Chapter Eight
The sun was rising when they made their way back to the house. In a few hours, Hollis had a conference call with the board of directors for Robbins Pharmaceuticals and Research. They were moving forward with the second round of stem cell-leukemia trials. The first round had succeeded the research team’s expectations. Changing a few parameters, tweaking the numbers would—he believed—make an even greater difference. Everyone, including investors, were eager to get started. Which meant he needed to make a trip to RPR’s research center soon.
But RPR’s classified headquarters, in which Finn was primary investor, explored lesser known illnesses and outbreak prevention. Part of the facility was dedicated to finding a cure for the infection.
Ellen brushed past him, attempting to push him down—again. He grinned, all thoughts of work and responsibility vanishing.
She was a playful wolf. Considering how she loved to tease in human form, it wasn’t totally unexpected. It was impressive, really. She bore the scars of torture and suffering on her skin but found joy in simple pleasures. Apparently, she found great pleasure in knocking him on his ass.
Ten years of study and research had taught him many things. Balance was important. If the wolf was happy, the man—or woman—was, too, for the most part. When the wolf felt trapped, it was a matter of time before he or she lashed out.
Ellen was more in tune with her wolf than any other member of Finn’s pack. If she said she needed to run, Hollis wasn’t going to argue with her. Listening to her mumbled pleas would have him pacing the lab, twitching to do something—to hurt someone. What was the hole? Who was William? Isabel? And what the hell had Cyrus done to them? Waking her had been the only option. For his peace of mind and hers.
Her wolf circled back to him, but he dodged her this time, laughing at her cocked head and perked ears.
“Missed,” he said, laughing at her whimper.
She barked, then ran on ahead, her tail swaying as she went.
Ellen’s earlier question resurfaced. Had he ever longed to shift? No one had asked him that before. The pack seemed to have some unspoken agreement of never mentioning it—unless it was to mess with him.
In the beginning, he’d waited—dreading it. But the moon came and went, and he didn’t shift. His friends were torn apart, suffering as they turned into animals while he’d developed a fever. His body weakened, aching and throbbing until he could scarcely move. Each and every pump of his heart was razor-sharp, every breath labored and thick. There was no escaping it. He couldn’t claw his own heart out. Delusions set in, cloaking reality. It was hell. But he was still him. A part of him was relieved.
Another part was not. Grief, cold and heavy, hung on him. The more moons that past, the deeper the grief seeped into his bones. He had a choice to make. Let the grief consume him or lock it away until it didn’t press in on him.
His friends needed him to find a cure. It took time, but eventually he grew numb to whatever was missing deep inside. Eventually, he grew accustomed to the impact of the full moon on his body, and he was able to function—somewhat.
Whatever internal wolf the rest of his pack had, he lacked. He was neither a werewolf nor a whole man, thanks to the fucking infection. In order to understand why his heart murmur prevented his shift, he’d have to understand the way the bacteria that had forever altered their cell structure worked. And if he knew how that worked, he could cure them, and it wouldn’t matter.
Why would he want to shift? He didn’t. Hadn’t in years. Until she’d questioned him. And knocked him over. What would it be like to run with her?
“Did you lose my clothes?” Ellen asked, standing in his path.
He’d been too lost in his thoughts to realize she’d shifted. Or that he was missing her clothes. “It would appear so.” He put his hands on his hips. “Probably one of the times I was knocked down.”
She laughed then, her smile wide. “It was worth it.”
Her curves moved in time with her laugh, demanding his attention. Hollis was a man after all. She was strong, muscled and lean. But her breasts were full and round. And her nipples, jutting tightly in the cold air, made him ache. Her skin was soft—he’d touched her enough to know that. His gaze traveled lower. A flat stomach. A tattoo on her hip. A paw print.
“Hollis.” She cleared her throat. “Are you staring at me?”
