Chapter Seven

 

Sedona

 

Three a.m., my alarm goes off. I’m up, out of bed and dragging out my small purple rolly-suitcase. The same one I’d taken to San Carlos just over a week ago. A lifetime ago.

If I were smart, I’d go to the bank and drain my accounts to take cash, but there’s no time. I found a flight to Paris at quarter to seven, and I plan to be on it. I need to get out of town, out of the country, now.

You should be free to make your choices, he told me. Yeah, right. He may believe that in theory, but the minute Carlos finds out I’m carrying his pup, I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t drag me back to the dungeon cell himself. He won’t be able to help himself. Just like he couldn’t keep from marking me. Alpha wolves are dominant wolves. Possessive. Controlling. Even domineering.

“He has no claim on me,” I mutter, as I toss shirts and changes of panties into my bag. A dress, a pair of boots. My lips tingle at the memory of his kiss, and I wipe the ghost of his touch away. “I was just a convenient piece of ass. I am not his mate.” Ignoring my wolf’s protest, I stuff another pair of jeans into the suitcase and zip it up. I have no clue what to pack for Europe, but I’m guessing they have places that sell clothes. If I need something, I can buy it. That’s if my dad doesn’t shut down my credit card to force me home.

Thank the fates I’d gone to the trouble of getting a passport to go to San Carlos.

My phone dings when the Uber arrives. I wave the driver off when he tries to help me throw my suitcase in the trunk and do it myself, then jump in the back of his car, twisting around to scan the area around us. No one is around, but the back of my neck prickles like I’m being watched.

I check in at the airport, buy a bottle of water and tell my racing heart to calm down. There’s no way he knows I’m here. But telling myself that doesn’t help. I can still feel him, as if he’s just touched me and stepped away. I barely slept last night and when I did, my dreams were all of Carlos. My skin is itchy with the need to shift, as if I might be under attack at any moment.

But that’s silly. Carlos wouldn’t attack me. He said he just wanted to talk. Go on a date, like a normal couple.

What would it be like to date Carlos? The thought of sitting across from him at a candlelit table appeals more than I’d care to admit. If only we’d met under different circumstances. I indulge in a silly fantasy—Carlos is visiting the States, maybe setting up trade for his pack. We meet by chance—pass each other in a hallway, or he comes to my art show. No, he’s ahead of me in line at Starbucks. He scents me, recognizes what I am and turns, his dark eyes glimmering with interest.

We flirt. He asks me to dinner. I’m charmed by him, attracted to his good looks, enthralled with his intelligence and accomplishments. He tells me about Monte Lobo.

Ugh. Or not. A happier topic, then. He tells me funny stories from his college days. Woos me into bed with him. My first time is jittery and exciting. He makes it ultra-romantic, pouring fresh wine into glasses. He’s gentle and sensitive.

Hmm. Or not. Somehow this fantasy falls totally flat. I guess I prefer the wild roughness of the way he took me in Monte Lobo.

Did you just want to make me chase you?

A new fantasy floats into my mind. We’re in the woods, but in human form. I’m running, he’s giving chase. He tackles me to the ground, pins my wrists over my head as he shoves into me. I throw my head back, cry out at the mixture of pain and pleasure. He claims what he desires, so impassioned, he’s unable to stop himself. I moan and writhe beneath him, resisting, but only because I love feeling his strength, having him hold me down and force me…

I squeeze my thighs to alleviate the pulse of heat starting there. Twitch them together when that doesn’t work.

Damn.

I’ll feel better once there’s an ocean between us. I’ll have some space and time to consider my options, decide how to proceed. Maybe when I get home, I’ll allow Carlos to court me, as he suggested.

Except then what? Am I going to get serious with the male from a pack that bought me? That considers me a prize for their alpha? How would a relationship look? Would I move to Monte Lobo?

Never!

And I couldn’t ask an alpha wolf to abandon his pack for me.

No, the best thing is to keep this pregnancy a secret and never have contact with Carlos again. Maybe when our pup reaches adulthood, I’ll tell him or her the truth about how he or she was conceived.

But I have eighteen years to figure that part out.

