Chapter Twelve
Rory hadn’t been this nervous since the second time he’d held a shotgun in his hand with a deer in the crosshairs. The first time, he’d been confident with the delusion of a thirteen-year-old man-child. He’d held the gun to his chest, eager to get his father’s approval and prove himself as a man would have. Rory remembered his father’s lessons of cleaning a gun, caring for it, loading it. And most importantly, understanding the responsibility of wielding it.
He’d tracked the deer, to his father’s approval. He’d trapped it and had gotten it in his crosshairs with his finger resting on the trigger.
He had hesitated that first time, and the deer’s ears had perked up, sensing it was in danger. The deer’s awareness pushed aside any residual hesitation, and Rory had pulled the trigger.
The kickback from the gun had jarred Rory’s wolf, but the satisfying thud of the animal falling had excited both man and wolf. He came upon his kill and saw that his aim had been true. He’d caught the buck right in the heart.
His father had clamped a proud hand on his son’s shoulder. Rory sank to his knees to claim his first kill only to find that the deer wasn’t quite dead. Glassy eyes stared back at him.
As the deer’s heart went out, Rory had felt a kick in his own heart. He’d watched the life and hope seep out of the deer’s eyes. No one had prepared him for that. Neither had he been prepared when the deer gave one final kick and caught him on the arm.
The wound had healed and a month later Rory was back in the forest. The second time he found a shotgun in his hands with the deer in the crosshairs, he knew what to expect. He aimed for the heart, but he took his time and didn’t rush it. He’d learned that when an animal lost its heart, it could be a soul-crushing, violent event.
Rory left his apartment now, preparing his body and mind for the hunt of his life. He had no gun. His only weapons were his mouth, his hands, and what was between his legs. He had every intention of using each item in his arsenal.
Rhetta had insisted they meet at his place in the city. She intended to pick him up and drive them both to their destination. She refused to allow him access to her family since they’d clearly already taken to him.
Rory was a patient man. He’d already set the trap for her. He’d find himself a comfortable bunker and lay in wait for his prey.
Coming onto the stoop of his storefront, he spotted her in the distance. She came into his crosshairs, headed straight for him. But Rory hesitated on pulling the trigger that would take her down. Instead of aiming, he recoiled.
Rhetta wore heeled shoes. They actually weren’t so bad. They elongated her mile-long legs and touted up her pert ass. It was the rest of the rags he wanted to rip to shreds.
A red dress clung to her form and hugged her curves. The hem hit just above her knees, and he licked his chops at the sight of her. But when his gaze climbed higher, he reared back once more.
What had she done to her beautiful face? There was colorful powder all over her perfect skin. And her hair. The knot of curls he had been excited about running his paws through was straightened.
“What the hell happened to you?” he demanded.
Rhetta froze just below the stoop. Her confident grin fell, and she took a couple of steps back from him. Rory came down the steps and was on her.
“Your hair. That dress. They’re all wrong.”
“You told me to get a new dress,” she said.
“A new dress, not a new you. You were perfect the way you were.”
The only thing right about her, aside from the shoes, was the way she smelled. Rory took a deep inhale, and his dick became as hard as a gun’s barrel. Rhetta smelled like she was his. He could scent himself in her very skin. He just needed to get in her heart. But first, he needed to get that ugly dress off her and muss up her hair.
He suspected his plans might have hit a snag when her head snapped back as though he slapped her. To be fair, Rory did strike out his hand. It went to the back of her head and stole the clip that gathered her hair. The mass of hair fell over her shoulders in lush waves. Not exactly the curls he craved, but it was a marked improvement.
“The shoes can stay,” he growled. “The dress, too. For now.”
“You’re a beast and a brute, Rory Garcia, and I never want to see you again.” Rhetta turned, ready to flee. She still didn’t understand that she had already been trapped by him.
Rory caught her arm and slammed her against the wall of his storefront. People walking by stutter-stepped, uncertain whether or not to interfere. Humans were never certain when to or not to interfere in the business of wolves. Rory flashed his eyes at them to help them make the correct decision.
The humans averted their gazes or shrugged, but they all steered clear. Everyone knew a wolf would never harm a female. They also knew a she-wolf could destroy any man, Moonkind or mankind, with either a word or her claws.