He was. He’d like to keep staring at her. But then he realized something. With all the scars, it would be hard to see. Olivia had scars, but the one that changed her was different. So was his—so was the rest of the pack. Raised, pale, impossible to miss. If there was one. “Where is your origination wound?”
She frowned. “You stare at me naked and that is what you’re thinking?” She rolled her eyes and spun, heading back to the lodge. “I’m hungry.”
He moved closer, bending and stooping to explore the curves of her back, the dip above her hips, and the distracting curve of her ass. Distracting or not, there was no distinctive mark. “No bite,” he said, almost a whisper.
She glared at him. “Oh, I might bite you before the day is through.” She walked on, her hands fisted at her sides.
His mind was reeling, filtering through possibilities. Only one made sense. “You know what this means,” he murmured.
She spun, pushing against his chest with both hands. “And now you have a thousand questions. Questions I have no answers for.” She stared at him, as if weighing her words—and the risks. Slowly, warily, she leaned forward, her fingers sliding through her hair and parting it. A raised scar ran from her behind her left ear up and around her skull. “My memories begin the day I woke up with this. Before that I have only snippets, here and there. Scattered. More dream than reality.”
Her words had a chilling effect on him. Her life with the Others was all she remembered? “May I?” he asked, already sliding his fingers along the scar, then through the silk of her black hair.
“No,” she snapped, stepping away from him.
He blew out an unsteady breath, remembering the panic in her voice when she’d slept. Perhaps not knowing the specifics of her past was a good thing. Whatever had happened had resulted in massive head trauma—the scar was proof of that. He stepped closer, lifting his hand to probe the scar. “You don’t know how this happened?”
She pushed his hands away. “What did I just say?” she asked, her words growing thick. “Even if I did, why would I share it with you?”
There was pain in her eyes. And so much sorrow. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Ellen.”
She blinked rapidly, sniffing. “What you say or think doesn’t matter. You can’t upset me.”
Which was a blatant lie. Anger was Ellen’s defense mechanism—he’d learned that early on. “I’m sorry all the same.” Apologizing wasn’t easy for him. “I try not to be an ass to those I consider my friends.”
She glanced up at him. “You are an ass.”
He nodded.
“Am I your friend, Hollis?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.
He nodded again.
“Interesting,” she said, turning back to the house.
He stood there, watching her, appreciating the sway of her hips and her graceful movements. He never knew what she was thinking, even when she was speaking. One minute she was pressing herself against him and waking up an all-consuming hunger. The next she was dismissing him as inconsequential.
But that didn’t change what he saw. Or the realization that followed.
No bite. She’d been born a werewolf. Like Finn’s children, Oscar and Diana. Her drive to protect her species immediately made sense. Self-preservation was a natural instinct. And, for the first time, he understood her resistance. If he did manage to find a cure, what did that mean for her? Or Finn’s children. Before Finn’s offspring, before Ellen, finding a cure was of the utmost importance. But now… A jagged, hot coal settled in the pit of his stomach.
“Hollis?” Finn called from the porch. “You’re up early.”
“Ellen went for a run. I went with her,” he said, making his way to his Alpha—and his friend.
“I ran, you fell,” she said, slamming inside the house.
“Good morning?” Finn asked, leaning against the porch railing.
Hollis shrugged. “It’s hard to tell with her.”
Finn grinned, nodding. “Not the most assuring answer, considering you’re the one who knows her the best.”
“Only because I don’t treat her like she’s the enemy.” Hollis brows rose. “Not that I blame her for being guarded.”
“Agreed,” Finn said. “Do you think she’ll want to know about Florida? We have a lead, someone who used to work with Cyrus. Looks like he’s trying to bring something in from Cuba—maybe more girls. Hopefully not. Either way, there will be a raid.”
Hollis digested this news. Every time he thought about some young girl getting kidnapped and sold off to the highest bidder—girls who were pure and innocent—he wanted to hurt something or someone. Badly. Preferably Cyrus.
