Dark Wolf Running (Bloodrunners) Page 7

  Holy mother of God!

  Her senses might have weakened to little better than a human’s in recent months, but she didn’t need to be able to pick up the gorgeous Runner’s scent to know that Wyatt was aroused. A glance at his face revealed his dilated pupils, parted lips and flushed skin. Without a conscious directive from her brain, her gaze swept lower, over his broad shoulders, solid chest and chiseled abs, until she caught a glimpse of his crotch...and her shocked gaze skittered away. But what a glimpse it’d been, the well-worn denim straining over an impossibly long, thick erection that looked seriously huge—even for a Lycan. The knowledge that he was hard as a freaking rock made her want to get up and run every bit as much as she wanted to slug the jackass for just standing there, blasting his manliness at her, his sensual mouth curved just a fraction on one side. He no doubt expected her to lay into him for the blatant physiological sign of his interest or go scurrying back under the covers, but she wasn’t going to do either of those things.

  Forcing herself to be bold, Elise moved to her feet and walked over to the window, watching through the blinds as Michaela and Jillian helped to clean up from last night’s wedding. Then she turned to face him with her arms crossed tight over her chest. When it seemed he wasn’t capable of dragging his gaze away from her lower body anytime soon, she said, “Cut it out, Pallaton. You’re staring like you’ve never seen a pair of legs before.”

  His breath sounded a little uneven, and there was a rougher edge to his deep voice that hadn’t been there just a moment ago. “I haven’t seen a pair like yours, that’s for damn sure.”

  “Well, you can stop staring any second now.” She slowly arched a brow. “Better yet, maybe you could just leave and let me get dressed in private.”

  “Yeah,” he murmured, rubbing a hand over his mouth. But instead of turning toward the door, he took a step in her direction and groaned, “Shit.”

  Elise frowned. “What now?”

  “I know I shouldn’t do this,” he said, grabbing her by her upper arms and yanking her closer, “but you make me stupid.”

  “Ha! I’m sure your stupidity has nothing to do with— Mmph!” The rest of her words were smothered by the shocking, devastating press of Wyatt Pallaton’s mouth against hers. He didn’t waste any time, immediately slipping his tongue past her lips. One second they’d been standing there talking, and in the next he had her shoved up against the wall beside the window, his big hands braced against the pale gray plaster on either side of her head, while he kissed the hell out of her. And, God, what a kiss. It was lush and devouring, as if he were doing things to her mouth that were meant to make her think of other breathtaking, intimate things he could be doing to her body. With that clever tongue. And his impressive—

  “Christ, you taste so fucking incredible,” he growled, the velvet-rough timbre of his voice melting into her as he went back for an even deeper tasting that was greedy and raw, but somehow beautifully tender. She could feel her heartbeat in her throat, each drugging pulse of pleasure chasing away her fear, even as he moved closer. She should have been screaming by now, hating the feel of him, his cock a hard, thick ridge inside his jeans that he wasn’t trying to hide from her as he pressed against her front. But she was too busy kissing him back, rubbing her tongue against his, unable to get enough of his taste to freak out from the stunning feel of his erection. His mouth tasted like...God, it tasted like sex. Hot and wet and completely addictive.

  It was erotic as hell, the way his tongue hungrily rubbed and delved, seeking her secrets in the intimate flavors of her mouth, until she was half-tempted to give them to him, like an innocent girl falling under the piper’s spell. She was enthralled, as if she’d slipped into a fairy ring, her arms lifting from her sides to clutch greedy handfuls of his thick, silken hair, needing him closer. Needing to trap him there with her so that he couldn’t ever get away.

