Chapter Four
Just who the hell did she think she was? Rory stomped up the stairs that led to his small apartment over the butchery. It had been a long time since a woman broached his inner sanctum. Even Shelly knew better than to come to the back when he had a finely sharpened knife in his hand and an open carcass on his table.
Butchering was the only thing Rory had left in this life. Hunting had been his reason for waking up in the morning. That and Rosalind, the love of his life. But all of that—both of his passions—was taken away in one second orchestrated by his brother.
And now his brother had everything. Jordan had his work, he had his leg, and now he had a woman.
The nerve of that woman, coming into Rory’s shop, his holy place, the only thing left for him, and desecrating it with her haughty attitude, her demands. His brother was a coward, and it was clear to see who wore the pants in that relationship.
Rory threw his door open and then slammed it shut behind him. He hadn’t been this angry in years. He hadn’t felt this much in years.
His bum leg had been so numb it had spread to the rest of his body like an infection. His heart was tattered and hollow. But that woman, his brother’s fiancée, she had incensed him. He had half a mind to turn back around and—
“We are not done.”
Rory turned around and saw her standing in his apartment. No woman had been in this apartment, ever. Not even his fiancée, former fiancée. But Jordan’s woman stood in his doorway with her hands on her hips. Rory could only stare. He was a bit afraid to move. He wondered if he did, would he end up in another trap of his brother’s making?
This woman, Rhetta? Was that what she said her name was? Rhetta was tall. Her clothing made it look as though her body was all lines with no curves. She reminded him of his grade school teacher with a bun of curly hair and a stern, pinched mouth.
He couldn’t imagine anyone kissing a mouth that looked like a lemon. She deserved his stick-up-the-ass brother. Maybe her sourness would make Jordan’s dick shrivel up, that is, if she ever went near it. Which she likely didn’t.
She looked like the type to do it in the dark with her night clothes on, missionary style with missionary commands. Left, more to the right, drop and give me ten strokes, and you’re done, soldier.
“You don’t walk away from a person in the middle of a conversation.” She marched farther into his small apartment, shutting the door she hadn’t been invited inside of, behind her.
“We weren’t having a conversation,” he growled. His growls usually made others—stronger men—jump. This woman simply raised an eyebrow at him and shifted her weight to one hip as though she were staking her claim in his space. Rory’s hackles went up.
“I talk. You talk. That’s a conversation,” she said. “And now it’s my turn to talk again.”
“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.”
“Well, you’re gonna.” She marched past him and headed into his kitchen.
Rory shuffled his feet to hurry after her. By the time he reached her, she was in his fridge. Rory teetered on the edge of anger and incredulity. His lips couldn’t form any words as he gaped.
“We’re going to have a civilized conversation.” She rummaged through the shelves of his fridge and came away with lean meats he’d butchered the other day.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He marched over to her and glared. Another wolf would’ve been cowed, not this woman.
She raised her other eyebrow at him. “Sit down. I’m going to make you something to eat, and we’ll talk.”
The brow raise wasn’t a challenge. A challenge indicated that she saw him as a threat. There wasn’t a hint of uncertainty in her clear eyes. There was only expectation, an expectation that her order would be followed.
She turned to rummage through his cabinets. When she bent over, her skirts tightened around her edges and revealed that there weren’t lines beneath all that cloth. Rory got an eyeful of the curves under her voluminous skirts. Her ass was heart-shaped, two handfuls of fleshy meat which traded space as she reached deep into the cabinet until she found a pan.
Finding what she needed, she straightened. When she turned and saw him still standing, she aimed the pan at him. “Sit!” she commanded.
Rory found his legs giving out and sinking into one of the two kitchen table chairs.
Rhetta turned on the burner, oiled the pan, and dropped the meat in before she began talking. “It sounds to me like what happened between you and Jordan was an accident.”
“Doesn’t matter if he did it on purpose or if it was an accident. It happened.” Rory curled his large hand into a fist as he watched her flip the meat in the pan.
“Bad things happen to people all the time,” she said as she gave the pan a shake, which caused her ass to jiggle beneath her skirt.
After just another moment in the pan, she put the meat on a plate. It was still kicking as blood ran down its sides. Just how Rory liked it. He took a bite and had to stop his groan of pleasure. So, his brother was getting a woman who was at least good in one room of the house.