Ellen had given them the information that started dismantling the trafficking ring. It was important to her. He nodded. “She’ll want to know.”
“She seems restless. More than usual. Has she mentioned leaving again?” Finn asked, sighing. “I’m trying to understand why she wants to go back to the Others.”
“Her reasons are her own. Meaning, I only know what she tells me.” One of the things he’d come to accept about Ellen was once her mind was made up, there wasn’t much anyone could do to change it. Still, he agreed with Finn, her drive to return to their rival pack made no sense.
Finn sighed. “No matter how badly they treated her, if we’re wrong and she is part of their pack—”
“She’s not,” Hollis said. “Her eyes say as much.” All of the Others had near-colorless eyes. Making their kind immediately recognizable. Ellen’s eyes were vibrant and mismatched. She wasn’t an Other.
Finn was watching him. “Then why was she with them?”
“Like I said, I know what she wants me to know.” He shook his head. “It’s possible her situation there was no different than the girls we’ve saved.” But knowing she’d been born a wolf made that less likely. Even young, trying to enslave a wolf would be dangerous.
Finn frowned, his gaze sweeping the trees and the mountains beyond. “Those scars. They did that to her?” Finn’s question was one he’d often wondered about.
He thought about her dreams, the words that slipped from her lips. “I think so.”
Finn’s hands tightened on the porch railing. “Will she be safe if she goes back?”
“Is anyone safe with the Others?” He paused. He kept nothing from his Alpha. “There’s something you should know.” He glanced behind them, making sure they were alone. “She has no bite scar.”
Finn frowned. “She’s covered in scars.”
“But not an origination bite. Nothing like what we have.”
Finn’s stared at him, stunned. “You’re saying she was born into this, like Diana and Oscar? To a pack that wasn’t the Others. There are more?” He blew out a long slow breath. “Are you fucking kidding me? How is that possible?”
“I stopped asking that question ten years ago.” He shook his head. “Her pack is a mystery to her, too. She says she doesn’t know.”
“How can she not?” Finn’s eyes narrowed. “She’s keeping a lot of secrets, Hollis. I don’t want one of them to come back and bite us on the ass.”
Which was a fair point. “If her plan was to annihilate us, why wait? She’s had plenty of time and opportunities. I agree she has secrets. But do you blame her? Her scars say a hell of a lot about her past. And when you found her, she was beaten to a bloody pulp protecting Jessa from the Others.” He glanced at his Alpha. “Preserving the species is more important than anything to her. Which means she’d never endanger our pack. I believe that.” His eyes locked with his Alpha’s, hoping to drive his point home.
Was Ellen difficult? Hell yes. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t on their side. Mal was difficult as fuck and he was Finn’s right hand. Finn’s nod was enough for him to go on. “Besides, why tell us something that might put her in a vulnerable position. Or, possibly, give us an edge she doesn’t want us to have? She’s evasive, but she’s not a liar.”
“You think we should convince her to stay?”
“I’m not the Alpha,” he argued.
“No, you’re not. But I respect your opinion. And I want it.”
Hollis drew in a deep breath. She distracted him far too much, stirred something inside he wasn’t comfortable with—something primal and beyond his control. But she’d become a member of this pack, one he considered essential, if infuriating. He couldn’t picture the future without her in it. He didn’t want to. And he sure as hell didn’t want to think about what might happen to her once she was alone and unprotected. “She’s safe here. Not that she sees it that way. I’m not sure there’s a way to get her to agree to stay.”
“Dammit,” he ground out. “Agreement or not, she leaves and goes back to them—she dies. I can’t willingly send her to her death. For one thing, Jessa would never forgive me. She believes Ellen is the reason she’s stayed alive—surrounded by wolves.”
“She’s probably right,” he agreed. “Ellen knows more than any of us about what we are.”
Finn nodded. “But she doesn’t trust us enough to share.”