For now, my decision is made. No more Carlos.

I may be marked, but it doesn’t mean I can’t find happiness with another wolf. One who will defend me and my pup against Carlos and his pack.

Why does that thought bring on a nasty wave of nausea?

Okay, maybe I won’t find another wolf. I’ll marry my art, find happiness that way.

Promise me.

I rub my chest as if I can will the ache away. It probably won’t always hurt this bad. Will it?

 

~.~

 

Carlos

 

I buy a University of Arizona t-shirt and ball cap and aftershave at the airport sundry shop. I step into the men’s room and slather the aftershave over my face, neck and hands to mask my scent. I change out of my button-down, wrinkled from the long night I spent dozing in my rental car outside Sedona’s building. I purposely bought the red t-shirt in a size too large, so I won’t call attention to my muscled shifter physique. Not that I think women will throw themselves at me, but I’d rather blend in as the average American today. Or average Mexican-American, of which there are plenty in Tucson. If I concentrate, I can even speak without any accent.

I rip the tag off the ball cap and pull it low over my eyes, then survey myself in the mirror. It will do. Now, I just need to remember to reapply the aftershave during the flight, and with any luck, Sedona won’t scent me while I’m on the plane with her. All the way to Paris.

It was tricky to lurk behind her, close enough to overhear her book her flight, but far enough away not to trigger her sensitive sense of smell, but I did it.

I adopt a casual walk as I head out of the bathroom and pass our gate, choosing instead to sit at the one across the way. The one that gives me an excellent view of my beautiful mate.

Her hair is loose this morning, spilling over her slender shoulders, framing her perky breasts. She’s dressed in a pair of jeans that ought to be illegal on any female with an ass like hers and she’s squeezing her thighs together like…

Fuck me! Is she pleasuring herself?

Sedona’s cheeks flush and she continues to press her knees together, shifting her hips like she’s turned on.

I almost fail to swallow the growl that rises in my throat as I cast my gaze around the seating area with a glare. Who has her turned on like that? I will fucking kill them.

But I don’t see any male who would arouse her excitement.

It must be her own thoughts, then.

Could she be thinking of me?

That thought nearly brings me to my knees, the desire to spread her creamy thighs and apply my tongue to the pink heart there so overwhelming it makes me dizzy.

Sedona. My beautiful she-wolf.

I shift to rearrange my straining cock in my jeans. I need her like I need air to breathe.

Thankfully, they call our flight, and Sedona gathers her things and stands. Another minute and I would’ve been on the floor between her knees.

Giving my presence away.

I pick up my bag and stand, entering the middle of the throng, blending in. We board the plane and somehow, I manage to pass Sedona without her noticing me. I take my seat across the aisle and back a few seats and pull my cap even lower over my face.

After the plane lifts into the air, Sedona pulls out a sketchbook and flips it open to a blank page. With quick movements of a black ink pen, she sketches something I can’t see from where I sit.

I ache to know what she’s drawing. I’ve never even seen my mate’s art—that guts me. There’s so much I don’t know about her—what she likes, what she doesn’t. Why she wants to go to Paris.

I don’t even know what I’m doing. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, is the nagging thought that the council conveniently got rid of me before I made them pay for what they did to Sedona. Before I could interfere with the status quo that only benefits them. My pack needs me and I’m out of pocket again.

But my wolf compelled me to follow Sedona. Now I’m creeping around like a stalker, hiding in plain sight from my mate. What is my plan? To convince her to date me in Paris?

I actually scoff out loud.

If my presence in Tucson upset her enough to leave the country, what makes me think she’ll ever accept me after I’ve followed her halfway across the world? I came to find out if she’s pregnant—to provide for her, and protect her.

But it’s too soon to know if she’s with pup, and she obviously isn’t interested in my provisions or protection. Courting her isn’t an option, either. She clearly doesn’t want to see me. And I won’t ever claim her against her will. So that leaves me where I am—lurking in shadows. Watching. Waiting to find out if she’s pregnant. Ready to protect her if she needs me.

So what will I do if she is carrying my pup?

Consternation grinds in me.

My options totally suck.

Capture her. Or let her go.

Fuck.