With the bystanders dispensed of, Rory turned his attention back to his captive. “Think long and hard before you run from me, Rhetta. I’ve proven, time and again, I’ll chase you. Every time I do, you let me catch you.”
He captured her wrists in one of his hand and pressed his body flush into hers. She tilted her head back and glared at him. But she didn’t try to break free.
“I have every plan to get you in my bed tonight. That can happen sooner … Or later. It’s up to you. Personally, I’d much rather have my dessert first.”
“I’m not having dinner with you,” she said, her body arched against his, her nipples hard pinpricks against his chest. “And I won’t be your dessert. Not ever again.”
“Fine.” He released her hands and stepped back. Panic flooded her eyes. It was the same clouded look she’d gotten back when he’d let her go in her family kitchen. Her trepidation made his heart swell, and he took another step away from her. “I’ll see you at your wedding. Maybe I’ll have something to say when asked if anyone has a reason the marriage should go forward.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I won’t have to.”
He leaned back in, and she inhaled, her eyes softening as he pressed his temple against hers. She let the breath go on a silent sigh as he brushed a curling piece of hair off her brow.
“The sooner you give up this ridiculous idea of mating my brother, the sooner I can bury my nose between your thighs.”
Rhetta held her breath and didn’t open her eyes. She didn’t need to. The war on her brow told him he’d already won.
“Unless you wanted my nose somewhere else first, cricket. I’m not partial to one end or the other. So long as I’m inside you.”
“Don’t call me cricket.”
“You’re right.” He brushed his lips across her brow and then down her nose. “You’re anything but quiet in bed.”
Rory reached down and gathered her into his arms. He expected her to stiffen, to pull away from him. But she collapsed into his chest, all the spirit, all the fight gone out of her.
He expected her heart to be racing in fear. It beat slow and steady. She didn’t tremble in fear. She didn’t strike out at him. She just sank, as though the weight of the world finally crushed her strong shoulders.
“What is it, pet? Tell me and I’ll kill it for you. I’ll gut it and strip it bare.”
“It’s impossible,” she sobbed.
“There’s no such thing when it comes to you and me. I’d grab the moon down if you told me to.”
“It’s not you, it’s me. It’s my bad luck. It’s just put me in another unfortunate state because this is an unfavorable situation. I did this for you.” She motioned her hand up and down her body, likely indicating the overdone makeover. “I hate heels. The dress is too tight. My head hurts from all that hot air they blew to get my hair to straighten. That’s what love does to people. It makes them crazy. It makes people change. It’s making me nauseous.”
“I don’t want you to change, Rhetta. I love all the layers you wear. More for me to unwrap.”
Rory dipped his head down and tasted Rhetta’s lips. She was as sweet and succulent as the first time he’d stolen a kiss. But when he pulled away, she looked miserable.
“I can’t love you,” she said, staring forlornly into his eyes. “You’re going to hurt me.”
“I’d cut out my heart before I’d hurt you,” he swore. “If love hurts you’re doing it wrong.”
“I’m not your first choice.”
“You’re my only choice. I was wrong about Rosalind.”
“Is that her name? Your first love?”
“I’ll never say it again,” he promised. “I’ll never need to. I found the woman I’m spending the rest of my life with. Now, come get in my bed.”
But Rhetta struggled in his arms. When Rory went to step forward, he stumbled. He’d left his apartment without his cane. Standing on his injured foot, with Rhetta’s added weight in his arms, had overtaxed him. With great reluctance, he stood her back on the ground.
The moment he let her go, she was at his side. Her arms came around him in a protective gesture. Rory almost shrugged off the help, until he realized he had her exactly where he wanted her; wrapped around his body.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Are you hurt?”
“I’ve been chasing you around for days. It’s aggravated my injury. But I’ll be fine.” He limped away from her, putting far more emphasis on the injury than he actually felt.
“We’re not going anywhere.” Rhetta tugged at him, directing him back to his store’s door. “You’re going to rest that foot.”
“Anything you say, pet.”
Rory let her lead him up the stairs. He shut the door behind them and locked it. Once again, she was trapped, and she didn’t even know it. Very soon, he’d place his finger on her trigger and pull. This time, he was aiming straight for her heart.