  When she gasped his name, he responded with a low, guttural sound that was almost more animal than man, his hands suddenly on her waist, gripping her in a hold that let her feel his strength, even as he was careful not to hurt her. She moaned into the kiss, confused by how much she enjoyed his touch, his fingers clenching. Then he started moving his hands up and down, stroking her sides, the calluses on his fingers and palms snagging at the delicate fabric of her gown, each slow pass taking his touch higher, until he was skimming the sides of her breasts, while his mouth kept up that deep, evocative torture. He was melting her down—breaking her open—and she felt her nipples pull into tight, swollen points that ached for his attention. She shivered, wanting him to touch her there almost as badly as the idea unnerved her, her thoughts and body in chaos, when a loud banging noise from outside, where some of the Runners were breaking down the parquet dance floor, had them both flinching, jerking apart, panting for breath. He immediately dropped his hands and stepped back, his smoldering gaze locked hard on hers, the glowing rim of gold around the edge of each dark iris telling her just how close his beast was to the surface.

  Oh, God. What the hell am I doing?

  Elise had to bite her tongue to keep from begging him to come back. She wanted him so badly. Felt desperate. Needy. Starved. Not for sex—just sex with him. Touch and taste and heat. Damp, slick skin and fractured breaths. She wanted to fling herself at him. Drape herself over that hard-muscled body and let him have at her. Beg him. Plead. Pray. But she was locked behind some kind of frustrating invisible wall, the need unable to break through into action...or even words. Instead, she made a choked gasping sound and stumbled to the side, dizzy and so freaking disappointed in herself she could have cried.

  Could have?

  Right. Who was she trying to fool? Her eyes were already stinging with moisture, her mouth trembling. Oh, boy. Just take a look at the emotional wreck in all her glory. At times like this she felt as pathetic as her father had always told her she was, and she wanted to lash out at the gorgeous male who’d just blown her mind almost as badly as she wanted to make him her own personal little love slave. Though little was probably a ridiculous choice of words, considering the guy was...well, extremely well hung.

  “Please, don’t panic,” he rasped, holding up his hands as he took another step back, and she knew he was afraid that she’d stumbled to the side to get away from him. “I’m sorry,” he added roughly, his dark gaze shadowed with concern even as he was licking his damp lower lip, as if to keep her taste in his mouth. “I tried, damn it, but I couldn’t resist.”

  “Why are you doing this?” she hissed, her waspish tone hopefully covering the fact that she’d been enjoying his kiss far more than was wise, considering there wasn’t a chance in hell she could follow through on where that breathtaking encounter had been heading. “Do cowards turn you on? Is that it?”

  The change in his expression happened so fast she would have missed it if she’d blinked, his nostrils flaring as he clenched his jaw. “Are you calling yourself a coward?” The clipped words were hard with anger. “Because that’s bullshit, El. Yeah, I want to protect you. Keep you safe. But you’re fucking crazy if you believe I could ever think of you as weak. You’re one of the strongest, bravest people I’ve ever known.”

  She shook her head, stunned, not knowing what to make of him.

  “I mean it,” he growled, pointing a finger right at her face, like putting a point on an exclamation mark. “The absolute strongest.”

  For some reason, his words made her furious. “Yeah,” she snarled, glaring back at him. “Last night I was just the epitome of feminine strength, wasn’t I?”

  Needing to be alone, she started to storm past him, but he caught her arm, holding her in place. He didn’t say anything until she finally turned her head to look at him. “If we’re going to talk about last night, then there’s something I want to know,” he said. “Why didn’t you shift? It would have given you a better chance at fighting him off.”

  “I...” She swallowed, then forced her response from her tight throat. “If you know anything about m
e at all, Pallaton, then you know I don’t do that anymore.”

  His lashes lowered, concealing the look in his eyes. “Not even when it could save your life?”

  “That’s right,” she said flatly, staring at his mouth. “Not even then.”

  A tremor moved through his powerful frame. “That’s unacceptable, Elise. You have to be willing to protect yourself.”

  A bitter laugh jerked past her lips. “Oh, I would have. I wouldn’t have let them do it to me again.”

  He sucked in a sharp breath that lifted his bronzed chest, then slowly let it out, the hand curled around her arm shaking. “That better not mean what it sounds like.”

  It was strange, how shame could make you just as brittle as anger. “Why?” she snapped, actually feeling an electrical shock sizzle through her body when she lifted her gaze and locked it with his. “Does it bruise your masculine sense of honor to think of a woman killing herself? Of you not being there to protect her?”