“For good reason.” Hollis ran a hand through his hair. “She has her own way of doing things.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Convincing her to stay will be harder than ever. Until now, we’ve had a common goal in protecting Jessa and the baby. The baby’s here, Jessa’s fine, and now finding a cure is all that matters. The exact opposite of what she wants.”
“We’re no closer to a cure than we were nine years ago.” Finn sighed.
He was right, but his words cut deep.
“Through no fault of yours.” His Alpha was quick to add. “If anyone can fix this, it’s you, Hollis.” One blond brow cocked. “Until then, we’ll keep her here. She’ll find her place, as part of our pack. And we’ll treat her as one of us.”
“Make sure the pack understands that.” He stifled a yawn. “And be prepared. Once she knows she’s not going anywhere, she’ll be ready to fight.” Up until now, she’d only been irritated with the majority of the pack. If Finn put his foot down and kept her here against her will, Hollis suspected they’d see a whole new side of Ellen. More wolf than woman. Good thing her wolf was so fond of him, even if he didn’t know why.
“What about Tess?” Finn glanced at him. “Brown will want us to save her.”
Hollis blew out a long, slow breath. “There’s only one way to do that.” He met his Alpha’s gaze. “You’re willing to bring her into the pack?”
“I don’t know. Brown’s part of the family. The man has bled for us time and again. He’s recovering so he can stand by and watch his child die? I can’t do that to him.” He growled. “Not if there’s a chance to save her.”
“That’s not going to sit well with Ellen. Or Mal, for that matter.” Hollis leveled his Alpha with a look. When Mal learned what Tess had done, he’d been ready to tear her to pieces. He still was. Now Finn was considering having Tess as part of the pack? “You’re Alpha.” He shrugged.
“I am. If she’s one of us, she’s loyal to me. And right now, we can use all the help we can get.”
Ellen’s question surfaced again? Did he wish he could shift? Yes. Dammit. He did. He’d welcome the pain if it gave him the power to stand against the Others. And fight with Ellen, instead of against her.
…
Ellen sat, her legs draped over the large padded arm of the leather easy chair. Her restlessness had her twitching, her wolf pacing, and her senses on high alert. But watching Finn’s pack provided a slight distraction. Their dynamic was fascinating. They communicated, shared ideas, and made decisions. Together. It was beyond her understanding to see an Alpha behave so. Yes, somehow Finn managed to maintain control while respecting the rest of their opinions. Cyrus’s head would explode at such an idea.
“Brown’s contacts on the force said the last bust went well.” Finn paced the office, rocking his sleeping infant daughter. “Tipping them off was the right thing to do.” He shot a look at Anders and Mal. “They don’t need us in Florida, but I won’t stop any of you who want to go.”
Ellen watched with interest. Anders and Mal had been prepared to storm one of Cyrus’s businesses—alone if they had to—and stop the girls from being handed off. Finn had expressly forbidden it, knowing Mal was too emotionally compromised to act with a level head. Luckily, Mal and Anders had been stopped before things could turn ugly, but it had been close. Considering they’d planned to defy an order by their Alpha, Ellen knew they’d be punished. What would punishment look like here?
With Cyrus, it would mean equal parts humiliation and pain. For days, depending on his mood or the severity of the infringement. Not that she could ever remember anyone openly defying one of his orders. He would have tortured them, then killed them. Without mercy.
“We are a pack. I am the Alpha. You can question my decisions. But acting against my orders will not be tolerated.” His gaze bounced between Anders and Mal.
Ellen held her breath, her foot stopping mid-bounce.
“Yeah, I got it. We were acting like shits and you have every reason to rip us each a new asshole.” Anders had the decency to look ashamed.
Finn’s gaze pinned Mal, waiting.
Mal prowled the room, clearly swallowing back what he wanted to say but could never, ever say to his Alpha. Especially now, in front of the pack. She realized then how much they respected him. Friends or not, when Finn decided to play the Alpha card, they had no choice but to yield to him. “I fucked up. Got it. Loud and clear.” The words ripped from Mal’s throat, thick and angry and bitter. “You can’t blame me for wanting to see that twisted son of a bitch dead.”
