Dark Wolf Running

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.

Yeah. And given how pissed she is, she’d probably rather bunk down with a bloody vampire.

Drawing in a slow, deep breath, Wyatt locked his jaw and forced his attention to the mundane TV show...knowing it was more than likely going to be the longest damn night of his life.

* * *

Elise awakened with a gasp, trying to shake off the fuzzy remnants of what had been another nightmare. She could sense the morning sunlight against her eyelids and rolled over, pressing the side of her face against the pillow. The bed was comfortable and warm, making her want to stay buried beneath the covers forever, hiding from the rest of the world. But the prickling on her skin suddenly made her realize that she wasn’t alone, and she gave another soft gasp as she opened her eyes to find Wyatt sitting in a chair by the window, only a yard or so from where she lay, watching her with that dark, intense gaze that made her breath quicken.

“Bad dream?” he asked, his low voice deep and morning rough.

She pushed her hair out of her eyes, ignoring his question. She didn’t want to think about what she’d been dreaming...or why. But she did want to know what the hell he was up to. “What are you doing in here, Wyatt?”

His sexy mouth curved in a rueful, lopsided grin as he leaned forward in the chair, resting his elbows on his knees, his legs parted. He was dressed in a pair of faded jeans...and nothing else. All those lean, corded muscles and acres of bronzed skin made her damn mouth water. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me,” she snapped.

“All right.” His lashes lowered a little, shielding the look in his eyes, his tone deliberately careful. “I was watching you sleep.”

“What?” Her face flushed with embarrassment as she sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest. “Why would you do that?”

Gently, he said, “You were making these sounds earlier, like you were afraid. I came in to check on you, said your name, and it quieted you. My being here seemed to make you settle down, so I pulled up a chair and decided to let you get some more sleep.”

Oh, um...wow. Her first instinct was to snap at him again for invading what was meant to be her personal space here in his cabin, but she knew that was only because she was self-conscious. So she choked down the knee-jerk response and somehow managed to say, “You didn’t need to do that, but it was...nice of you. So I’ll just say thanks.”

He gave her a curious half smile, as if he were surprised she’d actually been civil to him for once. Noticing the dark smudges under his eyes, she shook her head and sighed. “Looks like you’re going to pay for being a good guy, Wyatt. I slept and you didn’t. Now you’ll be dragging yourself around all day.”

He lifted his broad, powerful shoulders in an uneasy shrug. “I never actually sleep much anyway.”

“Why not?” she asked, unable to take her eyes off the muscular expanse of his bare chest. He scratched at the russet-toned skin with his right hand, the casual action completely mesmerizing. She wanted to look away, but she was transfixed, his sheer proximity enough to send her heart rate into overdrive.

It was crazy how he could be so gorgeous and yet so ruggedly male. A sublime specimen of both beauty and primitive, visceral masculinity. Big and broad but as lean as a racehorse, his ropy muscles packed hard and tight beneath that deliciously bronzed skin. He’d been shirtless in front of her last night, but she’d been too upset to really take in the stunning details. But wow. Just wow.

Elise didn’t know how long she’d just been sitting there, staring like some sex-crazed female who’d never set eyes on a man before, but she jolted with shock when he suddenly slapped his palms against his knees and stood. “Now that you’re up,” he said, his voice sounding kind of tight and strange, “you should probably go ahead and get dressed. We don’t have much time before we need to leave.”

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