  He flinched as if she’d slapped him, her sharp words striking with painful precision. A verbal weapon that she’d used to slice him, and it’d worked. He cursed something gritty under his breath as he let go of her arm. Then he scrubbed his hands over his face a few times before lowering them to his sides, where they curled into powerful fists. “I want your promise that you won’t do that, Elise.”

  She gave another bitter laugh that was cold and cutting, without an ounce of warmth. “You must be joking.”

  “Like hell I am.”

  “Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?”

  “I told you last night.” His voice got deeper...rougher. “I want to be your friend.”

  “Well, now it’s my turn to call bullshit, Wyatt. You don’t even know me!”

  “I know more than you think,” he insisted, the golden color of his wolf eyes bleeding even deeper into his piercing gaze. Streaks of glittering gold that glimmered and sparked. “I know you’re hurting and that you use that little bitch-of-the-year attitude to try to cover it. I know it’s all an act—one that’s probably exhausting as hell. And I know, without any doubt, that the idea of you taking your own life makes me so furious I could spit nails!”

  She blinked, no idea what to say in response, her pulse fluttering like a maddened butterfly trapped at the base of her throat.

  “I think we’ve said more than enough for the moment,” he muttered, rubbing one of those big hands over the grim set of his jaw. “Right now we need to get going. So be quick.”

  She watched with wide eyes as he turned and left the room, shutting the door behind him without even slamming it. Which, judging by the look on his face, couldn’t have been easy.

  God. Elise sagged down into the chair he’d been sitting in and buried her hot face in her hands, feeling as if she’d just been put through an emotional wringer. Wyatt Pallaton was freaking hell on her system, seducing her by the simple act of being, and she couldn’t help but resent the way he’d taken her over so completely. Her thoughts. Her needs. Her...dreams—ones she hadn’t even realized she had anymore. It was crazy and no doubt detrimental to her sanity, but she couldn’t stop it, even though she knew she needed to. She’d already let one man control her life, and she wasn’t about to hand over the reins to another dominant male.

  Nearly everything that she’d ever done was a reflection of what her father had wanted. She sold real estate, but not because she wanted to. That had been her father’s doing, his way of keeping tabs on her. After all, it wasn’t as if the market was booming in Shadow Peak. Like a good little robot, she’d done what Daddy told her to do, same as she always had. For some reason, even knowing he hated her, she’d never been able to stand up to the man. Not until the night of Max’s Novitiate’s ceremony. That had been the first time that she’d ever publicly defied her father, even though it’d scared the living hell out of her. She’d thought, for a little while after his death, that she might finally have a chance at taking control of her life, but then the feelings had started. Harrowing, frantic feelings of being watched, as if someone were stalking her, keeping a watchful eye over her. She’d been terrified she was just imagining it. Letting the townspeople’s hatred and suspicion get to her. Wasting her brother’s time whenever she freaked and he had to come check on her.

  But as she remembered what her attacker had said last night, Elise knew that she hadn’t been imagining things. Oh, God. She hadn’t.

  Looking around Wyatt’s spare bedroom, she supposed she could chalk up her current circumstance to letting another man push her around. But to be fair, it didn’t feel like that. She might be irritated with him, but Wyatt’s insistence that she stay with him hadn’t been a chauvinistic need to belittle her. He was truly worried about her. Since she didn’t know quite what to do with that at the moment, she tucked it away in her mind and focused on what needed to be done. Another hot shower was what she needed more than anything, to help calm her nerves. And how lovely that she wouldn’t have to keep constantly checking the other side of the curtain, terrified some monster was going to creep up on her and tear her life to pieces all over again.

  Shower time when you’d been living in terror for years was not something that could be called relaxing or enjoyable. But she’d enjoyed the hell out of the one she’d taken here last night. Making her way into the soothing gray-and-white-tiled bathroom, Elise turned on the water, slipped out of her gown and wondered if her heart rate would ever return to normal. Strangely, it wasn’t last night’s attack that had left her so shaken. Oh, she was sick with fear about what had happened, and she didn’t see that changing anytime soon. But it was Wyatt who had really played a number on her equilibrium.