“I don’t. I understand.” Finn bounced Diana with a little more enthusiasm than was required, almost pulling Ellen from the chair to collect the child. But it wasn’t her place. And this, none of this, was her business.
“But we are a family.” Finn glanced down at his daughter. “Whatever we do, we do together. We are stronger together. Understood?”
Every head in the room nodded. Including her own. Each of them had seen pain at the hands of Cyrus White—some more than others. Mal had been tortured, kept hostage, and had his mate threatened. Finn’s mate had been kidnapped, his children endangered, and his family tormented. Olivia. Jessa. Brown. Even Tess. On and on, the list of wrongs was long and detailed and sordid.
But he’d done worse to her. Her nightmares were memories, fully formed since the day she’d set hands on Byron. How she wished she could erase what she’d seen. Dozing off sent her straight back. Too real, scents and sights, familiar faces, and so much more. Over time some of her dreams filled gaps in her patchy memories. She’d hoped her dreams were building off of the trauma she’d suffered. But Byron had confirmed her worst fears.
Isabel. Her daughter. The hole in her heart had been torn wide, bleeding anew, jagged and fresh since that day in the snow. She remembered the feel of her baby’s slight weight in her arms. Felt the rapid thrum of her heart, beneath her palm. Drawn in her sweet scent. Nothing was more painful. Nothing.
And William? Her mate. Whatever affection she’d held for him was forever tainted by his pride. Too proud to yield. Too proud to beg for their daughter’s life.
Cyrus had killed everything she’d loved in this world. He’d taken her daughter. If any one person deserved the right to kill Cyrus, she did. Not that any of them needed to know that.
“If Cyrus really is cutting ties with his former contacts, we’ll need to find a new way in.” Dante leaned over the map, his dark hair falling forward onto his forehead.
She shifted in the chair, the now familiar restlessness stirring. The effects of her run had been short-lived. A fire burned inside her, impatient and hungry. For a hunt. Or a fight. Or, since neither of the first two were likely, a fuck.
The view of Dante’s ass was tempting. He was handsome, big, and able. Ellen appreciated the strength and physical prowess of the man. He was single, available. But her wolf had no interest. And he looked at her with nothing but contempt.
Pass.
Ellen sat back in the chair, her attention wandering to Anders.
Anders, with his quick smile and laughing eyes. Few men could break tension with as little effort. Humor aside, his body was agile and fit. But then, Finn’s pack were all prefect physical specimens.
What did her wolf want then? She knew…and refused to hear it.
Hollis.
Her wolf instantly perked up.
No. She pushed back.
He glanced at her, briefly, his mussed copper curls and the stubble on his strong jaw distracting. And appealing. He hadn’t had time to shower and shave since their outing this morning. Her wolf had enjoyed every second of that run, partly because he was with her.
All she had to do was close her eyes to visualize one very good, very impressive, very large reason to take him to bed.
She breathed deep, letting the mix of pine trees, sweat, and Hollis flood her senses. It was a delicious scent, heady and rugged. His shirtsleeves were rolled back, revealing the shift and flex of his muscled forearms as he reached across the map. A damning, wonderful, fluid heat pooled between her legs.
“Can you help us?” Finn asked.
Hollis’s green gaze locked with hers. Blazing tingles ran along each nerve, stirring the heat into something electric and molten. What she wouldn’t give to know what his wolf was thinking. Her wolf and her body wanted one thing. But taking Hollis to bed had consequences that extended beyond a few hours of sensual pleasure. Her wolf’s preoccupation with the good doctor was dangerous. Besides, even if she was willing to risk it, Hollis might not be eager to have her drag him to her room. No matter how tempting the idea was. And it was. Very.
“Ellen?” Finn’s voice startled her.
