm.

  “You know something that you’re not telling me, Viv. Because even if you’re clueless about the awakening you had tonight—”

  Her brows drew together in a questioning frown. “Awakening?”

  He kept his sharp gaze locked tight with hers, using every heightened sense he possessed to monitor any changes in her system, from her heart rate to her temperature to the size of her pupils. “Your scent changed between the club and the apartment,” he said in a low, quiet rumble. “I think when those two bastards attacked you, that something dormant in your system until that moment woke the hell up. Maybe you know what it is and maybe you don’t—but you definitely know something. Because there isn’t a chance in hell you could have handled everything tonight so well if you didn’t.”