CHAPTER SEVEN

 

Mickey made sure to be very visible the next day, wearing a bright red top and skin-tight leggings with high heels. Eat your heart out, Riktor. For his part, Riktor also made sure to be seen. He hung around the front desk in the lobby area. Riktor appeared in the casual dining area for coffee. He moved around the swimming area in a full suit, talking to the lifeguards.

When she went to the spa for her late afternoon appointment, her wolf thrilled at this little dance between them. The only spoiler: Ace loomed around Riktor like the grim werewolf reaper, always at his brother’s heels, a scowl at the ready.

Banan for his part appeared in the lobby and at the spa to fix the computers. He gave her shy glances but didn’t come near. A crimson flush colored his cheeks, but curiosity sparkled in his eyes. Nervous energy drifted off of him and pelted her side in gentle taps.

She couldn’t help but gift him with a smile while she checked in. He was adorable, in his rumpled She-Hulk shirt, baggy jeans, and scuffed-up high top sneakers, headphones hung around his neck.

“OK, Ms. Shaw, your private suite is ready, please enjoy.” The attendant gave her a wide grin.

“Oh, I’m sure Ms. Shaw will enjoy every delicious minute of it,” an unctuous voice purred behind her.

Mickey stilled. The hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stood up. Acid sloshed around her stomach. She knew that voice. On autopilot, she glanced away from the threat behind her and toward Riktor. She licked her lips and tried to meet his eyes. Hopefully he got the message.

He didn’t even flinch, much less give her any indication that he’d received her silent plea.

She swallowed and pasted what she hoped looked like a normal smile on her lips.

“Michaela Shaw, how fortuitous running into you here! I guess we’re both running from the snow.” Russell Winthrop chuckled behind her. He placed a hand on her elbow. “What? No hug for an old friend?”

She did a slow turn but didn’t miss Riktor’s narrowed eyes or the thinning of his lips.

Maybe he had finally gotten her message and his response had been delayed, or maybe Russell’s toxic aura had affected him even from a few feet away.

Her wolf whimpered in potent fear. It attempted to send the magic for the shift up and down her limbs.

With mental force of will, Mickey pushed it back. She wheeled around, faced Russell, leaned in and gave him air kisses but refused to give him the contact he wanted. Mickey kept her body several inches away from his. The less contact she had with him, the less contamination she would suffer. Thankfully, he didn’t move any closer.

Russell was dressed in an expensive silk floral-print shirt, white shorts, and boat shoes. His wispy, mouse-brown hair lay slicked back from his too-angular face. Washed-out, denim-blue eyes stared at her with dim malice.

Russell pouted. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?” A thick brow winged upward.

“Who should I introduce you to?” She refused to play Russell’s game, whatever it was.

He gave her a devilish grin that showed off his very sharp canines. “Why, the alpha of the Brody pack, of course.” He directed his gaze behind her.

She shook her head. “Not sure who you’re talking about. I’m late for my appointment.” Mickey turned on her heel and headed toward the wide, curved entryway.

Once away from the front desk, everything quieted down. All noise became muted. The tension faded until footsteps sounded behind her.

She turned her head, expecting to see Russell. Instead, Riktor strode toward her, purpose in each step and worry etched in the hard lines of his face.

Relief swept through her. Heat flared deep in her groin. Her pussy contracted and her slit dampened. She swallowed for a whole new reason. Her nipples tightened to hardened points. All those brief glimpses of him throughout the day had teased her hunger for him but hadn’t given her enough time for a proper reaction. Now, she couldn’t push it down or ignore it.

Her wolf latched onto Riktor’s presence, used it to calm its nerves. The shift faded away to a dull buzz in the back of her mind.

A whimper curled up tight and sat heavy in her throat, just waiting for her to give it a push to come out.

“Riktor.” She managed to get his name out around the lump.

“What’s going on, Michaela? Who is that, and why are you scared?” Riktor came to a stop in front of her, only an inch away. The Grand Canyon might as well have opened up between them.

“Russell Winthrop, alpha of the Winthrop pack and all-around asshole. My father tried to marry me off to him and called it off after one day. He’s a creepy fucker with a penchant for stirring up shit. Nothing to worry about…he’s here for me.”

Riktor cocked his head to the side, concern creasing his brow. “Why?” Genuine emotion colored his tone. “Your engagement is over. The agreement is void. Him being here is just overkill.”

She shrugged. “Ego. He couldn’t stand that he couldn’t charm my father or me into sealing the deal. I can handle him.” She didn’t add I hope. Unlike last time when she was alone, no pack to back her up, and no mother to threaten Russell with a beating so bad that she’d turn his hide into a rug for her guest room.

Riktor shook his head. “Not good enough. Did you come here to escape the snows, steal our legacy, or avoid him? Tell me the truth.”

She groaned. “Seriously? Option one. Three never crossed my mind. Winthrop was supposed to be holed up in his family’s London business. And yes, I keep tabs on him. You can’t just leave an enemy alive and expect them to slink away.” Despite her attempt at flippancy, her voice came with a bit of tremor.

Riktor narrowed his eyes. “What aren’t you telling me?” He reached out.

Much to her disappointment, he didn’t make contact.

Riktor dropped his hand, his gaze hardening. “I will not have a pack fight in my territory, and I also won’t get involved in your pack squabbles.”

She nodded. “I refuse to let that happen to you. I know you don’t believe me, but I really don’t mean you or your brothers any trouble.”

“You just want to fuck him cross-eyed,” her wolf whispered to her. Mickey ignored her.