“What?” She sat upright, tearing her gaze from Hollis. Her breath escaped on a long, shuddering breath.
“You came here for Jessa.” Finn glanced at the tiny baby in his arms. “I am forever in your debt. We’ve never talked about what happens now.”
The warmth in her stomach turned to ice. “It’s time for me to go.”
Finn’s brow furrowed. “You want to leave?”
“It’s what we agreed to. I live by my word.” Had he expected her to ask to stay? She glanced around the room, trying to decipher the expressions of the pack. They didn’t want her here. They viewed her as an Other. True or not, she suspected she was and always would be an outsider to them. And her wolf, it’s affection for Hollis, would fade once they left.
“So you won’t help us?” Mal asked, his tone hard.
“I thought I had? With Cyrus. And Jessa.” Her annoyance flared instantly. Mal was a fool. Now she understood why he irritated her. His short fuse reminded her of William. Ready for the fight. Ready to act. But slow to think and plan. She only hoped Olivia would not suffer because of him.
“You have.” Olivia grabbed Mal’s hand. “And we are all thankful for you, Ellen.”
Mal stared at his mate, his mouth pressed shut. He seemed to love his mate in a way that offered hope. Perhaps he’d love her enough to listen to her.
“You were the one who said Cyrus wouldn’t give up.” Dante turned to Finn. “She can’t leave. She knows how to get here. She can lead them here. Sorry, Ellen, but we all know what he’s willing to do to get information. Even if you don’t want to betray us, you will.” He pushed off the table, staring around the room.
The call to fight warmed her blood. “You can’t keep me here against my will. I know you to be a man of honor, Finn.”
“I’d like to discuss this calmly,” Finn said, holding his hand out. He shot Dante a look.
“There is nothing to discuss. I’m not your enemy.” Her gaze settled on little Diana, sleeping peacefully in the crook of Finn’s arm. She ached, the flood of memories gripping her by the throat. Did they really think so little of her? That she would risk her life to save this baby only to hand her over or endanger her? Never. If that’s what they truly thought, she’d already stayed too long. “I would never give you or your children up,” she managed, sadness and anger all but choking her. She pushed herself from the armchair and hurried from the room before they saw her pain.
“I’ll go.” She heard Hollis say.
“No,” she called back. “I’ve no need for a babysitter.”
But his steady footfalls followed anyway. She waited, slamming the door in his face at the last possible moment. It was petty, but the surprise on his face was rewarding nonetheless. Her forehead rested against the thick wooden door, eyes pressed shut, breath coming in short bursts.
“Ellen.” Hollis’s voice was soft. “Let me in.”
She stared at the door, willing the memories crashing over her, pulling her away and tearing at her heart. Tiny Isabel. So soft and sweet. Innocent to the dangers of their world. She’d had her daughter too short a time. What would she be like now if Cyrus had not found them? Her mind wouldn’t show her, her dreams never ventured beyond Isabel’s and William’s deaths—the same day she had been struck by whatever had left the corded scar along her head.
They should have had their vengeance by now. Ellen should have found a way to avenge them. It was time. They would have their vengeance, and Diana and Oscar would be safe.
“Ellen.” Hollis’s voice was muffled through the thick door. “Let me in, please.”
Better to embrace her anger than drown in her sorrow. The doorknob was solid in her grip, but she nearly ripped the door off its hinges when she yanked it wide. “Worried I’ll climb out the window?” Her anger almost choked her.
“No.” He frowned. “Of course not. They don’t know you the way I do.”
“The way you do?” she repeated, his calm dismissal smothering some of her fury. “You know nothing about me.”
“You’re not mad at me,” he said. “Dante’s acting like a dick. I agree. But he’s scared. They all are.”
“Of me?” She crossed her arms over her waist.
“No, of what you can bring down on the pack.” He pushed into her room and closed the door behind him. “To be honest, I don’t understand why you’re going back. If you won’t stay, why not go someplace new. Start again?”