“I was raised to believe that a girl marries her strongest suitor,” she said taking the chair opposite him. “My family holds Moon Festivals where the males compete for a woman’s hand. No one ever asked to compete for my hand. So, I married the man who needed my hand. And then he gets bitten by a snake and dies. I grieved for him, but then I got up and dusted myself off, and came back out into the world again. Do you see my point?”
Rory picked at the whiskers on his chin as he regarded this woman. Her story sounded as pathetic as his brother. No wonder she’d wound up with him.
“My point is fate, bad or good, isn’t looking out for you. You gotta take the direction of your life in your own hands and direct the sails where you want to go. So, you got thrown overboard. It happens. You don’t know how to swim?”
Rory was a little confused at where the conversation was going. But he knew the answer to her last question. “I know how to swim.”
“Then stop pretending like you’re drowning. Swim for the shore. You still got two legs. You got a line of women queueing up for your attention. A wolf can love again after rejection. You just gotta make a choice and take control of your boat.”
“Take control of my boat?”
“Exactly.” She leaned back in her chair—his chair—like she’d just given him the meaning of life. As the last bite of perfectly cooked meat slid down Rory’s throat, he realized she had indeed given him the answer to all of his problems.
All these years he’d been looking for a way to get even with his brother, to take back some of the power he’d lost. And here it was, sitting right in front of him. His control snapped and his wolf, hungry for revenge, sprang to the forefront of the man.
“You’re right,” he growled low in his throat. It sounded nothing close to human.
With one paw, he cleared away the plate and cutlery off the surface of the table. The dishes and silverware smashed to the floor. Rhetta reared back in her chair to miss the spilling of the beverage she’d set out for him. Rory didn’t glance at the spilled liquid. He thirsted for something else entirely.
She glared at him, not an ounce of fear on her face. Just outrage. “You animal.”
“Again, you’re right.” He got to his feet, capturing her in his large hands. He pulled her to him. Her body was stiff as he did so.
They stood looking at each other for a second. It had been so long since Rory had held a woman in his arms that he’d forgotten how to fit all the limbs and bumps and body parts together. But knowledge came back to him swiftly.
He pressed his large paw into the small of Rhetta’s back and fit them together. She gasped. Her lips parted and Rory took advantage. He sunk his teeth into her lower lip until he felt the blood pulsing beneath the soft unbroken skin.
“I don’t like boats,” he said when he pulled away.
“What?” Her eyes were hazy with shock and confusion and something that looked like desire if he remembered it correctly.
“I’m a hunter,” he said, his lips grazing hers. “Not a sailor, and I’m setting a new trap.”
Rhetta tilted her head back. Perhaps it had been to glare at him. Perhaps it had been to get away from him. Perhaps it had been to beg for more. He’d never know because he sealed his lips over hers and licked into her mouth, claiming her.
She didn’t pull away from him. Sure, her palms pressed against his chest, but not hard enough to get away. And Rory could feel her strength. She could’ve gotten away if she’d wanted to. But as she pressed with her hands, she also pressed with her lips, and then her tongue.
Rory did some pressing of his own. He pressed his chest against her breasts until he felt the two tight points pushing back. He pressed his groin into her until he felt the V between her thighs rub against his thigh.
His plan was so good. He would seduce her, screw her in a way he knew his brother never had, never could. He’d do her so good that she’d be begging for him. She’d break off the wedding and leave Jordan all alone, just as Rory had been left alone.
But when they came up for air, she pressed back at him with her words.
“You have to stop,” she panted.
Her breathless command was lost on him though. “I’ll stop.”
He pulled back to look at her. She was dazed. Her eyebrows were down, not making any more demands. In fact, they looked a little disappointed.
“I’ll stop after I’ve had my fill of you. Which won’t be until you’re beneath me, writhing with pleasure, unable to moan any longer because your voice is hoarse from screaming my name and begging me not to stop. When you’re limp because I’ve wrung every ounce of pleasure out of you and you have nothing left to give. Then, once I make you give me more, then I’ll stop. And if you tell me to stop one more time before I’m done, I’ll make you wait for it. I’ll take you to the peak of pleasure and leave you stranded there until you beg forgiveness for not being grateful for what I’m about to give you. Do you understand me?”
Her eyes were wide, her mouth hung open. She made a choked sound in response. That satisfied him.
“I’m going to take you to my bed now,” he growled.
“Fine,” she said. “Fine, take me to bed. I don’t even care anymore.”
He lifted her up. It should’ve been a struggle on his bum leg, but she was light in his arms. He treaded to his room under the moon’s light. But somewhere between licking her plump lip and stealing into her mouth, Rory lost his way.