  And the way he’d kissed her had damn near fried her on the spot, leaving her wet and aching and wracked with confusion.

  Whatever was going on between the two of them, it was going to lead to trouble. And yet, even knowing it, she was incredibly tempted to stay and see just what other surprises fate felt like throwing at her before it was done.

  Elise just hoped, in the end, it didn’t throw her to the wolves.

  Chapter 5

  Stepping out onto Wyatt’s front porch, Elise shielded her eyes from the bright glare of sunlight and looked out over the place the Runners called home. The Alley was actually nothing like its namesake. Instead of being dark and grungy, the Runners made their home in a secluded, sloping glade surrounded by the wild, natural beauty of the forest, housing only the Runners’ individual cabins, along with a few that were currently empty. Eric and Chelsea had taken one and now lived here permanently. And, God, did that sound wonderful.

  Elise knew she didn’t belong in this idyllic place, but she couldn’t deny that there was an incredible feeling of safety here. Yes, the Runners were vigilant about defense, especially since the attack that had been waged over Chelsea and her sister—but she thought the feeling had more to do with the fact that those living here were a family in the truest sense of the word. They loved each other, and were willing to die for each other, in a way that the Silvercrest had lost at some point. Or maybe the mountaintop Lycans had simply never had it, stubborn bastards that they were.

  Eric believed it was the pack’s pride that made them so obstinate in their refusal to fully accept the Runners, and Elise couldn’t help but agree. Without the Bloodrunners, those who had survived her father’s maniacal bid for power would have been forced to live under the rule of a sadistic madman, and their lives ultimately destroyed. After the way the townspeople had treated the Runners for so many years, the fact that the Runners had saved them was a difficult pill to swallow for many in the pack, and they reacted with wariness or anger because they didn’t know how else to react.

  God forbid they just suck it up and be grateful for the help they’d been given.

  Wyatt came out onto the porch, closing the front door behind him, and she frowned, the similarity in the situations not escaping her. This man had put his life on the line to protect her. Had brought her into his h
ome without asking for anything in return. And how was she repaying him? By acting like the biggest bitch this side of the Mississippi. God, why was he even bothering with her?

  “Let’s go,” he said, coming up beside her. “Now that they’ve gotten the dance floor broken down, everyone will be waiting over at Mason’s.”

  As they started across the sun-dappled glade, she tugged on the hem of the thin, slouchy gray sweater she’d pulled on with a tank top, jeans and sandals, unsure of what to expect at the meeting. Despite Eric’s status as a Bloodrunner, she wasn’t a part of this close-knit group, which meant she didn’t belong here. She knew they were an incredible bunch, but come on. How much could she honestly expect them to care about her problems? Were they going to be pissed that Wyatt had brought her here, when she could be putting them in danger? She didn’t know if it were simply coincidence that the Lycan who’d attacked her last night in her bedroom was one of the ones who’d raped her three years ago or if he had purposefully sought her out. Had she been targeted because of her brother’s connection to the Runners? Because of her father? Or simply because of what had happened to her?

  And how were the Runners going to react if they learned that the Lycan from last night was almost certainly one of her rapists? Did she have the guts to tell them, when she could barely think about it in the privacy of her own mind?

  Her internal stream of doubts and questions was cut off the instant she spotted her brother walking out the front door of his cabin with his new wife right beside him. Eric’s dark gaze instantly locked with hers, and though he had his wife’s hand clasped securely in his, he did not look like a man simply enjoying his first day of married life. God, Chelsea must be furious with her for screwing this up for them. Instead of getting wrapped up in the excitement of their honeymoon, her idiot brother was letting what had happened last night work him into one of his pissed off “I’m the male, which means I know how to protect you” moods. She loved him more than anything, and while he was as far from their father as a man could be, there were times when Eric was just a little too freaking alpha for her tastes.