“Start again?” She swallowed down a bitter laugh. He was right, she wasn’t angry with him. But she was angry. At the world. “Not yet.”
“Not yet?” He studied her so long and silently that Ellen began to think the conversation was over. His question surprised her. “Cyrus will let you live?”
She’d imagined her homecoming a dozen different ways. Each time she was successful. Cyrus was dead. Ripping off his head. Tearing out his throat. Slicing through his stomach. Her promise was honored. She’d made peace long ago with the fact that she wouldn’t survive. “Do you care?”
“Of course I care.” His surprise was disarming, and oddly adorable.
She smiled. “I’ve lived enough, I think.”
His face paled. Poor Hollis. Instead of living this life, he’d studied it. Buttoned-up in his lab coats, surrounded by every possible gadget and resource, he knew nothing of his heritage.
While he sought to destroy the very thing that made her who she was, she craved revenge against the man who’d nearly broken her. It was all that mattered to her now. The species would go on without the constant fear of Cyrus and his pack. Hollis couldn’t understand that until he accepted what he was.
“I will pick my end, not stand by, wringing my hands, and worrying over every shadow.” She drew herself upright. “If it is my time, it is my time. There is nothing left for me but revenge, Hollis.”
“You want children,” he argued, his green eyes flashing. “If you didn’t, this wouldn’t matter to you.” The tick in his jaw surprised her. As did the flare of his nostrils. She’d upset him.
And it humbled her. “I want a great many things. Oh, Hollis, you have no idea.” Her fingers stroked his hair from his temple. “But I want nothing more than his death.”
His hand circled her wrist. “Then stay. On that, we are all united.”
“You want me to stay?” she asked, hoping to divert him. He’d never understand why she must do this alone. He wasn’t driven by emotion and passion. They were alien concepts, things too insubstantial to warrant further investigation. “Tell me why?”
He frowned, swallowing. “Because what you’re planning won’t end well.”
“For Cyrus,” she agreed.
“For you. Dammit, Ellen, you can’t give him that. He doesn’t deserve you.” The hint of a growl made her insides tighten. “You don’t need to fight alone.”
“I won’t have anyone else’s blood on my hands.”
“Who says this is your choice?” His eyes narrowed, the tightening of his jaw doing incredibly delicious things to her body. This Hollis, angry and rigid and demanding, her wolf adored. “If Finn knows this is what you’re planning, you won’t be going anywhere.”
She was too intrigued by the effect he was having on her body and her wolf to get angry. It had been years since she’d needed a man’s touch, needed the taste of his lips, and the growl of his release. But, right now, she trembled for this man. Needed what only he could give her.
The moment she realized it, her heart shuddered to a stop.
He stared at her, unguarded. Beyond his anger and frustration, he burned…for her. His hunger was undeniable.
Without thought, she pressed herself against him—pressed them both against the door—and brushed his lips with hers. Featherlight. At first. Then more. She needed more. While she was reeling, her wolf reacted. Her hands fisted in his hair, tugging his head down to her. Her lips sealed against his, exploring the feel of that full lower lip. His breath fanned her cheek. Unsteady and rapid and harsh. Her gaze met his as his lips parted beneath hers.
She shuddered, gasping with pure pleasure as he spun her against the door and pinned her there with his hip. His hands stroked up her sides, cradling her breasts firmly while his tongue slid between her lips. On and on, his sweet invasion made her drunk on him. Clinging to his shirt, arching into him, hoping he’d take what she so willingly offered. His hands, his growl, his touch—he was pure bliss.
And then he was gone.
“Jesus Christ, Ellen.” He stared at her in complete confusion.
She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. But she was too caught up in the thrum of lust to form a coherent response.
“That was…” He stood straighter, pulling himself together and putting distance between them in the process. “I don’t know what that was. But it won’t happen again.” He was staring at her mouth, gasping.
She licked her lips, pleased by the instantaneous hitch in his breath. “Are you sure?”