Riktor gave her a curt nod in return. “Good. Enjoy your appointment.” He turned on his heel and left her in a cloud of disappointment, wolf musk, pheromones, and a rich dark scent with an undertone of incense and leather.

She watched him go. Yearning twisted in her gut to go after him.

Damn Winthrop. She’d wear his guts for garters. After her massage.

Mickey made her way to her massage suite and undressed. She tried to relax, but the thought of danger hung in the corners of her mind. She hated having Winthrop hanging over her like this. The Brodys, but especially Riktor, would never trust her. And after coming face to face with Riktor, she now wanted that very badly. Despite her very human reservations, her wolf’s surety on Riktor being their mate rang through her. She needed him to trust her, build up the bond between them, and show him that she really wasn’t a threat to him or his brothers. Winthrop’s arrival threw a monkey wrench in the works.

“I have to get rid of him without violence,” she thought to her wolf.

A plan unfurled in her mind while the physical therapist worked on getting the knots out: confront Russell and send him packing, hopefully without draining her bank account. How the hell could she seduce and secure Riktor’s trust if she had a former—albeit dispatched—suitor lurking around to ruin things? Besides, Riktor didn’t need to hear the old gossip about her wild eighteen-year-old self. How could she explain her foolish, long-ago attraction to Winthrop to Riktor? He wouldn’t get it. Looking back, even she couldn’t think of a single reasonable excuse.

A seaweed wrap, face mask, scalp massage, updated highlights, manicure, pedicure, and a thorough waxing later, she set off to her room to change for dinner, relaxed and focused on finding Russell Winthrop. Come hell or high water, he would leave this resort and allow her to focus all of her attention on Riktor.

She showered, careful of her hair, and dressed with purpose. This time she chose a figure-hugging black dress with corset detailing, sheer, lace-top black stockings, and a pair of strappy, stiletto shoes. A spritz of Gucci Bamboo completed her toilet. Simple red lipstick, a bit of mascara, and she headed down to the lobby.

She found Russell at the resort’s more luxurious restaurant. He sat alone in a corner that faced the entrance. Other diners gave his table wide berth.

She didn’t blame them. Russell always oozed an aura of something wrong.

She sauntered over to his table, putting a little hot sauce into her step and an extra sway into her hips.

All eyes watched her, male and female.

Her wolf preened at the attention, but disappointment tickled the back of her mind. Too bad Riktor wasn’t there to enjoy the show.

Hopefully she’d see that he got his own show later on.

Head back, chest out, arms swinging at her side with ease, she ignored the prickle of goose bumps on her skin and the warning grumble from her wolf as she approached Russell’s table and took a seat.

A waiter stopped at the table, a clear look of distress on his face.

She cut him off before he could speak. “White wine and a menu.”

Russell gave her another of his annoying toothy grins. “What an honor. Michaela Shaw coming to dine with me.”

“Can it, Winthrop. I’m not here for niceties. What do you want, how much do you want, and how did you find me?” she demanded.

Russell wiped his mouth and placed his napkin on the table. “Direct as always. I found you through the grapevine. As for what I want, well, you said it—how much do I want? How about a million to start with and Riktor Brody, our dear, handsome, newly made alpha, won’t get a pack challenge from little old me, hmm?”

She let out a low growl, but the tables closest to them heard it and looked up. Mickey shook her head at them. “Sorry,” she called out. She refocused on him. “Don’t even think about it, jizzwipe. You don’t need a new pack, much less one filled with alpha men who would punch you without being paid to.”

Russell chuckled. “Tut, tut. No way for a new alpha to act, especially a female one. But I’ll overlook that. How about half a million now, hmm? And the other half a million once I’m back in my London flat, far away from your little crush. Oh, please, I saw the way you looked at him when you entered the spa. You didn’t even notice me. That’s dangerous.”

Heat flared in Mickey’s cheeks. Had she been so blinded by Riktor that she’d missed Russell’s disgusting, swamp-wolf aura?

“Shit,” she muttered.

“Must be giving you good dick for you to miss me, one of your oldest friends. But I’ll let that pass if you give my bank account some sweet loving.” Russell leered at her.

She rolled her eyes. “How about a hundred thousand and you don’t force me to test out how sharp my new manicure is.” Mickey raked her nails lightly over the table.

Russell snorted. “Your threats don’t scare me, Mich-ae-la.” He pronounced her name like three separate words, much to her annoyance.

“You’re nothing but a sniveling worm. Don’t think I haven’t heard the rumors about your depleting piggy bank, Russell.” She pointed at him. “I could tell Riktor that you may not even be able to pay for this dinner, much less the rest of your stay here or the airplane ride out,” she hissed. “Think he’ll care about my wild wolf days then?”

Russell’s face contorted into something she couldn’t even describe. All sharp angles and no humanity. The blue drained from his eyes only to have amber filter upward until the whole iris glowed. He let out a low growl. “Don’t try it, bitch. I highly doubt Riktor will want to associate with someone who fucks every dick she can get her hands on. Whose nickname is ‘the pack world’s bicycle.’ He wants to know people who have actual morals, not a nympho like you.”

Before she could reply, a deep male voice said from behind her, “Actually, I’d love to associate with a woman who owns her sexuality and celebrates it.” Riktor slid into a seat next to her. “And isn’t ashamed of her lusts, unlike cowardly wolves with roach brains.”

He moved the chair closer until his leg pressed against hers. Heat flowed upward to encompass her whole body. Mickey resisted leaning into him. Her wolf whimpered for more contact, but she couldn’t go there, not yet. A part of her hated every second that she couldn’t indulge in her desire.

At the moment she had a bigger worry to think about: what did Riktor think was going on between her and Russell, and was he about to kick them both off the island?